Saturday, 28 March 2026

Old Hat


 

Maybe Airlines

Maybe we fly, maybe we don't
Maybe we crash, maybe we don't
Maybe we die, maybe we don't

Sarajevo 1995


This faithful hat has been with me for every step of my salmon-fishing journey, through rain, shine, snow and ice.  Finally, faded under the impacts of wear, tear and rot, it has fallen apart and now must retire.  I'm sad to lose my constant companion.  Whether it was a lucky hat I'll never know, but for 30 years we shared wonderful days and blank days alike.  For all those reasons I feel moved to tell its story.


It bears the logo of Maybe Airlines, the name given by the mordantly humorous Norwegian Movement Controllers to the incredibly brave, skilful and sometimes drunk Ukrainian contract pilots who flew a motley collection of ex-Soviet transport aircraft into and out of Sarajevo under fire in support of the United Nations during the Bosnian War 1992-95. 




The Serbs held Mount Igman and the hills dominating the airport and much of the ground under the final approach path.  An IL-76, a giant barn under some wings and 4 jet engines, was a large, slow-moving target and especially vulnerable while taxiing on the ground.  You approached at night  at altitude before entering a steep spiral descent, then levelled out, took aim at the minimal intermittent runway lights and landed at speed with maximum reverse thrust. 


Once on the taxi-way the back ramp went down, and with the aircraft still moving you threw your bergen out, then followed it into the darkness.  Once the new arrivals were clear, the outgoing passengers reversed the process, throwing their bags in and running up the ramp.  The aircraft never stopped moving, because halting invited mortar fire.  Sometimes things went wrong as evidenced by the wrecked IL-76 at the far end of the runway.  I remain in awe of the bravery and skill of the Maybe crews, and I wore their hat with pride in memory of their service.


In the beginning with the hat, an inherited rod, and the adulation of an admiring dog.....
















15 years on, with increasing confidence and success.....












With some very large wild trout along the way......















Year 20 and a serious salmon......













Year 27.......
















Spanning a new generation of salmon anglers.....













Year 30 the last wash too many and disintegration
















Farewell old friend, but you won't be thrown away.



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