‘n’ dace

Anglers Mail - - Anglers -

The pool looked sock-on as well, a nice colour, and seem­ingly a nice depth – it looked per­fect.

So why was no one fish­ing it? I had walked past it a few times and driven past it more times than I care to re­mem­ber, yet still I hadn’t seen any­one fish it, un­til yes­ter­day.

I drove past, gave it a non­cha­lant glance and nearly caused a pile up when I saw some­one giv­ing it a go there.

I slammed on the brakes, and with as much han­dling as you can get out of a Toy­ota Hilux, I man­aged to swerve into the nar­row en­trance, only col­lid­ing with three peo­ple!

I did the ‘an­gler walk-up’ to the un­sus­pect­ing man. You know, THE an­gler walk, a slow one, but pur­pose­ful and al­ways with both of your hands be­hind your back.

“Done any good, youth?” (I’m in with the Notts lingo now).

The old fella replied: “Yes mate, I’ve had a great day, three bream on the ’tip.”

That was enough for me. It had fish in, and although the old fella didn’t look… let’s say, the most pro­fes­sional, he had caught, and with tele­scopic rod, curly 20 lb mono and all!

As I pulled up the next day, there was a small ob­struc­tion be­hind the pegs. Well, I say small, let’s say a great big flip­pin’ cir­cus, com­plete with death wall and other cir­cussy stuff!

Ah well, it wouldn’t af­fect the fish­ing that much, would it? The pool should still pro­duce.

Apart from the cir­cus, the other small de­tail was that it wasn’t a pool, it was ac­tu­ally a mill pool, or river off­shoot.

All was go­ing well so far, as I rushed to the plat­form to get my gear set up.

As I was just about to get set­tled in, the ‘youth’ popped over with his dog, telling me about his con­quest yes­ter­day.

“Did you get any more, youth?” (See, I’m good at lo­cal lingo). “No more, me duck,” he replied. “Three was enough. It’s the only three bites I’ve had all year on here.”


So the pool wasn’t a pool, it was a river, a cir­cus had come to town, and be­sides fish­ing rock hard, it was ab­so­lutely crys­tal clear… I mean crys­tal! I could see ev­ery leaf 10-15 me­tres out.

When Chappy ar­rived and saw it, he gave me a look that can­not be repli­cated nor de­scribed. It was one of those looks that could scare a dead­bait back to life!

I won’t re­peat what he said, but let’s say he wasn’t con­fi­dent, and to be hon­est nei­ther was I.

Un­de­terred, I threw out a small cage feeder to a likely spot, filled with my most bestest, win­ningest ground­bait mix that’ll at­tract ’owt.

It’s not a great se­cret: I mix up half a bag of Dy­na­mite

Sil­ver X with half a bag of Dy­na­mite Black, and for some rea­son it mixes and works per­fectly. And, no, I’m not spon­sored. I have a till re­ceipt.

Con­tin­ued over 19


Def­i­nitely wind in my wil­lows.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from UK

© PressReader. All rights reserved.