"The Sun shines on the righteous" - Christian Anglers Retreat (day 2)

Day two of the retreat saw welcome rays of sunshine breaking through the early morning cloud as the campsite stirred into life. Anglers emerged from tents, coffees were made and drunk before a short "service" (well, it was a Sunday) at which I gave a brief talk about spiritual lessons drawn from using fake sweetcorn for bait (I guess you "had to be there"), followed by some prayers led by a few of the other campers before we headed off for the second of our venues for the weekend, Spring Grange Fishery in Beeby. ( www.springrangefisheries.co.uk )

 

 Another favourite venue for the Leicester based Christian Anglers, we were keen to introduce it to our travelling club members. Although some might argue that it's technically a "Commercial", it neither looks like one, nor is it managed like one. John and his wife, Anne, have lovingly nurtured the two lakes, which are surrounded by mature trees and vegetation and created a top class environment for fishing and an oasis of tranquility. They'd also allowed us to book the Coarse Lake for our exclusive use, and cooked and delivered to our swims their rightly lauded "triple decker breakfast sandwiches".

 

We spread out around the lake, and soon a variety of techniques were being employed to try to fool the lake's inhabitants. Some of our number were on bolt rigs, boilies and PVA bags, others were float fishing with maggots, some fed hemp and casters, while yet others tried floaters or opted for the ubiquitous Method and pellet or mini boilie approach.

 

 As on the previous day at Homeclose, carp were caught (and in greater numbers), but not as prodigiously as they sometimes are at Spring Grange. David and Mick had one apiece on surface baits, Pete managed one on the Method, Jez landed a brace while float fishing and Roy and Greg had three apiece, Roy's on the float, Greg's on the Method. The pictures below show Greg and Jez displaying, gripping and grinning before returning their prizes to the water.

 

 

Several carp were lost, some within seconds of being hooked as they careered for safety towards the bushes and tree roots in the margins, one (for Mick) sickeningly right at the net, and most unlucky of all a hook pull for James after playing the carp for what seemed like an age on the pole. Sam repeated his feat of the previous day and landed a pole caught carp after several minutes of adding and subtracting sections and "letting the elastic do the work."

 

 

It wasn't all about the carp. Pete, Keith and Roy all managed to land roach in excess of a pound, and lovely golden rudd with extravagantly coloured red fins, such as the one displayed here by James, were in plentiful supply.
 

Perch were also much in evidence, and the perch of Spring Grange exhibit the bravura swagger that is a defining characteristic of the species, as shown by this spikily indignant little fish, one of many that greedily swallowed my double red maggot.

Roy had tucked himself into a pretty little corner swim with a a cluster of lilly pads and used a jigger float, match rod and centre pin to conjure out a succession of quality fish including a staggering half dozen crucians of over 2 pounds each.

 

 One or two anglers struggled in relative terms, but although not all of the fish were monsters, most of us caught somewhere between 40 and 70 fish. I gave up counting somewhere in the "high 30's", as did James, but we both estimate that we caught about 60 plus fish each, and although neither of us landed a carp, when you're catching regularly in beautiful surroundings and in the best of company, who's complaining? Quite simply, it was another perfect day.

 

 And so ended the first ever Christian Anglers Retreat. Friendship, faith and fishing: it's not just what we do, it's who we are. After all, wasn't it Jesus who said "go fish"? ( Matthew 4:19)

 

 

 

 



Dreams, visions and an angling retreat ..... Christian Anglers Retreat (Day 1)

According to the Old Testament prophet Joel, "young men have visions" while "old men dream dreams", and as someone who can lay claim to being pretty much bang in the middle of those two categories I conclude that I have a right to both. Another prophet, Zechariah (why did they never have ordinary names like "Steve" or "Jim"?) warned "not to despise the day of small things", and while I caught plenty of fish this weekend they were all pretty small, but that didn't dampen my enthusiasm for one of the best weekends I've ever experienced. Neither did the initially wet weather, and the weekend was a significant step forward in starting to realise the vision that several of us had when starting UK Christian Anglers (www.christiananglers.co.uk) and the fulfilment of one of our dreams to host a weekend fishing retreat.

 

 I was fortunate enough to miss the sight of a bunch of men setting up camp in a farmer's field in meteorological circumstances similar to the ones that sent Noah scuttling into the Ark, as I'd spent seven and a half hours in a car ferrying my daughter to and from a University Open Day, and I joined the anglers from Leicestershire, Yorkshire, Hertfordshire and Oxfordshire in the homely village pub just a few hundred yards from the farm, where they were enjoying a meal.

 

After a wet night we awoke to a dry day, and although the fields were as muddy as I'm told Woodstock was in 1969, the sun was peeping through and we were in high spirits as we cooked a bacon and sausage breakfast in the gazebo style camp kitchen. Breakfast was followed by a "Thought for the day" delivered by Andy, one of our number, and a few prayers, and then we were off to our first fishery, the excellent Homeclose Fishery. ( www.homeclosefishery.co.uk ) near Whissendine. The lakes here are pristine (each with its own adjacent reedbed for filtration), as is the condition of the fish. Most of the anglers opted to fish on Sallow Lake ( a pond of about one and a half acres with a small island), while two, Jez and Keith, chose to pursue crucians on the lovely Ash Lake. Both are reed fringed and dotted with lilly pads.

 

On Sallow, bream such as the one I'm displaying in the picture below, dominated, and anglers results varied. Andy and Mick forged ahead with close to one hundred fish each, Andy's coming to the pole while Mick's (seen here playing a carp)  fell to a mixture of waggler and swimfeeder tactics.

 

Carp were scarce, with only a few putting in an appearance, with the younger anglers (with the exception of Mick, who is a bit more, er .... "senior") almost monopolising the few carp caught. Ben (top) took this fish borrowing his dad, Roger's, rod and centre pin, while Sam caught his carp borrowing his dad, Andy's pole. Unfortunately, my Dad doesn't fish and wasn't there, so perhaps I never had a chance!

 

 My son also had one of several miniscule, but truly beautiful, carp that turned up, this pretty little linear being an example of perfection in miniature.

 Only a couple of golden orfe were landed on Sallow, with the honours going to Andy (top) and Pete.

 

 

Meanwhile, over on Ash and tucked into a couple of inviting little corner swims dotted with lilly pads, Jez and Keith were "cleaning up" with golden orfe, the occasional blue orfe and some gorgeous plump little crucians, with each of them catching somewhere in the region of a hundred fish.

 

The fishing on Sallow wasn't nearly as prolific as I've known it in the past, but most anglers managed around twenty fish apiece (with Andy, Mick and young Sam the most successful), and despite me having led for most of the day in the dad/son "match", James rallied and an excellent last hour saw him end up beating me by two fish, leaving him with a knowing smile and the much coveted family "bragging rights".

After packing up and returning to camp, and with the weather now in benign and amiable mood, we chatted, while Pete bossed the barbeque and Andy supervised the younger lads in building an enormous bonfire. The barbeque was followed by us breaking into two smaller Bible study groups, spiritual sustenance to complement the physical sustenance, for which compliments go to the chef.

 

 The evening finished with the bonfire, an enormous pyramid of straw bales and wood, which sent flames licking high into the night sky. Day one, dominated by bream, gave way to night, conversations gave way to sleep, and the older men "dreamed" of the next day's fishing.

Crucians ... my next best thing.

Anglers, like schoolteachers and football managers have their favourites. For the teacher it's the little girl with pigtails who presents the teacher with a weekly apple and an end of term mug bearing the legend "World's greatest teacher", for Roy Hodgeson it's Jack Wilshere, and for me it's perch, but followed very closely by my next best thing: the crucian. I think perch edge it for me because (a) I've caught so many of them, (b) I've caught a number of reasonably big ones and (c) because they're so widely distributed. By contrast, in over 30 years of angling I've never caught a crucian over a pound, haven't caught that many of them, and there are precious few lakes left that contain genuine 100% pure bred crucians. I did spend one summer fishing mostly for crucians at a local estate lake, which has now sadly been filled in and been replaced by soul-less executive houses, but here the fish were a mixture with some true crucians, but also hybrids, feral goldfish and in one instance a crucian-like apparition of about a pound with an enormous fan tail that gave my son a lively tussle on a very light pole rig. I even sent some photo's of my estate lake catches to Peter Rolfe, the country's leading crucian afficianado, and he confirmed some of the fish to be true crucians and others to be ...... well, you know how it goes. A typical catch from the estate lake (and here's hoping that the foundations of the expensive new houses subside and sink into the mud of what was once the pond) is pictured below.

 

 

I love crucians for the same reason that I (to my guilt and shame) bullied some of my classmates at school: for their plump rotundity, shyness and plodding nature. They evoke memories of a different era, of small farm ponds and fishing in the days before bite alarms were invented, the angling equivalent of village green cricket, warm beer, Morris dancers and church clocks chiming. If a fish can epitomise English values it's the crucian: solid, dependable, not ostentatious or showy, and with a unique beauty that's there in spades if you care to look for it.

 

 

I also enjoy the styles of angling that are most commonly  associated with crucians. The crucian is a fish that is most frequently chased with float tackle, whether the pole fishing approach that my friend Roger was using to land the fish in the photo above, and which has accounted for most of my son's crucian captures, or the more traditional reed waggler and centre pin reel approach that I tend to favour. Although small, they're no mugs either, and bites can be finicky and tackle often needs to be fined down. I even have a favourite float for crucians, made by master Devonian floatmaker Ian Lewis, a sarkandas reed float with a small bristle insert, known as the "Crucian Bristle Tip."

 

 

I'm fortunate that there are a couple of pretty lakes near me which hold true crucians, although in both of them the fish are small. I'm sure they do run bigger, but I've never seen one come out of either venue that would go heavier than half a pound. However, with crucians the lack of ounces is more than made up for by attractiveness and (comparative) rarity value. The Angling Trust are now making a much deserved fuss of the crucian, encouraging the reintroduction of authentic crucians into well managed fisheries, and have designated June to be "Catch a Crucian month", with a photographic competition to accompany the publicity push.

 

As for me, like Martin Luther King, "I have a dream". Not one as worthy and epoch changing as his, but one that may just be shortly realised. My friend and well known angling journalist, Bill Rushmer, is organising a September trip to Marsh Farm for members of the Christian Anglers forum and their friends. Now, if there is a place of special pilgrimage for crucians then Marsh Farm is it; the venue from which the last couple of record fish have come, a place where the progency of the fish is known and attested, and a place where personal bests are a very real possibility. (if you don't believe me, look at the picture below of Bill with one of his many notable Marsh Farm captures). My dream is for a 2 pounder, which in a water which holds 3 and 4 pounders seems to me to be a modest one, lacking in avarice, altogether reasonable and unassuming, just like the fish itself. I may not achieve the dream, but be sure of this: I'll have fun trying.