WWhen Justin Keight saw two ambulances outside his best friend’s house one morning during the Covid lockdown, he immediately knew what that meant. His friend, who was married with children, suffered from depression.
“The day before he killed himself, he told me he was really going through a hard time,” he says. Keight urged him to sleep over and talk, but his friend didn’t want to break social distancing rules.
Three years later, Keight stands on the pier in Falmouth, helping a group of strangers – many of them men struggling with mental health or loneliness – to fish. He and his small group of trained, volunteer angling coaches do this every two weeks. This time almost 30 people of different ages showed up.
“It’s about getting people out of the room where they feel blocked and getting them down through the moving water, which is so good for your well-being,” says Keight.
One middle-aged man is busy catching fish after fish. He was put in touch with the group, called Tight Lines, after contacting another local mental health charity. Keight helps him gently release the fish back into the water and they watch them swim away. They are small freckles, but the man’s face beams with pleasure and pride.
Others don’t catch much at all, but when they stand next to someone else who is also getting the hang of the rod, they often start chatting.
Andrew, in his early seventies and alone in a Cornish village, has not fished since childhood. Next to him is Ian, who lives in Worcester but wants to move to the province. His father had a boat and they came to Cornwall a lot, so it feels “like home”.
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From top: Justin, a coach, with Reo, who came with his grandmother; Harry, another young fisherman, brings in his catch; Angela prepares the bait; a black goby; Ian holds his last catch
“Water just makes you feel better,” says Ian. “I’ve always loved it.”
Further down the pier, Tash, who has a hectic job in a care home, says: “It’s not really about catching anything. It’s just peaceful.”
It’s her first time fishing at sea, and the man next to her, who has brought his own equipment, helps her cast her line further into the water. Tash points to a cormorant, which dives into the water with its long black neck. She knows the names of all the seabirds. “I will definitely come back,” she says.
Ange, one of the angling coaches, has relied on gentle fishing trips to get her through the tougher times in her life, including the loss of her parents. Last week she caught some coalfish and took it to a community kitchen in Porthleven, where she lives, which is famous among tourists for the waves crashing against the harbor wall. The kitchen fed 32 local people with breaded fish that evening, and froze the other half for fish pie.
“We fed 60 hungry people for nothing,” says Ange. “That feels good.”
At Tight Lines, Ange knows her role is as much about talking to people as it is about fishing. “When you put them in the air, something happens. It’s gentle, she says. “It makes people softer.”
Tim Cocks, who helped Keight set up Tight Lines, describes the experience as “taking your mind off your problems.”
“You may not have had a single bite, but you may have seen a seal or a swan, been out in the fresh air and talked,” he says. “It all lowers your blood pressure.”
Julia Berry, a local police officer who has been involved with the group since last year, brought her grandson Reo. She’s glad she got him off his computer to go fishing, but adds that she also wants him to have more positive male role models in his life.
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Reo poses with his catch, a black gobey fish, while his grandmother, Julia, takes a photo and Angela, the coach, ensures the fish is safely released for throwback
She believes groups like Tight Lines are especially valuable for men. “Women go out and chat. Most men don’t,” she says. “Here you just stand there fishing, but gradually you talk to people, without any pressure.”
As the evening progresses, people begin to pack up and head home. Many wonder when the next opportunity for a meeting will occur. Keight says he is happy with the turnout.
“When I started this, I thought if I help just one man a year, I’ve really done something,” he says. “I think this could have really helped my best friend.”
In Great Britain and Ireland it is Samaritans You can contact the freephone number 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US you can call or text National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.orgor text HOME to 741741 to contact a crisis advisor. In Australia the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at friendsers.org