Winter Pollack in Applecross
- Adam Wyness
- Feb 19
- 1 min read
’Twas Christmas morning,
the kettle just hissed,
But Dani was working — a shift not to miss.
The house still and quiet,
no plans to unfold,
So I grabbed up the rod in the pale winter cold.
The sea lay glassed in that soft silver light,
No creature was stirring — just Sea Eagles in their flight.
I launched out a wedge in the run of the tide,
Expecting a tap, just a half-hearted ride.
But the rod bucked hard — and to my delight,
Up came a pollack… a surprise double-figure fight.
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