Boggarts Clough

Boggarts, Bogies or Brownies as they are also known, have a long history dating back to Medieval English folklore. The Oxford dictionary lists the Boggart as a spectre or goblin, Boggards and Boggarts being the Northern English forms of the species that take a fitting place alongside the Lancashire Witches and indeed the very Lanky dialect itself. Britannica lists the Brownie in both English and Scottish folklore as being small industrious fairy or hobgoblins believed to inhabit houses and barns.

Rarely seen, he would often be heard at night, cleaning and doing housework. He is also sometimes mischievous and disarranges rooms. He would ride for the midwife and in Cornwall he caused swarming bees to settle quickly. Cream or bread and milk might be left for him, but other gifts offended him. If one made him a suit of clothes, he would put it on and then vanish, never to return. The Boggart of Yorkshire and the Bogie of Scotland are however hostile, mischievous Brownies indistinguishable from poltergeists. ‘Puck’ in medieval folklore was a malicious demon. In Elizabethan lore he was a mischievous, brownie-like fairy also called Robin Goodfellow or Hobgoblin. As one of the leading characters in William Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Puck boasts of his pranks of changing shapes, misleading travellers at night, spoiling milk, frightening young girls, and tripping venerable old dames. The Irish specie is known as the ‘Pooka’ or ‘Pi-Ca’ and the Welsh specie, the ‘Pwccaare’, which are similar household spirits.

The Clough Boggart

The Boggarts Clough demon dates back many centuries. A farmer whose land used to occupied the Clough was plagued for many years by a Boggart until the farmer eventually decided to move. On loading his cart with all his belongings, he discovered that the Boggart had boarded the cart with him, and finding it useless to escape, the farmer decided to stay put and suffer his unwanted companion.

Description

The Clough however is a beautifully wooded valley, an enchanting place set amidst sprawling local authority squalor. Unfortunately it lends itself to many deviant activities, like many of the inner city parks close to major cities, yet it also has a strange gentleness and melancholy, which can be found in many of its dells. Two lakes exist in the Clough; one is the Boating Lake, a Victorian park lake with a huge island in the middle (Summerhouse), while the other one was the Noddy Lake or Girls Pool. Most of the twenties resided in the Boating Lake although amazingly they did on occasion appear in the Girls Pool, so it was difficult to keep track. The lakes held four twenties but by the late eighties two of the twenties had dropped back below 19lb, which left only two, Two-Tone and The Linear, both of which came out fairly regular to those who persevered. The Boating Lake was little more than a concrete bowl with a depth of about 3 to 5 feet, although it did hold an unusually high stocking of fish.

Brief History and Habitants List

I first fished the Clough back in the early seventies when the largest carp that inhabited the water was thought to be a 16lb mirror, this was indeed a big fish in this period as many of the other local waters struggled to produce a double. By the time the eighties had arrived, the Clough was boasting four different twenties and it was attracting a large amount of interest among a relatively new carp angling community.

I returned to the water in the late eighties and spent around two years fishing in some excellent company. Many of the Clough lads were welcomed into the Brotherhood and membership of the Manchester group rose to seventy at one stage. The Clough lads consisted of Boggart Mike (undisputed top gun), Doyley, Fordy, South African Barry, South Africa Gary, Boothy, Tony Kelly, Andy the Hippy, Jace the Ace, Big Vinney and Little Vic, Gayboy Lee, Ming, Chicken George, Young Toddy, Dirty Harry and the Darts Team, Hibbey, Floody, Irish Mike, Colin and Plod, Hungarian Rudy, The Six Johns (Polish John, Debdale John, Farmer John, Frog John, Old John and Toffee John) and, of course, the Boggart Bivvy Butler (apologies to anyone who I have missed) all dedicated time bandits who only left the water to sign on every fortnight. In addition all the visiting anglers from Sale and the Mersey Valley. All salt of the earth that would back you to the hilt, if any problems arose.

Despite its geographic positioning and inner city locality, The Clough could be a pleasant place in the early morning when it was quiet, it was often exhilarating to glance through the bivvy door and marvel at the wildlife, a woodpecker hammering away on Summerhouse island, or the sight of a Chiff-Chaff merrily chirping beneath the willow, a squirrel collecting nuts by the old oak, the cough of the first starling who began the morning chorus or the sight of a bra-less female jogger as she delicately ran past the lads at breakfast time, yes the Clough was a real haven for wildlife (nuff said).

And Even Wilder Life

One of the great things about the Clough was that you could order anything by mobile phone and have it delivered directly to your bivvy. Discussing the less devious items, (yeah, well this is a family site) you could order pizza’s, fish and chips, lager, ciggies the lot, and what the fast food outlets wouldn’t deliver, the Boggart Bivvy Butler would. He would be up early in the morning on his white charger (peddle bike actually) and raced round the bivvies to take orders. He charged little for this service (VAT inclusive) and even on occasion delivered mail as some of the lads took married life very seriously and would often send their loved ones weekly love letters.

Many a social gathering took place on the banks, with ale, barbies and visiting ladies from the nearby estates. It was a camaraderie I shall never forget. We did have problems however. The Back Bay for instance was not a place to fish alone and tackle thefts did occasionally take place. Maundering gangs could also be a problem and on one evening a couple of the lads had Stanley knives pushed through their bivvies. On another occasion Fordy and Ming had a set-to with a couple of the young local ladies, who amazingly took offence at our heroes advances. Within the hour these young ladies had returned with a gang of skinheads, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that a number of us were residing on the water at the time, Fordy and Ming could have ran into serious problems.

Problem Areas

Other problems occurred with the cars; it was dodgy leaving vehicles on the nearby housing estates, even outside someone’s house who you knew, so you had to try to get your car as near as possible to where you where fishing. On one particular night, I saw no less than three cars go up in flames in the car park; it was like being in Saigon. On another occasion I was fishing only yards away from my own vehicle and witnessed two herberts mooching around the back. Within seconds a brick went through my quarter light, I dived out of the bivvy and gave chase. The route in which they were running followed a path which went round the lake. I quickly got on the mobile to phone Hibbey, who was fishing on the Back Bay, Hibby caught these morons and held them while I phoned the police.

Precautions

To give some peace of mind while fishing the Clough, it was standard practice to alarm all your gear, for this we usually used the scan alarms (available from most electrical outlets) which are activated as someone approaches your pitch, usually two alarms both pointing in opposite directions or in a vee position each side of the bivvy door. Alternatively, some of the Droogs arranged trip wires from spare line, which surrounded your camp and was attached to an extra buzzer with a bomb tied on the end, both systems worked extremely well, although the trip wire system was probably the most effective in that you could cover the rear section of the bivvy to prevent attacks through the canvas.

Out-Bivvy Entertainment

One popular event of entertainment for on-lookers in the Clough was the traditional police chase. The Clough is a haven for stolen cars and on one morning while everyone was tucking into breakfast, a stolen car followed by two police cars, actually drove up the bank, behind the bivvies and round the lake before the police had chance to catch the herberts. The police did their best however, but also messed up the fishing with their helicopter and floodlit beams, which scanned the lakes on a regular basis. Once the beam had swept across the lake, we usually pulled the rods in and started partying.

Tragedy

Sadly, disaster struck in the early nineties; fish were turning up dead, the water level dropped, carp were swimming aimlessly on the surface and a large infestation of Argulus SP (fish lice) appeared to become prevalent. The skip at the side of the boathouse slowly began to tell its own story as the carcasses began to build up. The older fish were the first to go, then Two-Tone appeared and a few days later, The Linear. The Boggarts Clough was finished and, although we tried, nothing appeared to stop the onslaught. We requested pumps from Rambo in the Popes Park, but they never arrived. We contacted the NRA, who apparently could not act fast enough as similar problems were occurring on other waters. We contacted the Council who did sod-all, and once we buried our dead, that was it really and the end of a carp fishing community.

Epilogue

It’s probably about 10 years since these events took place, a fishery still exists in the Boggarts Clough, which has been restocked, but nowadays it leans mainly toward pleasure and match angling and to be honest I just don’t have the stomach to fish there ever again and wish only to remember her as she was.

The Boggarts Clough, God Rest Her Soul, the end of a love affair. RIP.