AWAY FROM IT ALL
THE ELEGANT ART OF FLY FISHING is more difficult than it looks. I’m standing on the edge of Tasmania’s pristine Lake St Clair, Australia’s deepest lake that’s situated 180 kilometres from Hobart and tucked into the Central Highlands of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, with my rod in hand and a basket of flies made from fur and feathers at the ready to snare a wild brown or rainbow trout.
It’s the golden hour of a magical late-afternoon light and with no phone reception or internet access due to the remote geography, the only sounds are the waves gently lapping on the shore and the whir of
