The 1960's were a time of change, as that erstwhile social commentator Bob Dylan pointed out in a song of the era. The decade that started with crowds at football matches still uniformly wearing shirt, tie and cloth cap or trilby hat, ended with student riots in France, hippies cavorting naked at Woodstock, mods and rockers entertaining themselves on Bank Holidays by fighting on beaches, the sexual revolution, CND marches to Aldermaston and a general sense that something "new" was in the air. Even in the quieter and more serene waters of the angling scene, change was afoot and cane was beginning to give way to fibre glass. It was also the decade of my birth, which brings me to the point of this piece.
My recent birthday prompted the standard question from my wife: "What would you like for your birthday?", an enquiry which elicited the usual response: "well, I was thinking about a fishing rod ..." (cue: much spousal rolling of eyes and an enquiring "how many rods do you need, Jon?") The rod in question would be one of the then "new-fangled" 1960's breed of fibre glass rods, the only problem was that I hadn't yet found it. What I wanted was an "avon" from the early days of glass, a general purpose rod, suitable for dealing with reasonable sized fish, and able to be used for either float fishing or light legering. Ideal for most of the fishing I do, which tends to be for tench, roach, rudd, perch and the occasional "rogue" carp. It was one of my angling Facebook friends who came to the rescue, Michael Bartholomew, like me an angler who enjoys putting vintage tackle to good use, happened upon not one, but two, rods that fitted the description, snapped them up and sent me a message. Money changed hands, and the rods were mine.
This wasn't the first time Michael has done me a favour (I have a split cane carp stalking rod, a cane Aspindale Thamesdale float rod and a number of vintage reels that came from him, some of which I paid for, some of which were just the result of a kindness from him), but what he wouldn't have known is that one of the rods transported me right back to my childhood. When I first started fishing, so transfixed was I by everything about the sport, that I often used to walk a mile to the local tackle shop and just gaze at the merchandise on display there for an hour (the proprietor didn't seem to mind, and happily humoured me), and the rod that I stared at with the most desire and the greatest degree of covetousness was made by ET Barlows of Thames Ditton under their "Vortex" banner, whose logo was a highly stylised, aggressive looking cartoon perch. Of the two avons that were transported to my house by courier one was a Vortx Supreme, proudly bearing the cartoon perch logo. Delighted doesn't even come close!
It was, however, the other of the two rods, an unbranded one which- for an early hollow glass rod- felt felt light and responsive in the hand, that I chose to give its debut when I arrived for a brief after work evening session at one of my favourite lakes, one which contains good quality roach and rudd, the occasional crucian, hordes of small perch along with a few bigger "sergeants" and a healthy head of carp.
I left work early, and stopped at home to pick up my tackle and 19 year old daughter, who just days earlier had returned from University for the summer and, to my delight, had suggested she accompany me fishing, not herself to fish, but to have a lazy evening of conversational catching-up in the tranquil environs of the lake. When we arrived my good friend David was already fishing, having arrived at the lake earlier in the afternoon, and I set up in the swim next door, which, fortuitously, also happens to be my favourite on the lake. Shortly afterwards, Roger, another of our regular little gang of piscators, appeared and, in turn, ensconced himself in the swim to my right.
I teamed the rod with my ancient Mitchell 304 and nonchalantly swung my float and sweetcorn baited hook tight to the overhanging tree branches a rod-length out, tossed out a few balls of groundbait and before long the float was dipping and sinking with great rapidity - the only problem being my consumate failure to connect with any of the bites, even the seemingly unmissable ones. After what must have been close to a dozen missed bites and a bit of judicious tweaking of my shotting pattern, I got the measure of the new rod, and was into the first of a succession of good quality roach and rudd.
The rudd, though fewer than the roach in number, were of larger average size, as illustrated by the photographs here.
The evening was balmy, the lake's surface calm and ripple-free, and the company of my daughter and the vintage tackle being employed made for a perfect end to the day. David, after losing two fish, managed to land a hard fighting and handsome carp on surface fished dog biscuits, while Roger caught a multitude of small roach and perch on maggot, before switching to pellets and connecting with a larger stamp of silver flanked, red finned roach. Roger was, I'm pleased to report, utilising a cane rod and Mordex centre pin in best traditional angler style. To complete the relaxed, sociable feel of the evening, Pete (unable to fish on this occasion) popped along for a chat, accompanied by his wife and their youngest son, Max, who with the irrepressibility that comes with being 7 years old, managed to commandeer Roger's rod and land a couple of roach. Thus encouraged, my daughter promptly took control of my rod and instantly hooked and landed a roach. Her decision not to unhook it herself was immediately vindicated and proved wise when said roach decided to ungratefully defecate all over my hand as I carefully removed the size 18 spade end hook!
By the time we packed up, Roger and I had both caught around 25 fish apiece, and David had added a handful of decent roach taken on a groundbait swimfeeder and hair rigged pellet to his soiltary carp, but numbers of fish caught (and possibly even the catching of fish) was almost incidental to the perfection of the evening- good company in beautiful surroundings is its own reward, the fish, though always welcome, fall into the category of "bonus."
It doesn't take much to make me happy, and tonight, twee though it may sound, I felt Divinely blessed.
As we took our leave of the lake a Tern was circling and diving, fishing not , as we had been, for fun but for his supper. I wished him well, and left him to his task, knowing that before long I would be back, drawn to the lake as by an invisible magnet, to resume mine.
This wasn't the first time Michael has done me a favour (I have a split cane carp stalking rod, a cane Aspindale Thamesdale float rod and a number of vintage reels that came from him, some of which I paid for, some of which were just the result of a kindness from him), but what he wouldn't have known is that one of the rods transported me right back to my childhood. When I first started fishing, so transfixed was I by everything about the sport, that I often used to walk a mile to the local tackle shop and just gaze at the merchandise on display there for an hour (the proprietor didn't seem to mind, and happily humoured me), and the rod that I stared at with the most desire and the greatest degree of covetousness was made by ET Barlows of Thames Ditton under their "Vortex" banner, whose logo was a highly stylised, aggressive looking cartoon perch. Of the two avons that were transported to my house by courier one was a Vortx Supreme, proudly bearing the cartoon perch logo. Delighted doesn't even come close!
It was, however, the other of the two rods, an unbranded one which- for an early hollow glass rod- felt felt light and responsive in the hand, that I chose to give its debut when I arrived for a brief after work evening session at one of my favourite lakes, one which contains good quality roach and rudd, the occasional crucian, hordes of small perch along with a few bigger "sergeants" and a healthy head of carp.
I left work early, and stopped at home to pick up my tackle and 19 year old daughter, who just days earlier had returned from University for the summer and, to my delight, had suggested she accompany me fishing, not herself to fish, but to have a lazy evening of conversational catching-up in the tranquil environs of the lake. When we arrived my good friend David was already fishing, having arrived at the lake earlier in the afternoon, and I set up in the swim next door, which, fortuitously, also happens to be my favourite on the lake. Shortly afterwards, Roger, another of our regular little gang of piscators, appeared and, in turn, ensconced himself in the swim to my right.
I teamed the rod with my ancient Mitchell 304 and nonchalantly swung my float and sweetcorn baited hook tight to the overhanging tree branches a rod-length out, tossed out a few balls of groundbait and before long the float was dipping and sinking with great rapidity - the only problem being my consumate failure to connect with any of the bites, even the seemingly unmissable ones. After what must have been close to a dozen missed bites and a bit of judicious tweaking of my shotting pattern, I got the measure of the new rod, and was into the first of a succession of good quality roach and rudd.
The rudd, though fewer than the roach in number, were of larger average size, as illustrated by the photographs here.
The evening was balmy, the lake's surface calm and ripple-free, and the company of my daughter and the vintage tackle being employed made for a perfect end to the day. David, after losing two fish, managed to land a hard fighting and handsome carp on surface fished dog biscuits, while Roger caught a multitude of small roach and perch on maggot, before switching to pellets and connecting with a larger stamp of silver flanked, red finned roach. Roger was, I'm pleased to report, utilising a cane rod and Mordex centre pin in best traditional angler style. To complete the relaxed, sociable feel of the evening, Pete (unable to fish on this occasion) popped along for a chat, accompanied by his wife and their youngest son, Max, who with the irrepressibility that comes with being 7 years old, managed to commandeer Roger's rod and land a couple of roach. Thus encouraged, my daughter promptly took control of my rod and instantly hooked and landed a roach. Her decision not to unhook it herself was immediately vindicated and proved wise when said roach decided to ungratefully defecate all over my hand as I carefully removed the size 18 spade end hook!
By the time we packed up, Roger and I had both caught around 25 fish apiece, and David had added a handful of decent roach taken on a groundbait swimfeeder and hair rigged pellet to his soiltary carp, but numbers of fish caught (and possibly even the catching of fish) was almost incidental to the perfection of the evening- good company in beautiful surroundings is its own reward, the fish, though always welcome, fall into the category of "bonus."
It doesn't take much to make me happy, and tonight, twee though it may sound, I felt Divinely blessed.
As we took our leave of the lake a Tern was circling and diving, fishing not , as we had been, for fun but for his supper. I wished him well, and left him to his task, knowing that before long I would be back, drawn to the lake as by an invisible magnet, to resume mine.
