A man can dream ...

This week I was having a Facebook conversation with an American rod-builder friend of mine. Don Morse has been building custom fishing rods to order from his Michigan home for years trading as Rattlesnake Rods, and his creations really are "works of art".

 

 

Don, an avid angler, committed Christian and family man (who also has a sideline in making "novelty" in-line spinners using bottletops) takes a pride in producing unique designs to specifications discussed by him and his clients. I've seen pictures of rods incorporating photo's of wives and children, any number of styles of cork and abbreviated  cork handles, imaginative colour schemes and even his trademark rods incorporating a rattlesnake's head.

 

 

 

We got to talking prices, and a picture entered my mind as a gleam began to come into my eye. I've always fancied a rod built just for me, and the prices sounded very reasonable, although I'll refrain from putting a number on "reasonable" just in case my wife is reading this!

So, here's the plan: this year's fishing expenditure on big items is already mapped out, but I intend to order one of Don's rods in 2015. I'm thinking of a 2 piece 6" all round spinning/lure rod that'll span the range from catching perch to small/medium sized pike. I've already contacted UK Customs and Excise (15 day lead-time for an e-mail response!) to find out how the import tax side of things work.

 

I've got a few ideas in terms of colour schemes, and am already boyishly excited about the prospect. I won't be opting for a rattlesnake head (I'm not sure my local canal is ready for that level of "unique"!), but I know that the rod will be worth both the expenditure and the wait.

 

Don- I'll be in touch!

 

 

Walton and Connecticut Yankees

Anyone who's followed this blog since its earliest days will be aware that I'm a sucker for "all things Walton" and for angling art, and so I was excited to discover this week, via an email, about an American artist, writer and angler called James Prosek.
 

As a young American Ivy League graduate, back in 1999, Prosek successfully "blagged" sponsorship from Yale for a literary/artistic/angling "jolly", and with his pockets full of dollars converted into pounds travelled to the UK, fished where Walton fished and wrote and illustrated a book about his adventure. The (coffee table style) book that emerged from his Waltonian pilgrimage has duly been ordered from Amazon, and I await its arrival with eager anticipation.

 

Prosek also made a film of his time in the UK, which makes pleasant viewing. Although occasionally self-indulgent and over-fawning around the English upper classes, it has some beautiful camera work, an evocative soundtrack, some pleasing fishing scenes and is a worthy effort. Follow the link below, pour a glass of something you enjoy, sit back and watch .....

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1r2nRfnpWxwk

For all that harbouring an admiration for Walton is something of an angling cliché, my fondness for the old chap continues to grow..... angler, Christian, writer- does it get any better than that?

 

 



That was the year that was ...

And so, with just a fortnight till the year's end, and me entering my busiest period, the rods have been put away until next year, and the time has come to reflect on one of the most unusual years in my fishing life, in which I've been an angling "prize" at an auction, caught new species fishing in the USA and made a pilot program for a possible TV series, as well as my more usual visiting of lakes, ponds and canals near my east Leicester home.

 

The busy-ness of church and family life meant that I didn't fish nearly as much as I'd like to, but the sessions that I did have were catholic in variety, at times challenging, at times successful and always pleasurable.

 

The sad news was the closing of the lake which had, for the last year and a half been the location for my son and my own pursuit of crucians. We managed just four trips there this year, none of which produced crucians of the 1 pound plus variety that we'd caught the previous year. Here's my son with his last ever crucian from the condemned lake.

 

 

Another highlight was introducing Louie, a teenager from church, to fishing, initially as a result of him bidding for a guided fishing lesson with me in a charity auction. Luckily, the fish were in co-operative mood on the day of the "lesson" and he took a lovely bag of crucians and added a bonus perch of over a pound, all taken on pole fishing gear. Subsequently, much of his pocket money has found its way into the coffers of tackle dealers and fishing shops and he has progressed into a good, keen young angler.

 

 

I also managed a bit of carp fishing, and a number of trips spinning for perch, often accompanied by my son, who has added new skills and experiences to his repertoire, and has developed a liking (not inherited from me!) for bite alarms and method feeders.

 

 

The highlight of my year was spending some time in the States, researching how some American churches in the Southern States have used angling as a means of connecting their Christian activities with their wider local communities. I met some fantastic people, and caught some wonderful fish, in amazing surroundings, from skate and flounder in Charleston to bass and bluegills in Missouri and Arkansas.

 

 

The year ended with a bit of a "media flourish". The readership of this blog dramatically increased as a result of my American adventure, and the Church Times published an illustrated two page article on my exploits.

 

 

 However, the most unexpected spin-off was when I was contacted by a TV producer who had stumbled across the blog, with the result that I, and my fishing minster friend Stewart Bloor, were asked to make a pilot episode for a potential fishing/travel cross-over program with a "light touch" faith element. The filming experience was great fun, and we should know in the New Year whether it has been commissioned for a series- exciting times!

 

 

So, that was this year.

What does next year hold? Does TV "stardom" beckon? Will my son and I uncover new lakes to make up for the loss of the Estate Lake? Will it be a year of bending rods and screaming reels, or blanks and frustrating puzzles? Who knows.

It'll certainly be a season when I continue to develop my evolving passion for "traditional angling", although not to the exclusion of a few night sessions after carp with my son when we'll be doing the whole hi-tech modern carp thing while ensconced in a warm bivvy....... and isn't that just one of fishing's biggest attractions? There's just no way of knowing what 2014 holds, but one thing I'm sure of, is that-in piscatorial terms- it'll "be a blast", just like every other year since I first picked up a rod, over 30 years ago.

 

 

 

Lights, camera, action ...

As someone who's always considered himself to have a "face made for radio", it was a surprise to be contacted in October by a TV company interested in using me to present a potential TV series that would combine fishing and travel and a nod towards my Christian faith. My friend Stewart Bloor, also a church minister, was also recruited to the project, which saw us filming a pilot "taster" episode that will be "hawked" around TV world and shown to commissioning editors in the New Year.

 

And so it was, that after some filming of my own church's Sunday services, along with filming of my family at the Vicarage, we ended up on Monday by a small carp pool with a majestic backdrop of the hills of the Severn Valley.

 



The plan was to catch a few fish for the cameras, before heading on to Great Witley parish church to do some filming there, and to meet their angling mad churchwarden. Part of the sub-plot was that I would fish in a traditional style (I used a handmade porcupine quill float, and perched myself on an old fashioned willow creel, although I didn't go all "split cane fundamentalist" and, rather,  opted for a carbon float rod and fixed spool reel), while Stewart would fish using the full modern carp rods/baitrunners/rod pod/bolt rig and boilies/PVA bag "thing".

 

I'd taken a few small gudgeon on my float-fished maggots, when Stewart's alarm sounded and he was battling the first carp of the day. The cameraman zoomed in on him, the rod took on a pleasing battle curve and then "ping" ...... the hook pulled and the line went slack. No-one said anything. With only 4 hours of actual fishing time (with travelling to the pool, shots to camera, voice-overs and travelling on to the church we were working for at least twice that amount of time, but the actual angling is only a small part of the whole process) we were aware that this might be our only chance with carp, and however diverting gudgeon and small perch might be, they're not exactly great TV viewing!

 

 

Fortunately, after a string of small gudgeon and perch my float once again disappeared, and this time I found myself attached to an angry carp. My float rod and light line combination meant that, although not by any stretch of the imagination, a large carp, the fight was pleasurable, and the fish bent the rod nicely and performed well for the cameras before being pulled over the rim of the waiting landing net, a nice common of about 3 pounds.

 

 

That fish proved to be the "day saver", as only further gudgeon and perch followed its capture. It had always been a bit of a gamble to fish for carp in December with such a small timeframe in which to catch, and my "percentage game" tactics were always likelier to succeed than the "big fish or bust" approach that had been asked of Stewart. It had, however, despite the pressure to produce been a real pleasure, and I've seldom been more delighted with a carp of such humble proportions.

The fish of the day, however, was caught by Steve, a friendly angler not being filmed, who was fishing in a corner of the pond. Not only did he catch far more gudgeon than me, he used one as livebait and caught a beautiful, 1 and three quarter pound perch that I viewed enviously from my swim. Maybe I'll return to target the perch sometime.

 

 

As dark drew in, we drove on into the rural Severn Valley to film at the magnificent parish church of Great Witley. A small church built in extravagant baroque style, it's indisputably a thing of great beauty, and with an organ associated with the composer Handel and ceiling paintings (see below) by Belluci it was bursting with interest for the future TV viewer.

 

 

The bonus was that we were met in the church by its churchwarden, Rick Warner. Not only was he a repository of knowledge about the history and features of the church, nor just was he a link with its current Christian worshipping community who meet in the building, but he is also an avid angler who works full-time for the Angling Trust, helping them to develop national strategies as part of their role as British angling's most significant charitable and administrative organisation. He gave his time freely and generously, and couldn't have been more helpful.

 

                                                                         Dr Rick Warner

 

Altogether, my filming experience had been an eye-opening and enjoyable two days. Throughout the filming in my own church, at the lakeside, and at Great Witley church, our producer and cameraman, Ben,  (for whom the idea of a possible series came as a result of his stumbling across this blog) was a delight to work for, and was unfailingly patient with my and Stewart's first foray into the brave new world of TV presenting, talking to camera, live action filming, voice overs and re-takes (of which there were several!).

 

Now, it's just a case of "watch this space" as the pilot is viewed by commissioning editors in the New Year. Watch out, Robson, I'm after your job .............. although in a less manic,  "hyper" and demented type of way!

 

 

"By inches..."

Charles Haddon Spurgeon was a Baptist preacher of the Victorian era who once commented that it was "by inches that the snail made it to the ark." The progress towards setting up a Christian angling network has also felt like it's progressing "by inches", too but having met with my friend, fellow church minister and co-conspirator, Stewart Bloor last week I think we're pretty close now.

 

 

Stewart, whose weekly blog entitled "Stewart Bloor's Angling Diary" has a massive following, and I now have a graphic designer who will be helping set up the website, and anticipate that in the Spring all the content will be ready to "go live". There'll be forums, opportunities to connect with other anglers and we're looking to run a number of "angling retreats"- weekends of fishing with a faith-based twist.

We're planning a carp fishing session together next month (heck, it's only December, so why not?) and- no doubt- will talk more then.

It may be "by inches", but we're getting there, and shortly the dream will be realised.

 

An angler's seasons

As I huddled into my warm, padded ski jacket and felt the cold penetrating my jeans on this morning's dog walk it seemed hard to believe that just 11 days ago I was perch fishing in shirt sleeves with the sun beating down. If it wasn't for the glorious russets and browns of the leaves and the conkers on the ground I'd have concluded that we'd jumped straight from summer to winter, missing out Autumn altogether.

 

The angler is aware of the seasons more than most.
 Not only are there the changes in the fish's feeding habits, and the traditional switching of species to target, but the angler is there in the middle of the seasonal changes, his or her senses assaulted by the visual and physical effects of the yearly calendar. From temperature discomfort (too hot or too cold, but rarely "just right!") to the smell of blossoms or wet grass or farmer's "muck spreading", to the changing visual backdrop that we insert ourselves into when we fish.

 

 

The lazy, balmy Summer days of surface caught carp,  3/4 length shorts and green, verdant bankside vegetation give way to Winter lure fishing sessions, with frozen fingers and the angler wrapped up in hats, scarves and ridiculous looking thermal suits and boots against a bleak backdrop of bare trees and icy margins.

I love the changing of the seasons, the familiar and comforting cyclical pattern of "summer and winter, seedtime and harvest", but being outside through the year's changing seasonal tapestry also points me towards bigger and greater truths; moves my attention from the beauty of what I can see, smell, feel and touch, to the logical deduction that behind this irreducibly complex natural order and awe inspiring beauty there must be the ultimate Designer and Artist.
Sometimes fishing is a sacrament.

Fishing all over the world

I love travelling almost as much as I love fishing, and to combine the two is to double the pleasure of either. In recent years the growth of adventure angling, as pioneered by John Wilson and John Bailey and popularised by Henry Gilby, the "love him or loathe him "Robson Green and the intrepid Jeremy Wade (himself a Vicar's son),  has become an exciting new feature of the modern angling scene.

 

My forays into the arena of adventure angling have been limited, but I have caught fish in America, Canada and Tanzania, and these are among my fondest angling memories.

 

My Tanzanian adventures (I've visited the country three times, and fished - albeit casually- on all three) have all been undertaken when accompanied by locals in their simple (flimsy?) wooden dugout canoes with catamaran floats in the Indian Ocean. Usually these have had an outboard motor fitted, although on one occasion, off Zanzibar we were entirely reliant on the power of wind filled sails. I've also visited Ruaha National park three times (where fishing isn't allowed) and gazed longingly at this intimidating sand river, full of maleovolent looking crocodiles and longed to fish it.

 

 

One African adventure, off the coast of Bagamoyo, saw us set out (I was accompanied by my father-in-law, wife and two children in addition to the African "crew") in a sunny flat calm, and come bouncing back (quite literally) into land through a decidedly stormy sea. My terror was accentuated by the fact that my children were in the boat with no mobile phones, no GPS and no-one even knowing that we were out at sea. "Never again" I vowed, but I think if given the chance I probably would.

The other great thing about catching fish from the sea is eating them, and on several occasions we've brought our catch home and asked the chef at our African lodgings to cook what we'd caught.

 

 

 

The first fish I ever caught from the American continent was in Canada in 2007. It wasn't a fishing holiday, but while staying in a log cabin by Clear Lake (once the home of the legendary "Indian" Grey Owl- google him to see why I've used inverted comma's) I met a fishing mad Canadian called Werner. The inevitable happened and we arranged to go fishing early one morning. After a slightly un-nerving walk through the woods in the lifting early morning gloom (this is bear country, after all) we had a quick coffee and then drove to a harbour (Canadian freshwater lakes are the size of English counties and feel more like sea fishing than coarse fishing), where we threw soft plastic worms on baitcaster rigs. I managed the only fish of the day, my first ever walleye, which was only marginally larger than the plastic worm I caught it on.

 

 

This year was the year of my American adventure, and three fishing trips in the USA. I fished off a dock at Charleston, the most idyllic town I've ever visited, with Susan Dalton, who runs her own fishing education and guiding business, where I caught skate and flounder on small livebaits. The skate was returned, but the flounder was eaten within an hour of its capture.

 

 

I also fished twice with my friend Dave Lignger in Missouri, where we fished from a shiny bass boat on Bullshoals Lake where I caught my first ever bass (one on a crankbait, one on a surface popper), and also this cheeky little bluegill that took an ambitious liking to a medium sized alphabet style crankbait.

 

 

On that same session Dave caught a three foot long primeval looking gar fish that jumped spectacularly and snapped aggressively before we unhooked it in the water and released it to cause further mayhem elsewhere.

 

 

Africa, Canada, the United States.....

The world is definitely shrinking, but there are still so many places I want to fish. I've only scratched the surface of the countries I have fished, let alone those that I haven't yet visited. I dream of returning to America, of pushing further into Africa and sharing the water with crocodiles and hippo's while targeting tiger fish in the Zambezi, and of a trip deep into the Amazon to fish for piranha and peacock bass .

So many fish, so many places, so little time ......