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. | ||||
PLENTY OF ACTION ON THE WEATHER FRONT THERE’S NOTHING LIKE a bit of encouragement is there? Following on from my breakthrough as reported in last week’s PP, when I caught a couple of decent bream from my current number one target venue, I was like a runner experiencing a second wind. So, as April slowly filtered out and the month of May took its place, I had three separate overnight sessions planned on the gravel pit, which would straddle the two months in question.
Fishing in a Brotel, which in effect is just a large umbrella, means that position is crucial when wind and rain is on the horizon (literally!). It’s no fun being woken up at 2 a.m. and experiencing someone turning a hosepipe on you as you lie in your sleeping bag. Well, that’s what it feels like anyway! Being exposed to the elements means that location is THE important factor when adverse weather is on its way. So, as I lay there in my warm sleeping bag, I was grateful that the shelter that I was dependent upon for protection was dealing with the effects of the weather outside. On this occasion I had not only pegged every point in the earth, but I had also taken advantage of the guy ropes. With the storm poles well and truly rooted in the ground, I was confident that it would all hold. Still, there were some heart-stopping moments during the night, when, just for a moment, I thought that all and sundry, including myself, might be lifted up in the air and deposited in another part of the County! Weather wise, the temperature dropped by over 20%. Apart from the odd single bleep, it was definitely a ‘silent night’ as far as fish activity was concerned. I was able to cocoon myself in the sleeping bag, with just my eyes visible as I lay and stared at the pod in front of me. Dozing off, the only thing that woke me was when the wind suddenly increased above its normal ferocity. (It’s amazing how one gets used to sleeping in a storm, isn’t it) Hail the size of golf balls Hoping for better weather on my second session, I was to be very disappointed. The water temperature was lower than when I started fishing the pit in the middle of March! And not only that, it started to hail as well. I listened to the news on my radio and apparently in another area of the Midlands they were getting hail the size of golf balls. At least mine were only the diameter of a 10mm boily!
When I turned round I saw a landing net handle sticking vertically out of the water, being dragged off by the gale force winds into the deeps of the pit. “Funny that,” I thought to myself, “I’ve got a landing net pole like that.” Then it struck me – I’m a little slow to catch on at times – it WAS my landing net pole! While my back was turned gusts of wind had taken net and pole out into the water. Quickly I grabbed one of my made-up rods and, praying for an inch perfect cast, my intercessions were heard, as I put an inch-perfect lob in just the right place and retrieved the wandering tackle. All in all there was almost £ 180 of gear at stake, so it was with great relief that the story had a happy ending. A shape flew directly towards me Again, with the temperature being lower than mid-March, I struggled that night. The odd single bleep was the only bit of action I saw all night. Until 3.00 a.m. that was. Lying there awake, I was in some ways grateful that I wasn’t in the middle of the storm that was blowing outside. As I lay, warm and dry in the comfort of my sleeping bag, I saw a shape flying directly towards me across the lake. Recognising it as a heron, I expected it to sharply detour once it detected human presence. But no! It flew straight in to the pod, knocking it over and causing the rods to end up on the ground.
Hoping for third time lucky Well, I’m persistent, if anything, and the third trip of the week (also the first one in May) saw me back. I was hoping it would be a case of ‘Third time lucky’. And so it proved to be. Although it wasn’t a big bream, any fish is welcome when you’re having a lean spell. A run at 1.00 a.m. saw me connect with one of the big hybrids that seem to proliferate in the pit. So far on the water I’ve only come across a couple of other specialist anglers. Both doing overnighters for carp, both have blanked. One of them told me a number of pike anglers have decided to fish the venue in the last couple of years, but all have quit due to the infrequency of runs. All of that ties in with my own findings. The fish are in there, as I found with my bream reported in last week’s PP. But it’s not an ‘easy’ venue to fish, and certainly is not for the faint-hearted angler, that wants instant results.
Mrs Sedge’s pancakes Another thing that’s kept me going through the difficult nights has been the welcome that I’ve had the next morning when I get home. Mrs Sedge has been greeting me recently with one of my favourite breakfasts – American style pancakes covered with maple syrup. Hmmm…I’m feeling hungry at the thought of them! During the early 1990’s I spent a lot of time in the USA with my ‘day job’. In fact, at one time (1992) we nearly moved to the Washington DC area, after I had been offered a position in a Church there as a Minister. I didn’t take it, but a visit we made as a family saw Mrs Sedge learn how to cook pancakes – American style – and ever since they’ve been high on my agenda! Added to her boily and cheese paste making skills, she’s pretty well indispensable as far as I’m concerned! There is a definite case for re-phrasing a popular saying as far as my wife is concerned. ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and the stomach of the fish he catches’. | ||||
My recent debut on Kingsmead after bream produced two eels. How did my second visit turn out? Well, to whet your appetite, let me tell you I caught a fish that weighed in at a very respectable ‘mid-double’. But was it a bream? Or was it something else? There’s only one way to find out….check out Pilgrim’s Progress next Thursday when I tell you what happened when I went ‘Back on the Berkshire bream trail’. The Reverend Stewart R Bloor Pilgrim’s Progress – read it every Thursday! |
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