Two anglers have fished the same waters for decades without meeting; until the Hampshire Avon brings them together to chase chub as the temperature begins to drop. Kevin Parr and Adam Chetwood take refuge in the pub to talk strategy in the hope it will do the trick. Fishing draws us together in shared moments …
Kevin Parr fishes a favourite swim for roach, dace, chub and perch, under the scrutiny of a ravenous pike, and is distracted from his task by the tea-making genius of Chris Yates.
(RiderBooks, Penguin Random House, 2016) We first meet the author on a deserted beach, waiting for mackerel: “Circumstance and illness have led my wife, Sue, and me into a life of rural simplicity… If I catch a fish or two this afternoon then they will be eaten for supper. Should I fail, we will not …
(Medlar Press, 2014) The Idle Angler is a real gem. It started slowly, but then gathered pace, and I was sad when I had finished it, as I could have read on and on. It appeared to me that the author gained confidence in his own ability as he wrote it, and so the book …
Our new series, called Short Bites, touches a little more upon specific species and the techniques used to catch them. In this short film, Kev Parr catches a grayling on the River Test in southern England using a centre pin reel and split cane rod.
From the Gloaming – Fishing the Test for dace, roach and perch For our latest film, we join Kev Parr on the banks of the River Test on a dank, grey late-autumn day, as he fishes for dace, roach and perch. Created by Nick Fallowfield-Cooper, the film offers a lyrical look at a landscape that …
December bustled in with its usual tinsel-edged blur; a flurry of fairy lights and fake snow, sentimentalism and overindulgence. Festive smiles seem ever more forced though. Money is tight and political uncertainty, no matter where you sit, does little to inspire the notion of fun. It can be a tough period for the self-employed. As …
Parr’s Diary – December 2018 – History Repeating Read More »
I have always been guilty of ignoring what is on my doorstep, convincing myself that I must travel to make the best of my fishing, that the far bank will always hold more fish than the water beneath my feet. This came in part from growing up in mid-Hampshire, where anglers came to cast dry-flies …
The autumn equinox is one of the loveliest times of the year, with soft days sandwiched between dew-drenched mornings and slow pink sunsets. Yet there is also a curious sense of poignancy, stirred by the end of summer, with a shift from light to dark and the quiet of the air. The fishing though, can …
Back in the thick heat of July, on World Cup Final weekend in fact, I made my way north across the county line and into Somerset. I snuck through Yeovil, dropped down onto the Levels and listen to the tyres crackle across the dust and loose stone of a well-worn track. Windows down, skin …
The heat has been relentless. July passed with barely a drop of rain and in response the earth shrank, the lawn cracked and the grass dried to dust. I looked upon familiar views with a new perspective. A blanket of brown and yellow, where even the trees struggled to splash any green. I was reminded …
I dug out the lawnmower at the weekend, lifted the blade as high as it would go, and lurched it around the garden. After an hour of hacking, there was a vague improvement, but the mower wasn’t happy and the cuttings were clinging to the mechanism like limpets on a rock. The problem came not …
Six winters have passed since the last spell of prolonged cold weather in this part of the south. We have had odd sprinkles of snow during that time, and one decent covering, but Dorset has remained fairly balmy for the most part. As a result, the recent blast of Siberian winter came as quite a …
Parr’s Diary – February 2018 – Beastly Easterlies Read More »
For Fallon’s Angler issue 12, Kevin Parr takes the Fallon’s Angler team back to an old haunt, Aldermaston Mill on the river Kennet, in the search for a 2lb perch. To purchase Fallon’s Angler 12, click here:
There is a healthy sprinkle of salt in my father’s bones. He wasn’t born beside the sea, but his family moved to Swanage after the Second World War and he spent his formative years exploring the cliffs and coves of the Purbeck coast. It made for quite a contrast to the shell-shocked suburb of north-west …
I took a stroll along the Cobb at Lyme Regis a couple of days before Christmas. The morning had been overcast, but as the sun began to lower so it sunk below cloud level and gave the seafront an unseasonal blast of warmth. I was soon in a T-shirt, and wishing I’d ditched my jeans …
The spring that supplies us with water, bubbles up just below our cottage before trickling off to the north-east where it becomes the River Wyn. It is a tiny course that soon meets the Hooke and then the Frome, less than three miles away. Unlike the winterbourne that I grew up beside, the Wyn flows …
It seemed so straightforward. All we needed was a small lake or pond, preferably quiet, hopefully natural, but definitely home to a tench or two. Ideally there would be a lily pads and overhanging trees, with a grass snake slipping through the marginal reeds, a song thrush singing and a musty whiff on the air. …
I’m not entirely sure where February went. One moment January was dragging its feet and a couple of blinks later the blackbirds are singing and March is upon us. The thin end of the coarse season always seems to rattle by, but I did manage to make it out three times over the past month, …
Festive television is invariably underwhelming. Full of re-makes, repeats and Christmas ‘specials’ that make you smile, but only because the excess of port and stilton has left you mildly stupefied. I did watch Charlie Brooker’s 2016 Wipe last evening though, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. Mind you, the past twelve months have delivered plenty of …
I went for a walk yesterday afternoon on my local patch. It was only a few degrees above freezing, but I had in mind that the sunshine might have tempted an adder out. I may have been proved right, but left it half an hour too late. The south facing bank where I had hoped …
I have always had a peculiar relationship with the Dorset Stour. A couple of visits as a child and teenager offered me a river full of mystery and intrigue, but after a long period of barbel obsession (that had a distinct chalk stream edge) I struggled to understand the Stour when I returned to her …
It ended up being two months between casts, give or take a few days. Illness, a lack of time and a monster bout of lethargy had left me dry through all of August and most of September. If I was going to end such a drought, then it may as well be somewhere extraordinary. Ashmead …
It is at least three years since Martin last cast a line. Work and family pressures, coupled with a lack of transport, have kept him dry for far longer than most anglers could bear. After such a period of abstinence, there is only one way to fully reconnect, and that involves an early start, dusk …
