| MARK HODSON | |
An angler since he can remember, Mark Hodson almost literally lives, eats and breathes fishing. A match angler in his youth, fishing for the junior Starlets, he turned to the dark side and joined the ‘floppy hat’ brigade in his college years. He worked in the tackle trade for ten years, on a part time or full time basis at Chaplains, one of Birmingham’s busiest tackle shops and managed the specialist department there for two years. He now fishes just for fun, although the ‘floppy specialist hat’ still dominates his angling, his writing concentrates on getting the maximum enjoyment from your angling and trying something different from the norm. |
A DEBT HONOURED
There is no greater pleasure to be found in our humble pastime than the pleasure and satisfaction of introducing someone new to the angling experience. All of us are in someway indebted to those who introduced ourselves to the sport that has invariably become as much a part of us as the blood that runs through our veins. All of us have a father, grandfather, uncle, other relative or friend, that by the small gesture of taking us fishing one day, have changed our lives forever. My father introduced me and my brother to fishing, I can’t remember how old I was, I just always remember being taken and being fascinated with the sport from that point onwards. Certain memories of those fledgling angling years do stick out, like catching my first proper fish, a pound plus roach on the swingtip from Bodymoor Heath Water at Kingsbury Water Park, and getting my first licence at the age of 13 – I felt like a real fisherman when I got my own licence. As time went by I became more and more interested in my angling, and although my father no longer had the time to take me fishing in my teenage years due to work and family commitments he still contributed by taking me to the fortnightly Starlets meetings when I started match fishing and dropping me into Birmingham to get the team bus to matches. He came to watch me fish the bigger matches like the Junior Nationals and the Birmingham Parks championships each year but his own fishing fell by the wayside to the point that when I left college my father no longer went fishing at all. Winding the clock forward twelve years I have found myself just turned thirty, with a son of my own and my dad talking of retirement in three years time. The time was right to get my dad fishing once again and honour the debt I owed to him for introducing me to the sport all those years before. I booked some leave at work to coincide with my dad’s holiday and in mid July two days were arranged for fishing, the deal being that I would sort everything, he just had to make the sandwiches. I planned two days out, the first being to my favourite estate lake, I knew that not only would the beauty of the place be the perfect surroundings for my dad’s first fishing trip in years, but the water also contained plenty of small fish which could be caught all day long with the chance of a good carp to liven things up.
The second day would be more of a challenge, I wanted to take dad back to the water where he used to take me all those years before, Bodymoor Heath Water at Kingsbury Water Park. This huge pit covering over 45 acres was a bit more of a challenge, and with the hot conditions, low oxygen levels and the water level a foot down I was starting to doubt my choice of venue. At 6.30am we were on the banks of the estate lake. Half an hour later my dad was casting a small waggler to the drop off on the edge of some lily pads and within ten minutes he was getting a bite a cast. I also put out a couple of rods for the lakes carp, explaining to dad about the uses and benefits of PVA whilst he looked on puzzled, as I dropped one rig into a bag and attached a stringer to the other rod. The day went well with us having a bite a cast on the maggot and waggler and two hours in, my dad was truly back into the swing of things. His casting, although rusty at first, became accurate and his feeding more regular. In fact towards the end of the day he was explaining how he was now just feeding corn and groundbait to deter the small perch and this is why he was catching a better stamp of roach and skimmers than me, and that I should be doing the same! Two small carp fell to the carp rods and by the end of the day dad must have taken over 20lb of small fish, he was even starting to complain that it was becoming hard work. On the drive home we reflected on a very enjoyable day and I couldn’t help but think that fishing is a little like riding a bike, you never forget how to do it. The next day I pulled up outside dad’s house and he nearly came sprinting out of the door he was so eager to get going. Today he really meant business and was complete with an ABU hat and Shimano hoody so he looked the part as well. On arriving at Kingsbury Water Park he had a good laugh at my tackle barrow but quickly realised why it was necessary when I also unloaded the mountain of bait I had brought to tempt Bodymoor Heath Water’s huge shoals of bream.
Whilst walking the 500 yards to our chosen pegs for the day, my dad told me stories of when he fished here 40 years before, and if you didn’t arrive before 6am every peg on this massive water would be taken. I explained that those days were long gone and the anglers that would have lined the banks then are now most probably fishing commercial waters instead, and to emphasis the point we discovered that we had the whole pit to ourselves. Whilst my dad set up his feeder rod I had a plumb around with the marker rod and found a nice gently sloping shelf 40 yards out, onto which I deposited 20 balls of my usual mix of Expo, brown crumb and fish meal, mixed with liquid molasses, laced with pellets and dead maggots. Over this I fished one method rod baited with corn and worm and one blockend feeder baited with two popped up artificial maggots. My dad, erring on the side of caution decided not to put any bait in at the start and just used his feeder to introduce some initial feed, and a 12ft feeder rod replaced the 10ft leger rod and swingtip he had used in years gone by. My dad was really back in his fishing element now, his fishing heroes were the likes of Ivan Marks and Sid Meads, the master of swingtip fishing for bream, and right from the off his feeder hit the mark every time and perch up to 12oz came in the first half a dozen casts. Then as always seems to happen when you take someone fishing who usually doesn’t go, strange things started to happen. Firstly he caught a 12oz chub; I have never seen a chub come from this water in all the years I have fished it and was amazed to see my dad catch one. Then dad struck at a classic bream wrap around bite on his tip to see his rod lurk over and line slowly click off the drag. He looked over at me, sitting behind my motionless bobbins, and said, “Good fish this son.” I replied, “Carp,” and as I did sure enough the clicking of the drag slowly quickened as one of waters rare but large carp made for the far end of the pit. Twenty seconds later dad was retrieving his feeder rig minus its hook length, shaking his head in disbelief.
You can guess what happened for the rest of the day, dad had a good net of bream to over 5lb, some nice roach to just under a pound, loads of perch to a pound and I struggled. To be honest, my fishing came second that day as I was getting that much pleasure from seeing dad catching a good net of fish. As we walked back to the car dad explained how he would always be the Jedi master and I the apprentice, no matter how long it had been since he last went fishing. My dad is now planning on getting his own tackle again so he take his grandson fishing when he’s retired and I’m at work. There are more father and son fishing trips arranged for this month of August, a weekend’s Autumn barbel fishing on the Severn and I’ve promised to catch my dad his first Zander in the winter. Dad is truly back in the fishing fold and my debt is now honoured. I would urge all of you experienced anglers to reintroduce someone to fishing, or take someone new out fishing, at least once a year. There’s nothing in angling that will give you more pleasure or satisfaction, and we’ve all got a debt to honour somewhere. |
