Photos: Richard Standford and I
Thud thud thud. That moment when “dammit, bottom” was shattered as the heavy headshakes telegraphed up my fly line.
Everything after that realisation melts into chaotic reminiscence.
I remember screaming at Rich who, making his way back to Baker’s Rock for lunch, was climbing over a particularly treacherous section of the bank. Then the hole left in the water as the slab of fish crashed back down after it exploded from the seething river. Then Rich almost got washed away when he bailed into the Nile off the treacherous rocks he was now scrambling back over. That first glimpse of olive silver in the white and brown of the churned-up wash of the Ledge rapid. My nerves, white knuckles, and weak knees as I hung on when the fish broadsided back into the main current – for a moment threatening escape and heart brake. And then the relief and elation of landing it; Rich gripping it tightly by its lower jaw.
High fives, photos, and a few precious moments just smiling dumbly as I stared into the strange opaque eyes of a very special fish.
Full Story Here:
Uganda Part 1: The Victoria Nile
Uganda Part 2: Murchison Falls
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