Back to Angling Page

click here

See Fishing Tips

Dave Gladwell's Fishing Tips

Another Cast
There was a time when the Carp was a revered species and seldom caught - these days with many carp in commercial fisheries it is nothing like my past pursuits - BUT BREAD FLAKE IS STILL ONE OF THE BEST BAITS EVER.

TO MAKE a couple of thick slices of ordinary bread TACKY: Give it just 12-15 seconds in the microwave then damp it by spreading a little water in between on a surface, close together, and you are away - Supermarket special!

It was all very well the Lord being so powerful and requesting such involvement on Sundays for a place in the Kingdom of Heaven, but surely, and verily so, heaven was also by the waterside. One could worship well the wonders of "His" work in such a place! Now was the time of the School summer holidays and there were plenty of days going spare to fill.

Despite these arguments Father would not hear of excursions upon a Sunday. However there was a little bit of licence to inspect a certain desirable place briefly on a respectable religious outing. Dad was lay preaching at Wood Street.

On the Village Green, near the old corrugated-iron village Bethel, laid a small pond. It was reputed within this half-acre paradise, beside this tatty tin church, lived catchable carp within the confines of the waters. No doubt they found it an easy place to pay homage to their maker from. So, shortly before the service began, young eager eyes wistfully gazed into the clear water. They boggled and the pulse quickened, in amazement at the sheer size of its inhabitants.

Surely some were surely half as large as the new record in London Zoo captured at 44 lbs by Richard Walker from Redmire Lake? Well, maybe one was even bigger! Perhaps? The pieces of crust thrown upon the surface were soon engulfed by a variety of handsome sized creatures to excite my young pulse. One particular specimen turned its large gold scaled body, beat its tail upon the crust and turned to snatch it from the surface with particular force. The ensuing ripples left an air of excitement and elation hitherto inexperienced.
Tomorrow it was resolved there would be a return with suitable tackle to launch an organised assault upon the attractive species.

The Service in the Chapel began.
"Let us Pray," interrupted my thoughts. Indeed let us so do, for large catches on the "blessed morrow". Pray hard indeed I thought!
Dad's sermon was particularly encouraging with good reference to Ecclesiastic's 11. verse 1. "Cast your bread upon the waters" he had said quite clearly. Then emphasising quite positively, it would be returning unto you many fold. In a lot of ways similar to that which the revered "Saint Mr Allington" my tutor next door, had explained in the process of groundbaiting for Bream! Perhaps Dad was interested in fishing after all! The reference, 'And give us this day our daily bread,' sounded a bit strong as we didn't really mind paying for the bait.

However, all this took on a new meaning with considerable fervour in view of the monsters in the pond just a short prayer away. No doubt the baker down the road would be spared any pending disaster for this "the blessed morrow", everyone was on about if I prayed hard enough!
Morning came at last and a visit to the venerable fishing tackle shop for "twisted nylon casts to size eight hooks, please", was made. None of your yard Gut Bottoms today! Here was the quipment suitable to tie to a fifteen pound waxed braid cotton line to prize the specimens from their lairs, and for the modest sum of a few pence.

The green bus arrived at the stop and the ticket purchased. "Tickets please",' the inspector called and punched the offered pink piece. Hedgerows passed by until familiar scenes heralded arrival at the worshipful pond alongside yesterday's place of praise and pleas to the Lord."Come to me and I will make ye Fishers of Men," I muttered wryly within the wisdom of my twelve full years, anxious to keep in with this big God Bloke upstairs.

Yes! There they were. Four of them set together beside the overhanging bush. Grey bodies, huge and heavy. The dorsal fins at times cutting the surface of the water. Waiting, watching, hoping for a feed maybe. Silent. Stationery. Sentinel and satisfying. Marvellous! Magnificent!

The hands trembled as the rod rings were threaded and the new hook length fixed below the porcupine float.The fresh crust was 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 this was time to feed a few advance samples. In prone position, gathering bankside mud on bare elbows and knees, small pices were thrown carefully on the surface. Within a few minutes the Carp inspected and slowly sucked in the morsels, taking what seemed an eternity.

Confidence built as the baited hook alighted near the shoal. There was a sudden swirl and the rod was nearly wrenched from the hand. The giant swirling Mirror drove hard for the bottom. Two hands held the cork handle feeling the bucking bronco deep down. The boil of the water betrayed its great weight as it thrashed angrily. My heart pounded. It came to the surface, rolled and turned its tail onto the line and snapped it like a frail cotton. Then all was quiet and peculiarly still. There were no fish to be seen, anywhere Nothing! No new record!
Re-kitted up one hour passed and then another. Two became three and as the fourth hour approached the float dipped and disappeared. After a few lunges a three pound fully scaled mirror carp came exhausted to the surface. It lay glinting and gleaming as valued as any treasure could be.

It was the first carp ever. A new entry for the Log book and for all the world spelt success to the end of a good day as I boarded the bus. There would be a return, not once but many times, and the first fierce struggle never forgotten, inspiring efforts over the years in a variety of places.

The stuff that dreams are still made of !

www.bungay-suffolk.co.uk