The Perch Match

Autumn: chill air, burnished bronze leaves, and a time when Gerard Manley Hopkin's observation that "the whole world is full of the glory of God" and his assertation that "it (God's glory) will flame out like shining from shook foil" seems hard to gainsay. Creation is singing a song, and its creatures would do well to attune their thoughts to the Maker behind the melody. 

Autumn is also the time when my thoughts turn to the pursuit of perch, although if truth be told, even in high summer and when fishing for tench, carp and rudd my thoughts are rarely far from perch, even if they only amount to a wistful longing for the calendar's colder months. The year's third season is also when the annual John Rellie charity Perch Match is held, a trophy now in its fourth year, and of which I have twice previously been fortunate enough to be the winner. A casual affair, the prize is awarded to the captor of the day's largest perch and is competed for by fisherfolk from the Christian Angler's Club in memory of John, our late member.

As tradition requires, the day commences with a lakeside breakfast of bacon sandwiches before the draw is made for swims, each angler disappearing to choose his own pitch when his name is drawn from the hat. This year my son was also fishing the event, and as it was over a year since we'd last fished together we decided to prioritise sociability above efficiency and opted to share a swim, with whichever one of us emerged first from the hat getting to choose the spot in which we would sit side by side. James and I were lucky with the draw bag being the second to be plucked from the hat and elected to fish a swim that has proved productive for me in the past. Today, however, it proved less than generous to us and we only managed a handful of  small perch in the 4-6 ounce class. We did manage a few nice sized ide which took a liking to our float fished prawns (two for James and one for me) but the opportunity to spend some quality father and son time more than compensated for the absence of perch.

As the morning wore on none of the ten anglers dotted around the lake were finding the going easy and bites were proving hard to come by. As lunchtime was reached only four perch of noteworthy size had been landed, a brace apiece for Garry and Matthew, with the best of them being a magnificent stripy denizen of the deep that tipped the scales to 1lb 14oz which found its way into Matthew's landing net after a spirited tussle.

As morning gave way to afternoon it was as if someone somewhere had flicked a switch and the fish, already reticent to feed with any enthusiasm went on hunger strike and, with the exception of a plodding procession of bream which took a liking to any bait offered by Paul, the lake's inhabitants obdurately refused to offer any encouragement to their land-based adversaries. As the appointed three o'clock finish drew near there was a brief flurry of activity with Pete landing a barbel before Loz threatened to snatch a last gasp victory with a last cast perch which when subjected to the scales transpired to be just 3 ounces lighter than the winning fish. 

It had proved a testing day for the intrepid and windblown piscators, but no-one blanked, 5 perch of significant stature had found their way to the bank, and a new name will shortly be engraved onto the trophy, with Matthew being the well deserved winner. The cash donations on the day from the participating anglers totalled £157.00, with a couple of further payments either by cheque or online promised and yet to be collected, all monies raised to be donated to the Christians Against Poverty (CAP) charity. 

As ever, the conversations, friendship and company were every bit as important as the fish caught and an added piquancy was added by the fact that Matthew's winning fish was landed on a rod he had inherited from his grandfather who very recently passed away. The fishing may have been anything but easy, but the aphorism had once again been proved true: "there's more to fishing than catching fish" or, if you have a penchant for your proverbs in an ancient and now dead classical language: "Piscator non solum piscatur."

My training regime for next year's match begins tomorrow- perch and fellow club members: you have been warned!