Here is my contribution. Edition #3 published February 2012.
The Upper Clyde
It didn’t take me a lot of thought, it was an easy decision—my business down here in London was on its knees, too much debt, not enough orders, now was a good time for a big change.
I sold my house, paid off my debts, loaded my van and headed North.
Living on her own in Edinburgh, my mother needed me, she was in her eighties and was suffering from dementia.
I had been away from home for forty and a bit years,now I was in the position to look after her,to give her a bit of my time and of course a chance to fish the Clyde.
Its only when I am well up the M74 and have crossed the Clyde for the first time that I feel I am nearly home.
My first glimpse of the river is at Telford Bridge,then running to Crawford and Abington.
This is the upper Clyde, it has a long way to go until it reaches Glasgow and then into the sea.
I have made this trip many a time and looked across the fields to the river.
One of these days I am going to be down there”—I say to myself.
Well here I am, it won’t be long now,I am starting to get excited.I turn off the motorway at Abington Service Station on to the A702,I am now heading for Lamington , Biggar then on to Edinburgh and my mum.
What’s all that stuff you are buying she asks me “Em!! Just a little bit of fishing gear—not a lot just a few bits” is my reply. ”
Hope you are going to have time to look after me and not be out gallivanting “she retorts.
“Wont do that mum – I will just go now and then.
I will get you settled first, make sure you have everything - only be away for a couple of hours. Not all the time just now and then “ I repeated.“Make sure you bring me back a fish for my tea then” she says and laughs.“ Will do"
I don’t kill fish from the river, just the ones from our local stocked pond.I will get her a rainbow now and then, she won’t know the difference ,it will keep her happy.
The stretch of the Clyde that I fish is from Wolfclyde Bridge
(that’s where the last wolf in Scotland was shot—reportedly)
up to Telford Bridge just by the motorway.You could not wish for a better brown trout and grayling water.Miles and miles of crystal clear water that would take you more than a lifetime to explore.
I can go out some days and not see a sole.Plenty of cows and sheep to keep you company and there are always dippers, wagtails chirping away by the river side-kingfishers dashing past-buzzards soaring in the sky.
If you are lucky you may get a glimpse of an otter or watch an osprey plucking fish out of the water.
Well there you are—I’ve told you a little bit about the river where I spend my time.
And I’ve told you how I come to be there. My mum passed away last April and I miss her.
I won’t be coming back South, I will be staying up here spending my retiring years fishing the Clyde.
So if you are travelling on the M74 and you look over the fields to the river, that lone fisher could be me—why don’t you join me, you would be more than welcome.
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