| I know some of you may know Martin James well, and some of you may have had the opportunity to spend time on the banks fishing with him, so I thought I would let you know I’ve had a couple of days with him down on the Kennet.
My invitation came about as a result of asking him to do an article for Barbel Fisher magazine, after I asked his permission to use his website appreciation of Fred J Taylor’s life. This resulted in an opportunity to meet and fish with the man, of whom I only knew by reputation, and by listening to him on Radio Lancashire on the web www.bbc.co.uk/lancashire
At my first listening of his show, the thing that occurred to me was that he had a funny Lancastrian accent. In fact it sounded to me, an Essex man, distinctly south of the river (the Thames that is). As it happens he is a Man of Kent by birth, which I suppose he can’t help. Anyway, I met him outside a pub on the edge of the town of Thatcham, Berkshire. The pub was closed, which I didn’t think was good planning at all. I later learned from Martin that he only allowed the occasional red wine to cross his lips, and that was on doctor’s orders. Well, approval! I digress. We met at about 12:30, and I followed him down the country lanes to a gated estate where we came upon a brick built ‘cabin’ situated between two lakes that were former gravel workings. I hadn’t come to the lake to fish with him, but the opportunity was there should I wish to. I had in fact, come to meet and talk to Martin, with my new journalist hat on (yeah right!), and perhaps to catch a barbel from the Kennet. A river I have fished on two occasions before, and blanked. After a quick sandwich and a cup of Yorkshire Gold we set off for the river, arriving at about three o’clock. Martin is great believer in fishing with bread. I don’t think I’m giving too many secrets away, by saying it’s Morrison’s extra thick sliced, that he uses. Having set up with a long shank hook, and four LSG shot attached direct to the line, Martin showed me how he hooks his bread. (Now safely stored, in the ‘for future use’ section of my brain). The river was crystal clear, and there were many floating leaves, mostly from the Ash by the looks of them. You know the type, not one leaf, but nine on one stem, so they don’t brush past, they hang on. Martin suggested the approach I should take, which was basically to cast to a position that would allow my tackle to drift around under a small overhanging bank-side willow.This I did, and despite what we thought were one or two promising tugs, didn’t catch me a fish. In the meantime it started to rain, not heavy rain at first, but the type that soaks in slowly. Guess who didn’t have waterproof trousers on? We moved swims downstream to what looked like another good holding spot, still using the same method and still not catching any fish. Oh yes, by the way, as I left the house that Monday morning, for the three and a half hour drive, my mobile registered I had a message, but as my O2 signal is quite appalling on top of the Wolds, I decided to pick the message up when I got down to my petrol station in the Trent Valley. The message was from Martin, and he told me that he had beaten his personal best barbel with a fish of 12lb 11ozs. He was, to say the least, well chuffed and my hopes were raised for a fruitful trip. Back to the river. By now I was totally wet through in the trouser department, so we decided to pop back to the ‘cabin’ for something to eat, and for me to waterproof myself for an evening session. Martin’s good wife had made up a shepherd’s pie, which was gratefully received, very tasty, and thoroughly warming. I had brought along a bottle of Rioja and we had a glass each, and I must say, it matched the pie very well. Thanks Kate. To cut a long story short we fished the evening session in continuous rain and on a different stretch which, I must say, appealed to me very much, but it was, however, bite-less. Although I did manage to haul out a heavy pronged branch from the depths on my first cast. This impressed Martin! Back to the ‘cabin’ again. It was heated by a Calor gas fire, which was much needed to take the chill off, and to assist in drying out our clothes. Perhaps it’s worth noting here, just in case sponsorship is available, my brand new Barbour Lightweight Berwick Tweed Jacket coped very well with the conditions. It bloody well should have too, it cost THE BOSS £ 300, for my 35th wedding anniversary present. She wasn’t so impressed with the 35 red roses I gave to her! We talked for getting on for three hours; well Martin talked the most, and I listened intently to his experiences of life, and fishing. I even had my first ever attempt at giving a radio interview, an un-scripted one at that. Tough? Too right! I learned from Martin that he gives all his writing fees to charity, his main interest being Crossroads Carers. An organisation without Government funding that gives respite to some of the many millions of unpaid carers who look after less able members of their families. I’ve since signed up to give a regular donation. Please have a look at their website to see what they do. I won’t go into all the detail of our long chat, but I know that some of it can be found in his autobiography, ‘Up against it’ (Crowood 1994). Martin is not an early riser so on day two we arrived once again on the river bank for another few hours from late morning. Having been tied to the merchandise stall at the Barbel Show I met Len Arbery for the first time. We had a short chat before he was led away for a bankside interview for Martin’s radio programme.
He was obviously shell shocked by the experience when I saw him again afterwards. As for my fishing? Let me just say once again that Martin provided us both with another good hot meal in the late afternoon! Our evening session was cut short by me following that feeling you get sometimes that you are not going to catch. That was despite all of Martin’s efforts to put me in a producing swim, sacrificing his own fishing at the same time. I just knew I wasn’t going to catch. Bread, luncheon meat and lobworms, just didn’t work for me. Anyway, it was getting noticeably colder, we were in for the first frost. Well, that was one of my excuses; I won’t go into the detail of my main excuse! Martin was expecting another guest that evening, who had won a day with him through the ACA auction. Martin, by the way, is a Life Member of the ACA and is the only member ever, and now likely to be the only one, to receive an illuminated scroll for his work for them since 1948.His new guest, Chris Bates, an Essex lad, turned up at around 9:30pm. It didn’t take me long to find out that Chris, all be it a few years younger than me, was born within a few hundred yards of my mum’s house in Harold Hill. What a small world we live in. Once again we chatted into the night, bedding down at about 1am. The first frost was settling well. Come morning, after a hefty bowl of porridge, I was on the road home, leaving Martin and Chris at the estate gates for their first session of the day. I came away from that two day session not at all bothered at not catching a fish, but grateful to have met with a true gentleman, with many a tale to tell. It was well worth the experience. If you ever get the chance of a meeting with him please go for it. You won’t regret it. And you’re not too late to bid for the day out he kindly offered for the Barbel Society R&C auction.
 When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission, which supports our community.
|
Welcome!Log into your account
