A Match Like No Other

Mark Everard described it as 'A Match Like No Other'. That sums it up. About twenty of us met at Devizes to fish the Kennet and Avon Canal at the Caen Hill Locks. If this is new to you, there are sixteen locks to take canal boats up and down the hill. If you wonder, that's a minimum of five hours of waiting for the water to rise, or fall, pass through the lock and head a hundred yards or so to the next. I suggest you take the bus.

It was a Prostate Cancer Awareness event . A few years ago, I was with Mark on the riverbank when he received a call from the doctor, suggesting he undergo a further check after his PSA blood test. PSA stands for Prostate-Specific Antigen, and it lets you have a reasonably accurate idea if there are any problems. It is much more accurate and a lot easier than a meeting with a doctor's middle finger.

Mark had no symptoms but was in deep trouble. His subsequent operation created a massive hill to climb, but he's back on form and showing the energy of your average mad professor. Soon after his diagnosis, another mate of mine, Nick Bubb, had a similar anti-symptomatic diagnosis after a long and twisting journey through the Health Service due to an ankle injury. He is also back to his 'usual' ways as he fills my Message Box with pictures that I cannot share here.

If you are over forty, male, and still alive, get yourself tested. It makes more sense than making excuses.

So, the gang had a choice of six 'ponds', the little reservoirs that feed the locks. Each is full of fish of many kinds. That then was the aim. A multi-species match with the most species being the winner. Unusually, hybrids counted as species, meaning that size wasn't everything. We trudged to our

chosen ponds. The Match was roving and ran on honesty - providing photographic proof or a reliable witness could back you up. 

I chose an attractive spot, checked the depths, tackled up, fed the nearside with maggot and the edge of the central channel with blitzed bread. I soon had a roach or two and a few perch from the nearside. I got into a rhythm and soon was taking fish regularly. I had a couple of bream, then a tench of 2-3 pounds. All good fun on such light tackle. My species list rose to five with a rudd and then six with a pretty rudd/roach hybrid. 

Hybrid roach/rudd

A few of the crew began wandering, and the news was pretty mixed. One thing for sure was that gudgeon, silver bream and ruffe had been caught. Tench were at a premium too, so I figured a few of the little ones would put me in with a shout. Hark at me. As a rule, I hate match fishing, but this was somehow different. I obviously have a competitive streak. Jack Perks appeared and dropped into the next spot. A minute later, he casually dropped a gudgeon back. I could have thrown my maggots at him.

I still think it should have counted

Despite feeling quite content and enjoying the fishing, I went for a walk and chatted to a few people. As I spoke to David, his float sank and he landed a Ruffe. We were both delighted to see one after so many years, but oh, how I wanted one.  I went back for my gear and settled in the pond with the ruffe in it.

I re-rigged to a very light float, lighter hooklink, smaller hook, and carefully set the bait to sit just tickling the bottom. Jack was on eight species. I just wanted a little fish or two, provided they were different. But, I caught perch after perch after bloody perch. Mixed with them were roach, one of which was bigger and dropped off due to my impatience. I really worked at it and eventually, Aroogah! Up came a diminutive ruffe. I was overjoyed, and those within earshot were free with congratulations, in a quite jealous way.

                             

Nine or ten species were collectively caught, the biggest a tench of over four pounds. Despite my protestations that a Zebra Mussel was a shell FISH, a plea unanimously turned down, I ended on seven species, sharing second place. The fish whisperer, Jack Perks, took top spot. It was a fun event, we all got prizes, albeit with almost zero value, but I think we are all hoping to be there for the next one.

Mark does the prize giving

If you have a spare shilling, you can donate it here

https://www.justgiving.com/page/mark-everard-fishing-26jul25

This and That

 The weather's been a bit ripe of late, or haven't you noticed? I actually had a week in West Wales and it didn't rain. Do you realise how rare that is? Anyway, it's been affecting the fishing and my ability to withstand the heat. I did have a short session at Pembroke Docks and managed a few gobies, corkwing wrasse and tiny pollack. However, I had an enormously satisfying day, allow me to elucidate.

I stopped off at the fishing spot a few days before actually fishing it. I chatted to a couple of lads who were obviously novices but who were happy spending time by the water. One of them told me that they were having a mid-life crisis and had taken to fishing, he then tried explaining the benefits of being away from phones, family etc. I cut him short and politely said that I didn't need to have fishing sold to me. 

When I arrived, rod in hand, a few days later, one of the guys was chatting to another bloke, but cut that off and he followed me down to the large platform I was going to fish from. It transpired that he had yet to catch a fish with his lures. I explained that I was using a light rod and a two-hook rig baited with prawn aimed at species not size. His eyes were wide as I set up and he soaked up everything I was saying like a sponge. Despite being in his thirties, it was like having a child hanging on to my words. 

Mini Pollack

Corkwing Wrasse

I had felt a couple of light knocks and he said he'd love to just feel a bite for the first time. I handed him the rod and stood back. He became excited at the first knock and ecstatic when he hooked something. Alas, as a small pouting reached he surface, it rolled off the hook. I got him to get straight back down and he was soon holding a bucking rod and landed a small Corkwing Wrasse. I shared his joy and enthusiasm; it was a great moment.

Gobies

My new friend was due to leave for work, yet still he chatted, asking countless questions. I gave him the rod again, and he landed a goby; this was the cherry on the cake. He left on a mighty high which we all felt when we had our own first fish. It made me feel good.

..............................................................................................................

And so to Somerset

Despite my more laid-back approach to fishing, I have had trouble getting my head around a strip back to my old haunts. I'd arranged to meet up with Paddy, but I wanted it to be a specialist trip and mulled over locations for way too long. I was struggling a bit with my back, an aftereffect of some people's idea of furniture comfort. When you stay in a beautiful cottage, you don't expect to be crippled when sat watching the telly. Due to my overthinking and aching back, I came close to calling off my trip.

I shook myself out of it and decided that a casual day session on a drain would be ideal. One of those days when the float frequently sinks and the landing net is needed at least a couple of times. Add to this that I would be sitting next to my old mate who I've fished with for sixty years. By 'eck, just typing that makes me feel old.

The day before we met, I drove around looking at the various options. Force of habit may be responsible for my choice, and we met just below the sluice at Greylake on the King Sedgemoor Drain, an area I know very well.

Glorious Sedgemoor

There was a stiff upstream breeze and a lot of slimy 'Gorilla Snot' weed about. Any bait fished deep in mid-river was smothered in the stuff, so I opted for the fairly clear nearside ledge. Bites were immediate, with a minute perch and a few rudd before Paddy arrived. He soon had his customary lighthouse of a float sitting proud of the river on a ledge he found to the right of the swim. 

One of the countless rudd

Not exactly a monster

You think this is slimy?

This one left my net in a right state

The conversation was largely about the downside of getting older as well as many happy memories from the past. He was getting mostly roach, but he did have a dace and a bleak. I had a couple of oddities for the drain in the shape of two small chub. I even needed the landing net on a couple of perch. I did get my net wet twice more as I landed a couple of Sedgemoor's finest, dark, and extremely slimy bream. The day panned out pretty much as I expected and very enjoyable it was too.

The day was heightened by the bird life. Where the sky used to be full of lapwing and golden plover, we saw little and cattle egret, a great white egret flew past too. Best of the lot was a couple of cranes lifting off from the bird reserve behind us. 

We said our goodbyes, I had one last dig at his golf appointment for the next morning and a promise that we would be meeting up again in the not-too-distant future