He did not normally get up at 4am but today he was going fishing. He prepared a packed lunch of tomato soup and cheese sandwiches, packed his car with his rod, landing net, tackle bag and lunch. Tony had picked out his fishing spot the week before when he took a long walk along the river Nene near Orton Mere in Peterborough. The peg was just past the flyover, a lovely green spot with a bit of grass to fish from. Tony pulled up to the car park and found an empty space. There was plenty to choose from at this time of the morning. Just as Tony got to his peg it started to rain, a cold hard rain he did not much care for. He looked at the flyover; underneath it was a peg that was out of the rain. He set up his bank sticks, put line on his rod and attached a hook. He decided on a bunch of maggots but before he baited-up he threw balls of ground bait into the swim then cast out his maggots.Tony poured himself some soup and ate that along with his sandwiches, then he sat back, relaxed and waited.
Every now and then Tony replaced his maggots but the fish where not biting. Hours passed and 9am rolled around. He decided to pack in just as the reel started whizzing as the line was being taken; he grabbed his rod and struck and the rod bent over. This is a biggun thought Tony. He fought with the fish, giving it line then reeling it in as it got tired. The fish came to the surface about six feet out so Tony grabbed his landing net and sunk it into the water, manoeuvred the fish above it and scooped it up. He walked backwards as he brought the net to the river bank, put the rod down and quickly grabbed his forceps. He opened the net to find a rather large barbel. “That’ll do nicely!” exclaimed Tony. It had stopped raining and the sun had come out. Tony removed the hook from the fish’s mouth.
Just as he was lifting the barbel from the net the bailiff turned up. “Hey, that’s a biggun! You want to weigh it in?” he enquired.
“Well couldn’t hurt” replied Tony, smiling. The bailiff got his scales from his backpack then gently placed the barbel in the weigh sling and attached it to the scales. The bailiff laughed then said “A record – 15 pounds. You’ve done well, mate”
“Thanks” replied Tony.
“I write for the angling magazine ‘Fish Crazy’, do you mind if I take a picture of you with the barbel?” asked the bailiff.
Tony thought it would be fun to be in a magazine for catching a record fish “yes ok!” he chirruped. The bailiff pulled out his phone and Tony posed with the barbel. On closer inspection he noticed a cluster of red spots on the fish’s belly; it looked like a four leaf clover. The following week Tony purchased Fish Crazy and quickly leafed through the pages until he found his picture in full colour posing with his big catch; his name, weight of the barbel and the location was written beneath. Tony felt pride swell in his heart; he felt like a winner.
A few weeks passed and Tony found a free Satuday morning on his hands. He was eager to get out and fish. The weather forecast was for sun so he decided to fish the peg he had originally chosen, the one just past the flyover, covered in grass, a nice quiet place to unwind. He pulled into Orton Mere car park around 7am to find it chock full. He finally found a space, the only space, and put it down to the nice weather bringing people to the mere for the day. Tony put his rod over his shoulder and carried his back pack containing todays lunch, bait and tackle. He walked through the wooden gates on either side of the rail track and as he walked over the bridge he noticed many people fishing the weir. He crossed over the bridge and noticed people also fishing the lock and the pegs down from it. Wow, this is bust today, thought Tony. He took a right and noticed more anglers under the flyover. He walked past the flyover and found his prefered peg taken so he carried on walking the grassy bank of the Nene and found every peg taken. This is strange, he thought; he was positive there was not a match on.
He decided to go and fish Gunmede lake at Ferry Meadows nearby. As he was leaving, a man dressed in camoflauge clothes and field boots stood up from a nearby peg. The man waved then shouted “Tony!” and continued to walk over to him. Tony did not recgonise this man and searched his memory but he could not place him. “Tony, it is you, from Fish Crazy magazine, I recognised you from your picture” he said excitedly.
“oh, yes, busy down here today mind” replied Tony. The angler smiled “well, it’s your fault. We all want to catch that barbel. We are calling it ‘red clover’ due to the marking on its stomach. People have come up from London and down from Leeds for this fish” laughed the angler.
Tony shook his head; he could not believe all these anglers were after the same fish “Well good luck, i’m off to fish Gunmede” replied Tony. He walked back along the river bank and as he passed he eyed his preferred peg with jealousy as another angler cast out and sat down to relax; he would try for that peg another time, he promised himself. He walked back to the car and as he passed the other anglers they looked at him and smiled: did they recognise him too? Tony paid to park at Gunmede. He walked to peg 80 and set his stuff down and started to throw his bait balls into the swim. Just as he threw the last ball in he saw a figure walking past him. It was the bailiff. “Hello, Tony, can’t get a peg at your old spot?” he laughed. Tony did not find this funny but managed to smile and reply “No, not at all”. The bailiff stopped and put his hands in his pockets; he was going to gas for a while thought Tony. “Yeah, you have started a frenzy for that barbel.What are they calling it?” said the bailiff. “Red clover” replied Tony with an even voice.
“Yes, red clover; been choc-a bloc on that stretch for days, probably be busy for weeks yet and if one angler catches it they’ll never leave” sighed the bailiff. He continued. “It’s lovely down there, especially on a day like this; the peace and quiet has been replaced by cigarette butts and litter – I’m always picking up after them”
“Well, I’m going to try to get some fishing done” said Tony in a flat voice. He felt it was partly his fault about the overflow of anglers not treating the river with respect. “Ok have a nice day” said the bailiff and he left. Tony tried to fish his preferred peg every Satuday for the next month but was always disappointed and sometimes recognised. His pride at catching red clover was replaced with regret as he watched the river bank swarm with anglers like locusts. He fished Gunmede again but either blanked or could not get through the silvers.
Tony dispaired: he wanted to fish the River Nene; he wanted his old peg back; he wished he’d never been in Fish Crazy magazine. Then he had an idea. Tony started doing some research online about Gunmede lake: what type of fish where caught and how much they weighed. He was in Ken Wade’s fishing tackle shop one day for his pint of reds when he overheard the other customers talking about a match angler called Steve Ringer. Appantly he was here to film a tv show and this man preferred peg 83 and 84 to catch big bream. That was all the information he needed: he would catch a mammoth bream -well that was the plan.
He went home and set about making a ground-bait from breadcrumbs, frozen maggots, molasses and a secret ingredient. He shaped the ground-bait into balls and drove up to Gunmede that evening. He heavily baited-up the swims of those pegs. At 5:30am the next morning he was at Gunmede lake again; there was not a soul around so he began to set up his gear: bank-sticks in the ground, line set up and beeper on, he attached a bunch of maggots and cast out over the bait he had put in the evening before. He waited and watched the sun fully rise in the sky on this glorious Spring day. If he did not catch today he would book a week off work and fish everyday just to catch a big bream. Suddenly the beeper wailed and the reel whizzed as a fish took the bait. He played it in with ease. This was a small fish, he thought, disappointed. He got the fish in. It was a small tench. It had a yellow belly and bright red eyes, quite pretty really thought Tony. He unhooked it and released it back gently into Gunmede lake. He loaded up his hook again with a big bunch of maggots, cast out and waited. Tony was not a religious man but he prayed a silent prayer to whatever god or goddess that would listen for another big catch.
Hours passed and Tony had eaten his food and drank umpteen cups of tea. He was starting to nod off in the warm sunshine when he heard footsteps. He jolted awake and turned round; it was the bailiff. “Morning, Tony, any luck?” he asked. “Only a small tench” sighed Tony. The beeper roared to life and the line was taken quickly. Tony snatched up the rod and struck. It bent over. This could be it thought Tony, hopefully. “Oh, you got a thumper there” laughed the bailiff. He placed his hands in his pockets and watched him with enthusiasm. Tony carefully played the fish; he did not want to lose it.
It seemed like an eternity had passed but, soon enough, the fish was in his landing net. He laid the net on the grass and grabbed his forceps. He opened the net to reveal a large tench, bright green with an orange belly and red eyes, a beauty if there ever was one. “Whoa, that’s a size!” exclaimed the bailiff, “shall we weigh it in?” “Absolutely!” cried Tony. They carefully weighed the tench. “Fourteen pounds, its a whopper” laughed the bailiff. As before, the bailiff took a picture. Tony’s plan just might work he thought; now to be patient he promised himself.
A fortnight passed and the latest Fish Crazy magazine was on the shelves. Tony purchased one and quickly leafed through and there he was, posing with his prize tench; it really was a lovely specimen, thought Tony. He waited a few weeks then, one afternoon, he took a walk along the Nene, his favorite stretch next to Orton Mere. it was gloriously quiet and empty “Back to normal at last” sighed Tony to himself. “Whats that you say?” a voice from behind him said cheerily. It was the bailiff. “Alright, Tony, nice and quiet again, cant say the same for Gunmede mind, swarming with anglers and they’re arguing over pegs 83 and 84”. Tony laughed also. He would book a week off work and fish everyday in the preferred peg and so he did. On the third day of fishing his beeper went mad and the reel whizzed with great speed as a fish took the bait, boilies this time, Tuti Fruti flavour. Tony played that fish for half an hour before he got it out of the water with his landing net. He looked about furtively for someone but no one was about, the coast was clear. Tony lifted the heavy fish out of the water and onto the riverbank. It weighed a lot. He opened the net, inside a fully-mirrored carp, silver and gleaming. Its belly was huge, undoubtedly the largest fully-mirrored carp he had ever seen. And do you know what Tony did?
He let it go.
