Why I fish……

I have three passions in life…… in no particular order……My family, Rugby and of course Fishing. However my passion for the latter has some what dwindled over the past few weeks, since my grandfather fell sick about a month ago and sadly passed away. For once in my life I found it hard to find the motivation to get a line wet.

A few weeks ago, my wife questioned if I would be going fishing that weekend, and to her surprise, I responded with a statement of discontent, suggesting ‘I couldn’t be bothered’. That evening, I was sat pondering my thoughts as many people do in times of tribulations. The response I gave my wife was troubling me. I have never turned down the opportunity to go fishing. Normally I would grab any opportunity to go, with gusto. So much so, that I tried to get out for a quick session an hour before I was due to attend a rehearsal at the Church, the day before my wedding! Yet here I was, really not having any desire to fish, and I questioned why I even bother to go fishing in the first place.

The following day my question was answered. It was the last Sunday before to the river season closed, and this would be my last opportunity fish it again until June. So I decided to forcibly get myself out for an hour or so and target the Chub that I know frequent a small mill pool close to my home. Normally I use bread flake as a hook bait, however as it wasn’t very warm and we had had a lot of rain two or three days prior, I wanted something that had a little more smell and attraction. Only one bait to turn to…. Cheese. My home made Cheese paste was in the freezer still and I hadn’t thought to defrost it in advance. I really couldn’t be bothered to venture into Sainsbury’s, so I called into my local shop on the way to the mill. The only Cheese they had….. Cheese strings. It would have to do.

I arrived at the Mill with my 1.5lb Quizzer tip rod, a fixed spool reel loaded with 6lb main line, a small trout net and minimal tackle. I threaded on a small maggot feeder on to the main line and pitched on an S.S swan shot, to keep some distance between the feeder and the hook. I then tied on a size 6, Drennan Specimen Plus hook using a simple five turn water knot. A few crushed tiger nut flavoured boils from Hinders that I'm currently testing, filled the maggot feeder, this was simply to create a small cloud and add extra attraction downstream. With the intention of enticing any fish that may be sitting down stream, to move up back upstream to my swim to feed. A lump of Cheese String, about the size of my thumb nail surrounded my hook.

My chosen swim was between a small island in the middle of the river, and the calm waters of the mill pool. The river had a perfect colour and the flow was pushing through at a steady, but not to aggressive pace. With this in mind, I thought the Chub would be sitting out of the current, in the ‘Crease’ between the flow and slack water. A good cast downstream from the mill wall, landed bang on the money, and with my rod almost vertical against the railings, I gingerly tightened down to the feeder…. It was now a waiting game.

I have to say I wasn’t too optimistic. It was still rather cold, and the water had not really warmed up a great deal since winter. Where I was fishing was quite shallow, perhaps only two and half foot deep. The Chub could still be shoaled up in the deeper waters further downstream, which are inaccessible from the bank. After about 90 seconds of my line being in the water, my rod tip shot in to life, as if it was connected to a defibrillator. It was a definite indication of fish, but it wasn’t a definitive bite. Then the rod tip slowly bent over and I was into a fish.

The fish put up a spirited fight in the current, but with 6lb line and a big hook, there was to be only one winner. As the Chub graced my landing net, I could see that it was absolutely nailed in the left hand corner of its mouth. Its size was very deceiving. I was expecting it to be at least 4lbs, however the scales tipped just over 3lbs. Due to my lack of organisation, I forgot to pack the tripod for a good photo. Being on my own, my only option was to prop my phone up on the railings and get a quick snap before slipping my capture back to start enjoying the quietness of closed season. I cast another line, but I think all the commotion of the first fish had killed my swim dead. It was home for my next passion….Rugby.

That evening, I was over the moon with my catch, I only had one fish, but I was out for no longer than 40 minutes, so I was satisfied. My thoughts started to wonder to answers to the question, why do I love fishing so much? Firstly, I think it’s the excitement of not knowing what’s going to happen. On some days, conditions can be text book, yet you don’t catch, but on days when you think you’re really up against it, you can end up having a red letter day. Man has been hunting for fish since the dawn of civilisation, and although I never intend to eat my capture, it’s that need to hunt that’s ingrained in my DNA that drives me to venture out in conditions, that other people think are ridiculous. Angling is essentially man trying to outsmart fish and when your float slides away, the rod buckles over, or the bite alarm screams at you, the buzz you get cannot be described. I guess what it boils down to, is knowing that the tactics you have deployed have finally paid off. All Anglers go through spells of not catching, it can drive even the most strong-minded soul to insanity and you can easily fall into the trap of second guessing your strategy, or more worryingly your own ability. But when that fish slips into your net, you know you have won.

Fishing has also given me so much to be thankful for like the appreciation of nature, and the ability to view some of the spectacles that it has to offer. But most importantly all the memories that I have made while sat behind a rod. I have so many fond memories that I have made with my father thanks to Angling. The same applies to my father who spent a life time on the bank of a river with my grandfather, making some unforgeable memories. It’s for this reason that my grandfather’s final wish was to have his ashes scattered on the banks of the River Great Ouse, in Beachampton, Buckinghamshire. A stretch that was the scene of my grandfather’s greatest capture, 6 Roach all over 2lbs in one evening. Fishing has the ability to create magical memories like these that, that makes it all worthwhile, and always has ‘A bite’ on you.