'Next to actually going fishing ' Say's Phil Smith, 'the anticipation of the trip is almost as exciting'
There's a lot of truth in that but I would add that often the anticipation is far, far better. Yesterday was such a day, a day that began with high expectation and boundless enthusiasm for the projected trip where I would, according to my overactive imagination, catch not only a double-figure bream or two but also a tench of the same weight, if I was very lucky, which I was certain I was.
Luck? An excess or lack of it, didn't even enter it to it.
I fished my heart out, at the top of my game, and, on any other water but my chosen one I tell you I would have charmed those hefty specimens out of their weedy holts and into the soft folds of my waiting net, but on this pit, on this day, nature had conspired to dash my plans.
On arrival I thought the water in the margins under the shade of the trees looked a little green and grainy but I set up and cast out into the teeth of a warm but persistent North Westerly nonetheless then after an hour of careful baiting a coot feeding his young brood began to dive repeatedly over the shallow baited area and the fact that sooner or later he would get hooked combined with the inescapable truth that the wind was a little too chilly for comfort without lots of bites to keep me warm, forced a premature move.
My next swim choice was sheltered, very warm and pleasant. Here I met up with the bailiff who informed me that the Environment Agency had been over to take samples of the daphnia bloom clearly visible in suspension illuminated by the direct shafts of sunlight in the water at our feet. This weren't no 'daphnia' though, on closer inspection it were a species of blue-green algae...
He also informed me that he club match on the the bank holiday monday was "won with just a pound and a half of blade roach" and that "out of a field of twenty three, two thirds finished with dry keepnets".
And cheerily, in leaving, dropped the bombshell.
"The guy from the Agency reckons you may as well not bother fishing till it's all cleared up as when it all dies off in a few days time, the microbes'll take stacks of the oxygen out of the water and sport won't recover for at least a fortnight thereafter".
"Cheers for that", I thought. What with a whole day's fishing ahead of me n' all, I'd preferred to have struggled on oblivious to the facts, ta very much!
Even though he is a very nice fella, it has to be said, he took my money anyway...
Needless to say I caught naff all despite a further few changes of swim (the algae was far worse on the windward side of the lake where it had formed bright green scums) and without once seeing even the smallest sign of a living fish, nary a rise, bubble or bow wave, but undeterred I endeavoured to persevere regardless of the increasingly obvious fact that the fish had clearly abandoned all oxygen consuming activity, like swimming about, and gone hid in their bunkers for the duration, and so with just a two inch lift of the left hand bobbin to show for the whole long summers day's effort I eventually rang up Judy for a somewhat earlier pick up than planned and departed with the evening sun on my back.
Along the path to the car I met with a further three hapless chumps with the same tale to tell and off in the distance I saw a guy who looked familiar spodding out bait in hope of a good session to come. It was Lee. I was pretty sure of it but not quite certain enough to take a long hike right around the lake on the off chance so I took a picture at full zoom and this morning blew it up in Photoshop, recognising his blue and grey Regatta fishing fleece.
I've just sent him text to confirm and sure enough, it was none other.
And, guess how he fared?
That'll be cheque books and pens all round then...
There's a lot of truth in that but I would add that often the anticipation is far, far better. Yesterday was such a day, a day that began with high expectation and boundless enthusiasm for the projected trip where I would, according to my overactive imagination, catch not only a double-figure bream or two but also a tench of the same weight, if I was very lucky, which I was certain I was.
Luck? An excess or lack of it, didn't even enter it to it.
I fished my heart out, at the top of my game, and, on any other water but my chosen one I tell you I would have charmed those hefty specimens out of their weedy holts and into the soft folds of my waiting net, but on this pit, on this day, nature had conspired to dash my plans.
On arrival I thought the water in the margins under the shade of the trees looked a little green and grainy but I set up and cast out into the teeth of a warm but persistent North Westerly nonetheless then after an hour of careful baiting a coot feeding his young brood began to dive repeatedly over the shallow baited area and the fact that sooner or later he would get hooked combined with the inescapable truth that the wind was a little too chilly for comfort without lots of bites to keep me warm, forced a premature move.
My next swim choice was sheltered, very warm and pleasant. Here I met up with the bailiff who informed me that the Environment Agency had been over to take samples of the daphnia bloom clearly visible in suspension illuminated by the direct shafts of sunlight in the water at our feet. This weren't no 'daphnia' though, on closer inspection it were a species of blue-green algae...
He also informed me that he club match on the the bank holiday monday was "won with just a pound and a half of blade roach" and that "out of a field of twenty three, two thirds finished with dry keepnets".
And cheerily, in leaving, dropped the bombshell.
"The guy from the Agency reckons you may as well not bother fishing till it's all cleared up as when it all dies off in a few days time, the microbes'll take stacks of the oxygen out of the water and sport won't recover for at least a fortnight thereafter".
"Cheers for that", I thought. What with a whole day's fishing ahead of me n' all, I'd preferred to have struggled on oblivious to the facts, ta very much!
Even though he is a very nice fella, it has to be said, he took my money anyway...
Needless to say I caught naff all despite a further few changes of swim (the algae was far worse on the windward side of the lake where it had formed bright green scums) and without once seeing even the smallest sign of a living fish, nary a rise, bubble or bow wave, but undeterred I endeavoured to persevere regardless of the increasingly obvious fact that the fish had clearly abandoned all oxygen consuming activity, like swimming about, and gone hid in their bunkers for the duration, and so with just a two inch lift of the left hand bobbin to show for the whole long summers day's effort I eventually rang up Judy for a somewhat earlier pick up than planned and departed with the evening sun on my back.
Along the path to the car I met with a further three hapless chumps with the same tale to tell and off in the distance I saw a guy who looked familiar spodding out bait in hope of a good session to come. It was Lee. I was pretty sure of it but not quite certain enough to take a long hike right around the lake on the off chance so I took a picture at full zoom and this morning blew it up in Photoshop, recognising his blue and grey Regatta fishing fleece.
I've just sent him text to confirm and sure enough, it was none other.
And, guess how he fared?
That'll be cheque books and pens all round then...
Wait until you see Andy's post from when he fished there the other day.
ReplyDeleteI don't think it's the fish at fault.