The Reverend Stewart Bloor, perhaps better known as Sedge in the pages of FISHINGmagic, is an ordained Minister and Director of the Sedgley International Christian Ministries.

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.

ROACH, BREAM, EVERYWHERE, BUT NOT A CARP IN SIGHT

Cars – where would we be without them? Our pastime of angling is inextricably linked with the automobile. Certainly, the amount of tackle I end up taking with me means I have to lay the back seat down flat and fully occupying the space behind me. And that’s in a Rover 400!

However, once we have a dependency upon something it creates a problem when it’s taken away. On Easter Saturday my car broke down. Often things that appear simple have a habit of becoming complicated. And that’s what happened with my car, it decided to take a self imposed rest for 10 days. Which meant I was out of action as far as fishing was concerned.


Early morning mist on the Staffs/Worcs canal
I’m certainly not after sympathies, because I know to the majority reading this, it’s about normal. But for someone who fishes the number of times in a week that I do it seemed like a positive eternity! In actual fact I managed to fit in a session just prior to the car being restored to the land of the living by getting a lift to the Staffs/Worcs canal in order to have an overnight carp session.

A solitary bream obliged

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say. Well, I was certainly looking forward with a renewed vigour to casting a line again after a 9 day break. I managed to set my Brotel up so as not to intrude on the towpath. Casting out and placing the rods in the rests, it was simply a case of waiting for the carp to put in an appearance.

I’m sorry to say that on this occasion they were absent from the scene. Although I must point out that the area I fished is not a noted carp stretch. They are there, but one has to put the time in to locate them. Mind, I didn’t blank, as a solitary bream obliged. I didn’t weigh it, but it was about ‘8’. Hmmm, I hear you say, an eight pound bream from the canal is not a bad fish. Well, who said ‘pounds’? Try ‘ounces’ for a more accurate assessment!


Badger sleeping bag – it does the business
Typical of the weather we’d been having at the time the temperatures had been in the ’12’ and ’13’ bracket during the day, yet plummeting to zero – and below – during the night. And this session was no exception. (Although the water temperature, which is the important figure, only dropped to ’10’ from the day reading of ’11’). As the sun set, it became very cold and by morning there was a ground frost all around.

However, I remained warm and cosy through the night, even though I was very much exposed to the elements, as a Brotel is really just a large umbrella. The secret ingredient was my sleeping bag. I have a Badger bag, which cost £ 34.99 a year or so ago. I can’t comment on other Badger products, as it’s the only thing I have bought from them, and I know they have come in for a lot of ‘stick’ on angling forums. (But in fairness, there’s not an angling company around that hasn’t been ‘attacked’ at some time or another for something).

However, I can confidently recommend the Badger sleeping bag. With frost all around I was as warm as if I was tucked up at home in bed with Mrs Sedge. And taking into account the price it rates as one of the 10/10 purchases I have made in the last year or so.

Miriam and the maggots

With my car restored to working condition my next trip was to a venue of choice, as opposed going somewhere local because I didn’t want to impose on the person that gave me a lift. So, car loaded, I set off for another crack at my current number one venue – the large gravel pit, in pursuit once more of carp. I was going for a two-night session, so hopefully I would see some action.


Look closely and you’ll see Greengrass, David and Alfred!
The night before, my youngest daughter Miriam asked if she could come along. As it was still the tail end of the school holidays I was happy to take her with me. I think it’s important that we do all we can to encourage the younger generation to take an interest in angling. But we need to be realistic and recognise that long specialist sessions, when you may only get one or two fish (and that’s if you’re lucky!) are not really the way to go.

So, bearing that in mind, I took along another rod and bought a pint of maggots on the way so that we could do some ‘fun’ fishing as well. However, Miriam wasn’t really that bothered about the fishing on this occasion. The gravel pit in question is in a quiet, rural setting, and she just enjoyed being there. In fact she loved the gravel beach, it was a cheap substitute for the seaside!

Giant boilies!

When we got there she spotted two buoys in the lake. (There is also a sailing club that uses the water). One was red and the other orange. “Look Dad,” she exclaimed, “A giant esterberry boily and a giant tutti frutti boily.” I don’t know if she’ll ever become an angler in her own right, so to speak, but one thing’s for sure – she’ll know as much as the average fisherman! (She’s pretty well fired up with information as it is).

One of her first tasks was to choose three maggots from the tub, which she promptly informed me that their names were now, Greengrass, David and Alfred. I was recently preaching at a church in Whitby, and took my family with me for the day. We spent the afternoon walking round the set of ‘Heartbeat’, which is actually a real live village called Goathland. (It is called Aidensfield in the series). Since then, like her Mom and Dad, she’s a big fan of the programme.

The first night was very quiet; I had just the one run on the margin rod, which I missed. As with the previous trip in this week’s article, the air temperature plummeted during the night, but the water temperature fell only marginally from 11 degrees to 10. This was the pattern for the session. But the low air temperature meant it was a case of tucking up well in the sleeping bag and pulling the thermal hat down to cover my ears.

The second day I did some quiver tipping for roach. I do not exaggerate if I say that I had a bite every cast. Not that I hit them all – they were quick! But when I did catch one they were around the 4-8 ounce mark. And every now and then I would catch a small bream, not to mention the solitary bleak that had infiltrated the shoal. It’s been a long time since I caught bleak. My mind went back to when I was at Junior School and I went with a friend whose parents had a boat moored in the basin at Stourport-on-Severn. We caught hundreds of bleak, literally a fish every cast. Great fun when you’re 10 years old!

Not playing the game

Anyway, back to my gravel pit, before I get carried away with all that nostalgic stuff. I was recently 40, so I must be due a middle age crisis soon, and I’m sure reminiscing will be very much part of the process! A bit of a wind blew up and so it was not really that much of a surprise to get a lunch time run on my second rod, which was about 70 metres out into open water. The run was pretty well developed as I lifted the rod from the pod and struck. Unfortunately whatever it was on the other end decided it didn’t want to play the game. Anyway, it had put some life into the session and had got my heart beating, if only momentarily.

The second night was again quiet, although I was woke at 5.45 am to connect with the open water rod, via the Micron, letting me know that a fish was on the end. Striking, I could feel the fish, but knew it wasn’t a big one. Netting it, I could see that I had caught another one of the hybrids that inhabit the water. Five nights so far on the gravel pit and I’m yet to connect with anything decent. Still, it will make success all that much sweeter when I do, says the optimist within me. And a bit of positive thinking never did anyone any harm, least of all the specialist angler!

Have I been taking advice from none other than Brian Clough himself? Well, next week’s Pilgrim’s Progress is called ‘Go South, Young Man’. Actually, it’s more to do with my opening session on a Berkshire gravel pit after bream. Sorry, there’s no Brian Clough. But Neil Wayte puts in an appearance! Check out PP next week to discover what happened when Harry met Sally…or at least Sedge met a Charles Bronson look alike!

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

Pilgrim’s Progress – read it every Thursday!

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