Monday 7th May 2018
Friezland Pools, Bosworth Water Park, Leicestershire
Temperature – 27 degrees
My latest adventures on the
bankside saw me heading over to the fishery where it all began for me three
years ago, following a quick chat at work between Luke and myself when we decided
to head over to Friezland Pools on Bank Holiday Monday. For years I had no interest in fishing and
often berated Luke and Damian for participating in what I then considered a
barbaric sport, but look at me now. I am
a piscatorial monster and I lay the blame squarely at the feet of Luke Smith.
With the promise of fine weather
I figured that I would be better off heading over to the fishery for when it opened,
but as usual I dillied and dallied at home and it was about 07:30 when I set
off on the 30 mile trip from Birmingham and headed up the M42. The drive was uneventful and I had planned on
leaving the venue and driving straight to my hotel that had been booked for me
at Sedgefield, Co. Durham, for the night so I could get an early start on a job
at Bishop Auckland on Tuesday. It was
then that I realised that as usual I had forgotten something at home and this
time it was my Citolopram anxiety medication.
I considered turning around but I’d missed a few days anyway so another
one wouldn’t make much difference. I
know that the medication is to help me, I know that I should take it and I know
it’s something I should remember to do every day but some days I just forget.
By the time I arrived at 08.45,
there was one peg next to Luke left and the place was heaving with
anglers. They have four pools at the
venue, one has only ever been used for match fishing whenever I’d been there, one
is for night fishing only and the other two, the Main Pool and Pam’s Pool are
for day ticket fishing, but today it seemed that all of them were in use. I parked up and got my seat box onto the peg
so no-one could steal it from under my nose and began to set up. Luke told me the fish were spawning and the
margins were full of randy Carp, both Mirror’s and Common’s, so that kind of
determined that today was going to be a loaded waggler sort of day and so I set
up my 12’ Maver Match rod with my trusty Daiwa Harrier reel, the float was a 6”
loaded crystal insert waggler. I’d
bought a set of pole rollers and a really good selection of pole rigs (14 rigs
for £12) on amazon recently and was hoping to use those but the circumstances
dictated otherwise.
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| Luke's peg (left) and mine (centre) |
The Carp were busy splashing
around in the reeds or feeding on the surface so I guessed fishing the bottom
might not get me too many bites so after plumbing the depth I set up so I would
be a few inches off dead depth. The plan
was to keep the fish interested in the swim with small but regular feeding of
three or four maggots every minute or so, nothing too much, just enough to keep
them there and also give them a chance to deed with confidence. I then fixed a SSG shot to the hook and cast
out about five or six metres in front and to the left and got the depth there
sorted. I now had my guides for the
areas I was going to target and was ready to start fishing. It was now that it struck me just how much I’d
improved since my first time and that all the magazine articles I’ve been reading
have sunk in. When I first started I
never knew about plumbing the depth of the water, what signs to look for in a
swim or which tactics I was going to adopt, so I kind of surprised myself.
The first few hours were very
quiet with the odd nudge of the float or line bite but I wasn’t alone as no-one
around me seemed to be getting anywhere but there was the odd fish caught and I
landed a few Commons and Mirrors weighing around 1 1/2lbs or so and a couple of
young Commons that sat comfortably in the palm of my hand, youngsters from
early in the year I’m guessing. There
were a few times when I’d lost the fish right on the edge of the landing net
but I wasn’t upset or frustrated by it, I was just glad to be fishing and
enjoying the company of Luke and his lad Rhys.
We sat on the bankside just chilling out, discussing the issues at work
and just relaxing.
Luke had started off with his
feeder rod and had his second rod set up with his control float rig for surface
fishing with breadflake. Throughout the day
there had been a flurry of activity with a raft of Mallard ducks over by the
island and one poor female becoming the focus of attention of about five or six
randy males who seemed hell bent on mating with her. The female was having none of it and was very
vocal in her protestations at this unwelcome attention and kept trying to make
her escape but they just did not seem to understand she wasn’t interested and
pursued her around the pool. By now Luke
had switched to the control float and was about to provide the first comedy
moment of the day. The female had
decided that enough was enough and made good her escape via the peg next to
Luke’s, and she went with a real attitude as well as she waddled up the bank
and looking over her shoulder. It looked
like she was really pee’d off and in a right mardy mood. Anyway, this now meant Luke had four or five
males right in front of him, just where he was casting. One of these males decided that he’d grab
some of the bread on offer and after scoffing the nearest bit of bread he was
off. However, he’d taken Luke’s bait and
he took off, presumably after the hook dug in, and began to fly away from
Luke. The line ran out and the duck had
reached about eight or nine feet from the water when his head jerked back and
his backside overtook it as he somersaulted from the sky and hit the water like
a Japanese kamikaze pilot that had missed his target.
I sat there giggling like a
lunatic as Luke tried several times to reel his catch in but the duck would
come so far and then flap furiously and get away or would tangle itself up in
the line and panic a little more.
Throughout it all there was a calmness coming from Luke’s peg but on the
odd occasion there was a swear word or two that passed his lips. Eventually he managed to get the duck on the
bankside and had to sit with the body clamped between his legs and both hands
around the neck as Rhys unhooked and untangled the beast. Of course a proper mate would have rushed
over to assist but I was too busy laughing and it looked like he had everything
under control. Luke then washed the
ducks bill and held onto the bird until he was satisfied there was no lasting
damage done and then helped it on its way skywards with a gentle toss into the
air. Funnily enough we didn’t see any
other ducks come near us after this little episode.
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| Typical shot patterns |
By now the sun was getting really
hot and the big lake on the water park which is across the road was getting
busy. The noise suggested there were
quite a few making the most of the fine weather and cars were being parked up
around the entrance to the fishing pools as the crowds arrived to enjoy the
Bank Holiday sunshine. The fishing
seemed to have died off a little, something I have noticed about this fishery
in the past though so I wasn’t too surprised.
Things quieten down for a few hours but then suddenly pick up again when
the fish begin feeding again and it was during this lull in the activity that I
decided to enter the dark and murky world of shotting patterns and see if minor
adjustments would improve the presentation.
I moved the little Preston Innovations No.8 Shotz around the line to
different configurations that I had been reading about in the magazines too see
which worked best and I was astounded when I started to pick up bites. I have considered shotting to be something of
a dark art, but a few tweaks really can make a difference.
The sun was getting so hot that
we began to start taking regular breaks in the shade by Luke’s car and knocking
the fluids back to keep us rehydrated and poor Rhys looked to be wilting in the
sun. We made sure he was regularly
applying suncream, as we all were, but it did get uncomfortable around
lunchtime and any breeze was welcome.
Around mid-afternoon I decided it was time to hit the margins, which I had
been feeding regularly throughout the day with a few maggots every so
often. It was like the fish were lining
up to be caught and I was pulling out some nice Carp. I mentioned to Luke that I’d had no Roach or
Perch which was unusual for the fishery and he said he’d had none either and we
decided that they must be hiding away from the spawning Carp who had been
splashing around in the reeds all day.
It was around this time that I
had an experience that I never want to go through again. I had a decent Common in my landing net and
bought the net to my lap so I could unhook it.
I held the fish firmly with my left hand as I used the disgorger with
the right. I was aware of something
running down my leg but just assumed it was lake water, so imagine my surprise
when I looked down to see the milky whiteness of the Carp’s passion porridge
running down my leg. I now had some idea
of what those naughty girls from my area went through after they had been
diddled in the local brook after the Thursday night disco at the Hurst Road
Community Centre. I felt slightly sick,
but then a feeling of guilt washed over me when I thought that this poor fish
might only get one chance to deposit his stuff and because of me he would have
to wait another year. I quickly cleaned
myself up and released the fish back into the lake and decided to keep quiet
about it, but then a voice from the peg next to me on my left said “The dirty b*****d
has dumped his load all over me” and so I didn’t feel quite so violated.
Right then it’s time to head off
now and prepare for the joys that tomorrow will bring, but before I do I would
like to ask that people leave a comment or two below. I’d like to know what everyone thinks of
these ramblings but sometimes I feel like I’m the only one reading them….
See you on the bankside…..
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