Being afloat can open up a wealth of new angling opportunities
Pick up your paddle and expand your fishing horizons, says THOM AIRS
FISHING has a habit of inducing tunnel vision. You can become fixated on a certain species, a particular venue or a specific target. Everything in your peripheral vision slides out of focus and your angling becomes locked on a narrow course.
Which is absolutely fine. After all, it’s this single-mindedness that creates the finest anglers, but it can rob you of some of the joys of our sport. My own angling myopia centred on carp fishing, and it took a change of surroundings to snap me out of this trance.
Moving to a new town, with a perch-filled river running through it, I eased myself into light lure fishing. And when I realised all the best fish lived under a bridge beyond casting distance, the scales fell from my eyes as I remembered the kayak gathering dust in my parents’ garage.
The kayak was a birthday present and I used it to explore rivers and streams, but somehow never associated it with hooks and line. My tunnel vision didn’t allow me to consider how useful a nimble little vessel could be for injecting some fun back into fishing.
Teething problems
Ten years later, with the cobwebcovered kayak 100 miles away from my new home, I suddenly realised how handy it would be for gaining access to the bigger perch under the bridge.
So, of course I collected the kayak, slipped into the river with grace and caught everything in sight? Well… not quite.
“I rediscovered the simple joys of angling”
A bit like using a two-seater sports car as a fishing wagon, my kayak wasn’t designed with anglers in mind. It was built to twist and turn in fast-flowing water and keep the occupant away from the wet stuff by way of a spray deck – a neoprene gasket sealing paddler and boat as one.
There was nowhere to securely stash a rod, or put the paddle when swapping between the two, and certainly no cubby holes for bait and tackle. On my first outing I shuffled off the low banks, paddle in hand and rod in teeth. My tackle was slung over my shoulder in an oversized bum bag and I ended up laying my short lure rod across the spray deck as I paddled, gripping it with an elbow if it looked like slipping off. Switching between paddle and rod wasn’t easy, but on that first trip on a summer’s evening it was like discovering the simple joys of angling all over again.
Untapped potential
A purpose-built fishing kayak would have helped. These are generally longer, more stable and open-decked, so the occupant has somewhere to keep multiple rods and deal with fish easily. They are also pock-marked with cubby holes and built-in rod rests.
My set-up is certainly more challenging to use, but no less fun. I instantly caught more fish, and bigger ones at that. Gliding almost silently into position next to the buttress of a bridge, or peering directly into previously unreachable holes with polarising glasses, is a revelation.
My enjoyment was impossible to hide, and after that initial summer afloat two colleagues bought proper fishing kayaks and joined me for a slice of the action.
Suddenly our fishing landscape didn’t look so narrow. We could explore running water unreachable by bankside casting and take to reservoirs like Toft Newton, where you can bring your own vessels.
Paddling pitfalls
Of course, the use of kayaks in angling isn’t without pitfalls and notes of caution. All anglers looking to paddle into position must make sure the watercourse allows kayaking and buy boat permits if necessary. A life jacket is essential and it pays to have a dry bag for valuables.
I’ve never once rolled my kayak while fishing from it, and first-timers might be surprised by how stable everything is, but always be mindful of currents and floodwater.
My biggest obstacle to date has been a swan, and a big one at that. This protective parent lived on a stretch full of good perch and made anyone in a boat aware of its presence. I’d successfully given it a wide berth a few times, but at dawn on June 16 I was on the river filming my opening-day exploits with a GoPro camera mounted to the front of my kayak.
I was afloat by 4.30am, gliding through the mist, when the familiar swan hissed a morning greeting. I was deliberately a long way from its nest and heading further away, so took little notice.
I thought a puffed chest and a wing flap – from the swan, not me – would be the end of it, until I heard the ‘slap-slap-slap’ of a wings on water. It charged across the water with wings at full stretch and clobbered me while the camera attached to my bow gleefully flashed its red LED and recorded the whole embarrassing incident.
Angry birdlife aside, I’ve had some of the best sessions of my life from a kayak, and it doesn’t require an expensive, purposebuilt vessel, just a bit of common sense and a desire to explore.