SEASON 91/92
Dear Diary PARTI
Another season draws to a close and
for a change Fm genuinely sorry to see
it go. The angling Gods have been very
kind to me over the years but never
quite so generous as during the last
nine months.
Now before you yawn and think
'Not another bloke bragging about how
good he is7, this isn't intended to be one
of those articles, far from it. This is the
celebration of a season that was light
years removed from anything I've done
before.
I was a reluctant match angler for
taking up match fishing was simply
that if you wanted to pleasure fish the
middle Trent on a Saturday during the
Summer months, and I did, then you
invariably found the better pegs
matched up. Some areas of the river
received so much pressure that the only
1221
way to fish them is in a match. Places
like Fiskerton or the Weir Field at
Holme Marsh are frequently matched
up five days a week, so it was a case of
if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
It wasn't long before I caught the
match fishing bug and so began a climb
up the ladder of success. Looking back
I would be the last person to claim that
my career in match fishing has ever
amounted to much in real terms, but I
have enjoyed it. I never wanted to fish
for England, nor did I ever want to be
the best angler in the world either, so
every bit of success was cherished. O.K.
I won my share of matches and still do.
Along the way there were a fair few
gold medals and trophies which meant
an awful lot at the time. When in the
right frame of mind I reckon I can still
live with the best, but towards the end
of the 90/91 season I found my appetite
for competition fishing beginning to
wane. Some anglers could win the
same match every week for the rest of
their lives and never tire of it. Others go
on catching the same twenty pound
carp over and over again. I prefer
variety and knew that there were new
pleasures to experience, opportunities
were passing me by. There were other
things I desperately needed to do.
Bob Nudd and Dennis White are
professional match anglers. Mark
Downes is, Tommy is. The list goes on.
They are totally dedicated twenty four
hours a day, seven days a week, fifty
two weeks a year match anglers. Five
matches a week is nothing to them, two
in a day even. It is the only way to get
to the top and to stay there. Obsession
accurately describes what they do and
good luck to them, they have to be
absolutely single minded in their
pursuit of excellence. But I was
becoming increasingly aware that it
wasn't for me. I have always chosen to
put my family in front of fishing, so I
took a year out, not totally turning my
back on match fishing, but allowing
myself the freedom to choose what I
did and when. I can recommend it.
Putting team fishing on the shelf for a
while has enabled me to take stock of
my life and do things I've wanted to do
for ages, but have always been too busy
chasing after my own tail, getting
*Some anglers could
win the same match
every week for the rest
of their lives and never
tire of it. Others go on
catching the same
twenty pound carp
over and over again. I
prefer variety.9
nowhere fast.
Quite honestly it was like stopping
banging my head against a brick wall.
The trouble is, now I've stopped, there
are so many other things I realise I
would like to do, I fear life itself will be
too short to cram everything in. These
are just a few of the highlights. I make
no apologies for the quotations.....
JUNE
"When one door of happiness closes
another opens; but often we look so long at
the closed door that we do not see the one
that has been opened for us".
HELEN KELLER
"I should like to enjoy this Summer, flower
by flower as if it were to be the last one for
me"
ANDRE GIDE
June started with a shock. Did I want
to fish the A.C.A. Celebrity Classic at
Mallory Park? Do bears like honey? Of
course I did but where the hell is
Mallory I thought?
I would like to add before going
further that I am a member of the
A.C.A. and if you aren't, you should
hang your head in shame. If only the
new license could be increased by just
one pound and the proceeds donated
directly to the A.C.A. all 0ur future
problems might be little ones, but that's
a fantasy, too many anglers simply
don't care enough, sorry, back to the
story.
The road atlas was studied intently
and there it was, hardly more than a
hundred miles away. A word on the
blower with Roy Marlow about day
tickets proved fruitless. Members only,
however if we wanted to come down
on Monday evening, it was open night
and we could at least have a look
around.
Monday's trip was a memorable
occasion if only for the fact that I was
able to realise one little fantasy, driving
round the racing circuit! Funny isn't it
how some things bring out the
mischievous little boy in us.
Mallory's fishing is frightening. Lots
of zoo animals in the main lake, more
zoo animals in the Concrete lake, but
less zoo animals in the Foundation
lake. After watching a youngster
regularly catching one pound carp a
yard out from the bank on the
Foundation my mind was made up. No
way was I going to embarrass myself
on the big fish when even I could cast
one yard with the best. A wingeing
phone call to Captain Roger was in
order because teams could select which
anglers fished which lake. Fourteen lies
and three bribes later he fell for it. I was
on the Foundation, phew! what a relief.
A bit of practise was in order
somehow, so it was off to Lindholme
Lakes for a dabble on the pole for it's
large head of small carp.
Now everyone knows carp grow
rapidly, particularly when the owner of
. a lake feeds them regularly, so why did
I think they would still be twelve ounce
fish like they were two years
previously? No I can't explain either. A
brainstorm I guess. The top and bottom
of it was these fish in just eighteen
inches of water were a bit too big for
my liking and whilst I did eventually
put two on the bank it wasn't before
their brothers and sisters had made a
proper Charlie out of me. This did my
confidence no good at all, knowing I
would get the same opportunity to look
stupid on Saturday only in front of a
crowd.
Saturday soon came around and after
an extortionately expensive breakfast
on the motorway we rolled on down to
Mallory Park and surveyed the scene.
Looking round I couldn't help feeling
that my pools money represented little
more than a donation, but I would have
paid twice for the privilege of being
there. Into the draw bag and I was
away to peg 115, virtually the same peg
in which the pleasure angler was
bagging on Monday. When I got there I
could actually see the activity created
by those same small carp, boy was I
going to have fun?
The peg was right in a corner so I
had no-one to my right. On my left was
the enigmatic Frank Barlow who
explained how unfortunate I was to be
in fhe corner. It seemed I was destined
to watch the anglers on the right bank,
directly in my line of sight, bagging up.
"But what about these fish at my feet?"
"They'll vanish. The gate's behind you,
everyone who comes to watch on this
lake has to come onto the bank directly
behind you straight on the sky line."
"He's mad" I thought. He wasn't.
I spent the first two hours of the
match trying to feed off the bits on two
lines so that I could catch the carp, one
under my feet and one at seven metres.
Five pints of bait later I had just about
succeeded except the carp had not
fallen for the ruse. As predicted they
had drifted away and I had completely
cocked it up. Why on earth I had
adopted such aggressive, attacking
tactics I can't explain but as they say
you live and learn.
There was perhaps a pound of fish in
my net whilst that nice Mr. Barlow
easily had double figures of skimmers.
If there was any consolation his peg
was drying up fast. I had completely
blown it by going for broke. Bloody
carp! Whenever one of the bits
managed to get it's kissing gear round
a double bait the cruncher elastic
bounced it off. I was beginning to wish
I had overslept. My embarrassment
was growing by the minute.
With two hours to go and the whole
lake apparently dead I switched to
fishing squatts in an attempt to save a
bit of face. This produced a small fish a
chuck and the awful realisation that if I
had gone for it from the off using
Stainforth Canal tactics I could easily
have done big doubles instead of just
six and a half pounds. Still the cause
was just and a fortune was raised for
the A.C.A. which is why we were really
there anyway.
The disappointment didn't last long
because I was soon to make an
astounding discovery. A small river
^Monday's trip was a
memorable occasion if
only for the fact that I
was able to realise one
little fantasy, driving
round the racing circuit!
Woweeee!!! funny isn't it
how some things bring
out the mischievous
little boy in us.9
close to home had exploded into life. I
had fished the river below a wier for
five years or so with varying degrees of
success but during an evening stroll
with the wife along a deeper stretch I
witnessed some big fish rolling.
Returning the following evening
with half a pint of casters I caught
roach, rudd, perch, bream and hybrids
 on the stick to a pound and a half.
These fish were in remarkable
condition and almost ever one required
the landing net. The fishing was free
and I was experiencing the nearest
thing to heaven on earth.
From here on rarely a day passed
when I didn't snatch a few hours on it's
banks. The fishing was unbelievable.
Double figure bags in three hours were
the norm and my best bag topped
thirty pounds in four hours. I found
myself going to matches and if I didn't
draw well I only gave it a couple of
hours before coming 'home'.
JULY
"You never know till you try to reach them
how accessible men are; but you must
approach them by the right door."
HOWARD BEECHER
"Make your friends your teachers and
mingle the pleasures of conversation with
the advantages of instruction."
BALTASAR GRACIAN
During July I fished my only match
of the season on the lower end of the
Keadby Canal, The Regional Railways
Classic/Why I don't concentrate more
on this end of the canal I'll never know,
because the fishing is excellent and
much more even than elsewhere.
Presumably because I was running a
series about the canal in a rival
magazine at that time I was sought out
by a couple of lads keen to learn more.
This in turn attracted a photographer
and his delightful assistant who were
covering the event for the sponsors.
Despite this little gallery, small fish
responded well to the whip whilst we
chatted away and I posed for photos.
When this sport tailed off the long pole
line responded equally well and the
twenty five peg section was mine. I
1241
can't think of a nicer way to relax than
to spend that time chatting to folk,
catching fish and get paid for it as well.
Tidying up the peg before I left I
spied an old betting slip laid in the
grass. It said "1000 Drachmas Goliath
to win" I have no idea what it was
about but it rounded the day off with a
smile.
My river continued to astound me
with the shocks it continued to
produce. These included all the species
of carp from crucian to mirror, tench
and believe it or not the odd small
barbel! Life was indeed good, but I had
My river. Deserted, full offish and free
a real treat lined up. An Angling Times
photo feature with Kevin Maddocks in
which I was to teach him the rudiments
of pole fishing and in return he was to
instruct me on carp. We had chosen
Len Curd's excellent Linear Fisheries
near Milton Keynes and I sneaked
down a day early to snatch a few hours
on the Upper Ouse.
Len had told me a shoal of bream
had shown up on the river and exactly
where to find them. As I took my tackle
out of the car I watched a bloke and his
wife walk straight to the pegs and
plonk down their gear. After two hours
on the road I had missed out on the hot
peg by seconds.
Two hours of frustration followed
during which I could clearly see an
amazing shoal of river bream with their
hump backs coming out of the water
directly in front of the couple whilst
they could not buy a bite. Inexplicably
they suddenly packed up and left. I
was in the peg before they left and lo
and behold my first cast saw the tip
collapse as a bream weighing 51b 7ozs
tried to drag the rod in. This is easy I
thought. Wrong again. There must
have been two hundred fish milling
about in front of me in the crystal clear
water. Great black things and I swear
mine was the smallest. Some of these
must have been 8 or 91bs a piece. I
never had another bite, but as Dick
Walker said 'how many do you need to
catch?' The answer is more than bloody
one please!
Frustrating I guess, but memorable
for all that.
I stayed in the Seventeenth Century
farm house of Kay and Arthur Adams
again, this is becoming a real home
from home for me as the Linear trip
threatens to become an Annual event
on my calendar, before rising early to
meet Kevin Maddocks and take him
pole fishing. Kevin was a natural and
went a long way towards proving that
good anglers are born not taught. Once
he got into the swing of things he was
ahead of me and handled the pole like
any other competent matchman would.
It took me a lot longer than him to
achieve the dexterity and control he
showed when I first took up pole
fishing. Mick Rouse did the business
for the Angling Times and I soon
realised that his job was not quite the
picnic everyone imagines. From home
to home it was a twelve hour day and
he was in for another session with us
the next day but with an even earlier
start.
I faced the carp fishing session with
trepidation. With no experience of
catching these fish on proper gear it is
something of a pressure job when being
watched by one of the worlds leading
carp anglers and photographed by one
of the sports most respected
photographers. If this wasn't bad
enough we were joined by Roy the
head bailiff, Len Gurd, Bob Baldock
and Keith Higginbottom, new editor of
the Times. I was reminded of another
Walkerism, when he was being filmed
carp fishing for television. After two
hours of technicians clumping about
setting up all the necessary gear he was
told "Right Mr Walker, we're ready,
you can catch your carp now!"
In true story book fashion I had a
near double on the bank within twenty
minutes and the story was in the can,
all pressure off. That capture owed
everything to the skill and experience
of those around me and very little to
what I actually did yet I received all the
glory. I felt as though I had been
handed the crown jewels, it was a
priceless moment.
Two more fish came to the net as the
day progressed and I was left with
lasting memories of a day spent in the
company of some of the hardest
working, most generous people it has
been my privilege to meet. The upshot
of the trip was that I went carp fishing
several times more over the coming
weeks and whilst I didn't set any
personal bests or break any pots I did
enjoy some excellent fishing.