Just back from possibly the most disheartening session of my life. As a kid I used to get on my pushbike to go and watch at a local club stillwater. I couldn't fish it as it belonged to the kind of club that required prospective new members be recommended by two existing club members. I didn't know anyone in this club at the time, still not entirely sure I know anyone now. Back in the day, it was stuffed full of crucians and tench. Nothing of earth-shattering proportions, but quite unusual for this part of the world.
Fast forward thirty years, and the club concerned, like many others, can't afford to be quite so fussy about their membership criteria. Quite probably a good job in my case.
In a bad case of nostalgia overruling good sense, and despite some dire warnings (otters, possible pollution, no fish left, etc etc), I filled my application and paid my money. If nothing else, the club has a good stretch of river and another farm pond right on my doorstep. I wasn't daft enough to join without a look around the main object of my desires first. The pond looks pretty much as it did thirty years ago, maybe a touch more weedy but it was very obvious that it has barely been fished in years. Not a good sign, but I do like quiet waters. A veritable host of herons getting off the water as I tramped round gave a little more hope, as did plenty of signs of bubbling. Now whether that bubbling was fish or just gas was another matter entirely.
This evening was my first chance to get down there. As I set off, it started spitting and what had been a fairly reasonable afternoon turned rapidly into a windy downpour. Not the most promising start. By the time I'd got to the pond, the chances of seeing any bubbling were pretty slim. I set up in an overgrown birdcage of a swim on one of the few remaining platforms that aren't badly rotted. I wasn't expecting any great depth from what I'd seen as a kid. I had about two feet of water in front of me. Once I got plumbed up, I knew it was going to be difficult. I've never experienced such a tow on such shallow water. The obvious way of combating it wasn't an easy option as the bottom seemed to be covered with slime and light fibrous weed.
To cut a long story a little shorter, I blanked, I got soaked, I didn't have any hint of a bite and I didn't see any hint of a fish. I'll not be beaten just yet, despite the suspicion that I'm wasting my time, but I'll pick a nicer day for the next visit.
