At Last?

The lake looked smaller when I arrived but, over the years, this is a phenomenon I have recognised with water, they shrink with familiarity. I feel very comfortable by the lake now and although I have still only lightly fished its waters I have a much deeper understanding of it. I don't think it can ever shrink beyond the size of a challenge and the mystery has just deepened, more of which later.

Neil and I are bursting at the seems to get started. Like a kitten with a bow on a string spring has been teasing us, snatching any glimmer of warmth away just when you think its arrived. Although the sun shone it was cool in the breeze, Neil borrowed my fleece, he doesn't have the protective blubber I possess - but he's getting there.

The walk around was more a gardening expedition than a fish spotting trip, despite the bright conditions the fish are still keeping out of sight. But the mini work party was a success, we have identified a few little ledges low to the water on the wooded side where a bait can be fish amongst the overhanging trees. All that was needed was lop here and a saw there just to remove those branches that might hinder playing a big carp but not enough to put them off visiting these secret spots ;-)

The woods were alive with birds and they at least have ignored the conditions and are getting on with the business of procreation, we watched as a pair of great spotted woodpeckers copulated, the male flying immediately away with a 'cheep', the female sitting, taking in the moment before setting about her nest building - we're not so different are we.

We bumped into Ian and Dave, a couple of fellow syndicate members who were similarly armed with loppers and saws. Ian had the extending loppers and was ensuring a long cast could be made without taking half a tree with you, a job very well done.

Ian recalled his best trip of last season when he landed a 27, 28 and a 29.15 (no matter how much he shook the scales) in the same session. This is impressive fishing but it was what he spotted on a walk around the lake on the same session that enthralled me. In a bay with very limited access, a spot where some good fish are usually visible, he saw a fish that dwarfed the rest of the residents. Having returned three near thirties he was in a great position to identify what was clearly a very big fish and it has reinforced the rumoured tales of an original mirror that was lost in the early days of the syndicate, a fish of about forty pounds.

Is this just one last monster or are there others? I've spent many hours observing the fish and have yet to see anything that really stands out but one thing that these old warriors can do is hide and with relatively new fish greedy for bait they will be very difficult to tempt. Our eagerness to get started just went up a notch.

My kit has been if not sorted then thrown into a useable heap and in the morning I'll dig out all of the bits and bobs needed to cook and survive for a few days. I'm going fishing.

Something for the weekend...

Its the first day of Spring today...... apparently. The Spring equinox is here again and the weather forecast over the next few days is for yet more cold weather and snow. Ah well, when the season does eventually arrive I reckon its going to do so with such a rush that it will be spectacular and memorable. Incidentally, the fish in my pond are looking for food so their body clock's are on time and I shall be chasing their wild cousins very soon.

But whilst the conditions keep you at home why not buy a good book and bury yourself in someone else's world for a while. I have a fair few angling books - well, hundreds I suppose, my book shelves groan at their weight and there's more dotted around the house, I really must count them one day.

Amongst them are books that have disappointed, mainly it has to be said, carp related books that others have eulogised about but I have found poorly written or just downright dull. Thankfully many of my dusty books have brought me immense pleasure, a few have even been read more than once surely the ultimate honour you can pay to the written word. I should like to recommend a couple of recent acquisitions that have rated 10 out of 10 in my humble opinion.

A Fool And His Eel by Mark Walsingham

You may struggle to get hold of a copy of this book but it is well worth the effort. Despite the esoteric choice of title this book contains no fool and very few eels yet it is one of the finest fishing books ever written, sort of a Casting at the Sun for the 21st Century. Mark is an intelligent and literate man with a wealth of angling experience, mainly after carp it has to be said but other species are well documented in a beautifully written account of his angling life, his progression to being an advisor to the National Trust not to mention owning and running Ashmead fishery in Somerset, the home of natural UK carp to over 50lbs.

The pages just fly past with tales of old English lakes where ancient fish hide, his traditional approach to tackle and methods that he uses to great effect and the making of a superb fishery out of a pool he used to fish as a child. The book is illustrated with countless photographs and illustrations of the highest quality, it really is one that you won't want to end and that you are bound to revisit.

The View From Coal Creek by Erin Block

Many of you will be familiar with Erin's work as her blog is very popular. Erin burst on to the scene a couple of years ago when she began to follow just about every fishing blog going. Who was this American girl taking an interest in our fishing world?

Anyway, those of us that reciprocated and read about her life soon got to know a strong willed (okay bloody minded) individual who was rebuilding her life having moved to a cabin in a canyon despite the possible pitfalls that would challenge her. As good fortune would have it she found herself, a dog, a man and fishing.

The View From Coal Creek is an intelligent, insightful and beautifully observed look at her own life with the birth of a split cane rod as the central character. Anybody who has ever used or even considered using a cane rod would do well to read this book if just to understand the birthing process, no rod had ever been better described. The observations are top quality, any book that contains the line, "...... said Hal in the good humour that comes with time" gets my vote.

By the time the rod finds its way into its bag you will be familiar with the whole cast (no pun intended) and feel as though you sat in on its building and listened in on the gossip at the tackle shop. You will sense just what a special person Erin is and how she has a stature far greater than her frame. You will also yearn to walk the mountain paths to cast a fly in a clear stream to some diminutive but vibrantly patterned trout.

This is a definitely not a fishing book in the traditional sense nor is it a lengthy tome but I found it an immensely pleasing read.

Drawing A Line Under It

There's still a few days left of the season yet I've put my gear away and shall not be fishing the river again for over three months. I've drawn a line under the worst season for many years and shall not be sorry to see it pass. Bad weather has been the biggest problem but other things have conspired to reduce the amount of time I've spent on the bank, its just been a lousy year.

On a brighter note I fished a small pool last week with a few guys from one of the forums I look in on. It was bitterly cold and the fish were reluctant to move very much but a few small carp were caught along with plenty of silver fish. We had plenty of laughs along the way and I'm sure I'll be fishing with some of then again in the new season.

I did drop in on my consistent chub swim on Saturday. I don't like fishing the same old swim again and again but the nine or ten anglers staying at the pub had recorded no chub or barbel all week, just a few trout and grayling on maggots so I was keen to demonstrate my prowess to the Three Amigo's Tim, Nick and The Prof. They were fishing the beat where my swim is located and when I rolled up at 1pm nobody was fishing it - game on.

I started to bait it with some maggots but after a single feeder full went in I heard a strangled cry from Nick who had fluked a pike on his lure rod. I ambled over to watch him slip and slide along the treacherous bank as he retrieved his landing net from some distance away, then netted a low double figured pike. It could have gone bigger but he had taken one of the ugliest fish from the river which had a stunted tale and a large dent in its back. I told him in no uncertain terms just what a miserable little fish it was and how he should be ashamed of disturbing the poor creature - well, he had been rather unkind about the fortunes of my football team in mid-week. 

I went on the catch a small chub of a couple of pounds before I lost interest and trudged home. They were all without action apart from The Prof who'd taken another trout albeit only a few ounces. 

Nick was further humiliated when his beloved Everton capitulated to Wigan in the FA Cup. Now I'm not the type of person to gloat but after his mid-week comments I was very happy to swap text messages during and after the game - I believe its called kismet :-)

LFC

There was no paper to hand so I reached for the pen next to my chair.

I have a frustrating habit for forgetfulness, not just the "what did I come into this room for" forgetfulness but on a slightly grander scale where important issues drift out of my brain as I muddle along distracted like a butterfly seeking nectar.

I have tried to adopt a positive strategy by leaving notes and, when I remember to do so, they work well. As I left for my early morning fishing trip yesterday there by the door, next to my car keys was the A4 sheet stating "Food. Stuff in Garage" as a loud jog to my tired brain. But what good are notes if you don't have paper to hand? By the time paper has been found the thought may be just another lost idea.

Early in my policing days I started to make notes on whatever was at hand, quite literally. Sherlock Holmes (in at least one dramatisation) made notes on his cuffs but I used the base of my thumb. Far less untidy than a the back of the hand scrawled with random times and addresses and much less likely to wear off before the information can be passed on than the palm. And so it was just the other day that I had a thought that evidently needed to be acted upon and, with no paper available I had reached for my pen.  I remember thinking at the time that this was going to be so obvious when I looked back at it that I need only jog my mind with three initials L. F. C. and they were duly inscribed on the 'drum stick' below my left hand.

Several hours later I looked at my hand and there it was LFC........ LFC? What did it stand for? LFC, LFC, Ell Eff Cee, I was confused.

LFC?

When confronted with initials I tend to make up something to fit them, anything will do its just the way my brain works. This quirk does not help when trying to recall the words that they are supposed to stand for so, after some initial and logical attempts at deciphering my most basic of codes, my mind wanders.............. LFC?

Look For ...... what begins with 'C'. And I really don't recall looking for anything.

Leave For - Don't know many people who's name begins with 'C' and I'm not heading for Cairo or Cardiff.....

Liverpool Football Club - No, that's not it.

Leave Ferne Cotton? No, I'm not that lucky to be in the position.

LFC?

It went on.............. and on.

We sat down and watched a film during the evening Two hours of wordy drama about the turbulent lives led by a small group of people who's personalities and lifestyle I never engaged with. I couldn't even tell you the film title. I sat, my eyes on the film my brain churning the letters LFC.

Low Flying Cats

Little Fat Canaries

I was not getting any closer.

That night my fitful sleep was interrupted by bouts of insomniac musings ..... LFC?

Nothing.

The next morning I confided in Nicky that I had lost the meaning of a vital piece of information "here" still faintly visible on my hand. "What have I told you about writing things down" she said with one of those looks.

As I looked at the fading letters I began to doubt myself - is that an 'F' or a 'P'? LPC? Ell, Pee, Cee?

No, I can't go through that again, I'm sure its an 'F'.

The day passed with the 'code' bothering me throughout just as it did the next day. I went to bed early as I had an early rise ahead of me. I drifted off quickly only to snap my eyes open at midnight - LFC!

Lump Fish Caviar

It was obvious - wasn't it? I'd read something about using LFC as an additive for early season carping which is something I have done in the past and as this spring the carp are very much in my plans......
I had checked out prices for tins of caviar on the Net and found that one supermarket was doing a three for the price of two offer and the note left to remind me was so that I didn't miss out.

The offer ended the day before.

I told Nicky of my relief and was greeted with "Humph, how long have we been able to afford bloody caviar to feed fish?" in a very supportive way.

I led in my bed relieved that I could rest, annoyed that I had missed the bargain. I needed to remember to check out availability and prices the next day.

There was no paper to hand so I reached for the pen next to the bed and..........

Chub - the return

I went back to the swim I fished in my last entry today. I know it shows a lack of ambition and adventure but I wasn't feeling particularly energetic and this swim suited my needs. I fished it in an identical way as I felt that the chub would still be in residence even though the river was a good three feet down on last time.

I lobbed a feeder full of bread out at a few minutes past 1pm and sat back, squinting at the bright sunshine. It was remarkably warm despite the frost last night and the inevitable one that shall follow this evening. With less colour in the water  I figured the fish may be cagey and the first bite proved this to be the case as the rod jabbed and I struck at fresh air. This was repeated on the next couple of casts with bread as bait so I hair rigged a knob of cheese paste instead. It didn't help.

The fish were just not having it, they were playing with the bait and edging away with it or slashing at it but not doing enough to hit them. I decided to get cute.

I cast again, this time the cheese paste had a lump of flake to accompany it and the free running feeder was filled with a knob or two of paste and plenty of liquidised bread. I then went all old school and put a bread bobbin on the line between the reel and the first ring........ and waited.

It didn't take long, the bobbin twitched then slid toward the butt ring, I lifted the rod and pushed it forwards effectively giving the fish extra line. It kept going. I struck and had a good little scrap with a beautifully silvered chub that flashed in the clear water. It was an ounce below 4lbs and was enough to make my day.

I missed a very fast bite soon after then the swim went quiet. I felt I'd done what I came to do and packed early before the temperature dropped.

Look no shadow!

Getting to know you.

I put the food blender thingy into the bag of bread and hey presto, liquidised crumb, the winter groundbait par excellence. I'd kept back a few slices for the hook and grabbed some cheese paste from the freezer - time to fish.

My choice of swim was governed by how far I had to walk but I was happy that I stood a good chance of a chub or two. I dropped a handful of bread and a few balls of paste into three likely swims then settled into a crease swim between a couple of overhanging willows. Out went a feeder full of crumb and a lump of flake on the hook, I sat back and began to relax wondering how long before my association with my newly acquired New Superb rod and Hodder reel would become fruitful. It didn't take long.

Just ten minutes after casting the rod pulled down toward the river, I lifted into a spirited fish and purred to myself as the rod absorbed the lunges with plenty of power to spare. In the net it was obviously a good chub so I decided, unusually for me, to weigh it. I was glad I did, it went 5lb 4oz, a fitting first customer for my gear.

I put a bit more bait in then fished the other swims I'd prepped for nil result. Despite the lack of action, whilst sat down the bank and out of the wind, the low winter sun was warm and I felt very comfortable. Alas I did not stay long, the first swim was calling me back and I sat myself down for the last of the daylight. Immediately the increasing northerly wind felt colder and as the sun dropped behind the trees on the hill opposite so the temperature plummeted. I sat huddled in my thick coat with hands in my pocket, I was tempted to have Harvey on my lap for his warmth but he's a restless so and so and I'd have just got muddy. I had a few taps from small fish and a quick take that again probably came from something small. It felt like another fish was on the cards. I switched to cheese paste and had another, more positive bite which resulted in a chub of about three and a half pounds, that was enough, my hands were now frozen.

Despite there being maybe half an hour of light left before it got dark I trudged back to the car and quickly put the heater on, they'll still be there next time and I'm eager to have another trip with the rod and reel.

When you simply positively absolutely have to....

I'll be honest 2013 started the way 2012 finished - badly! A family member taken to hospital on Christmas day, worry for a while then, after a brief respite, a death on Nicky's side. To exacerbate the situation we were unable to get to the funeral due to the snow.

To escape from the stress and the weather we had a very pleasant stay in Devon where we relaxed in front of the fire and read a lot. Coming home you soon realise that such holidays are temporary affairs and the search begins for a boost, that quick fix that helps you through this miserable time of year. So we went to an auction.

I really shouldn't be allowed in these places as they are an exciting Aladdin's Cave of treasure that titivates the senses whilst reducing the common sense. I am always fascinated by the taxidermy even though I have nowhere to display a large fish, bird or antelope's head. The tiger skin along with the photographic account of its demise, the boar lance (great to dissuade poachers) the ski's, the saddles and, especially attractive to Nicky, the fur coats. Oh no, you could never wear them without a tin helmet but they are beautifully made, look wonderful and are extremely warm, what is more coats that cost over £1000 many years ago are now going for around £100 - tempted? There was one made of pony skin - I'd love to announce that in certain company, light blue touch paper......

But the main reason for being there was of course the fishing tackle. Last time there was a plethora of goodies but this time considerably less and, to be blunt, the quality was much lower. However, a pearl amongst swine shone through and I put a cane rod together and swooned at its beauty. Neil was with me and agreed that it was a bit special, I left a bid.

At home I discovered that the rod was indeed special and rare, an Allcocks New Superb which is designed to tame barbel and carp - I figured my bid was too low and knew that I simply positively absolutely had to have it. I went back to the auction room to bid in person. The bidding was frenetic and shot past my first estimate, I joined in the fray and found I was up against John Farey a dealer and the owner of the highly recommended Fisherman's Emporium. I figured that if he wanted it that badly it was worth the effort so I dug in and eventually the hammer fell in my favour. I breathed a sigh and went to speak to John who said "If I'd known it was you bidding I'd have backed off", now he tells me!

Not to worry, I got a centre pin for a song and a box of books for £25 and found in it an unread copy of   Ultimate Pike worth up to £100.

This tale has no moral, it is an account of retail therapy and a fortunate find or two. I won't recommend any of you going to sporting auctions as I don't want the competition should I spot another gem. So maybe there is the moral, stay away from auctions, unless its ebay and you want to buy a very good pike book.