George Barron’s return to Trisant Lakes in West Wales evokes fond memories, yet the past doesn’t outshine the present
NOSTALGIA WAS PLAYING tricks with me as I bumped down the track to Rhosrhydd Lake, through three gates to the designated AAA (Aberystwyth Angling Association) lakeside parking area, none of which was there 40 years ago. Back then, we were happy enough to park the old Ford Escort roadside and walk the final 300 yards to the water through a rundown farmyard and past a house that has now been refurbished with accompanying modern stock sheds and is unrecognisable from its former self. No doubt what we sometimes end up remembering isn’t always the same as what we witnessed, but a first look at the lake confirmed it was exactly as I remember, apart from three new boats moored beside a state-of-the-art jetty as opposed to the old clinker-built 14-footer padlocked to a post on the opposite bank.
I’ve no idea who the present farmer is, but I can’t believe he will be as well remembered or as much of a character as John “Bach” (meaning “little” in Welsh) who used to farm here in the early 1980s. John’s three sheepdogs used to warn him when a car was stopping on the road, and he’d usually meet us on horseback or, rather, bareback on a Welsh mountain pony with a hessian sack as a saddle, and if it was raining, another sack tied over his shoulders to keep dry. Not forgetting the classic length of bright blue bailing twine that held his jacket together. One of his dogs was an ankle-nipper, so you soon learned to keep the landing net handy as a deterrent.
My regular fishing partner at that time, Gwyndaf, was really more interested in sea-trout and salmon, but until those fish started running the local rivers in late May and early June, he was happy to cast a line on the lakes. My car made the 20-odd miles from his home more comfortable for him; he could make and smoke a few “rollies”, which was not possible on his unreliable 125cc motorbike. Having Gwyndaf with me was an advantage because he was a Welsh speaker and John rarely conversed in English.
GEORGE BARRON
is a much-admired Welsh angler and traditional fly-dresser, the author of At the End of the Line: Classic Loch-style Wet Flies and A Fine Line.
There was always a smile on John’s weathered face, despite having teeth like two rows of condemned houses, and his high-pitched voice would climb higher and higher as he excitedly chatted with Gwyndaf. I became known to
