The friendly fisherman

There's a shop specialising in predator angling equipment that goes by the name of "The Friendly Fisherman", presumably a reference to its proprietor in the hope that describing him thus will lead to anglers wanting to patronise his store. I once knew of a tattoo artist who was known as "Gentle Graham", which again- if my experiences of being inked are anything to go by- would have been good for his business, too. I've ordered online from the aforementioned angling store, and found them to be efficient and prompt, but having never met the owner I can't comment on the veracity or otherwise of the shop's name. However, my experiences on the river bank and lakeside have led me to believe that there's some truth in Walton's ideal of the "brotherhood of the angle", and certainly friendships have enhanced my fishing days.

 

The picture above is of me fishing a few years back with my two brothers, with whom I've shared many an angling adventure. They endure as angling friends to this day, and although these days we only actually fish together rarely due to geographical proximity, our telephone conversations tend to revolve around fishing, as does the conversation whenever we meet up.

 

 

 Although some see fishing as a lonely, solo activity for quiet taciturn types who shun the company of others, my own preference is, wherever possible, to share my fishing sessions with one or two likeminded friends. In my Plymouth days Mark (above), Rob, Ben, Jonathan (then teenagers) and Joe (pictured below, and the godfather of my son) were my companions. Joe was great for comedy value, perennially tangled, breaking things or falling in, the young lads were tenacious in their pursuit of fish, permanently changing swims and tactics, and Mark was always good for a leisurely conversation, almost always accompanied by a few fish.

 

 

These days my main fishing partners are Pete (who's figured in a number of posts on this blog) and my 14 year old son, along with a supporting cast of occasional angling companions: Roger (below), Louie and Craig. All the anglers mentioned have been members of churches I've worked in, and it's great on the bank to relate to them not as "the Vicar", but just as a fellow angler and friend.

 

 

The internet has further opened the possibilities for making angling a social affair. Through Facebook groups and forums I feel as though I "know" anglers all over the country, and the internet has led to me getting to know and fish with Stewart Bloor, inveterate blogger, fellow Christian minister and well known angler, and also journeying to the States to meet and fish with friends I'd initially met on line, one result of which is a friendship with a top American rod builder who'll shortly be commencing work on a custom lure rod for me.

 

The archetype of an angler may revolve around the stereotype of an unsociable, sad, old man, but while I'm undoubtedly getting older (a recent experiment with a beard was curtailed after a few days, owing to the amount of white or grey hair that was covering my face) the way I practice my fishing means I'm anything but "sad" or "lonely".  The "brotherhood of the angle" still holding true Centuries after Walton and Cotton departed this life for a better.



Angling on the box

 

When it comes to a bunch of anglers discussing fishing TV shows the collective noun must be either "a whinge" or "a dissatisfaction" ...... it seems as though- with the exception of "A Passion for Angling, which is universally acclaimed as the best angling program ever- that there's always something to moan about. Which, I think, is a shame, and particularly short-sighted.

 

Take the latest series of "Crabtree". To some split cane traditionalists it's not Crabtree enough, despite the use of centrepins and handmade floats as well as carbon and method feeders, while perhaps for others there's not enough "action"- too much beautiful scenery and mist rising from the water, as if such a thing were possible. I actually think that, although not perfect, it's actually pretty darn good.

 

And maybe that's the problem. While we're all aware that we ourselves are from perfect (either as anglers or as people!) we demand an unrealistic level of perfection from angling TV producers. I'd argue that, in an age when there are so many competing interests and distractions, and where the average age of anglers is increasing and less people are fishing that almost all TV publicity is good publicity, even if it's coming from the much maligned Robson Green (except for when he's doing really dumb or inexcusable stuff like bow hunting for carp!) He's grown as a presenter, and the combination of travel and angling is always going to draw an audience, and I know of lots of non-anglers who watch it, enjoy it and are beginning to wonder if angling might not be something that they'd enjoy. Sure, he's not everyone's "cup of tea" and he's sometimes been badly advised, but on balance I'd call it a net gain.

 

 

 

I can remember some very "low production values" angling TV from my childhood and youth. There was "Hooked" which, if nothing else, convinced me that match fishing doesn't make great viewing (but I still watched it every week after school), an effort called "Go Fishing" presented by Jack Charlton (great centre-back, average angler, mediocre presenter) which had a very jaunty theme tune, and even further back a series called "The Fishing Race", which included the then-famous specimen hunter Jim Gibbinson and included such highlights as the Welsh rugby legend Gareth Edwards getting "hammered" in the bar on a ferry to Sweden for a fishing trip and some guy fishing in an aquarium for a piranha! None of it classic TV, but I lapped it up nonetheless.

 

 

John Wilson took the long-running series genre to new heights in the 80's and 90's, and introduced the compelling mixture of adventure travel and angling that now seems to be a staple of angling programming, whether Paul Young, Jeremy Wade or poor old Robson. His infectious laugh and "personality angler" profile paved the way for successors such as Matt Hayes. Perhaps the best (and worst) thing that ever happened for angling on TV was Hugh Mile's beautiful "Passion for Angling" series; best because it set standards of camera work, story telling and enchantment that have never been surpassed, and worst because everything (even Hugh's own later project "Catching the impossible") have been damned with faint praise by comparison. The relationship between Chris Yates and Bob James (affectionate but with a slight edge of bickering) was akin to many a longstanding marriage, and somehow four programs using the narrative device of the seasons seemed to sum up all that's good in angling.
 

My own favourite angling programs have been the aforementioned "Passion for Angling" and also the "Compleat Angler" series presented by Rae Borras and the actor Geoffrey Palmer in which modern angling trips were juxtaposed with readings from "The Compleat Angler" in a winsome homage to Walton.

 

I guess that if there's a message amid these nostalgic ramblings through angling's history on British TV, it's that we anglers, as a community, are far too quick to criticise and too slow to recognise a good thing. The more angling that there is on TV, the higher the profile, and the higher the profile the more newcomers we'll attract to the sport. We need to be less tribal ("I only watch carp fishing, mate" or "one struggles to watch anything that features carbon rods, don't you know") and to welcome (and watch) and enjoy whatever scraps the commissioning editors throw at us.
 

..... and wouldn't it just be great if someone could digitally rework Jack Hargreaves' fishing slots on "Out of Town" - that'd really be worth setting the TV to record.

 

Seasonally affected perch disorder.

 

 It seems hard to believe that the photo above of my fishing companion Pete's son was taken on an early morning trip just three weeks ago. No coat, scarf, gloves or hat- the balmy, sunny, Autumnal days of October. Simon and Garfunkle may have sung something about "seasons changing with the scenery" but they should have said something about the rapidity of that change. October's mild Autumn has given way to November's attritional offering of dark mornings, short days and dropping temperatures, and with the changing weather has come a change, too, in our fortunes.

 

No longer do the perch chase with abandon and the pike find their way to the bank with- if not regularity- reasonable frequency. The fish have become as curmudgeonly as the water and air cold. If September and October's compliant predators seem like a fading memory, August's arm wrenching carp are beginning to feel like ancient history.

 

 

My last three trips have resulted in just two small perch (both caught this morning), while Pete's last two sessions have resulted in just one perch; slim pickings.

There are contributory factors: our sessions are always short, a couple of hours snatched here and there, and today's session saw the nightmare combination of a gin clear canal, caused by the recent frosty cold snap, accompanied this morning by pouring rain.

 

 

Pete spent quite a bit of time drop-shotting (why not, everyone else is), but to no avail, while I  alternated between soft plastic shads and crankbaits for pike, interspersed with spinners for perch. My brace of extremely modestly sized perch both fell to the ever reliable Ondex spinner. Today it was Pete's turn to blank.

 

 



It's only four week's ago that Pete caught a decent pike on one of our early morning pre-work sessions, but confidence is beginning to dip and doubt to creep in. Should we continue our exploration of the Grand Union Canal (there are a few new areas we've got lined up to try), or should we give the canal and lures a rest and steal three hours of float-fishing on a local lake?

One thing's certain: irrespective of whether we give the canal a rest or carry on our investigative forays of new stretches, this noble waterway is not only an ongoing reminder of our industrial heritage and past, it's providing an ongoing puzzle that should turn a few more of my remaining hairs grey and add one or two more furrows to my brow.

Temporarily beaten, but by no means defeated!