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!
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 .....
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.
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 .....
Wonderful!
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