We knew the drill; time was of the essence. The alarm clock woke me at 6:00am, only 24 hours older than I had been the day before, but "on paper" a whole year older. I took the dog for her custmary walk, and was back by 6:40, woke my son and chivvied him along as he wrapped himself in several layers while rushing breakfast. The car was quickly loaded, and by 7:00 am we were arriving at the estate lake. We had about four hours to play with, until a birthday celebration pub lunch marked the begining of my 46th year.
On arriving the gates of the estate lake were locked, but we weren't unduly concerned. An old boy unlocks the fishery at about 7:00, and a few minutes weren't going to hurt. Half an hour later we were concerned. Said old boy was still conspicuous by his absence, and the clock was ticking. Feeling slightly guilty as the sleepy voice of the owner's wife answered my phonecall my fears were temporarily assuaged when she informed that she would send the elderly gentleman down to let us in. Half an hour later concern had turned to apoplexy, and I made the decision to move on to another local lake.
We arrived at the second lake (a favourite of mine, but which- for some unaccountable reason- my son isn't fond of) and set up in swims next to each other, he on a waggler while I elected to fish the pole. After an hour I'd caught 9 fish, 3 perch and 6 roach, all small but the swim seemed to be building. My son's heart, however, just wasn't in it and he didn't have a single fish to show for his, admittedly half-hearted efforts. Knowing how much he likes the estate lake, I asked if he fancied moving back to it, on the assumption that by now it must be open! His face lit up immediately, and the die was cast.
Knowing that we only had an hour left in which to fish, we opted to share a swim, both pole fishing in the margins, and here our fortunes were entirely reversed. In our final hour my son had half a dozen fish, again all of very modest size, including our first crucian of the year, while I had nothing. As we packed up and prepared for the family festivities, as if to add insult to piscatorial injury, the skies opened and treated us to a brief, but spirited, hail storm. Of the four hours available to us we had only actually fished for about two.
Following today's frustrations, and owing to the fact that my last two sessions have resulted in the capture of a string of fish of only meagre proportions I've decided that my next session will be after carp. Sitting behind a pair of rods on buzzers isn't my favourite style of fishing, but I'm feeling a growing need to bend into something a bit more substantial ..... provided, of course, the lake is open!
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