Pies And Fishes

Trout fishing in Tasmania is far more than a hobby, it’s religion.

- Paulette Whitney

Dawn is yet to break when Mum wakes us. We gather around mugs of Milo in the kitchen while she cuts us piping-hot pieces of egg-and-bacon pie to eat in the car. We’ve slept in our clothes so we can grab the dog without wasting a moment and head out as only the faintest glow brightens the horizon.

Trout fishing in Tasmania isn’t a hobby you undertake lightly. You can’t just show up and catch a fish – not if you want to be a proper fisherman. No, to be a real trout fisher here is nigh on religious. It requires a zealous devotion to obscure lakes, an understanding of when weather conditions are perfect for the hatch of a particular species of fly that you’ve caught, preserved and spent the off-season making facsimiles of with seal fur, silk and feathers plucked from a pheasant hackle and tying them onto tiny hooks, so that when those exact weather conditions arise again you can drag your family out of bed before dawn to follow you in pursuit of slimy, glimmering prizes.