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. | ||||
A BREAKTHROUGH ON THE GRAVEL PIT Following on from my three-night session in Berkshire as reported in last week’s PP, it was back to the Midlands and the gravel pit that I’m currently targeting. As it is fairly local (For that category, I consider anything within an hour’s drive) I fish overnighters. Given the choice, that’s how I prefer to fish venues when after species such as carp and bream. That way one can be fishing the times that give maximum opportunity in terms of catching a decent fish, ie, dusk, dawn, and the night in between.
A change of location My previous sessions on the gravel pit have been focused in one particular area. But on my last trip, after I had loaded the car, I took a walk round a part of the lake I hadn’t covered before. Call it experience, a hunch, intuition, watercraft, or even a sense of feeling lucky. In fact, call it what you will, but I found a little inlet that instantly grabbed my attention. Although the trip down south was next on the agenda, I decided that on my next visit to the Midlands pit, I would fish the new area. And so, on my first fishing trip as a forty year old (In fact I was forty years and one day old!) I headed for the new section of the gravel pit. A few casts with a marker float revealed the drop-off under my feet was 6ft. This then steadily increased to 10ft towards the far bank. To my immediate right was a bush that hung enticingly over the water. My plan of action was very simple. One rod would be fished in the deeper water on the far side and another would present a bait dropped right under the bush, so that it was positioned at the bottom of the drop off.
The first session in the new spot didn’t produce any fish, but I still felt that it was the place to be. It just felt right. And so, still of confidence, I was back on there a couple of days later for another overnighter. I again fished the two spots as previously mentioned. There are lots of small fish in the water and maggots or corn soon end up as skins, the contents sucked out of them by the hordes of tiny roach and skimmers. So I kept to my bait tactics that I’ve employed on the pit so far, which has been to fish boilies. Misshapen boilies and a higher temperature On one rod I fished with shop-bought Richworth Esterberry boilies and on the other I used home made Tutti Frutti flavour ones. As you will notice from the accompanying photograph with the article, they’re very different. In fact, when I make my own boilies, I purposely make them so that the finished article is very much irregular as far as shape is concerned. The water temperature was the highest I’ve encountered so far this year – a dizzy 16 degrees. (And even though the air temperature of low 20’s fell to produce a chilly night, the water itself did not fall below 14). I was confident and so put out a bucket of seeds, with brown crumb as the carrier. Casting out, I sat back and waited.
As the sun began to set, I witnessed the sort of scene that anglers get excited about. The whole section where I was fishing became a mass of bubbles, as it seemed that every fish in the water was feeding in front of me! And what was particularly exciting was the fact that a concentration of activity seemed to be taking place in the exact areas where my baits were positioned. I have never been so confident in my life and I just knew that I would get a fish. As a matter of fact, my confidence was so high that I actually stood right next to my pod, so that I could strike when the bite came! I didn’t have long to wait, so this was no fool’s errand that had taken me down to the water’s edge. The Nash indicator clipped onto the line of the far bank rod, that had previously hung limp in the air, suddenly came to life as line peeled from the line letting me know a fish had taken the bait. A decent bream
Re-casting, and still with an hour to go before dark, the water in front of me still resembled a witch’s cauldron. So, it was hardly surprising when the near side rod decided to join in the action. Again, the strike indicated a good bream had taken the bait. With not even a token struggle for freedom, the fish came tamely to the net. It wasn’t quite a double (which is one of my targets) but it was a good fish, one that weighed a pound more than the first one. And taken on my home made boily as well, the first being on the shop-bought one. No more fish, but I went home a happy man. Seven sessions to get just two decent fish, but like childbirth (or so Mrs Sedge tells me!) the pain and the suffering is easily forgotten when you hold the baby in your arms. And so, posing for the camera with my fish, hours and hours of struggling to catch something decent was soon a distant memory. | ||||
The encouragement of catching something decent spurred me on with renewed enthusiasm, as far as the gravel pit was concerned. And next week’s Pilgrim’s Progress is again a story of action, but of a different sort. Check out FISHINGmagic next Thursday when I tell you how I got ‘Plenty of action on the weather front’. See you then. The Reverend Stewart R Bloor Pilgrim’s Progress – read it every Thursday! |
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