The Alternative Angler

Never mind smelling the flowers, don’t forget to take time out to see the satirical side of fishing life and grab a laugh along the way as well. So here’s a regular column from Kevin Perkins to remind us that life is for laughing at, or taking the p*** out of, whenever we can.

“Do you smell?”

Sorry, it’s not meant as an impertinent, personal question, but rather more “do you think that fish are aware of your scent?” If perch can detect essence of worm in dilutions of a few parts per million, surely they are able to ‘smell’ us, and if so, what do they make of it?

It is an oft-repeated story, but how many occasions have you been fishing with someone else and time after time their float dips under or their alarm goes off and yours doesn’t? Have you even asked them to bait up for you, cast out for you, put the baits inches apart, and still it is his rod that sees all the action. (Please don’t tell me it is just me – again!).

Bream fishing for three-bearded rockling……..

I went bream fishing with my companion, Bob, which sounds rather grand, because, as usual, we were actually fishing for bites. If a bream came along, we were bream fishing, if it happened to be a roach, we were, of course, roach fishing etc, etc. If we blanked, then we could have been fishing for three-bearded rockling for all anyone knew!). Anyhow, the blanking thing happened to me.

Bob caught (amongst others) two roach, which nudged two pounds, and I caught nothing. All through the session I wondered about a fabric plaster on my finger, you know, the type that gives you the occasional whiff of ‘hospital’. Was that the problem? After Bob caught his first fish I asked him to bait up for me and we fished as close together as we dared, and still I blanked. That plaster began to play on my mind. I remembered the wise words of Mr Crabtree all those years ago, that your hands “Mustn’t be tainted” when fishing for carp.

An expert in rubberwear

Doubts began to creep in. Should I, perhaps, wear rubber gloves? But would the peculiar odour from them put the fish off? Wasn’t there a dire warning in that 80’s Soft Cell classic about ‘Tainted Glove’, Marc Almond must surely be an expert in the perils associated with rubberwear, so much so that he felt it necessary to sing about it.

I began to get obsessive, scrubbing my hands raw before going fishing, then worrying about the smell of soap, so I would rinse my hands under running water to wash away the smell of the soap. Picking up the towel to dry my hands, I would be overcome with ‘April Freshness’ of the fabric conditioner. Will that linger? Best not to chance it, so l would let me hands drip-dry. Then I found myself stuck in the bathroom because with wet hands I couldn’t grip the door handle!

Then I went through the easiest way out of just getting up and going fishing. No ablutions of any kind, at all. No washing, showering, soap, deodorant, hairspray, toothpaste, nothing. (Perhaps the hairspray thing is just me, one has to look one’s best, and you never know when you might have to pose for photographs on the bank! It’s why I never wear a hat; you don’t go to all that trouble getting your hair just right and then go and ruin the effect by jamming a cap on it, do you?).

Your very own swarm of flies

This is okay if you are on your own, but do not expect a warm welcome from your loved one upon your return, particularly if you have been out for two days or more. You will know that you have overdone the abstinence of personal hygiene when you climb out of your one-piece suit and it stands up all by itself. Your own, dedicated, swarm of flies is another signal you shouldn’t really ignore.

Another variation was to perform all the usual functions at home, then ‘cleanse’ myself by rinsing my hands in the water when I got to the swim. (I understand that the ‘towel drying system’ being trialled on the Ribble is apparently not there for you to wipe your hands on!). Now, swimming is not a sensible thing to do, apart from the very real threat of Weils Disease (amongst others), in January the water is bloody cold! I used to obtain relief from frostbitten fingers by grabbing the hot hand-warmers in the pockets of my Barbour, but they smell a bit strange as well, don’t you think? The hand-warmers, I mean.

I am glad to say that I came to my senses and beat this obsession a while ago, and the ‘smell’ thing doesn’t bother me at all these days. Although I still don’t like to stop for fuel on the way to a session. Petrol is bad enough, but diesel stays with you for days!

But come to think of it, that Barbour jacket does pen and ink a bit, especially after it’s been re-proofed. Is that an attractive smell to fish? Have any scientific tests been done? I am beginning to wonder again…