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Gareth Fareham
SUBmag #001 ARCHIVES - ROB BRIERS 'IT'S (NOT ALL) GRIM UP NORTH'

SUBmag #001 ARCHIVES - ROB BRIERS 'IT'S (NOT ALL) GRIM UP NORTH'

At just 23 years old, Robbie’s album, and attitude belies his young years – an ‘old head on young shoulders’ is how I’ve heard him described – or the ‘baby-faced assassin’ as Sammy likes to call him – which I’ve no doubt he’ll hate. A typically understated and no frills northern lad, he has worked hard to carve out the time, and money, to be able to travel and fish for some of the finest in the land over the last few years; a 360-mile round trip away from his home in north Manchester – if you want it badly...

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Gareth Fareham
SUBmag #001 ARCHIVES - DAN KILGOUR - PREP GAME

SUBmag #001 ARCHIVES - DAN KILGOUR - PREP GAME

Dan Kilgour's name is synonymous with a couple of things, namely big hits of nuts and seeds and also catching big under the radar ones from difficult low stock waters around the valley. If you’ve ever wondered about the mechanics of prepping and priming an area, here’s a technical insight into exactly how Dan goes about it.

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Gareth Fareham
ISSUE 2 ARCHIVES - AURORA BOREALIS - JON SKOLD

ISSUE 2 ARCHIVES - AURORA BOREALIS - JON SKOLD

The only way to try to get through it all, is by recollecting all the precious moments you've experienced throughout the season, maybe from years gone by, all over again inside your head, and at some point it is about also imagining what lies ahead. Maybe with the help of photos, but they are just tools of aid, you must actually feel those mild and fresh mornings inside you, where that left hand rod suddenly curled around, and the bite alarm melted away in the misty morning sun, as if it would never cease. You get into some sort of...

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Gareth Fareham
ISSUE 2 ARCHIVES - ONE FOR THE ROAD - SIMON CROFT

ISSUE 2 ARCHIVES - ONE FOR THE ROAD - SIMON CROFT

Just one last brew; a quick cuppa and a catch up with Shaun, and a last farewell - so long and thanks for all the fish! It was the end of that journey, that particular angling chapter of my life. Friends had led me there, friendships had been forged there, fish had even been caught there, a pleasant and refreshing bonus. There were still plenty on ‘the list’, plenty I would have cut my right arm off for, but you can’t win them all. Circumstance, or fate, had conspired to take me from that little pocket of Berkshire dreams. I’d...

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