| JEFF WOODHOUSE | |
Jeff caught his first fish at the age of five, a mackerel from a Torquay fishing boat. That was the starting point 55 years ago and the sight of that living silvery image coming up from the invisible depths had him hooked for life. Since then he has practised virtually every type of fishing, although not always successfully. He doesn’t just like fish, he has a love affair with them, in his living room, in his garden and at times, in his freezer. Lately he has spent more time either running clubs or assisting them to become successful. Now he admits to being too old to chase monsters, he’s happier getting as much fun as possible out of what’s before him. In this monthly series Jeff indulges the rebel within himself, often controversial and always trying to think differently about the usual trends in fishing. |
Strange SummerIT SEEMS TO have been a while since I last wrote a piece of my thoughts, etc, the FishingMagic Junior Angling Academy getting in the way a little, but how enjoyable that was!
Just before then, Nigel Connor came to visit the Compleat Angler stretch as my guest and managed to show me up. It was a nice light, bright summer Sunday evening and until it went dark I thought the chances of either of us catching were very slim. However, after only 20 minutes or so. Nigel had his first chub of the evening, a small fish (he says with a jealous tone in his words) of between 3 and 4 pounds.
He followed this with another (the envy grows) chub around the same size. I don’t remember whether it was around then that I did manage to catch a bream, not of much weight itself, but then it’s not the species you want to catch when you’re really after barbel. Did I mention ‘barbel’? Yet again Nigel, now fishing at the lower end of the beat, hooked into a very nice specimen and this time it looked serious.
It was indeed a barbel (written whilst almost spitting the words out with overwhelming resentment that a guest should catch all the fish) of well over 9lbs. Because of the warm conditions the fish took quite a while to recover, but Nigel handled it well and eventually it got away safe and sound. He didn’t stop there though, not Nigel, he only rubbed salt into the wounds with yet another barbel, at least it was smaller this time, around 7lbs. That was it at the final tally around midnight. He went home, praying his old car would make it on three cylinders after I had bid him farewell and stupidly invited him back to embarrass me all over again. Methinks I must find some clandestine way of spiking his swim next time, just hoping that he fishes downstream of me, of course! Then Came Graham The day before the FM junior event, I met with Graham (our esteemed editor) again and just like last year it was warm and sunny. Graham was fishing with those strange rocks wrapped up in a huge dollop of red groundbait. Of course, the moment that lot hit the water it must have scared off every fish in the weir pool, the splash probably being more than Barnes-Wallace’s Bouncing Bomb made in the M  When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission, which supports our community.
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