It's Why I Fish.

It's been a bad week, piscatorially speaking, my stalking kit was stolen whilst doing some good for the local angling club, it made me mad with rage and consider why I fish, and if it is even worth it. I pondered I might not enjoy this pastime whilst looking over my shoulder. Tackle is of high value and easily sold. It never turns up after being stolen. If people didn't buy dodgy gear, people wouldn't steal it to sell it. I find it hard to believe that a true piscator could enjoy  time spent with a rod he knew was obtained illegally. I sometimes think I may be lost, I tend to think people will treat me and my property the same as I would treat them and their's, it's not always the case though, is it? I needed a bit of traditional therapy and reached for the Lucky Strike.

 There's a stretch of river,  a colleague and I have been casing it out for a while now. It's remote, small, seemingly unfished and best of all, free to fish . We didn't know if it even contained fish, recent conditions have made fish spotting impossible, but this evening we'd hopefully find out.
 Travelling light, one bag, Lucy the Lucky Strike, my Speedia, landing net , roll mat...I arrived at the stretch just in time for the rain to start, the terrain soon becoming slippery under foot. On finding a spot that looked good for a trot, I parted the bankside vegetation and threw out a few maggots whilst setting up a small stick float, bulk shotted, size 18 hook.
 Sitting amongst the nettles on my mat, in the pouring rain, on a potentially fishless stretch seemed bizarrely normal, I made that first cast and the float settled then went off on it's merry way.....nothing.
 I batted the spool of my trusty Speedia to bring the float home and re-set the depth,  nettle stings glowing on the back of my hands. Another cast.
 The float sailed it's merry course, and just before the end of the trot, vanished. I struck and a beautiful dace soon arrived at the waiting net. I smiled to myself. A fish, any fish can produce a smile, especially when you're soaked and muddy.

 The next cast produced another and then another of these fabulous little fish. I smiled again. I'd have been quite happy to sit the evening out catching dace that made me smile.
 Regular free offerings soon brought a hard fighting roach to the net...

...soon followed by a rather lucky shoalmate who I just manged to get to the net before a pike got him.

 Old Esox had been here before, and so had I. I knew he'd be lurking in the near margin, I released the fish downstream lest he fall prey to the waiting gape of his jaws.
 A swirl, yes he was there, I saw his shadow and poked him away with the landing net handle. The wind swirled around and the rain persisted, the maggots were now sufficiently drenched and had organised an escape committee as I tried to unstick mono from wet cane. The far from ideal conditions didn't really concern me that much, despite the realisation that my poncho had also been part of the gutless crooks booty a few days previous,
 The float sank again, and then that looming pike grabbed the dace..I hung on a while, he wasn't big, but the battle was spirited on such tackle. I hoped the line wouldn't part, he was definitely holding on to that poor fish. After much spinning of reel I recalled something I'd read somewhere. I turned the rod 'reel side up', this apparently helps to negate any 'set' that may occur in the cane during a prolonged battle. It seemed to work fine enough and the toothy glutton was eventually landed, unhooked and released way upstream.

 My colleague 'Paulo' appeared, an accomplished angler and good friend, I told him that I was disappointed to have not caught a gudgeon yet, he soon settled some way downstream of me. I chatted with him a while, resting the swim, letting it calm down.
 I really was drenched by now, right through to the skin, not because I was ill prepaired. I forego much for lightness and moveability, sometimes it has it's drawbacks.
 The next hour or so saw the swim quieten down a bit, the odd perch just about keeping it interesting. Footsteps behind me signalled the arrival of a triumphant 'Paulo', gudgeon in hand. I called him a rude word and proclaimed him 'gudgeon king', how I wish it had been me, I love them the most I think, even more than bees.....and I love bees.
 I tried so hard to catch a little gudgeon, the conditions worsening by the minute. The line often sticking to the cane despite the high bridge ringing. Wind and rain, the trotters nightmare! There were the hooks as well, stuck in everything from submerged twigs and bankside nettles to my tackle tin and hoody cuffs.
 The float vanished again, this fish stayed low, so low I thought I might have snagged a passing branch, but no, fish it was, I suspected a pike. Slow, methodical but deliberate, I saw the shadow of a sizeable fish as it suddenly shot across the narrow flow. My thumb tried to slow it down and it was subdued just before reaching the only snag in the swim. What was it ? I saw it there, hanging a while in the water, carp?...no chub...big chub. I yelled to my friend to come quickly, this might need assistance.
 As the fight continued we both peered down at the fish before us, I thought of the cane rod, the light line and the size 18 hook that held the single white maggot the fish had taken,"Please don't come off" I pleaded.
 The beast chugged off upstream and out of view, I held on, the rod performed majestically and after a few hairy moments it gradually came back to me and after a few attempts the biggest chub I have ever caught was in the net. We looked at each other in wonderment and a little disbelief. It was now that I remembered that my scales had been stolen, 'Paulo' hadn't brought any along either, we seriously didn't think there would be a need. A phone call was made to another colleague Dan, who heroically drove some distance with scales and a camera (mine stolen) as the fish recovered in my net..what a legend....and what a fish..

...and what a way to catch it,  I still can't quite believe it. What am I to make of the great karma roller-coaster of life and angling? I go from despondency to elation, my worse angling experience to one of my best, all within a week, and shared the moment with two good lads...That is why I fish.

That's Fishin'

Conditions seemed perfect for a fat Perch today so I set out with my cane Chapman 500 rod, trusty Speedia, Perch bob float, far too many split shot and some pots of worms along with a few gentles. I knew the perfect place to find them too, the marginal shelf of an old sand pit, right next to a gnarly old bush that lays half in and half out of the water.

 Dad came too, and Mum, both seemingly getting a taste for this Autumn angling lark.

 Two cars in the car park, around twenty pitches on the lake, surely there wouldn't be.....would there?

 Yep, Carp angler bivvied up in the intended swim...Hey ho..we strolled past, the path soggy under foot, the sun straining to get above the avenue of trees ahead.

 The swim we settled in has by no means the Perch potential of the first choice but we were fishing and all was well in the world.

It could've easily been a September day, Buzzards soared, Robins pinched bait, Carp hurled themselves into the air and Pike prowled the margins.

Having adopted the big hook/massive lobworm approach things were slow, whilst Dad, on the other hand was charming delightful Roach from there homes with abandon on the small hook/double gentle approach, and enjoying it immensely.

 Of course the inevitable happened and as the float sailed away I immediately knew that my cane was attached to a spirited Pike...they just love them lobs.

 A titanic battle ensued, and just as I tried to gain back some of the 4lb line, the Speedia would spin off beneath my thumb..Dad attended, net in hand and Mum gave a running commentary, after much ado, old Esox was safely in the net, the good old Chapman's blank was easily up to the job.

Well with all this Pike activity, I daresay the Perch weren't getting a look-in, the Carp angler came down and I told him that they'd been my original quarry, he seemed interested at my approach, his eyes going just a little misty at the sight of my rod and reel. The kettle(Steve) was put on and after tea Dad started to get a few of his roach chased by a very feisty Pike. With this in mind he hatched a cunning plan which soon saw the toothy terrorist on the bank.

I did try a bunch of red gentles for a while but only caught small roach. If I'd set my mind that today was going to be a roach day, these beautiful fish would've made it. I did, however, soon revert back to the unsuccessful 'big lob, big Perch' tactic.

...And so it was, that the darkness and cold brought the curtain down on a Perchless day.......As we walked back, we stopped by the Carp anglers swim, the swim I'd intended to fish, after our chat he had set up a makeshift float set-up and had a pack of lobworms in his carryall, he was just returning a 2lb Perch.......oh well, "That's Fishin'".

Message for Mr.Hatt :- Production of a sky blue bobble hat is under way.

Pike And Parents

My father took me piking on the Tring reservoir complex as a child, it's something we both enjoyed immensely. It's no surprise then that around this time of year he suggests a trip out after these beautiful predators.
I'd thrown my mother one of my rather random requests recently. You see I've always hankered after the marvellous 'lucky' bobble hat once worn by Jack Hilton...this one.

After some research and some great help from the fellows on 'The Path By The Water' a photo emerged giving us the colours...

Green and White stripes, white bobble..."Mum, can you knit me a Jack Hilton bobble hat please??"
 Bless her, after I had sourced some wool she was straight on the case and here is the fruit of her labour. I am delighted with it.

What better way to try it out then and test its 'luckiness' than a day out with the folks in search of Pike.

The chosen water throws up a challenge, that in view of its Catfish population the use of treble hooks are banned. Wire trace is allowed from October 1st. I therefore made up some single hook rigs with size 2/0 Gold Label Tackle Penetrator hooks. I crimped a loop and ring to the hook for the attachment of bait 'hair rig' style.

This being more a social occasion than a 'specimen hunt' we opted for an easily accessed swim and I soon erected the shelter for the day (you know by now that it always rains when I fish, today was no different) and duly cast a mackerel tail, a smelt, and a roach. The two outer baits to the marginal shelf and the middle rod at range. The parents soon made themselves at home.....

They really seem to embrace the outdoor life. The bailiff seemed quite surprised at the bankside family reunion, but with sandwiches, tea , sausages rolls, more tea, soup etc.. we were warm, dry, fed and happy.

 We were even happier when old Esox took a liking for the margin fished roach...

.This fish appeared to have had a scrape with a Catfish at some stage in it life, a scar on its back (near my hand) suggesting it was grabbed in ones vice like pads.

 About an hour later my Dad landed a jack on a jelly lure.

 This feisty fish was incredibly angry, tail walking and darting around like a lunatic..it definitely had delusions of grandeur.

 Dad seemed to take to fishing with a lure really well..In the past he'd used spoons and hard lures but never the modern shad type..He persisted with the lure rod through driving rain in the hope of another take. It's strange how things turn full circle, I put the kettle on and told him tea was forthcoming,"Just another five minutes" was his reply.

 Soon it was the turn of the mackerel tail to get chomped and another beautiful Pike was landed....Dad got in on the action with this one.

My father remembered the lake as a working sand pit and was amazed at the transformation into a scenic haven for wildlife, Mum loved to watch the green woodpecker, and hungry flocks of goldfinch and long-tailed tits as they swarmed around the willows.

 Soon the mackerel rod was away again and Dad was straight on to it. The fish (photo-held by Mum to follow!!)

was soon subdued and rounded off what to me was a most enjoyable time. Dad and I shared the spoils with two fish each and it can be noted that all three pick-ups on the single-hook rig were landed successfully. I know the folks loved it just as much and I look forward to the next family Pike pursuit.

 I also got to christen that hat and it truly was 'lucky'. Thanks Mum and Dad, I had a fine day.

Poor Old Pike?

It's the time of year when tackle companies start to think towards the colder months and start to pitch predator products to us.


I received a visit today by a rep from an incredibly reputable company, a company that I have a lot of respect for.


Whilst pitching a new predator product I became aware that, to me, there MAY be an issue of fish safety and voiced my concerns. To be fair, the fellow, far from going defensive, appreciated the feedback, stating that my point was valid .
It seems to me that this most beautiful and delicate of course fish gets a bit of a rough trot.
In Carp and Barbel angling, fish safety has become paramount, and rightly so. I don't go overboard about it and there are no hard and fast rules, we all draw our own lines. I do believe though, that other species do not seem to be held in as high esteem by many anglers.
I have already voiced concerns aboout feeder rigs in this article. I still also get shown Pike rigs that will tether a fish should the main line snap, resulting in a miserable death for the poor creature. I still get asked for those archaic Pike gags which seem an ideal tool for smashing teeth(I don't sell them) and I also have some reservations on the use of treble hooks.
I would be interested to hear your views, I know that many of you fish for Pike...am I right? Is the much maligned and misunderstood Esox a victim of a different way of thinking, or do they deserve the same respect that Carp receive.

Turning A Corner?

As I drove to the lake I glanced into a field,I noticed two deer,not native but escapees from a nearby estate,extinct in the wild,except of course,this field in Bedfordshire!! They were Pere David's Deer.A nice start to the day.
The air was warm and as I walked down to Pampas Point I was greeted by three of the Canadian "Hoodies"

Buzzing bugs flew around my head and a Cock Linnet sang loudly from atop a Siver Birch,I didn't 'Dilly Dally' and set about my days fishing.
Refreshingly a Westerly wind blew upon me and the Kite was spotted soaring on thermals.The scene seemed eons away from the snow storm of just a few weeks ago.
A look in the margins revealed new growth.....

...and old Esox..Can you see him?

After a few hours I departed through 'The Avenue' to another swim.On the way I saw a few more signs of cheer as the Woodpecker pecked away and Blackbirds scarpered noisily.The buds of Pussy Willow emerging..

....and Daffodils waking from their Winter slumber.

One thing that eludes me though is my mate the Kingfisher,I hope he and his lady are well.I sometimes think I hear him but can't be sure.

What of the fishing then?Well the lake was kind and I had a good day.I've decided not to continue playing the numbers game on this blog unless I catch a pb, so will not be giving weights,doubtless it's of no interest to the reader anyway.We will just enjoy the fish for what they are.Here's a couple of fine mint Roach to please the eye..


In conclusion,animals are pairing up,birds are staking claim to territory,the shoots of recovery push through the soil and 'the fishing is easy'...not quite 'Summertime'...but maybe Spring?
Did I also see a rather large Tench roll?

Waste of Time?

The rules on the lake dictate that if you wish to fish at this time of year for Pike that you must use a single hook only,yesterday evening was spent digging out the 3lb TC rods and crimping wire traces to size 2 single hooks on which I tied a braid hair for the sea fish deadbaits I had aquired.This is all a bit of an effort when my workplace sell nicely made twin trebles that most people can use,most of the time,I mean,what are the chances of me hooking a Catfish in freezing conditions?Really?..Oh well,effort,as they say,equals reward,right?
It was perhaps not a surprise to find the lake frozen when I arrived,a buzzard circled above like some arbinger of bad news,the weather has been brutal and shows no sign of respite,so after a walk around,and knowing that the river is a raging torrent,I head for a local club lake.

It came as a relief to see that at least part of the lake was fishable,obviously there were no other anglers so I set up in an old favourite and chucked out a Sprat,a Mackerel tail and the feeder rod with worm as hookbait.It was cold and once again I found myself facing that relentless North Easterly,when will it change?After a couple of biteless hours I started to wonder what the hell I was doing,but,as always I thought"effort equals reward"....the bobbin on my right hand rod flew up and the buzzer sounded,I struck.........nothing....the Mackerel tail had bite marks,just about where the second treble would be on a Jardine Snap Tackle(incidentally,the same rules apply on this lake which also contains Catfish).

It started to snow and the heads of the Reedmace swayed in rows like drunken guards on parade.A single Magpie appeared,I thought"Not you again"as the snowfall turned to blizzard.I was getting cold..I have all the kit you need for winter but sometimes the weather still wins,I wasn't just cold,I was wet and cold.My fingers were so numb from the feeder that I was glad that I'd been prepared enough to bring a handwarmer.
I had a twitch on the quiver rod but am minded to think it was probably one of the many hungry Tufted Ducks,I'm no longer suprised to see how deep they can go for food.
The wind chill was immense,and I was out of tea and shivering,"Go home,idiot"I thought.It took me the best part of an hour to slowly pack up with numb fingers and toes.
So,does effort really equal reward?..The answer has to be that most of the time it does..but..not always.The other question has to be;Is fishing in such conditions as we have had recently a waste of time?..I think,maybe it is,but it is my favourite waste of time.