Long before the concept of ‘urban fishing’ was popularized I’d decided that water quality was the most important ingredient for a productive town-stretch and that surroundings were of little concern to the fish: why should a shoal of decent roach be bothered by Marks & Spencers? And if the shopping trolleys weren’t actually pollutants they shouldn’t affect the health and potential of the fish. Thus convinced, I embarked upon a regular town-fishing ‘campaign’ lasting many productive years.
The first thing I had to get used to was being on show to the public. I’m not sure that ‘the public’ was actually bothered by the sight of a fisherman trotting a float past Greggs the Bakers but, initially, self-consciousness was a bar to my concentration. I got curious looks from buggy-pushing mums and lunch-time office workers but I think maybe I enjoyed it – you know, being a bit different. The second thing I had to accept was the noise! It was rare on my town-stretch to go five minutes without the amplified wail of a police car bouncing around the buildings and under the bridge. But once I was acclimatized to my new surroundings I found it a real pleasure to be doing something as novel as fishing within a concrete jungle.
It was actually pike-fishing that occupied most of my time in the town centre, the handy riverside benches lending themselves perfectly to the relaxed nature of dead-baiting. With my bright orange floats somewhat camouflaged within the garish flotilla of litter I was able to sit back unobtrusively and watch the world go by; the only problem was the lack of a loo. You’ll understand, then, the brevity of my visits to the town stretch: six hours was a thirsty marathon.
This used to be the Cone Swim
Nonetheless, in that time I invariably managed a fish or two – sometimes three – and double figure pike were not all that rare. I recall taking four or five around the 11-13lb mark and an outstanding Burger King specimen of just under 20lbs! I knew immediately I’d hit a very good fish for it kept low, yanking my 10ft carp rod near-straight two or three times. It amazed me how unperceptive the public was. Any number of shoppers and lunch-break office workers strolled by me during the tussle but nobody passed comment or showed any sign of comprehending the situation – they simply didn’t associate my bended rod and zizzing reel with a cause of any kind! Ok, it’s easy for us to scoff but really…did they not see a connection with the bended and the bendee? It now occurs to me that the public perception of an angler is that of a seated saddo who occasionally swings-in a twinkling silver thing; they’re simply not mentally-geared to expect hefty, toothy torpedoes ripping line of a reel just a few yards from Mothercare! Of course, once the marbled muncher was brought thrashing to the surface one or two mystified pedestrians stopped and gazed in wonder, still unaware – I’m sure – that I had anything to do with it! Before long I had a substantial audience lined-up on the opposite bank and any doubt that I was responsible for the spectacle had gone. Eventually, the fish was drawn into the net and – contrary to my fears – a ripple of applause drifted across the river. There were gasps aplenty when the fish was chin-lifted into a shopping bag for weighing, but I wasn’t able to declare a ‘20’. The fish went 19lb 13oz having ejected my 8oz herring during the fight!
I got a passer-by to take a snap of me and the pike but the immediate background is of a spray-painted wall bearing the word ‘Pork’. Whether this was an instruction or merely a reference to pig meat I don’t know; a bit like ‘Roger Moore’ I s’pose….and good advice if you ask me.
Later that year I took a 4lb tench from the Yates’ Wine Bar swim. I innocently lifted the shiny, slippery, red-eyed creature for a passing teenage girl to see and almost gave her a fit! How embarrassing….there was no need to scream! But then, witnessing one of Nature’s Wonders in the flesh must have been quite distressing for the poor girl – God forbid we should engage with the real world, eh?
Graffiti Paradise
Other urban swims I have fished were nowhere near as classy as the town stretch mentioned above. The spray-painter’s paradise below the A.130 Battlesbridge by-pass in Essex is bleak beyond description; it’s one of those places you spot from a train and wonder what on Earth made some oik creep down and spend hours creating a giant psychedelic version of his ‘tag’. But at least this has the tidal Crouch passing through it. No more than 15ft wide and muddy as hell, the river here has been up and down twice a day since time began. Before Anglian Water polluted it a few years back it was possible to catch a mullet followed by a double figure carp….or a bass and a roach! I never achieved either combination but I did manage a few double figure carp to 15lbs plus, and boy – did they go! The shots I took avoided the road-support graffiti but I now wish I’d left it in – further ‘proof’ that some of these god-forsaken urban ditches really can come up with the goods.
