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Pilgrim’s Progress

November 1, 2001

Stewart Bloor

The Reverend Stewart Bloor, perhaps better known as Sedge in the pages of FISHINGmagic, is an ordained Minister and Director of the Sedgley International Christian Ministries.

He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops.

Pilgrim’s Progress – read it everyThursday!

Pardon My French

Bonjour mes amies. This week’s Progress de La Pilgrim has adistinct Gallic feel to it. But before I get scrutinised by anyFrench scholars out there regarding my grammar, I’m purposely being abit loose, and actually making some things up (oh la la), hence thetitle of this week’s offering….Pardon My French.

Anyone for bowls? The Back lake covered in weed

Although my travelling days have reached a point of kaput (Oops,sorry a bit of German there. Mind, you know how touchy they can be soit won’t hurt to include a bit of Deutsch, I guess), I suppose Ifall into the category of a well travelled person. From the early90’s up until this year, I’ve been in vingt-sept countries. OK, ifyou didn’t do very well in la Francaise at School, that’s 27.However, I haven’t been able to cast a line in the majority of thenations I’ve visited.

In fact, apart from the Home countries of England, Scotland andWales, the only other two places I’ve fished in have been Romania andSouth Africa. So, when an opportunity came along to spend a week enFrance, I grasped it with deux mains. Regular visitors toFISHINGmagic will have read a number of accounts of the trip, not tomention numerous postings on the Forum. So, at this point, I have toreply to the question, in reference to my catch for the week, ‘Doyou have anything to declare Monsieur?, and state quite simply, Non.

My trip started a day earlier than the others, when I traveled toLe Pays de Gaulles, to stay over with Monsieur Dave Cooper, him of ‘PurelyFor Pleasure’ fame. I think Dave felt sorry for me, having to sleepon my own at his house in Wales, because the next night, in France, Iwas in for a big surprise. It must be the way Cooperman walks,because when we arrived at our hotel to stay the night, prior toleaving for the lake the next morning, the proprietor showed us to aroom that contained….wait for it….a double bed.

Dave Preston with a Personal Best

They must have got me mixed up with someone else. ‘Ah Monsieur’ Ipleaded with the manager, ‘Je m’appele Sedge’, thinking he had got meconfused with Gary Knowles. But my pleadings were in vain. Anyway,the night passed uneventful, in spite of me thinking this Gay Paristhing had gone too far.

If drinking was an Olympic event, then some of the other anglerson the trip would be contenders for a gold medal. If ever a trip isplanned to Canada, upon arrival at the airport, if the advertisingboard says ‘Drink Canada dry’, some of them will have a good go atdoing exactly that. In fact, Gary Knowles got so drunk, by the end ofthe night he was talking complete nonsense. Which just goes to showhow consistent he really is. At our evening meal, I asked the waiterif he had frog’s legs. Non Monsieur, he replied, it’s just the way Iwalk. (Ok, it’s an old one, you’ve probably heard it before)

Arriving at Le lac the next morning, it was disappointing to findthe Back Lake I had opted to fish had been turned into a bowlinggreen. Well, that’s what it looked like anyway. There was a clearpatch that I decided to go at, but due to the wind, that soon wascovered with surface weed too. Next morning, I packed up and pitchedon the Main Lake, where I was to spend the rest of the week.

This sunset over the Main lake was a sight to behold

As we were in the countryside, literally miles from anywhere,light pollution wasn’t too much of a problem. Combined with cloudlessskies, this meant that on most nights the stars were breathtaking. Iliterally sat there for hours taking in the view. Whether you’re anevolutionist or a creationist (I’m firmly in the latter camp, aswould be expected) this was a sight to see and enjoy.

I tried to do my best Patrick Moore impersonations, but stillcouldn’t identify more than The Great Plough, The Little Plough andThe Seven Sisters. Some clusters of stars were obviously a particulargroup, I just didn’t know what they were. But as I have a vividimagination, I picked out groups of stars that resembled a baitdropper, a swimfeeder and a perch.

Things always have a habit of breaking when you really don’t wantthem to. My contact with the outside world, so to speak, decided togo kaput (Just being kind to the Germans. After all, we did beat them5-1 in the World Cup). I’m talking about my radio. It decided to digits heels in and play up the day I arrived at le lac. I’m notnormally un person that has a go at mending broken things but on thisoccasion, I decided to take it to pieces and have a play.

I sort of mended it, by getting Radio 4 but nothing else. So forthe next few days I looked forward to my update on The Archers. DidJoe Grundy win the tractor ploughing competition, by the way? Andwhat happened to Emma’s leg? Did it get better? Then, on the Tuesdaynight, with a batch of European football matches being played, Itried to get another station, only to finally kill the radio off onceand for all. Le radio c’est mort !!

My reputation as ‘Le President de la Blanker’ remained firmlyintact during the week, although there was one moment that seriouslythreatened this status. I think it was the Tuesday (No, I wasn’t thatdrunk that I can’t remember. The strongest beverage that passed mylips was jus d’orange. I’m just getting forgetful in my old age,that’s all).

Anyway, I had a definite bite as I sat there in the morning suneating La petite dejeuner of la confiturre et le pain. Putting mybread and jam down, and striking into the fish I realised that I hadune grande poisson on the end of my line. For about thirty seconds, Iplayed the fish of a lifetime. Then, without any warning whatsoever,my line decided to do une grande depart, and that was the end ofthat. As the line went ping, zing went the strings of my heart. (Justa little semi-subliminal for all you Soulies out there. Whenever Imention anything to do with my musical preferences, it’s amazing howmany e-mails I get from fellow soul fans).

I had a bait under this bush all week, but nothing took it

To say I was gutted was an understatement. I’ve lost good fishbefore, but this was truly La mere of them all. I know we have to getthings into perspective. After all, it’s only un poisson, but Ireplayed La momente in my mind a million times, thinking, ‘If only Ihad done this, if only I had done that’. I know, as far as romance isconcerned, the saying goes, ‘It’s better to have loved and lost, thannot to have loved at all’, but as far as lost fish are concerned, Ithink it’s better to not have a fish on, than it is to have one on,and then lose the fish of a lifetime.

Out of the eleven of us that fished, four of us didn’t catch, andfive of us failed to catch La carpe, which is what we were all after.So, at least I was in good company. Of those that did catch, asyou’ve read no doubt elsewhere on FM, there were some good fish thatcame out. Although I blanked, I was pleased for those that did catch,particularly for those who set a new personal best. My own experienceof the lost fish illustrates the extremely thin line between’success’ and ‘failure’ as far as specimen hunting is concerned.Instead of being a non-poisson person, I could have been sur lamonde, or at least on top of it.

The Reverend Stewart R Bloor
Sedgley International Christian Ministries
PO Box 1216, Dudley. DY3 1GW.
Telephone : 01384 – 828033
Web site : www.sicm.org
e-mail : missionscentre@sicm.org