More spare time, more opportunity for reconnecting with our glorious English countryside and the motivation of a shared endeavour to catch something special. Thank Izaak I didn't sell my rods and with them my church.
A story of something new you ask? Something fresh, one of twists, turns, happy endings, and the like of which I at least I have never witnessed before?
Settle in. This is a belter.....
Kids in tow, my good friend Dan and I arrived at the campsite pool at almost exactly the same time. Whips were prepared for the boys who had maggots and endless silvers on their mind whilst my girl resolved to sit it out down the very edge for something larger.
Waterfowl abounded - moorhens, coots, geese, you name it. All were present with their young clutch in tow. Cute.
Our makeshift party had the outward appearance of travelling folk such was the bustle, chatter and general good humour. My girl held a vigil over her float positioned tight to the grass.
Within thirty minutes Abbey struck into something taking both line and a liking to the corn and the fish attached became the centre of our party's concentration. Whips were laid down, landing nets were readied far too early and everyone stood.
The scrap with the fish went according to plan. I'd set the clutch sympathetically and it was give and take for a while.
That's when shit got weird.
A pair of swans with half a dozen cygnets made haste to where we all stood. Abbey doesn't like swans: 'break your arm' and all that so she was the first to exit the scene.
The rod was rapidly handed to me and the fish landed by Dan's eldest son. Meanwhile the swan family had climbed out of the pool and the parent's wings were spread. They hissed, they flapped and they ran at us. Every minor sought refuge in my car.
Dan and I looked at each other dumbfounded. The carp lay on the unhooking mat but every time we tried to get anywhere near it we were driven away.
The carp, not unreasonably becoming tired of the the air decided to flap on the mat at which point both feathered parents charged it and started beating the fish up with their wings as it lay on the ground.
The unhooking mat blew away in the wind and despite mine and Dan's most manly efforts with landing nets and loud voices we couldn't get near the fish without being forced to retreat.
At this point Dan put his beer down.
After a conflab he got into his car and drove the aggressive parents away from the fish by sounding his horn and flashing his lights at no more than one mile an hour.
This gave me opportunity to retrieve the fish, take a quick phone snap and foregoing any ceremony of weighing return it to the water where it rested before swimming away.
For the record I'm sure it was the same fish we caught last outing here and which Abbey is holding in that post's final photo.
Not content in ruining the carp's day the swans went on to attack a caravan, an awning, a man walking across the field with a water roller before finally moving onto the canal presumably to sink a number of barges.
Since this episode I caught a nice carp - 19.3 from Jubilee pools.
There's been plenty of this....
...and this....
.... and even this.....
The final atrocity captured on camera during our memorably session with the swans was when Dan's two young boys brutally chased my son and beat him relentlessly with wild rhubarb. I don't think he will ever recover!!! :)
This fishing lark is also harder than I remember, I've also:
- Not caught a carp from the canal
- Not caught a carp from Ryton
- Not caught a carp at Jubilee
But the rivers are back in now,,,
As I type at 23:00 there's still a gloaming of light out there... make the most of it boys.
Cheers.
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