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Dave Gladwell writes...CARP & Yorkshire's
Dad worked on the buses and brought up in a London Children's home, religion was his staff in life so our Strict Baptist upbringing was arduous at times to say the least. My pals all called him, "Holy Joe who walks with his knees in front", for indeed so he did. An ardent Lay preacher, he would on many a Sunday afternoon, hop us on to a bus with his free pass. Off we would go into the Surrey countryside, in his black homburg hat, to preach in some tiny Baptist Bethel. It was all very well the Lord being so powerful, commanding total involvement on Sundays in exchange for a place in the Kingdom of Heaven; but surely by the waterside I could worship his wondrous works too? Regrettably, despite such pleas, in those days, Father would never hear of angling excursions on a Sunday. This week He was lay preaching at Wood Street. On the Green, near the corrugated-iron Church, laid a small pond, in which it was reputed, lived leviathan carp. So, shortly before the service began, my young eager eyes wistfully gazed into clear waters. They boggled and my pulse quickened, in amazement at the sheer size of the inhabitants. One was surely as large as Richard Walker's new, then 1952, 44 lb record Clarissa in London Zoo? Well, maybe? For good boyhood anglers are never short of a great imagination alongside optimism and unbounded talent for exaggeration. Soon some big fish inspected my few pieces of bread thrown upon the surface. One particular specimen with a large gold-scaled body swirled, turning beat its tail upon the crust with particular force, then greedily snatched softened pieces from under the surface. The ensuing ripples left an air of excitement and elation. Next Saturday, I resolved, there would be a return to launch an assault upon this impressive species. Later, Dad's sermon was particularly encouraging with reference to Ecclesiastic's 11. verse 1. "Cast your bread upon the waters", he had said quite clearly, then emphasizing it would be "returned unto you many fold". His reference, 'And give us this day our daily bread,' sounded a bit over the top though. Morning came at last, with a keen visit to Jefferies Guildford gun and fishing tackle emporium. "Twisted nylon casts to size four sea hooks, please," I asked. With this and my twenty-pound breaking strain brown silk line it was intended to land a mighty carp from its lair. To become the new British Record holder was in mind also, for enthusiasm and not reality was the ruler! On the Greenline Country Bus hedgerows passed by. "Tickets please",' the inspector called and punched the pink piece. Soon familiar scenes heralded arrival at the worshipful pond. "Come to me and I will make ye Fishers of Men," I recalled wryly. Yes! There they were. Four of them, beside a bush. Bodies, huge and heavy. The dorsal fins at times gently cutting the surface of the water. Then so stationary. Sentinel and satisfying. Marvellous! Magnificent! "Jesus Christ" they are huge I extolled in worship and blasphemy! Now Mum had not got any bread to spare but she placated me with the remnants of Sunday's Yorkshire Pudding. Some soft, some doughy and also a few quite crispy bits. Hands trembled as the tougher bits were torn from its doughy counterparts and impaled upon the hook ready to cast. Ah, but wait. What was it the Good Lord said about, "returning unto ye many fold?" Indeed, time to feed a few advance samples. Gathering bankside mud on bare knees, Mum's Yorkshire pud was offered on the surface. The Carp inspected it cautiously, then in a while, slowly sucked in some morsels, taking what seemed an eternity. (Probably wondering how on earth they had arrived there all the way from Yorkshire I expect?). My baited hook alighted gently near the shoal and started to sink a fraction. There was a sudden swirl as the bait disappeared from view! The cane rod was nearly wrenched from my hand as an indignant mighty Mirror drove hard. Two hands held the cork handle feeling the bucking bronco as it boiled the water betraying its great weight, thrashing angrily. It rolled and turned, probably about a stone of golden body putting its broad tail onto the line, snapping it at the looped knots like frail cotton. I had seen every sparse shimmering scale and the size of its head in that moment. Then all was quiet and peculiarly still. Not a fish to be seen, anywhere. Nothing! I felt gutted and empty. One hour passed. Two became three, then the float dipped and disappeared. Anticipation of a similar struggle was envisaged but after half a dozen lunges a two-pound mirror carp came exhausted to the surface. Glinting and gleaming on the grass and so stunning, it was my first carp ever. A new personal best for the Logbook the radiance of which I have never forgotten, but time to go. These days I often buy frozen pre-prepared Yorkshire's in a pack from the Supermarket. Thaw a couple and tip into a separate little bowl, then just give a couple of them a few minutes in the microwave. Avoiding the Cooking Oven keeps them nice and stodgy! On a size 8 tied straight through to a 6 lb line, tench and bream like it too! That Carp's escape has always inspired me, and it is still a good, unusual bait. The tale certainly used to make my Mum smile. Because me - only 14 year's old - had nearly caught a record carp - well - maybe - you know what I mean! The tale certainly used to make my Mum smile. "My Yorkshire's!" she would claim. Today Carp fishing is an exclusive art for the best specimens but plenty of Commercial Fisheries will throw up a11 lb specimen like this one for me from Wrentham House Pond.
A handy place to catch carp in double figures is the Commercial fishery at Weybread Mill Fishery at the top of the village, where Earsham Club Secretary Adrian Dorling, and his pal 14-year old "Charlie" caught these two 16 Ib beauties on unsophisticated tackle or techniques. To start on smaller specimens to 6lbs try Bales Nursery Fishery at Ellingham to get your eye in! Dave Gladwell www.bungay-suffolk.co.uk |
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