Well the Wiltshire Highways will be delighted because this morning the roads a sparkly and slippery. Last nights Fonseca port and Cheese board has left my head muggy and as Mr Plant explains " your head is humming and wont go unless you don't know". So I decide to whack the volume up and let Jimmy page blow away the cobwebs.
A quote from Dave Self came to mind when I crested the hill at Everleigh. The road was more suited to Torvill and Dean. As Dave said, " if its a white road its a bread punch day".
So as I slid down White Horse hill behind the morning Milk Tanker, I wondered if the day would bring Christmas cheer.
Jimmy Page gave way to The Levellers and " the girl from 15 years ago and the boys from the late night lock in" as I arrived at the lake.
The Lake had succumbed to the sub zero rural temperatures. Cat Ice covered the bottom half of the lake forcing even more colour out of the lake. A good turn out of 14 meant I only had to leave out peg 16 and 1.
Facing a little abuse over my handlebar moustache; and questioned as to if I was related too or indeed was I KFC Col Sanders. I explained that I was Wing Commander Williams, and should be treated with some respect. You can imagine the uncouth response.
Rules briefed the draw began and I was almost trampled in the rush. I recorded who was on what peg, which included Roly Phillips (below) again on peg 8 and again peg 8 was drawn as golden peg.
I had said I would give Chas a pound if either of us drew in section 2 at the Carp end. It was safe. Yet again I drew 7 and Chas 4. Once again Brian was on my left and also in the same section James Carty, Si Burden Neil Pegrum. So tough section if we can catch.
As I walked past James I commented at least he still had the remains of the big lily pad to hold a few fish. He didn't seem pleased with his draw.
The match begins and first cast Will has snagged a big Chubb on the method with a big lump of luncheon meat. The rest of us hold pleasant conversation as James is the only one catching and they are small fish. The match enters its 40th minute before I decide to change from fishing the far bank on the waggler. I haven't had a bite, so come back over the inside bread punch line.
The sun has struggled close to its zenith on this mid winters day; and it reveals a gin clarity in the water. I can see the bottom ring on my net and the 8 inch circle of licky bread on the bottom. There is a lovely 6 inch Gold fish right at my feet.
The Goldfish held station just of the bottom pectoral fins gently fanning the surrounding water. Gift Horse me thinks. I lowered punch so slowly it slid down the forehead of the fish. It remained motionless less its pecs, and seemed oblivious to the food on offer. Pinkie, Squat, worm and caster. The Goldfish zoned out the offerings and remained implacable to all laid before it.
I went back to the waggler and as last time on this peg, hung the first of the Christmas wagglers in the tree opposite. Mirth and merriment followed from Brian and all around. But I didn't bite. This the new me it don't matter its just fishing. Tackled up again and aimed north to the far bank. Beautiful ideal perfect. It amazes me that you can cast 20 or thirty times and land it on a tea plate then from nowhere you are in a tree.
Metronomically I landed the still water blue float and the size 22 in the same place; and the pinkie fluttered to the detritus covering the far side shelf.
Worryingly though despite this expert display of waggler fishing, no fish were there to reward me. I tried the whip again but no fish had moved over the licky. Change and out to the 7 meter line. 15 minutes on bottom, with nothing meant I slid the pole in and out moving the bait a few inches up of bottom at a time. In the hope I would be able to find the thermal layer the fish were responding in.
Nothing.
Brian has just had a tiny fish, and Jim Broomham down in section 2, has had a Carp. The cat ice has long gone and rain spattered the surface. The first of the blank net fears are settling in on my left shoulder and whispering in my ear. "loser, you cant fish, loser. All the gear no idea, loser."
Thoughts return to the Goldie at my feet. Orientation had changed slightly as it took in its surroundings. Torpid and immovable it once again ignored the gold, frankincense and Muir I laid at his Christmas dinner table. Then with an imperceptible flick of its tail it glided out and away from me.
Brian's had enough and even fishing 17.5 meters to the far side with his pole he has nothing. He mentions the word embarrassment once again, wondering where he was going wrong. Back on the waggler and the float dips a little on the drop so like a cobra I strike into a tiny squat fish. One each Brian.
Chas has had a couple as well and Neil, a bonus Perch. JC is still scratching out the tiny stuff as is Si Burden. Brian and I are distinctly worried, we just cant buy a bite; and whilst the others are only catching tiny, tiny fish we are being roundly beaten.
Brian gets out the prayer mat. But it does no good.
The main voice in my head (Mr Poison) is again whispering in my ear, and as I twitch at the word "loser" float number two adorns the decorated tree opposite. Laugh it off, you can catch fish you are not a loser. As if to prove the point another tiny fish comes to a mid water up in the water rig.
But that was it really. Visitors came and went, I hooked and lost a Mallard duck, who took my 24 hook and a squat bait as it swam by. Hooked in the bum meant even Duck a' l'Orange was not on the Christmas menu. Chas caught a couple more small fish but even those who managed to draw where the fish were glad when I shouted "all out"
The lake is a weird. When it switches off it does so big style.
The weigh in begins and it doesn't look good with only Jimmy catching anything of note. Even Spanners, and Pete White capable anglers had struggled. Leo showing a little class but having to fish a 6 ounce bottom and a tiny bait to scratch a few small ones. Section one and the first three pegs by the inlet produce a little but it gets worse the further away from the inlet you get.
So what can I take from today. Well good anglers around me struggled so its not me. Its the lake, the Ice. Had a nice day waggler fishing, nice to get away from the pole for a bit.
My tackle box admin is in a mess. I need to restock the wagglers and other sundry items. The kit needs a bloody good clean. But best of all as you can see below, I beat Brian by half an ounce and clawed back a point on him. Have a feeling I may be down to 3rd in Champs as Si Burden passes me.
Just like to note the great 5 points for Chas Short well done for sticking at it mate.
Well done to all the winners.
Jim and James occasional fishers this year on the lake, come in and walk away with some funds - bloody nerve.
Well done to Will Tapper cracking Chubb, 3 lb 7 oz - shame you weren't in the silvers pool. Bit of head scratching as not all were in the super pools and silvers pool. Which meant JC whilst third still filled his pocket with top super pools, and the silvers as well.
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