Perch, (no) pike and Pete

A fortnight had passed since my Marsh Farm crucian capers, and with a new PB crucian tucked under my belt it was time to return to the familiar, and a spot of relaxation on the canal. Whereas the run-up to Marsh Farm had me reeling with expectations and dreams of quality specimens, this time the ambitions were less lofty, yet no less laudable: to chill out, land a few modestly sized fish and catch up with Pete.

A recent promotion at work means that Pete now has a better chance of keeping his family in the manner they'd like to become accustomed, but the busyness and demands of his new position had meant that he'd had to miss the Marsh Farm fish-in, and hadn't even wet a line for several weeks. And so, on a sunny morning that should have been autumnal but had decided to imitate summer, we found ourselves on the towpath of the Grand Union canal, armed with worms and red maggots with the intention of pursuing perch, and the option of using said perch as livebaits if we felt the urge to segue from targeting  perca fluviatilis to esox lucius during the session.

The canal was looking at its best, as was Pete, who'd turned up wearing a T shirt that managed to combine humour, faith and fishing, with it's "Jesus said: 'go fishing'" logo, and we were soon catching perch. The plan had been to catch a few perch and then start using them as livebait for pike, the only problem being that while the perch couldn't by any stretch of the imagination be described as large, they were too large to be comfortably used as bait, although eventually one of small enough stature was landed and duly lip-hooked on a pike slider rig along with the obligatory wire trace. Said fish remained untroubled by pike, and was in due course released to swim off, sadder and wiser having failed to be troubled by any marauding "crocs".

The conversation was pleasant, my small 2BB perch bob attractively bobbing in the shadows as I dropped it next to the moored boat to my left, the sun shining on our backs, and the fishing, while not prolific, was diverting with a succession of nice perch being landed. This was fishing at its least intense and most relaxing, an antidote to the eye straining concentration that had been required a fortnight previously to ensure the capture of my best ever crucian.

The odd boat passed, and Pete and I enjoyed the occasional conversation with friendly members of the fraternity of local narrow boat dwellers, who, having done their morning ablutions and boat related tasks walk the bank and  seem to live life at a slower pace, a stress free and "alternative" lifestyle, where it appears that time "collects" rather than passes.

I had errands and jobs to complete (Friday is my day off) related to the real world of dry land, domesticity and family, and so bade farewell to Pete, who packed his float fishing gear into his car, and set off to bank walk with a dropshot rod, which secured him half a dozen more perch, smaller in size than their predecessors, and  including the one pictured below. Even when the fish are unspectacular (at least, in size- perch are always spectacular in appearance, with their stripy livery and spiky dorsals) and the fishing only "steady", there's no better way to while away a morning. I drove out of the car park, humming a tune and with a spring in my metaphorical step ...... it doesn't take much!



A (cru) cut above the rest- Marsh Farm fish-in



In all honesty, my Summer fishing this year amounted to little more than a rather half-hearted exercise in  "messing about" with a fishing rod. A combination of work, family holidays and other commitments meant that I'd only fished three times since the Christian Anglers weekend away in June, and each of these trips had been a casual affair. I'd caught plenty of fish, but most had been tiddlers, with the biggest a carp of a wholly  unremarkable 8 pounds or so in weight caught while float fishing. I'd had fun, fishing once with some of the lads from the Thurnby Church club, once with my son and daughter and once on my own, but the first part of the year in which I'd caught some fine quality perch, and new personal bests of both pike and golden orfe seemed a long way away. The Christian Anglers fish-in at Marsh Farm had come at just the right time to shake me out of my angling lethargy.

 

Marsh Farm may not have acquired the mythical reputation of some waters, it lacks the "ancient history" and folklore that causes venues such as Redmire to be spoken of in awed and hushed whispers, but to those "in the know" it's viewed as the country's best crucian carp fishery, with genuine unhybridised crucians that grow large, and is the venue from which the current crucian record was caught, and thanks to my good friend and fellow Christian Anglers members Bill and Virginia Rushmer was the location for the Christian Anglers autumn fish-in.

 

 With ten anglers attending, travelling from Leicestershire, Avon, Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Sussex and Surrey, for many of us the adventure started the day before the fish-in, when we met up at a Surrey Travelodge late on Sunday afternoon, and went out for an enjoyable evening meal. The anticipation was building nicely, and I, for one, dreamt of plump, round crucians as I slept that night in my hotel bed.

After a hearty cooked breakfast it was off to Marsh Farm, where we met in the clubhouse. Bill gave us all a brief introduction to the venue, and some tactical pointers, as well as speaking about his own Christian faith and voluntary work with Street Angels and the Salvation Army.

Then it was off to our swims to pit our wits against those of species Curassius carassius.

 

The lake (Harris Lake on the complex) was looking magnificent, the water was nicely coloured, meaning that float fishing was a viable, and in my opinion infinitely preferable, option and spirits and optimism were high. As it transpired, the fishing was to prove extremely challenging, with the fish reluctant to honour the great lengths some of us had travelled by gracing us with their bankside presence. Only four of the crucians for which the lake is famous made an appearance, with me the first to land one of the prized specimens. I had opted to fish peg 21, a classic float angler's swim with an enticing bed of lilly pads to drop a float next to. Using an ultra light dart float, requiring just 4 number 4 to dot it down, 4 pound mainline and an 18 hook on a 3 pound bottom and sweetcorn as hookbait I trickled sweetcorn and hemp in on a "little and often" basis, and after a couple of missed bites, about an hour after commencing fishing, I connected with a fine, plump crucian, a real old warrior, that tipped the scales at 1 pound 9 ounces. I admired the fish's plump, golden, rotundity and took a few photos before slipping her back gently.

 

 

 

As the day wore on news filtered down the lakeside grapevine of the odd capture, but the crucians proved to be in camera shy mood. Jez landed one small crucian, and Bill had a brace, comprising fish weighing in at 1 pound 6 ounces, and this fine specimen of 1 pound 12 ounces.

 

On a day when our party, and the few other anglers on Harris all struggled, tench were slightly more amenable than the crucians, but while Bill, Virginia, Roy, Greg (his fish is pictured below) and I all caught tench, we still only managed eight tincas between the ten of us who were fishing. Jez, Greg and Roger also managed  a few very small roach on maggots and casters, while Keith caught an unexpected bream of around 5 and a half pounds, but this was one of those days on which the lake wasn't of a mind to give up its treasures lightly.

 

 

 

However, the fact that the fishing was anything but easy failed to dampen the enjoyment of the day. In between hours of staring at floats that refused to dip and quiver tips that remained resolutely motionless, bank walking breaks were taken, good conversations enjoyed, and we admired the beauty of the lake, the majestic resident heron and Peter Bailey's stunning bamboo float tube, decorated with illustrations of stained glass windows featuring Izaak Walton and Bernard Venables.

 

 

The day concluded back in the clubhouse, with a raffle to raise money for the Salvation Army's work with the homeless. Roger walked off with the star prize of a Fox Warrior barbel rod, Jez won a baitcaster reel, Roy also won a rod and others went home with floats, feeders and other assorted prizes. Every angler received a "Goody bag", and all agreed that, despite the fact that this had to be chalked up as a victory for the crucians rather than the anglers, it had been a wonderful day. A quick prayer to end the day and we were off to do battle with the assorted motorways that had spirited us to Guildford, and to dream of November's predator fish-in on the Fens.