"Study To Be Quiet"

© The Art Archive/Corbis

I had the chance to grab a cheeky overnighter on the new lake on Saturday. It would be my second night on there and though I try to avoid weekends it was too much to resist.

  Lady Sarah, who has taken a shine to joining me, and I arrived at an empty lake. Our solitude didn't last long as soon another two syndicate members turned up behind us as we passed through the secure gate. They stopped to chat to each other and we sloped off to bag a swim at the windward end of the lake, a swim in a hardly fished corner.

 It was some time later that a car passed behind us down the track to other end of the lake. One angler remained though, dwelling. We set up quietly, I had a lead around and found the swim was dense with weed except for one small area, just enough room for the placement of my two hookbaits. It was then that the slamming of a van door began, my swim being near to the gate being within direct earshot,. Slamming, crashing, over and over.

 The chap in question then proceeded to make several journeys to a swim directly opposite me, speaking very loudly on is mobile as he went. It was only once he'd concentrated all his kit in the swim that he noticed me. I saw him ponder, he then had the decency to allow me the water in front, but only moved to the next swim, still loudly conversing to a family member in TriggerHappy TV style! He had the rest of that side of the lake, but no, he thought he'd stay at my end. He then proceeded to stroll around to me and bellow that it was OK as he was only staying till midnight.

 I suspected that he had blocked me into my corner, but at least he had the decency to move from the opposite swim(above), albeit to the swim to the right, he's a good guy though and I thought I might get an opportunity after midnight.

 I endured quite a bit of inter-family chat from the other bank until that time, whereupon my bivvy became illuminated by sporadic bursts of his overindulgent headtorch, followed swiftly by a couple of direct hits through the bivvy door. Much noise ensued and at least six slams of the van door completed his blank session and I was at last in peace..Within an hour a fish rolled over my baited area and another two hours later my right rod was away to a single toner. I was soon holding the rod, but, on the strike, instead of connecting directly to the fish, I struck through thick weed. I felt the fish, definitely a carp, for around twenty seconds before the hook pulled. I was gutted.

 Sometime later, I was abruptly awakened to the sound of two very loud voices. They were catfishing for the day and by the time they had unloaded the car, made their way, three times there and back to the swim opposite, dumped their kit, malleted their banksticks in and cast either side of me I knew their names, what bait they had and how long they were staying. I have to say I have never witnessed such a selfish display in all my years angling and I lost it. I yelled at them to please be quiet, I actually said something a little different to that but I won't write it here.

 They did oblige, that is, up until the time the spod came out.

This fella, bless him, proceeded to place baits either side of mine, whilst his mate whacked another three to my right margin, he's actually spodding to his mates area here!!..They had the whole of the rest of the lake.



His mate, having cast to the snags on the far side, then went and sat in his swim to smoke a cigarette of dubious nature whilst the rods fished for themselves (probably not locked up) in his swim. Needless to say, I finally had enough and reeled in, strolled round and had a word in their shell-likes, they genuinely had no idea that they were doing anything untoward. Let's just say that they were 'educated' quite vigorously despite their reluctance to 'study to be quiet'. Lady Sarah, a non angler, has more stealth in her little finger than the other 'anglers' on the lake that night.

 In conclusion, I had a small window of opportunity in which to catch, I got the bite, I lost the fish. I may have re-evaluate the merits of weekend angling.