Poaching

It seemed to me then that all the best fish were caught while poaching. Martham Broad was in its heyday, with a number of notable anglers breaching its hopeless defence of a chain across the entrance. And they caught the pike of legend.

Cat and mouse with the owners

Big bream, massive perch, roach and catfish were all available for the daring poacher, and I really envied those who sneaked around the private waters of the land, playing cat and mouse with the owners. Well, I was only a lad at the time.

Truth to tell, I would have joined in had I not been an AT reporter – the fastest way to lose your job was to get caught without a relevant permit or a rod licence. Yes, editor Barry Dennis took a very responsible attitude.

But that didn’t mean we turned away the pictures and stories of those remarkable fish. If not the birthplace of the term, “an undisclosed stillwater” became the phrase of the era in our catch reports. All livebaits used where banned were ‘sprats’ according to the poaching pikers.

I tried it myself

As an even younger man, I’d poached a few times myself. The River Allen in Dorset yielded a trout or two to my telescopic rod, which was secreted inside some massive combat trousers for the trip to and from the river. Concealment was fairly easy; I fished from under a bridge, and even had the dry fly boys chatting overhead oblivious to my presence.

I came close to getting caught one day when the bailiff approached from downstream. I was so absorbed in watching for bites on the rod top as my worm got snaffled that I didn’t see him coming. I immediately put the rod on the deck and tried to look nonchalant; for some reason, he just didn’t see me, even when he was 20 yards away.

My reckoning was always that if I didn’t get caught in the act, it was equally important not to get caught with trout AND rod, so I hid the trout under the bushes to pick up later. More than once, I’d arrived with my carrier bag to discover a mink had got there before me.

Trout stuffed down his waterproofs

I learned still more about poaching when I was on AT, and from some surprising individuals. One told me with great glee that he’s managed to boat a big trout at Rutland one year during the piking weekend, right at the death. It was deep-hooked, so he belted it on the head, stuffed it down his waterproofs, and motored back to the lodge.

On the pontoon, he feigned a bad foot, and limped along with one leg 8lb heavier than the other. He thought he was getting away with it until his mate tapped him on the shoulder and said: “Look down.” The trout’s tail was hanging out of the bottom of his trouser leg. By some miracle, the bailiffs hadn’t seen it.

Don’t let them see your pockets wiggling!

Another notable angler explained how he poached pike waters with a telescopic rod and small multiplier reel down his trousers and a few roach in each pocket. Indeed, he reckoned if you kept them damp enough, you could even carry live crucians in a Barbour jacket pocket: “But don’t chat to anyone. Sooner or later they’ll notice your pockets wiggling…”

The same man took along an Optonic once, set at lowest volume, so he could appear more nonchalant. The trick was to leave the telescopic in travelling mode, and less obvious, until you got a run, when you’d hastily pull it to full length and wind down on the pike. While he was talking to the landowner one day, the alarm went off. Fortunately, the man knew sweet FA about birds, and the angler was able to blame the bleeps on the reed warblers.

Crackers, maggots and sweetcorn

There’s poaching and then there’s cheating. One of the country’s best-known fly anglers was known to always have mackerel pate crackers for lunch. Crumble them up over the side of the boat, and they attract fish like a magnet.

Allegedly, the same man once had his boat searched after a session, and the bailiff found maggots crawling under the duckboards: “What’s this?” he challenged. “Yes. It’s disgusting, isn’t it,” said our angler. The bailiff asked him to explain: “Well, that always happens when anglers gut their fish in the boat – attracts the flies…”

Another mate of mine, struggling to catch at Grafham, noticed two lads bagging a limit. When they upped anchor, he took their place, and then found he could only catch on a yellow Dog Nobbler. When he spooned the trout, it was plain they’d been feeding on a hatch of… sweetcorn.

Divers ‘spied’ on bait

Carp anglers do their share. A fishery owner once told me he’d get a couple of divers in before the opening of the season to haul out some of the lilies before they got out of hand. One day, as the divers were flapping into the water, he noticed two anglers had stopped baiting their swims and were leaving: “No problem, lads. I don’t mind you prebaiting swims,” he shouted to them. “We’re not prebaiting if you’re sending in divers to see what we’re using,” they said, and never came back.

Say cheese!

One of the most famous trout fishing cheats was caught using lumps of cheddar at a fly-only water, and banned. Later that season, he won a major competition fair and square, but as he posed with the cup for the photographer, someone yelled out “Say cheese….”

I won’t pretend I haven’t done my share since. After I’d left AT, there were no taboos. I poached quite a few places. On one small lake which adjoined someone’s garden, I’d start before dawn and be away by nine. One morning, the owner was out in the garden but didn’t appear to have spotted me, so I fished on. Then I got a run.

When I hit the fish, it decided the best chance of escape was by swimming vertically upwards. The commotion soon attracted the attention of the man in the garden, so I tucked myself into the bushes and the rod tip under the water. He just watched the pike. I suppose he just thought it was odd, because he lost interest after a few minutes.

But I perhaps have the best motivation for not poaching. Some years ago, I managed to get permission to fish a local lake for eels, in the close season. While legering a section of fish, I lost a big fish then caught one of the biggest pike I’d ever seen. I’m not without principles, so I put it back into the water, and laid plans for a midsummer pike assault.

When I got back the next weekend, I was chucked off. I asked why: “The permission was for you alone,” I was told. I said I had fished alone, but I was told another angler caught fishing there had given my name, and said I’d invited him. So that was that.

The ‘other angler’ went on to get five 30’s from the pit. I was, and still am, gutted.