|
|
| |
He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops.
Pilgrim’s Progress – read it everyThursday!
Stewart’s Serious Suffolk Specimen Session – Part 2
In last week’s PP, I wrote about the first half of my recent weekin Suffolk chasing big bream. I caught a couple, with the biggestweighing in at just over 8.8. But how did the rest of the session go?
Thursday
I had a good sleep, apart from the bad dream where someone wasstealing my tackle from the bivvie. Once I realised it was just adream I put down the baseball bat (only joking) and went back tosleep, with the lovely aroma of bream slime filling the air.
|
|
| |
Rising at 4.30 am I re-cast and mixed some more groundbait. At5.00 am I was into the third bream of the week, which extended mypersonal best even further, weighing in at 9.2. I’d moved up a poundbracket with each fish caught so far. At this rate I reckoned I’d becatching a ’20’ by the weekend. Hmm, I thought to myself, I wonderwho I can sell the exclusive story to? In the meantime I celebratedmy ‘9’ with a cup of tea and some toast.
There was no further action and so come 9.00 am with the sunbeating down I prepared myself for a day of sleeping, eating andsunbathing. Then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, my righthand Micron burst into life. As line began to strip off the reel likethere was no tomorrow, I knew this was no bream but a carp that hadtaken the bait. It certainly was a decent fish and put up a fightthat would give even John Prescott a run for his money. The denseweed in front of my swim meant that as I drew the fish nearer to thebank I was forced to enter the water. Up to my waist in the lake,and a couple of onlookers gathered behind, I now felt like a realcarp angler. Unfortunately, the fish, which I put at high double /low 20, slipped the hook. That’s life…that’s fishing. No goodcrying over spilt milk and all that stuff. So I went back to where Ileft off – sleeping, eating and sunbathing.
|
|
| |
Another quiet day and the only action I participated in after thecarp episode was when dunking a biscuit into a mug of tea. Iaccidentally left the biscuit in the liquid too long. I grabbed aspoon and frantically, unfortunately to no avail, tried to rescue thebiscuit before it broke up. In the end I just stirred the mushybiscuit into the tea…uurrgghhh, I hear you say.
Things livened up at 7.30 pm, when I landed the fifth fish of theweek. It was one of those bizarre catches that we all have from timeto time – a 5lb pike on double Tutti Frutti boilies. And therewasn’t a gram of fishmeal in them either…..
All was quiet on the Western front after that. Well at least asfar as fishing was concerned. There were a couple of older teenagersfishing to my right about 100 metres away. To be honest they were abit of a nuisance and I experienced a clash of values. They weren’tinterested in fishing, it was just an excuse to have a party. AsThursday drew to a close, a total of six cars had arrived thatdeposited people around the hiking tent they had set up. I don’t knowif there is a collective name for a group of boy racers, but that’swhat they were. You know the sort – the car is worth about £ 400,but it is fitted with a £ 500 exhaust system and equipped with a£ 1,000 stereo.
|
|
| |
Friday
I had dozed off only to be woken in the early hours (2.00 am) bythe screaming, shouting and laughing to my right. It’s unfair andselfish, but what I witnessed was not an exclusive angling problem,but a society one in general. I also started to get a number of linebites during the early hours. For a time I moved closer to the rods,ready to strike. But unfortunately the adrenaline didn’t run to morethan single bleep mode.
During the day time I caught a couple of eels in betweensleeping, eating and sunbathing. I also observed the rich bird lifethat inhabits the pit. There were a couple of Reed Warblers nestingin the reed beds, which were interesting to watch. I also spent sometime watching a Blackcap collecting insects, and a Great CrestedGrebe put a show on for me, diving around the swim less than 2 rodlengths out. Although I’m not in the ‘twitcher’ category, I do enjoythe ornithological benefits of being by the water’s edge.
The peg to my right was occupied from lunchtime by my mate Markwho works for one of the leading tackle manufacturers. As he liveslocal he’d been popping along during the week for a chat, but now hewas here to fish. As he was going for carp, and I was after bream, wejoked how ironic it would be if he caught a 10lb bream and I had abig carp. Mind, as things had been slow during the last day or so, Iwould have been more than happy with a big carp.
|
|
| |
A visit to the litter bin indicated that my ‘friends’ to the righthad certainly consumed some alcohol, judging by the empty cans thathad appeared. It looked as if even William Hague would havedifficulty keeping up with them. Well, at least they put their litterin the bin, so we must be grateful for small mercies.
Saturday
Another quiet night. I was actually very confident that I wouldcatch. The groundbait was in, I felt good about the rig, the bait andso on. But, alas, confidence in itself does not catch a fish. Markalso had a quiet night in the next swim, but he did catch a nicetench and bream in the morning.
With the sun putting in another appearance I again settled downfor a day of sleeping, eating and sunbathing. A visit to the localfish and chip shop meant a welcome change from stew. I’m not much ofa culinary expert, in fact I even burn cornflakes. During thisweek I lived on tins of Tesco stew. I’ve eaten so much of the stuffI’m thinking of changing my name to Stew.
As the evening approached I knew that this would be my last chanceto catch another bream, hopefully a double. The bait went out,everything was just right. It was now just a case of waiting.However, I soon dozed off due to the inactivity on the fishing front.But I was soon dreaming, or should that be breaming, about bigfish. It seems the other anglers on the pit were also having aquiet night, as the stillness wasn’t disturbed by any bite alarms.
Sunday
|
|
| |
Up nice and early on Sunday, I began packing away and by 8.30 am Iwas on my way home. I hadn’t seen a looking glass all week (so now I knowwhy so few women go fishing) and getting in the car andglancing into the mirror I saw the reflection of a bearded (and Ididn’t realise I was THAT grey either) and grimy (I hadn’t seen a barof soap all week) person staring back at me.
As a comb wasn’t on the list of items I’d taken, my hair didn’tlook as if Teasy Weasy Raymond had been at work. In fact I lookedlike old man Steptoe, I felt like Robinson Crusoe and I was startingto smell like the local council rubbish dump. In other words, I waslooking forward to a shave, a shower and a shampoo.
The return journey went well, with hardly any traffic on the road.As a chocoholic though, I did stop off at a service station on theway back. A week without the addictive brown stuff was proving toomuch so I just had to pull over and get a ‘fix’. Walking into theshop I did get some funny looks. I can imagine some people tellingtheir friends at work the next day that these days even tramps havecars. Still, I didn’t care. Mind, I did stop in Northants, ratherthan closer to the West Mids, just in case someone recognised me.
Fortunately when I got home my good wife was still at Church. Soby the time she arrived back I was manicured, coiffured and scrubbednice and clean. I was also looking forward to a ‘proper’ bed on whichto deposit my frame. And did I enjoy Sunday lunch or what? Still, Ihad good memories to look back on over the last week. And already Iwas planning my next trip for big slimies. You could say I have beenwell and truly bitten by the bream bug. I am most definitely an’anglaholic’!
Now that the river season is welland truly under way, get out your floppy hats, dust down the old canerod, polish your centrepins and join me next Thursday as we take alook at ‘The tongue-in-cheek guide to barbel fishing’. Untilthen, tight lines.
The Reverend Stewart R Bloor
Sedgley International Christian Ministries
PO Box 1216, Dudley. DY3 1GW.
Telephone : 01384 – 828033
Web site : www.sicm.org
e-mail : missionscentre@sicm.org
