Baitboats in a split cane world ...

 

Here's the received wisdom in relation to the legendary Carp Catcher's Club, that small society who redefined the way we fish, created the aura that still surrounds Redmire and showed an unbelieving angling public that carp really were catchable: Dick Walker was the innovator who applied his relentless curiosity and scientific mind to the task of catching carp, and BB was the hopeless romantic, a dreamer and icon for all that's traditional in angling.
Of course, there's more than a grain of truth in those statements. Dick Walker, more than any other angler, gave rise to modern specimen hunting, and BB was a dreamy, mystic, but re-reading his classic "Confessions of a Carp Fisher" along with all the descriptive writing and the evocations of "The Old Copper Mine"(Beechmere) and tales of Father Angelus I came upon this:
"I also experimented with a small raft made from scraps of bark, resting the bread upon it..." , BB goes on to admit that " ... with the boat method I usually manage to get some tangles in my coiled line; a single blade of grass, a leaf or twig, will cause the line to 'snarl', the bait is jerked off the boat and the whole laborious business has to be begun again".
So, there you have it: even in today's gadget saturated carp world bait boats remain controversial, but way back in the late 40's and early 50's BB, of all people, was experimenting with an early form of the bait boat.
It just goes to show there really is, as the writer of the Book of Ecclesiastes put it "nothing new under the sun" ... it's enough to make Chris Yates remove that scene of him blasting a bait boat to pieces from "A Passion for Angling."
BB and boat baits- whatever next? Bernard Venables and hair rigs? Isaak Walton and method feeders?

In debt to Capability

 

 

It wasn't his intention, but Capability Brown has immeasurably added to the pleasure I derive from fishing, for it is he who was the architect and populariser of the estate lakes that form my favourite fishing  environment . Don't get me wrong, I don't exclusively fish estate lakes, and none of my biggest fish have come from them, but there's something indefinably magical about a 250 year old lake of an acre or two set in the grounds of a stately home. It's been said that Brown's intention was to "improve on nature", and while I don't for one moment think that he manged to do that (you can't out-create the Creator!) I love the intimacy of fishing small estate lakes.

Three such lakes (all of which I'll decline to name!) have a special place in my affections; the small pond that has featured in a number of these posts in which I currently fish in the summer for crucians (and where last month I blanked while fishing for perch!), an estate lake in the South East that I lure fished for pike with my brother when in my late 20's - summer piking with topwater plugs and shallow divers and loads of compliant jacks, and a charming little lake I fished with my son for a couple of years either for small wild carp of 2 - 3 pounds or for hoardes of voracious little roach and rudd.

I enjoy and am fascinated by fish-inhabited water of all kinds; big wild gravel pits, small meandering rivers, canals and even the much maligned commercials, but, to my mind, there's nothing to beat a nicely matured estate lake, and so I propose a toast to Capability Brown and all his landscaping successors!

My son, a couple of years ago, with a catch of small roach and rudd from an estate lake

On getting lucky ...

HT Sherringham wrote of carp fishing in 1911 : "So far as my experience goes, it is certain that good luck is the most vital part of the equipment of him who would seek to slay big carp. For some men I admit the usefullness of skill and pertinacity, for myself, I take my stand entirely on luck. To the novice I would say 'cultivate your luck' ..."
Now, Sherringham was one of the foremost anglers of his time, and so the the piece deserves to be read in the light-hearted manner it was intended, but it got me thinking about the part "luck" plays in angling.

We've all bristled at the well-meaning bank-walker's question "Had any luck, mate?", and wanted to launch ourselves into an impassioned piece of oratory about the skill required to be sucessful in "the gentle art", but as I pondered on Sherrigham's dictum I realised that three of my own personal bests were caught by accident while fishing for other species of fish, and therefore might be seen as "lucky fish".

A roach of about a pound (with possibly a hint of bream?) "fluked" on carp gear 

 

My biggest roach, not a giant, but at 1 lb 12 oz a "good effort", was caught while fishing for carp, using boilies, bolt rigs and tackle that ensured that the ensuing fight was less than spectacular, while my best ever perch was caught on a plug intended for pike, and my biggest zander fell to a livebait while again targetting old esox.

 

My personal best zander caught while pike fishing

 

So, was Sherringham right? I guess we have to concede to him a degree of truth, luck does play a part, but over the course of time a part that is of lesser significance than skill, technique, experience and above all "watercraft". What also seems indisputable is the fact that the "luckiest" anglers also seem to be the hardest working and most skilful.

 

As for me, the way things have been with my fishing of late, I'll take whatever "luck" I can get, but I suspect the secret to turning my fortunes around will have more to do with effort than random chance. Perhaps "cultivate your luck" is a euphemism for keeping persevering, and so as I take my leave, I'll wish you all "tight lines and good luck" and leave you to interpret the salutation as best you see fit.



 



Partial redemption and the tyranny of time ...

 

Three tiny spinner-caught perch from the canal don't exactly signify the greatest ever comeback since Lazarus, but at least they restore some sort of parity between me and my underwater quarry after last week's blank on the Estate Lake. There's nothing quite like an ignominious blank to pull me back to the water's edge!

However, whatever slight sense of satisfaction I'm feeling has to be offset by the fact that this season (in these days of all year angling I date seasons in Calendar years, not from the once-hallowed 16th of June) has been a "season of two halves". My summer which was spent chasing crucians was great fun, and although I failed to land my target 2 pounder was a success both in terms of enjoyment and numbers of fish caught. The autumn/winter, by contrast, has never really got going, always been slightly half-hearted and has yet to see any fish of note caught.

Time seems to be the great enemy. I'm nicely sorted for summer fishing, with the Estate lake offering cracking crucian sport, and another local lake where (if the inclination takes, although this year's crucian obsession didn't allow) decent fun-sized low double carp are always on the cards , but I really haven't cracked the winter predator fishing round here at all. The combination of a busy work and family life haven't allowed ample time for the extensive exploring that's always a precursor to success when faced with long lengths of canal and no prior knowledge, and so my results (like the fish I've caught) have been stunted.

Eternal salvation might be undeserved and all of God's grace, but success in fishing comes by hard work and human effort, and at the moment I haven't got the time! Never mind, only 6 months till the weather picks up and I can resume my carp and crucian capers!

Blanking in the rain

No one does denial with quite as much ingenuity and self deception as an angler who (like I just have) has suffered a blank. It's never our fault. It's either the wrong weather (all anglers), a bad draw (match anglers), the wrong moonphase (pike angling's loony fringe) or a whole range of other inventive excuses.
Then there are the little sayings that we employ to try to convince ourselves that we don't mind blanking; "there's more to fishing than catching fish", and so on, which- of course is true- but the fact is we do mind, and we much prefer catching.

Although today's was only my second blank of this year, the frustrating thing is that I've learnt nothing from it, and, for me, it's the acquisition of new knowledge that makes blanks bearable.
I don't know what I did wrong or what I'd do differently.
I knew that the crucians for which the estate lake is well known would be in a semi-torpid state, so wasn't expecting to tangle with any of them, but I was confident of picking up the odd perch or roach.
I guess although I've learnt nothing new, it's reinforced what I already knew: with some exceptions, fish are much easier to catch in the long, hot days of summer than in the cold of winter.

Confident that the perch would feed, I started off with a worm on a size 14, pole fishing at the edge of a reed bed on 4lb line with a 2lb bottom. After introducing some chopped worms, I introduced red maggots regularly, but sparingly. After a fishless hour I fined down to 2.5lb line and a 2lb bottom to a size 20 and single maggot, but still to no avail. After 3 hours of unremitting rain, and not even a single tremor on the float I accepted the inevitable and packed up.

Next time out I suspect it'll be off to the canal with my spinning rod- at least that way even if the fish remain unimpressed,  I'll still get a good walk!

Traditionalist tendancies

 

 

It will come as a shock to the congregation of my church, where despite the theology being orthodox the culture is guitars, drumkits, bands, screens and informality to discover that there lurks within me a traditionalist gene.

Most of my fishing is done using modern tackle and methods, but every now and then I can't resist the temptation to get in touch with my "inner Chris Yates" and fish in time honoured styles with either genuinely old, or modern "faux vintage" equipment. The photo above shows some of my traditional float collection (some of which were made by me, others by float-makers who peddle their wares on the internet), lovely tactile floats made of goose quill, porcupine quill, peacock quill, sarkandas reed, cork and balsa and finished off with a few coats of yacht varnish. More resistant than a pole float by a mile, but far more pleasing to the soul!

The centrepin reel in the photo is an aluminium "night shift special", knocked up by some factory worker when his boss wasn't looking or some old chap in his shed, and has caught me fish up to around 3 pounds in weight. I've also got an old Inteprid fixed spool reel, which has manfully exerted its ancient slipping clutch to play double figure carp.

 

 

My Mitchell 300 ( purchased with my first wage packet 28 years ago) is still pressed into occasional service when fishing floaters for carp.

I own one cane rod (not the rod in these photo's- it's a carbon rod designed to "look" traditional!), and my son's first proper rod was a 9 foot cane "boy's rod" which I found on e-bay and on which he caught scores of fish up to around a pound in weight, and one of my best ever birthday presents was the ancient wicker seat basket that my wife found for me (again on the ubiquitous hi-tech car boot sale that is e-bay), and which I "brought back to life" with a couple of coats of linseed oil.

I'm not a "dyed in the wool" trad angler, or a manic "split cane fundamentalist", but if you've never tried fishing with a centrepin reel and some beautiful craftsman made quill floats, then I do feel confident in asserting that you've missed out. To feel a carp (even a small one) pull line from a centepin where the only clutch is the pressure applied by your palm is one of angling's great pleasures - why not get out there and give it a go!

 

 

 

 

 

The perils of pioneering

 

 

Here's a stat that makes sorry reading: the fish I'm holding in the photo is one of only two pike I've caught since moving to the East Midlands nearly five years ago. Now- to be fair- I've only been piking half a dozen times in that time period, and therein lies the problem.
How do you go exploring and learning new waters in a new area, miles from where you've ever lived before when your fishing (for good family and work reasons) is limited to a few hours once a fortnight?
The only way to get to know a new water is by fishing it, and that takes time. I've quickly managed to find myself a few places to catch decent rod bending sized carp (although I must confess to being bored of carp at the moment- I spent the best part of a decade until our move to the Midlands fishing for nothing but carp) , and have loved this spring and summer's crucian fishing on the estate lake, but the best piking around my way is to be found on the miles and miles of canal, and you don't get to know miles and miles of canal overnight.
Perhaps it's just a composite picture that'll take years to build up, certainly internet searches haven't helped much in trying to discover "hotspots", but I'll be out next month having a couple of attempts, "fishing blind" and hoping to "get lucky".
Oh, for the long gone days of endless school holidays, and seemingly endless time to fish- the irony is that I'm a much better angler now than I was at 15, but if I was 15 I'd have put the hours in and caught dozens of pike by now!
"The grass in the other field ....."

Fun-free fishing

 

 

 

I knew there was a reason why I had to sit through all those hours of lectures on pastoral counselling at theological college: it was to ready me for this moment, the moment when I (as gently as possible) dispell an illusion that a number of more recent converts to the "gentle art" might have been labouring under.
Here's the thing: forget what the great angling writers tell you in their gushing essays of euphoric prose, forget the fridge magnet stuff that proclaims that "a bad day's fishing is better than a good day at work", sometimes, dear reader, fishing just isn't much fun. Sometimes fishing's capacity to delight is matched only by its ability to disappoint.
Take this morning, for instance.

Up with the lark, off to the canal, and before I'd even reached the towpath things had started to unravel. I inexplicably drove past the turning to the canal. I've fished it half a dozen times previously, but found Nicky Campbell making George Osborne squirm on the radio so diverting that I missed the road, requiring a detour I could ill afford on what was always going to be a short session.
Eventually I arrived, and set about my "plan A", so named because I had no "plan B". Plan A involved starting off by fishing one bridge which has always been beneavolant to me in the past, then walking about a mile to the next bridge, catching several perch at each bridge, and then wandering back to the car park casting wherever I fancied with the unhurried ease of a man who's already caught his fair share of perch.
I started under the first bridge, using a lovely new "bottletop" spinner made for me by an American friend, Don, who runs a custom rod building company called "Rattlesnake Rods" in the US. The lure looked great in the water, spun nicely, gave off a nice flash- everything was right about it, only today the perch didn't want it. I persevered with it because it looked so right, but after fishing both bridges I'd had not a single take or follow.

Disconsolately I tried the less feature-filled stretches as I worked back towards the first bridge, which was to be my last hope. I changed lure (probably half an hour later than I should have done), and put on one of my "banker" Rublex Ondex lures, which I promptly snagged in some tree roots. I set up again, by now thoroughly fed up, walked round a bend and saw a magnificent heron standing on the far bank. I dropped to my knees, got my camera out, framed the shot, prepared to take the picture that would have made the morning's misery worth it, and just as I prepared to "shoot" the heron took off!
I trudged back to the first bridge, and half-heartedly cast another ondex under the bridge, and there it was - the tug of a small perch, I swung the fish in, removed the hooks, released the fish, and realised that catching it had made me not happier, but even more miserable! It was as if catching the fish had made things worse because I now felt slightly less justified in feeling so fed up!

I didn't bother fishing after that- sometimes you just know that it's not your day, and so I returned home to fill the rest of my day off with jobs and chores.
But here's the strangest bit: despite the fact that I hadn''t really enjoyed today at all, I can't wait till my next trip .... funny old game, isn't it?

Armchair angling

 

 

 

 

It's been a fortnight now since I last trod the banks of lake or canal with angling intent, a sorry state of affairs caused by a busy period at work and a number of family commitments. However, I have promised my son a perch fishing trip next week, so there is an end in sight to my current piscatorial inactivity.
My solace has been "armchair angling" (although even that has been metaphorical rather than literal, as there's been no time to sit in an armchair, and all the reading done has taken place late at night in bed with a dim reading lamp designed not to wake my sensibly sleeping wife).
Fortunately I have a reasonably extensive angling library, and- being an inveterate list maker- have decided to catalogue here my top 5 fishing books, so from 5 to 1, here they are:

(5) "Somewhere else" by Charles Rangely-Wilson; a wonderful, eclectic collection of fishing essays, well-written, evocative and catholic in the range of subjects covered: travel angling, pike, trout and even tope.
(4) "Trout at 10 000 feet" by John Bailey; similar to the above, but with none of the crude turn of phrase that occasionally unecessarily finds its way into Rangely-Wilson's writing. As much a travelogue as angling book, John Bailey taps into the adventurer that hides within all of us, and leaves us envying his global angling experiences.
(3) "Confessions of a carp fisher" by BB; a classic about carp angling that's outdated in every way except for the masterful manner in which it captures the very heart and spirit of what compels us to pick up rod and line. Illustrated by the author's own scraperboard art, a book that thoroughly deserves its enduring fame.
(2) "Death, taxes and leaky waders" by John Gierach; as only a very occasional (and terrifyingly inept) fly fisherman it's testament to Gierach's incredible prose that this book comes in at number two in my all-time favourites list. The book always gives rise within me not only to a yearning to fish, but also a more general yearning for the outdoors itself, and this is a part of its genius. Blessed with a witty turn of phrase reminiscent of Bill Bryson at his best, Gierach's short essays bear constant re-reading, so well are they crafted.
(1) ....... and my overall favourite is: ............ "How to fish" by Chris Yates. No other contemporary author compares with Yates for his ability to pen words that remind us of what it is we love about our chosen hobby. This book, while in many ways a collection of musings on life and an anthology of random thoughts, is ostensibly about the pursuit of my favourite freshwater fish, the enigmatic perch. If I could only take one angling book with me to the ubiquitous desert island, this would be the book.

So, there it is: my personal top five.
There are some great books that narrowly missed out (including Walton's "hallowed tome") and others such as Tom O Reilley's "The Spirit of the pond", Robin Armstrong's beautifully illustrated "Dartmoor River" and a couple of lovely American coffee table books that I regularly peruse: George Kramer's "Bass fishing: an American tradition" and an anthology called "Ode to bass and trout" edited by Alan James Robinson.
.... and here's the best bit: in less than a week I'll be swapping the books for a rod and line, and accompanied by my son I'll be "gone fishin'", but until then I will be (in the words of the song) "just a wishin' " ............ and reading.

"Signing off" at the Estate Lake

This morning my son and I packed our tackle into the car knowing that it would probably be our last trip of this year in pursuit of crucians. The siren call of old esox is getting louder and pulling harder by the day, and we'll soon be into our autumn/winter pike campaign.
We arrived at the lake early and chose a swim large enough to accomodate us both, and giving both of us a good reed bed to fish to. We fished in what has become our usual style at the estate lake, short poles, light lines, small hooks and maggots fed "little and often."
The weather was kind to us, offering the sort of sunshine that wasn't much in evidence this summer, and the fish were in obliging mood. As the morning wore on the bites slowed, but by the end of our four hour session we had around fifty fish, mostly crucians in the keepnet.
We even had a visit from my teenage daughter and a friend, and I surrendered my pole to them for a while, with them managing two fish apiece, which for my daughter's friend were the first two fish he had ever caught.
So, how to evaluate our summer on the Estate Lake?
 Despite coming nowhere near our target of a 2 pound crucian, there really can be no complaints. The lake itself is enchanting, the crucians beautiful , every session has been a pleasure, and it's been a welcome change from what had become the tedium of sitting behind buzzers endlessly doing the same thing.
However, although the crucians have pulled the elastic a bit, there have been no epic fights to remember, and so it will be nice to tangle with a few pike (hopefully) as winter sets in.
So, until next year, it's farewell to the Estate Lake as the Canal and a winter spent chasing pike beckons enticingly.

Spinning for stripeys

Perch are my favourite fish, more for their beauty, spiney swagger and attitude than for their size or fighting prowess. My first ever fish was a perch, and whether floatfishing or spinning they never fail to delight. I stole a morning session on a local stretch of canal this morning, choosing to take a break from the crucians to enjoy a leisurely stroll with a lure rod in the sort of balmy sunshine that has been a rarity this year.

 

Second cast of the day, using a very small red-spotted silver spinner, I caught this game little, fellow, all bristling, spikey indignation.
The sun beat down and I decided to walk on beyond the area of the canal that I'm familiar with and explore what lay beyond my normal beat. I allowed myself to be guided by the maxim WWCD (what would Crabtree do), and to fish only the perchiest looking spots.
Two more perch followed, both caught fishing around bridges, classic perch territory, and certainly swims that Mr Crabtree would have had a cast or two in. The second perch came to a red and yellow Panther Martin spinner, the final fish (on the final cast- how's that for "living the cliche!") falling for my all-time favourite perch lure, a Rublex Ondex.
It may have been more of a stroll in the sun than a serious fishing session, but when the mood takes there's little better than walking out with a rod, reel, net and small bag of lures.

Angling's common language

It's been three weeks since I last fished, although I'll be remedying that sorry statistic tomorrow. The combination of a week on our church's youth camp followed by a two week family holiday in France ruled out any piscatorial possibilities, but while in the lovely Gers region of France I purchased a copy of the second best fishing magazine I've ever read. Now, I'll be honest with you, excepting the always excellent Waterlog, I'm pretty bored with English fishing magazines. I still buy them, but much in the same way as I used to buy cigarettes when I was a smoker - not because I enjoyed most of them, but because I was addicted! They just tend to be the same old articles and thinly disguised product promotions from sponsored anglers coming round again and again like some printed version of "Groundhog Day".
 I stumbled on Le Pecheur de France in a small newsagents in a little bastide town and read it avidly for the rest of the holiday. My basic French, a bit of guesswork and the context of the articles meant that I could read and get the sense of most of what was being said, and it presented a winsome portrait of fishing accross the channel. There was lots about lure fishing, including a fascinating article about using surface baits for perch, some lovely photo's, quite a bit from a match angler called Jean Jaques Chaumet who sports the most prodigious of handlebar moustaches, and even an article on roach fishing "English-style"" (ie with a waggler and running line and reel) entitled "gardon au ble a l'angaise".
Not only did the magazine give an insight into fishing in France, but it served as a reminder that wherever anglers hail from, and however they choose to fish the fundamental attractions of the hobby are commonly owned ... a love of beautiful places and the challenge of fooling a living creature in its natural environment, before lovingly returning it from whence it came.

My "must have" lure

Ever since I first flung a plug (more in hope than anger) on a January day in 1982, I've been a devotee of lure fishing. I love the mobility, the collectability of the lures, the feel of actively hunting the prey, and the toothy critters themselves, and if I had to choose just one plug to use for the rest of my fishing days it would be ......... (wait for it) ... the Shakespear Big S. Now, I know that these days everybody is chucking Bulldawgs, Alien Eels, Replicants and 101 other soft plastic or rubber shad variants, but for over 30 years I've always had a space in my lure box for the Big S. I understand that it's no longer in production, which is a shame, but thankfully I've got half a dozen old stagers that should last a while yet. I have no doubt that a lot of the modern lures are superior, and I own and use  many of them, but there's something about that provocative wiggle just under the surface that gives me immense confidence in the Big S - that, and the fact that over the years I've caught scores of pike on them. It's only a couple of months till I get my lure rod out again for my autumn piking campaign, and, sooner or later, that means that one of my Big S's will come out of the box, be fixed to a trace and propelled into the canal. Other plugs may come and go, but for me the Big S is the "must have" plug, and I'd be far less confident setting out on a days piking without one in the lure box- it's a classic of the plug maker's art.

Of piscatorial parsons

The title of the blog kind of "gives the game away"- I'm a Vicar, and I fish, but I'm far from the only one. In fact, if you stretch the definitions a bit it's a tradition that goes way back to 30AD when the first disciples were called by the shores of Lake Galilee, a point Isaak Walton ( himself not a clergyman, but close friends with many, including the poet and Anglican Dean John Donne) was always keen to make. Famous fishing clergymen have included Charles Kingsley, author not only of "The Water Babies" but also of a fly fishing work entitled "Chalk Stream Studies" and Francis Kilvert whose country diaries remain popular to this day. Probably the greatest of all angling Vicars was the Rev EC Alston who died in 1977 aged 82, who for a while held both the rudd and tench records simultaneously, the rudd (which weighed 4 lb 8 oz) record lasting for over half a century before it was finally eclipsed. Perhaps the best known angling minister around at the moment is Stewart Bloor, pastor of a Baptist church in the Midlands whose weekly fishing blogs, Facebook and Twitter feeds are followed by an army of loyal fans.
Why so many piscatorial parsons is a mystery, perhaps it's because we only work one day a week and so have plenty of time to pursue our quarry,but I'll leave the last word (as I so often do) to that great Christian, churchman and friend of the clergy, Walton who wrote of fishing this:
"We may say of angling, as of strawberries: doubtless God could have made a better strawberry, but doubtless He never did, and so -if I may be judge- God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling."

Caught on the horns of a dilemna

I've just returned from the estate lake where I was watching Roger, a friend from church fishing for the ubiquitous crucians that are the lake's main attractions. The fishing was slower than it can be, but Roger managed to tangle with three of the lake's crucians as well as an assortment of roach and pretty little perch, but the fact has to be faced that my son, myself, Roger and two other angling friends from church, Dave and Anthony have all fished the lake (in my case with reasonable regularity), have all caught crucians, but have none of us come anywhere near the 2 pound target that I set at the beginning of the season. I've only managed a couple of crucians over the pound mark, with my son managing one of around the same weight. The average stamp is around a quarter of a pound, with a fair few in the half pound range, but (although I have seen a genuine photo of a 2 pounder caught from the lake) it's becoming clear that it'll be a matter of both luck and wading through vast numbers of smaller fish before I'm likely to tangle with the "dream fish."
 So, what to do?
 Do I persist with the quest till October turns my seasonally affected attention to pike fishing, or do I take a "time out" and spend the odd evenings or mornings that make up my current fishing opportunities stalking carp with floaters at another local lake?
 As yet, I'm undecided, but I'm leaning towards continuing the pursuit of the crucians; after all, they may be small, but the lake is tranquil, the fish breathtakingly beautiful, and there's far more to fishing than the mere pounds and ounces to which we often reduce our noble quarry.
 So, will my next trip be with dog biscuits and controllers or pole, maggots and pellets? Watch this space and I'll keep you posted.

Roger with a typical crucian.

Meanwhile, back at the Estate Lake

The respite that the month of August brings to the usually hectic demands of a busy church, meant that I could sneak a couple of hours this morning and renew my acquaintance with the Estate Lake and its finned inhabitants. This time I went not to fish, but to watch my son fish, chat to him, give him the benefit of my advice (mostly ignored!) and to enjoy his company. Perched on his seatbox and using a short elasticated whip he fished the edge of a reedbed, sparingly feeding maggots and concentrating hard. The fishing was not quite as prolific as it can be, but he ended up after a couple of hours with a nice mixed net of 13 fish, with most of the fish being either perch or crucians. There was one unexpected bit of excitement when a large carp took the bait and tore off accross the lake, pulling elastic out of the pole to alarming proportions before the inevitable happened and the line broke at the hook-link. The best fish that did find its way into the landing net was this hybrid of about a pound, which although mostly crucian clearly had far more than a hint of "ornamental fish" about it, with its large fins and fan-tail. All in all, an enjoyable session, and a pleasant change to be fishing without being rained on.

"Red letter days..."

I sometimes wonder if I go fishing for fish or for memories. Like many anglers I generally take a camera with me, and like every angler my head is filled with recollections of trips from days gone by, some as clear in the mind now as 30 years ago when they were happening, others half-remembered and perhaps distorted by time, but all part of a stream of consciousness that trickles and runs through the mind like a mountain stream.
The other day in an idle moment I was trying to decide which were my top three angling memories, and was surprised by two things. Firstly, despite the fact that I look back on my teens as the halcyon days of my angling life (partly because so much of them was spent fishing) none of my top three memories were from that era- perhaps you have to be older to really appreciate things, after all they do say that "youth is wasted on the young". I've got some great memories from my teens: my first ever fish (a perch) caught at the age of 13, my first ever pike caught on a cheap plug in January 1982, the October half term when my two brothers and I fished every day and I caught my first ever 1 pound roach and one of my brothers caught a 3 pound carp which to us, in those days was a monster. I remember with affection my early forays into the worlds of carp and night fishing, and Southlake,the club lake I fished (five minutes walk from our house- how fortunate was that!) and Dinton Pastures (our other main venue) remain indelibly etched on my mind. But for all of that my top three memories are all from within the last decade, and- strangely- only one of them involves a personal best fish, and that a very modest one. So here they are, my top three "red letter days":

Number 3: August 2006
Not a spectacular day's fishing, but an immensely satisfying one. For a ten year period most of my fishing was for carp,some "overnighters" but mostly day sessions, sneaked into otherwise busy weeks. I fished with a good circle of friends from church, and there was something beguilingly benign about this particular day. The weather was hot, the fish were co-operative, the company congenial, and without fishing too hard my companion , Mark, and I caught 11 carp in about 5 hours, none giants but all respectable fish. We chatted about life, fishing,work, church, God, family and probably a dozen other subjects too. A day which for no particular reason other than its pleasantness sneaks in at number 3.

Number 2: November 2009
This does include two personal bests, my own personal best zander, and my brother's personal best pike. My two brothers, Andy and Tim started fishing at the same time as me, and throughout our teens we were inseperable angling partners. Adult life (and the fact that we're dispersed accross the British Isles) means that opportunities for all three of us to fish together are strictly limited, and therefore intrinsically special. This was a trip to the Fens, where on a small fenland river my brother Andy had 3 pike up to 19 pound 14 ounces and one zander, my brother Tim had two pike to 15 pound and I had two pike (largest 11 pound) and this zander of just under 6 pounds. The weather was unseasonally sunny for November, the "old firm" was reunited and the toothy critters were obliging- what more could we have asked for?

Number 1
A bit of a "cheat" this one, but anytime, spent fishing with my son. A fisherman since he was 4, any occasion on the bankside with him qualifies as a "red letter day". Hopefully the sessions we have now will, in adult life form a part of his stream of angling consciousness, they're certainly a part of the ongoing building up of mine.

"Laughing in the face of fair weather anglers..."

There are times when pleasure fishing almost crosses over into a form of attritional angling. I've just returned from a short session at the Estate Lake (it's more a pond than a lake, but it is on an old estate and is venerable in terms of age, so is worthy of the title) on a day when the TV weather forecasters cheerfully informed us that we were due for a month's worth of rain in a single day. This wasn't just the constant drizzle that's marked this summer so far, but the kind of downpour that sent Noah scurrying to the ark in the day's of mankind's infancy. As ever, the target fish were crucians and so with the rain hammering down I set up a pole rig, dropped it into the margins and tried to convince myself that this was going to be fun. Sport was initially slow, but after about an hour the fish started to respond to my steady trickle of loose-fed maggots and I started getting bites. I sat grimly underneath the umbrella for about two and a half hours and ended up with this netful of crucians, two or three small roach (which were returned immediately) and a solitary perch.
Each fish felt like a minor triumph in the face of adversity, and while I'm beginning to doubt if the lake will provide me with my hoped for two pounder (it looks like I'm going to have to catch a lot of smaller crucians before I get lucky), once again the lake fished well.
On the way home, sat in the car and soaking wet, I saw a couple out jogging in the rain ..... now that really is silly!

"Born-again" pole fishing

You get to see quite a few new converts in my line of work, and their "bright eyed and bushy tailed zeal" is always a tonic.
As in church, so also in fishing:
 I'm currently undergoing a "newly converted" phase, as after years of antipathy towards ridiculously long internally elasticated and reel-less lengths of carbon, I'm now a fully paid up member of the pole fishing fraternity; in fact, my current hunt for a 2 pound crucian is being almost exclusively conducted using a margin pole.
I guess my previous enmity towards pole fishing dates from the formative years of my angling youth. Back in the day, when I started fishing as a 13 year old in 1982 you had to choose. You were either a specimen hunter, a pleasure fisherman or a match angler. I aspired to be a specimen hunter, and in those days only matchmen used poles and I clung tightly to this creed for years after the distinctions between the different tribes of angler got blurred. These days it's not unusual to see a specimen angler like Martin Bowler sitting on a continental style seat box (I've got one of those now, too) floatfishing for large roach or rudd, nor to see match anglers chucking method feeders and using hair-rigged mini boilies.
I taught my two kids to fish using poles ( my daughter started fishing aged 6, my son when aged 4), catching tiddlers on little whips with flick-tips, but it's only this season that I've discovered myself what a great method the pole is. Anyway, time for me to go and sort out my winder box and get some rigs ready- I've got the day off work on Friday, and I'll be back to crucian hunting ..... on the pole, of course.

The Lindners-top guys from "across the pond"

If you're a UK angler, unless you're a real devotee and afficianado of lure fishing, chances are you've never heard of Al and Ron Lindner. In the States, however, they're household names in the world of angling. Both inductees into the National Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame ( can you imagine such a thing here in Britain!), former owners of the Lindy lure company and for many years well loved TV angling personalities, they also founded the legendary In-Fisherman magazine that's a mainstay of North American newstands. Their style behind the camera is much more "high octane" than it is "Passion for Angling", with fast commentary, fast boats and fast-talking but it gives a great insight into the boatmanship and expertise with artificial lures and echo sounders that seems to come so easily to American anglers. Not only are these guys (who must be well into their sixties) still as excited about catching fish as a young boy with his first fishing rod, they're also committed Christians who are unashamed to talk openly about their faith. Check them out on their website or take a look at their book "First Light on the Water."

Singing in the rain ...

After several days of balmy weather it was back to June as we've come to know it this year, the rain falling veangefully from a dark sky accompanied by blustery winds. Undeterred, although predictably disappointed, I loaded the car and was  at the estate lake by 7:30am for another session targetting its tail-thumping, elastic stretching crucians. My goal for the season is a two pounder, and on my previous session I'd managed half a dozen fish up to a pound, this time an immensely enjoyable session turned out to be more about quantity than quality, with 31 crucians coming to the net (along with about a dozen roach and rudd) in just three hours. Feeding a small pinch of maggots every put-in, I fished tight to the marginal reeds just yards from the bank, presenting double maggots on a size 20 hook to 2.5 lb mainline and a 2lb bottom using a short pole. Action was frantic, with crucians coming steadily to the bank, and although they were all in the quarter to half pound size bracket they gave a game account of themselves on the light tackle. I returned home wet, no nearer to my two pound target but happy that the inclement weather had failed to either ruin the sport or dampen my spirits. Now for that two pounder ....

Plus ca change

In the early days of the 20th Century HT Sherringham was the doyen of fishing writers. He described carp fishing in these words: "Having laid out the rods you are at liberty to smoke, meditate, read, and- I think- sleep ... you and the rods and the floats gradually grow into the landscape and become part of it. It is like life in the isle of the lotus."
In other words, carp fishing, by nature, involves long periods of inactivity punctuated by brief flurries of action. In contrast with the frenetic activity and fish catching of my current crucian campaign, my only session so far this year after their bigger cousins proved Sherringham right. I travelled from my East Midlands home to Hertfordshire to fish my brother's Club Lake with him on a guest ticket. The texts and telephone conversations in the week running up to the session were full of optmism- after all, my brother had never blanked on the club lake, so why not?
In the event, we remained fishless all day, our bobbins troubled only by the wind, our boilies untouched, and the batteries in our bite alarms unecessary. We fished well enough, picked our spots thoughtfully, used good baits and fed in sensible quantities, but you can never tell with carp.
Meanwhile, in the swim next door my 11 year old son and 8 year old nephew added insult to injury by steadily catching small roach, rudd, bream and perch while deriding the angling impotence of their "elders and betters."
Some things stay the same, and it appears Sherringham was right about carp fishing, and I can't wait to get back to the crucians!
Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.

In praise of Izaak

As an angler who's also a Christian (or should that be the other way round!) it gives me great satisfaction to know that the most reprinted book in the English language is the Bible, and the second most reprinted Walton's classic "The Compleat Angler". It's hard to explain why Walton's work, written as a dialogue between Piscator (the angler) and Venator (the novice angler) has proved so enduring; written in Old English prose-style it ambles along, interspersing angling wisdom with the odd poem or recipe and the occasional reference to Walton's own firmly held Christian faith. Walton's life took in the English Civil War, the Great Fire of London and outbreaks of The Plague, yet despite the turbulence of his times Walton lived to the ripe old age of 90. Anyone desiring an introduction to Walton, but unsure if the book will be their "cup of tea" could do worse than to get hold of the excellent eponymously titled DVD made by Rae Borras and Geoffrey Palmer which brings the timeless charm of Walton's writing to life with quotes from the book woven into their own fishing adventure. There are hundreds of books available to the angling public that are full of the latest rigs, baiting theories and advice, and doubtless they help people to catch fish, but for evocative writing and a literary work that captures the spirit of angling, Walton is still the unsurpassed master.

Crucians- a new obsession

2012- "the year of the crucian"

My fishing has always been characterised by a certain fickle faddishness. A sort of restlesness that doesn't quite sit easily with Walton's description of angling as the "contemplative man's recreation". In my time I've had spells of pursuing carp or pike, a period when I exclusively lure fished, I've done the whole "Chris Yates" thing with old tackle and quill floats bulky enough to divert an oil tanker in the Suez Canal and even fished a couple of matches, and just recently I've become afflicted with the crucian bug. A lovely old estate lake near me has been recently opened for day ticket fishing, and as well as tench, roach, rudd, a scattering of commons and mirrors and some lovely big perch it contains the most gorgeous, chunky, hard fighting crucians. My first trip fishing intentionally for them saw me land half a dozen crucians between half a pound and a pound, as well as an indignant bristling half pound perch and hordes of roach and rudd, all caught on a pole with 3lb line and 2lb bottom fished tight to the marginal reeds. That's settled it for me. No doubt 2012 will see me  do a bit of carping and the occasional trip to the canal to spin for perch, but this year's fad is going to be crucians, and the "search for the holy grail"- a two pound estate lake crucian. I'll keep the blog updated with my progress, or more than likely my lack of progress.