Before moving up north I was a member of a large Hertfordshire angling club with fishing rights on the Upper Lea at Wheathampstead. The fishing for such a tiny river was truly amazing. It was reminiscent of a mini Hampshire Avon with plenty of features and streamer-weed. There were very good roach, plenty of chub, some carp and recently stocked barbel. I used to concoct my own paste bait which consisted of sausage meat, brown bread crumb and a ‘killer’ special ingredient. The chub and barbel loved it and I had great confidence in it.
I was a lot younger at this time and still at work where a colleague (who liked to think of himself as a wheeler-dealer) introduced me to a free, whole-body health check by a Harley Street doctor. This was a trial done on behalf of a university and something to do with the narrowing of the arteries that run up the side of the neck and whether certain vitamins could prevent or mitigate their furring.
After the extensive free health check all you had to do was take the supplied pill daily. There were three types of pill: two vitamin pills, allegedly, and one placebo. You were not told which. Oh yes, you had to receive phone calls and attend the odd check up.
All went well for a few months although I did notice colleagues were giving me a wide berth and my wife was complaining that I smelt funny.
Autumn was approaching and time to divert from hemp and tare roach fishing to making up a batch of my special paste with the killer ingredient. Off to the butchers for the sausage meat and onto the health shop for the small bottle of the killer ingredient. The stuff in the small – nay, tiny bottle was extremely potent: just take the cap off and the smell hits you! Only a drop or two is required for a pound of paste.
Paste made, a trip to the upper Lea was arranged. This particular section is short but very popular, with a few real Mr. Crabtree feature swims. The best had an overhanging bush with a deeper run underneath while another hot-spot was a bend with a channel against the far bank – both good for chub and barbel. I was early enough to bag the bend swim!
This tiny river is only a couple of rod lengths wide and to bait-up I would flick pieces of my magic paste out prior to tackling up. With great expectation I cast my light bomb and paste to the faster water against the far bank. Strange I thought… bites normally come quickly even if they are a bit tricky to hit. No interest. Nothing! I decided to flick out a few more samples as, surely, my super-duper bait must attract something?
Still nothing! And what was strange, there was no topping or rolling on the surface downstream from me. After a while I decided that the swim was merely having an off day.
Another angler was packing up and vacating the No.1 swim with the overhanging bush, a great barbel swim. I waited a respectable time for him to move off then jumped in. I couldn’t fail now…
I flicked out the required pieces of paste to get them going and increased the hook length to enable a bomb-drop just short of the branches; this would allow the hook to drift under the cover – perfect!
Haha! Now I would get a bend in my rod. Never fails. The paste would be working now – just time for a coffee to allow it to do its job… a perfect cast with the perfect bait just in the right spot. I waited a reasonable time then wound in to check things. I felt the bait come free as I wound in so it hadn’t come off…
Everyone blanks from time to time so I just put it down to the river being off, though I had wondered why my killer paste wasn’t giving the pungent smell it usually did. Never mind. I made another batch, this time adding a goodly bit more of the liquid from the tiny bottle as I was now sure I must have had a dud batch that was, somehow, more diluted than normal.
Another trip to the river and another blank. Plus another blank after that. Something was definitely wrong. I wondered if the sewage works up near Luton had discharged something bad and was putting the fish off. That was until I heard others were still getting plenty of fish.
At this time, work colleagues were giving me an even wider berth and strangers in shops were edging away and joining other queues. Worse than this, my love life was taking a nose-dive. My wife said I smelt and tasted horrible! (I had better not elaborate on that) and my food had developed a metallic taste. Beer was undrinkable.
The young lady from the pill-trial telephoned. She was a student I believe. She found it amusing that someone as old as 40 should have a love life to consider! I bet she thinks differently now! She let slip that my pills were mainly strong GARLIC pills… garlic OIL was my magic flavour in the tiny bottle!
As the pills were so strong they were inhibiting my ability to smell the contents of the bottle convincing me it was weaker than it actually was. I was adding more and more garlic to my paste making it a positive deterrent rather than an attractant! I reckon the fish must have headed down stream for the sea when I started lobbing my bait in.
I ditched the paste, started using conventional baits and started catching again. Food regained its flavour, beer became drinkable and, best of all, my wife was willing to approach closer than a yard of me!!
I have just read a draft of this to her and she agreed “yes…you did blooming stink!”
John Step
