The Alternative Angler – Silt – Walter Letters #3

The Silt – Walter Letters #3

Aug 24th 1964

Dear Mr Walters

Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately, I’ve been very busy researching for the definitive book on halibut fishing that you encouraged me to write.

Anyway, thank you for inviting me down to your fishing hut beside the banks of the River Ouse for a couple of days. What an honour for me to be asked to visit such a hallowed place where so many illustrious anglers had been before. Such was my excitement to get there that I strapped my rod to the crossbar, jammed the rest of my gear into the panniers, put the bike on the train and rushed down as soon as I could.

I’m glad to say that the return ticket didn’t use up all of my pocket money, a packed lunch and a packet of toffee Poppets from the vending machine on the platform kept me going through the long journey south.

After changing trains a few times, I finally arrived at Wolverton station and pedalled furiously through Stony Stratford and on towards Buckingham. Had to get to the hut before it got too dark, due to a problem with the dynamo on the bike. Anyway, when I arrived it seems I had just missed you, but I was grateful that you had taken the time to write out a list of jobs for me to do, very thoughtful, as I am always happy to pull my weight, as I hope you know.

Yours etc,

Don Silt

Aug 25th 1964

Dear Mr Walters

I spent the fist night in my sleeping bag on the floor. I was going to use the bunk beds but the sheets seemed very stiff; perhaps they weren’t properly aired. Anyway, I took out the bedding and washed it in the river the next morning, even found a couple of rocks to bash it on, real ‘native style’ and certainly got rid of those stubborn stains.

I hung all the sheets on the wooden fence to dry while I got on with cleaning the stove. No wonder you didn’t get time do it before you left, it took me ages to scrub it clean, along with the pots and pans.

Anyway, I got the whole place ship-shape, but I noticed that the larder was a bit empty, and as I had to cycle into the local village for provisions, I picked up two one gallon tins of creosote, one on each end of the handlebars for better balance, came back and set about sprucing up the outside of the hut, which was looking a bit forlorn, I thought.

Yours etc,

Don Silt

Aug 26th 1964

Dear Mr Walters

I had a nice chat yesterday evening with Mr Marchant, the farmer chappie, while I was hard at it with the creosote brush. He very kindly let me off paying ten bob for a fishing ticket by saying I could cut the meadow all round the hut. He lent me a Qualcast push mower to do it; he said you would approve of a quality piece of machinery such as that being used. He was also very impressed with my creosoting, but he did wonder if I shouldn’t have chosen Nut Brown instead of Golden, as he reckons you could now see it from Thornton Bridge, and he wondered if I shouldn’t give the inside a coat while I was at it.

I think he might have been joking with that remark, as it would mean stripping the walls, which are covered in those calendars (I expect you need so many to help you keep track of all the bookings) with pictures of young ladies whose clothes appear to have fallen off, for some reason or other.

Indeed, they are very similar to some of those magazines with pictures of men and women who seem to be engaged in some sort of half naked jostling that I found under the bunk beds. It took me a while to work it out, but I think they must be Greco-Roman wrestling periodicals, although I didn’t look too hard at the pictures, and indeed, I couldn’t get a lot of the pages apart, as they seemed to be stuck together.

But how fitting that a group of intellectuals such as yourselves should share a love of classical sports. I can just see you all sitting round under the gas lamp after a hard day’s fishing and having a vigorous discussion about various holds and maybe demonstrating them on each other. If I had a hut like this I would have fish identification pictures all round the walls, but of course, experienced anglers such as you and your colleagues would have no use for such things, being the experts that you are.

Yours etc,

Don Silt

Aug 27th 1964

Dear Mr Walters

Last day here so I was up with the lark and off fishing at the crack of dawn. I tried a number of swims such as Two Willows, The Large Cabbage Patch and The Bridge Pool, all to no avail, I’m afraid, I didn’t catch so much as a crayfish. I’m not making excuses for myself, as I am nowhere near as good an angler as you and your colleagues, but my hands were still stained with creosote, which might have tainted the bait. And perhaps I shouldn’t have used a whole packet of Lux flakes to wash those sheets in the river, although those stains were really stubborn, it has to be said. Then again, after I emptied the chemical toilet, as requested, I did swill it round in the river to clean it out, and that may not have helped the situation.

Oh well, never mind, you did say I could come down anytime, so I am hoping to visit again soon, and hopefully get a chance to watch the master in action on his own ‘patch’ as it were. I really can’t wait.

Yours etc,

Don Silt

September 14th 1964

Dear Mr Walters

Just a short note in reply to your last, somewhat irate, letter. I can only apologise for apparently polluting the stream for weeks to come. I can see from the tone of your letter that this has upset you somewhat. But I am dismayed to read that what really caused you to withdraw my open invitation to visit the hut was my thoughtless decision to re-stock the larder with tins of Top Deck shandy, instead of Long Life beer. In my defence, that is all I could get from village stores, as the off-licence was shut on the day I cycled over for provisions. Perhaps it would have been better had I not gone fishing on the last day and concentrated on getting the right beer instead.

I’m very sorry, and as you say, it appears it won’t happen again.

Yours etc,

Don Silt