Perch in person...

The truth is that seven days after having to withdraw from attending the Christian Anglers perch fish-in I was still feeling sore about it, and if nearly 40 years of angling has taught me anything, it's this: that the only healing balm for such a malady is to head for the bank and create a new memory to replace the gap left by the one that never got made.

And so David (who had attended the fish-in) and I decided to pursue a rumour and venture to a new pond which, according to stories circulating on the local angling grapevine, possesses serious specimen perch potential.

It's no secret that perch are my favourite species, nor that I enjoy fishing with vintage tackle, and so as I set up my 60 year old cane Allcocks Wizard coupled with an ancient centre pin reel I could scarcely have been happier or more expectant. I plumbed the depth, flicked the Norfolk reed waggler float and hook baited with a lively worm out with a deft underarm motion, threw in a handful of red maggots, and focused all of my powers of concentration on the bright orange tip of the float as it protruded through the water's surface film.

David was the first to catch, connecting with a nice roach of about three quarters of a pound, and soon we were catching our intended quarry, although not initially in the size bracket we were hoping for. A steady stream of bites resulted in a procession of small perch which voraciously engulfed the not insignificantly sized worms that were impaled on our size 12 barbless hooks. The float trembled and dipped once again, but this time my strike met with solid resistance and a steady run, and it was clear that I was attached to a perch of altogether more exciting proportions. After a few hair raising minutes and with the cane taking on a pleasing battle curve a fine perch was nestling in the landing net that David had helpfully wielded for me. The scales showed 2 pounds 10 ounces (a new personal best), but the fish's magnificence had more to do with its dark colouration and bristling defiance than the pounds and ounces (however impressive) that the scales had reduced it to.

Following the return of the fish, we both returned to the established rhythm of brief flurries of small perch punctuating quieter interludes, before I was once again connected to a perch that was clearly bigger than most of its brethren. The result was an enjoyable tussle with another striped protagonist, which although a perch of very reasonable size was smaller than the previous large perch, and was unweighed but estimated at about a pound and a half - another fine example of its species and a good advert for the lake which, as you would expect, will remain anonymous and unnamed in my reporting of the day's adventures!

As the morning wore on the sun rose higher and unseasonably bright, with David and I enjoying bankside warmth far greater than we had any right to in mid-October. The weather, however, only served to put the perch, who favour duller and more overcast light levels, off the feed and bites slowed, with just the occasional perch to relieve the lengthening wait between bites.

Conversation flowed, a large American signal crayfish was landed, defiantly grasping my worm in its aggressive pincers, and in the last hour a soporific stupor overcame the lake and not a single bite was forthcoming. At midday I packed up, with somewhere around 20 perch to show for my efforts, and wished David, who was staying for another couple of hours, "farewell" and "tight lines."

It had been a splendid morning made special by a brace of fine perch, a serene setting, Autumnal sunshine and good company. I suspect it may be a month or so before I have the opportunity to return, but return I most certainly will.
I can't escape an inkling that this pond may have more perch, of an even greater size, to give up to me, and the inkling will, doubtless, transform into a dream, and the dream, we may be certain, will need to be pursued. After all, as anyone who's ever watched a Disney cartoon knows only too well, dreams really can come true .....

Perch in absentia

With a daughter already "flown the nest" and engaged to be married next summer, and a son in his final year of school, I'm fast learning to live with the reality of my own dispensibility. The same may be said this year about the continued progress and development, largely in my absence, of the Christian Anglers group which I set up with a few like-minded anglers four years ago. Initially the brainchild of well known angling blogger and fellow minister Stewart Bloor and myself, the group now has 60 members spread around the country and this year its fish-ins have mostly happened without my being present. I've remained, along with John MacAngus and my fellow Leicester-based anglers Pete and Greg, part of the steering group, but have only managed to attend two events this year, the pike fish-in on the Fens (on which I blanked), and the barbel retreat on the Trent (on which I caught, among other things, ironically .... pike!).

I had been booked in to accompany fellow Christian Anglers on their most recent and final fish-in of 2018, where perch were to be the target, but a combination of busyness at work and having done some fishing related filming the previous week for the BBC meant that I couldn't find the time to journey to Cambridgeshire for the season's finale, where specimen perch were to be the target. However, I'm pleased to report that the fish-in was another successful milestone for the group, concluding as it did, a year in which three of the four fish-ins have deliberately attempted to capture the magic of the changing seasons: pike in the winter, tench in the spring, and autumn perching.

However, my non-attendance doesn't preclude me from reporting on the escapades of those who attended, as, like St Luke in the compilation of his Gospel, I have made a thorough investigation of the facts using eye witness sources and am thus in a position to inform the reader. For those who made the journey to the appropriately named Fenland town of Godmanchester, the day began at lunchtime with a pub meal and tactical briefing from the local tackle shop owner, Stan, and a brief talk and prayer led by John, before the anglers wended their way to the river for an afternoon and early evening in pursuit of perch. The promise of a trophy for the largest perch, with another being awarded for the most perch, added to the excitement.

The river, I'm reliably informed, was picturesque and its perch proved themselves to be very receptive to the allure of a worm or red maggot, with plentiful numbers of them finding their way to the bank. The large perch for which the river is known, were mostly conspicuous by their absence, but with floats regularly submerging no-one was complaining and spirits were high. Paul, who two years ago on one of our Fenland trips won the prize for the biggest fish, repeated the feat, and scooped the biggest perch of the day award with this fish.

The day concluded with the presentation of a trophy for most perch (which went to Mick who caught 30) as well as the biggest fish award which Paul gratefully received. Thanks are due to John Macangus for arranging the day's itinerary and to Stan for his generosity with both his time and advice.

A fine and fitting finale to another successful year for the Christian Anglers club, and my New Year's resolution has already been made and is being "kept on ice" until January: "next year I resolve to better co-ordinate my work, family and fishing diaries and to be present as often in person as in spirit for the year's fish-ins, and this is my solemn vow."