The Journey

A couple of week ago, while out riding my bike, I noticed a fish jumping out of the Euchan River, trying to get up the waterfall that blocked its path. I stopped and watched its attempts. More fish attempted the jumps. My brother and I could not believe our eyes and started cheering them all on. I investigated about the fish and discovered the incredible journey that Atlantic Salmon make every year. Hope you enjoy! 😁

Watercolour Atlantic salmon by Matthew, age 7

The Journey

Hello!  I’m Finn, an Atlantic salmon. I’m also one of the few that made it to the ocean. I had to face perilous waterfalls, hungry birds and slimy seals (honestly have you seen how fat those guys are?!) Anyway, less of the past more of the future! The waters around Greenland are abundant with food that tastes terrific! My few years in the ocean are coming to an end. Soon I will have to journey back to my birthplace- the beauteous Euchan river that joins the Nith at Sanquhar. Quite a few salmon seem wary of the journey ahead. Personally, I don’t see what they’re fussing about. The return home seems quite exciting to me so I’m not going to brood over it. Onwards and upwards!

Well that’s me. I’m on my way to the river I was born in. I’m so excited. The school of fish I am traveling with suddenly stop. I’m just about to ask my neighbour why we have halted in our convoy when I see something utterly terrible.

Ghastly gulls gather above the grey ocean hoping to catch a well-fed Atlantic Salmon. A trawler must be…

Suddenly, I’m writhing and squirming in a trawlerman’s net, along with some other unfortunate companions. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll be a fisherman’s dinner! With a loud rip, the bottom of the net tears on a jagged rock cutting a large hole in the netting.  I dart out and hurry to catch up with the rest of my school, who managed to avoid capture.

I’ve just entered the Solway Firth. The noisy chatter of salmon is deafening. We swim as close to the mouth of the Nith as we dare until the mix of salt and freshwater taste begins to taste odd and stings my gills. Maybe I’d better stay here for a while until I’m used to this brackish water.

Hundreds of salmon crowd deep in the seabed. In this estuary there are lot of predators. Occasionally, a brave salmon will swim up to the surface to check if the coast is clear- and they won’t come back down. The tide is going out. This is my last chance. I should go now… My heartbeat quickens. There is only one thing for it. I must go, I must go, I must go. I close my eyes and will luck to be on my side, as I propel myself upwards. Shouts of “Come back!” and “Don’t try it!” ring in my ears. But I ignore them. Cormorants sit in a nearby tree drying their wings out in the sun. I swim slowly past them and, thankfully, they do not stir. I am approaching the mouth of the Nith. I can see weaker creatures being pulled back into the Solway Firth, as the ferocity of the current overpowers them.  Jings crivens, help ma fishes, I better brace myself. I’ve just entered the most dangerous part of my journey known to salmon kind.

I have been fighting the current for hours. I’m so tired, yet I know if I stop, I will be washed back down to the Solway by the rushing water. I think I’m about halfway there. I’m almost at Dumfries so it shouldn’t be too long. That’s me at the Whitesands now. The water rushes down, pulling me with it! I am stuck at a literal brick wall. My journey is at an end. Or so I think. I see a couple of salmon swim over to the right-hand side of the Nith. I follow. A ladder! I jump up each step. When I reach the top, I look around, there was almost no current at all! This was going to be easy. But as I swam further up the Nith the current returned. I’m starting to get hungry. Glancing to my left, I see a fly floating on the surface. Don’t snap at the fly, don’t make a sound, don’t draw attention to yourself.  My comrade does just that. He swallows the fly and is dragged out of the water. He doesn’t come back down. Horrified, I scurry on.

I’ve just swam into the Euchan river. The current is fierce and I’m having to battle my way upstream. My nostrils tell me I’m nearing home. Just round this cor… Oh no.

This cannot be happening. A gigantic waterfall blocks my path. Once again, my nostrils direct me. My destination is beyond the top of that waterfall. How in the name of all the salmon in the sea, am I supposed to get up there? It’s about ten metres tall! I ponder in the deep pool at the bottom of the cascade of water. If I don’t get up this mountain, my whole journey will be in vain. I must overcome the problem. I push up from the ground and shoot up in the air, tail and fins flapping madly. I fall, battered, back into the river. A few pied wagtails twitter mockingly at my failed attempts. “I’d like to see you try.” I snap at them. They fly up over the waterfall proving that they actually can. Cursing at them under my breath, I continue to jump out the water. Frustrated, I swim back down the bottom of the pool. I groan. Why couldn’t I do it!? I’ve tried for so long and so hard yet all I gain is bumps and bruises! Though it feels as if I’ll never make it, I try again. Maybe I just had to remember that it was my optimism that got me this far. With these thoughts in my head, I leap and land, slightly painfully, at the top of the waterfall. I’ve done it!  Though I am exhausted, and my body is bleeding and aching, I speed on, practically jumping for joy. Until I stop, I shake with all different types of emotions. I am home.

This is probably the last time you will ever hear of me. Thank you, you’ve all been great listeners. Wish your fishy friend luck with his spawning! If you ever find yourself swimming upstream, in the face of difficulty, remember nothing is impossible.

Burning desire

 I decided to write a piece about The Great fire of London because this week was its anniversary. I noticed that people seemed to enjoy when I personified clothes so I thought, what if I personified a fire?  This is the finished result. Enjoy! 😄

Picture painted by Matthew, age 7

Burning Desire

The year was 1666 and I was on a mission. I was created in a small bakery, down in Pudding Lane on the 2^nd September. It was the early hours of Sunday morning and the baker had gone to bed, forgetting to sweep out his oven. I floated from the embers and landed in a crack in the wall, smouldering away in the house’s timber. With great ease, I set the whole wall alight and soon I had the bottom floor of the Farryner’s bakery on fire. The family did not realise until a small son crept down the stairs. “Fire!” he yelled and raced back up to his parents. I taunted behind him, nipping athis skinny ankles. For my amusement, I permitted the rest of them to scramble from their beds, before forcing them to jump out of a window and on to a neighbour’s roof. A young maid was afraid of heights and was unwilling to jump from the window. This stupid woman was my first victim. I watched with satisfaction as she ran, screaming, round the room, engulfed in my flames. A callous smile spread across my face as I gave a crackle of maniacal laughter. This was going to be fun.

Where shall I terrorise next? I rampaged up the street and an unexpected ally joined my forces. The wind knew where his loyalty’s lay. Together we set structures alight and chased people up and down the street. Eventually, every building in Pudding Lane was caught in our magnificent blaze. I was growing larger and stronger by the minute, and so was my ego. If I could cause MASS destruction in an hour, just think what I would be capable of over the course of a few days! Why stop at one street when I could destroy a whole city! This was my chance to go down in history as the Great Fire of London.

With the help of my friend, the wind, I swept across the city, burning everything in my path. It was almost as if the fools wanted me to burn their beautiful home. Their houses were wooden and built so closely together that they could shake hands with a neighbour from an upstairs window. Brilliant fire precautions, I thought sarcastically. As I approached the Thames, I saw a line of men covered in ash and passing leather buckets to each other. I mocked their feeble attempts to control me. As I loomed in front of them, their bravery faltered, and they scattered - tails between their legs.

I raged on mercilessly for the next couple of days, recreating the city in my own terrible fashion. Having already destroyed St. Paul’s Cathedral, my new goal was The Tower of London. But ash blackened people all around me were now blowing up wooden buildings with gunpowder. Suddenly, a strange paralysis took hold and I found it increasingly difficult to move. I was losing energy. What was happening?

The tower was in my sights, but I knew that I couldn’t spread any further. I fell into an exhausted heap.  Without wood to burn, I was beginning to fade.  My mission had not been completed but maybe I had inspired others to follow in my footsteps.