In the warmer summer months there is no better place to be in the cool of the evening than by the side of a lake or pond surrounded by fishing tackle, rod in hand, poised to react to the float's slightest tremble. These liminal spaces between the sultry heat of the day and the dark oblivion of night can be among the most productive periods to pursue our underwater quarry, and to feel the cares and worries of the day metaphorically and literally lift from shoulders, as a few hours of angling activity work their healing balm. This evening the quarry were rudd, a fish which is as inexorably linked in my mind and memory with summer evenings as the tench is with summer mornings.
(illustration with kind permission of the artist, David Miller http://www.davidmillerart.co.uk/ )
Tackle was a vintage glass fibre match rod made by the long since gone but still lamented North London firm of Rodrill, matched with a Shakespeare Lincoln centre pin reel and teamed with a delicate handmade float. After my exertions on the Trent a fortnight previously this was an altogether more relaxed affair, with Roger and David joining me on the bank for an evening that had a pleasing social element, and in which any fish caught would be the icing on the proverbial cake rather than the sole justification for being beside the lake.
It wasn't long before the aforementioned float was dipping beneath the water's surface for the first time and soon a procession of pristine rudd, along with the occasional roach were finding their way to the bank, none of them spectacular in size, mostly in the 4 to 6 ounce size range. The rudd were picture-book gold with lustrous red fins, and the roach emitted the silver sheen characteristic of the species, each as eye catching as anything in a jeweller's window display. Roger, who like me was floatfishing with sweetcorn and indulging his penchant for vintage tackle (in his case a split cane float rod and Mordex centre pin) took longer to get among the fish, but in time was also admiring and returning rudd of a similar stamp.
The real excitement, however, was provided by David who, in the swim between mine and Roger's was catching carp after carp on surface fished chum mixers, ending the evening with an impressive total of ten or eleven hard fighting commons. Neither Roger or I, who had been forced to minimise on tackle having both come straight from work had arrived equipped with carp rods or tackle, but after twice being broken by carp on sweetcorn I dispensed with the 3 pound hooklength and fished 4 pound mainline straight through to a size 12 hook baited with luncheon meat, but all this resulted in was a slowing of bites and a rogue bacon grill loving perch and one last roach, both of which were round about half a pound in weight.
It had been a balmy evening, and the three of us were aware that, with September almost upon us, there would be few more such evenings before Autumn draws in, and perch and pike become the chief quarry of choice as the year inexorably follows its annual cycle.
Sometimes all that's required for happiness is a few friends, a quiet evening by a lake and a smattering of roach and rudd. I was still smiling half an hour later as I turned the car into the drive. Tonight I suspect that my dreams will be full of lovely golden fish and floats, as some angling sage once said, wonderful in appearance and even more so in disappearance. This much is certain- for as long as I'm an angler I'll never require a therapist.
It wasn't long before the aforementioned float was dipping beneath the water's surface for the first time and soon a procession of pristine rudd, along with the occasional roach were finding their way to the bank, none of them spectacular in size, mostly in the 4 to 6 ounce size range. The rudd were picture-book gold with lustrous red fins, and the roach emitted the silver sheen characteristic of the species, each as eye catching as anything in a jeweller's window display. Roger, who like me was floatfishing with sweetcorn and indulging his penchant for vintage tackle (in his case a split cane float rod and Mordex centre pin) took longer to get among the fish, but in time was also admiring and returning rudd of a similar stamp.
The real excitement, however, was provided by David who, in the swim between mine and Roger's was catching carp after carp on surface fished chum mixers, ending the evening with an impressive total of ten or eleven hard fighting commons. Neither Roger or I, who had been forced to minimise on tackle having both come straight from work had arrived equipped with carp rods or tackle, but after twice being broken by carp on sweetcorn I dispensed with the 3 pound hooklength and fished 4 pound mainline straight through to a size 12 hook baited with luncheon meat, but all this resulted in was a slowing of bites and a rogue bacon grill loving perch and one last roach, both of which were round about half a pound in weight.
It had been a balmy evening, and the three of us were aware that, with September almost upon us, there would be few more such evenings before Autumn draws in, and perch and pike become the chief quarry of choice as the year inexorably follows its annual cycle.
Sometimes all that's required for happiness is a few friends, a quiet evening by a lake and a smattering of roach and rudd. I was still smiling half an hour later as I turned the car into the drive. Tonight I suspect that my dreams will be full of lovely golden fish and floats, as some angling sage once said, wonderful in appearance and even more so in disappearance. This much is certain- for as long as I'm an angler I'll never require a therapist.
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