Nothing on for the Nutters

Its been a funny old week as I flip flopped between looking forward to a weekend off of fishing; and going Piking, or looking for an Open match.  Having decided not fish on Tuesday,Wednesday and a very cold night bought thoughts of Piking. Rod net and rucksack style.  Then Thursday and an invitation to join friends fishing the Roach pegs on the Thames at Lechlade.

It was time to commit, so I said I would join Leo, Spanners and the Pony to fish the pegs we can never seem to draw in a match.

Blow me, if then I didn't get a call for help to fill in on the last round of the UTWL. Thing is with me once committed I don't change.  So Lechlade it was.

School boy error first was not to check on the venue before I made my decision. I fought to keep Poppy on the road as the official 3 rd storm of the winter named "Clodagh" battered us from side to side and we chi-caned between falling branches.

We arrived to find "my little pony" Chris still basking in the glory of his winter league individual triumph.  And it dawned on us all, we have another whole year of it yet to come.  The banter was high as it always is amongst mates and Chris was telling Captain Slow (Leo) to get a move on, and so we formed a convoy and headed for the river.

The horrendous gale force were doing their best to push us all into the Thames.  Even the Swans took a leeward side of the boat using it as a wind break.  The wind was also whipping up the river surface into white topped waves.  The river was on the rise it was chocolate brown, it was full moon last night and blowing a hooly.  Everything pointed to turning around and going home.

However what do the nutters do? Well we decided on a mini match!!  Bloody fools.  Still we decide peg one will be by the bridge which has reasonable protection from the wind up to peg 4 in full wind.

Well you can guess where I drew -yes you got it in the full wind.!

 Spanners (far right) drew the plumb peg by the bridge and between Chris on peg 3 (foreground) Leo on peg 2.  The boys decided to set up the full range of float, feeder rods and a Pole.

Me I had no such luxury it was literally a different day my side of the bush with an open field behind me no chance of a pole. If the wind could nearly blow over me ( and I am a lithe' muscular 20 stone). A carbon pole would be blown clear into the river.

The brief brightness from above returned to dark foreboding skies as we started our mini match.  In went the caster laden ground bait and as it disappeared into the liquid chocolate any hope of a bite went with it.  After an hour of shear bliss, and no bites, humour was flowing out of my wellies.

A dog walker stopped for a laugh and exchange of views.  "Didn't think I would see any foolish fisherman today......... I thought the local home for the mentally disturbed had dissolved their fishing club ho, ho, ho."

I was just about to say listen Santa, take your funny comments and shove them up your ar............... when a particularly strong gust lifted his jack russell of the ground and landed it precariously hanging on from the top of the river bank.  I had to smile, but did feel for the poor little dog, an owner who thinks hes funny and now the god of wind was trying to launch him into the river.

The incident brought home how it was time to seriously think about packing in.  It actually wasn't funny now and was way past tempestuous.

Waves crashed against both banks and no amount of weight on the line (I was using a 3 swan float) was getting the bait down and or making it presentable.

The view in front of me was the definition of storm view; and for the second week in a row, I thought

"what are you doing here you bloody fool".  

Branches nay trees were now floating by with the odd dead sheep and traffic cone.  The river had risen another inch in the past hour; and the circling maelstrom was forcing more and more white tops.  

Just what would it take for me to realise the inevitable and go home.

Leo had come along and he and Spanners like me had, had no bites at all.  The pony had flung the feeder to the middle and hooked a gudgeon. Leo flask in hand went back to his swim and both he and Spanners prudently packed away their poles before a branch came down and made it a very expensive day.

The waves smashed even harder against the banks, almost screaming for my attention. To my right a small section of the bank slid purposefully into the river which made me look at my feet and my position.  

As parts of the bank under my feet crumbled , I looked up to see Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves catching the Point break surf down the middle of the river and decided enough was enough.  

Just packing up was a task in itself. 

Trying to stop kit being blown into the river; and get this when I pulled my empty net out. It took off (bearing in mind it was sopping wet 4 mtrs long and with two sea weights on the end) it was parallel to and 4 feet of the ground like some Matrix sponsored box Kite.

It was the fastest drying net I have ever had.  

I loaded up the trolley and pushed my kit well away from the bank and against a supporting fence.  I went along to my mates who were now all lobbing 50 to 60 gram feeders and trying to get them to hold bottom.  As the Pony was the only one to have a fish I said I would pay him the agreed quid (pools fee) but as my wallet was under several layers of clothes and gore-tex, I wasn't going to strip now.

I bid them farewell just as Spanners landed a half ounce Gudgeon.  Maybe I would owe him instead of the Pony! I will find out later.

See you next time.

Poets part 2

Another offering......

THE HAVE TO HAVE IT ANGLER

He has the overwhelming urge to be the best,

This drives him on, it won’t let him rest.

He’s spent a fortune buying all the latest gear,

There goes another stack of money, I fear.

He reads every angling magazine he can,

To keep up, he’s forever updating his fishing plan.

He’s spotted and buys the latest high tech pole,

In hope it will get him out of his miserable, fishing hole.

He scours the market from morn till night,

What gizmo can help him with this perceived angling plight.

The reels he has, is just not smooth enough,

He must buy the best which he feels is not so rough.

“To beat the rest you need the best”,

He’s even thinking he might have it as a tattoed on his chest.

Each time he thinks he’s got it right,

A new piece of kit appears just overnight.

Local car booters flock to his well stocked stall,

Buying his old gear, cheap, they’re having a ball.

There are many others having his likewise thought,

Thinking angling success can just be bought.

Although he has the latest kit to hand,

He’s again out of luck, he does not land.

He never feels happy and he’s always broke,

Perhaps he would feel better being an average angling bloke.

Very soon with most of his money gone,

He takes a rest, his madness done.

Maybe he’ll try fishing with just the average kit,

Stop tossing money into that bottomless pit.

With the pressure and madness gone, he might just enjoy it.

12^th Aug  2014                                  by   Gordon Rowland

Mid week Poetry corner.........The Angling Matchman

You all know my fishing began with my Brother in law, and still to this day I sit on the bank hoping to make him proud. Well Gordon has another rod in his bag, that of the skill of writing.  He is a published Poetry author and has donated a few offerings for a mid week read for this blog.

So here we go. PS... I think he uses these subliminal messages to pass on wise words to me.  Just to let you know Bruv... I hear you.

THE ANGLING MATCHMAN

Anglers that fish matches are a curious breed,

Some like to follow, some love to lead.

Be they good or bad, lady or lad,

They all rue the luck they never had.

Every single one is fiercely loyal to club and teams,

They know their fears and dream their dreams.

From the loveliness of summer days,

Through autumn and it’s misty, frosty greys.

Then that bleak and icy winter hell,

Those frosty, crunchy walks they know so well.

Their jokes and banter still abound,

Unwavering optimism all around.

They approach the challenge of each match,

Each of them pray to land that special catch.

They hope each time for a winning way,

That this will be their “ Red Letter Day”.

“Silver fish or carp”, they are heard to say,

“Which method should I use today”.

Firstly, they gather together, usually at a cafe or pub,

They fill their stomachs with plenty of grub.

 The favourite fry up usually fills the bill,

They can’t resist and eat their fill.

Now as the draw looms near they begin to feel the heat,

It’s all looking around to see who they have to beat.

Mickey taking banter, now fills the air,

Some managing to smile while others, just glare.

A mixture of a few lucky sods and quite a lot of unlucky bods,

Their chances are now in the “Lap Of The Gods”.

Which of them will feel that, good luck charm,

Which of these anglers has the “Golden Arm”.

This is also the time that their thoughts and fears,

Can reduce a few of them to tears.

Will this day offer them “Doom And Gloom”,

Or go lucky and all out for “Bust Or Boom”.

The matchman’s confidence can very quickly die,

Sometimes it happens in the blink of an eye.

The draw now done, they have an inkling of their fate,

If they’re not now ready then it’s too late.

Is it to be a long quickstep out to their lot,

Or just a short waltz to see what they’ve got.

Will they be plagued by a mass of very thick weed,

Or will their swim be closed in by rushes and reed.

Faith in their ability now swings wildly between high and low,

They are never quite sure, which way it will go.

Tackle has been made up, the swim has now been read,

Do they have a chance, or in their mind, are they already dead.

Having now decided whether to start on the float or the tip,

Have they chosen wisely? Is it right for this trip?

So many things now spring to mind,

Will fate be good? Will fate be kind?

So many choices can turn out wrong along the way,

So many ways to spoil their day.

As “All in” is called, each glances around from left to right,

“My God, this pegging is much too tight”.

It’s now their nightmares spring to mind,

They never seem funny and never seem kind.

Seeing  themselves thrashing away and missing each bite,

Glancing around seeing others, romping out of sight.

Then it’s hooking each fish but losing each fight,

All the while glancing madly, from left to right.

They imagine their feeding, wrong for the day,

Forever changing tactics and losing their way.

Then it’s snapping their line and even breaking their pole,

Then losing the shoal and saying goodbye to their goal.

Seeing the next peg angler hitting his bite,

Secretly wishing that he will lose that fight.

At every draw you want to bag that “Flier Swim”,

Hoping this time it’s you, but no, it’s him.

Another angler has that much sought “Golden Arm”,

Again, he has that elusive “End Peg Charm”.

Some think he may have the devil’s pact,

While others even swear he has, in fact.

But reality shows a different trait,

His success is not merely down to fate.

Agility, experience and info from the other guys,

Has helped this matchman, become really wise.

Hard work, preparation and practice was his way,

To identify the right methods on the day.

Confident that his methods are right for the match,

He sticks with it and soon, he builds up his catch.

Each fish dropped in the net will add to his bag,

He stays, oh so calm, never swears or loses his rag.

Cool and reliable he knows he is “The One To Beat”,

Let’s call this angler “Matchman Pete”.

Every matchman has his dream,

To end the match, like the cat, who got all the cream.

He lives for the day he’s done everything right,

He hooks every fish and wins every fight.

He is loves every minute it makes him feel great,

He now weighs in his catch, a magnificent weight.

Has Pete won his match, he still not quite sure,

His time spent packing up, is just one big blur.

With his head in the clouds, he’s walking on air,

He’s given his all with nothing to spare.

So excited, he runs all the way back to HQ,

On his arrival he finds he’s only one of a few.

Amid applause, he picks up the pool and then takes his prize,

Safe in the knowledge, that no-one, can now take the rise.

The rest of his team will now feel his heat,

They all know that Pete, is the one they must beat.

He puffs out his chest and stands up real tall,

Disliked by a few but respected by all.

As author of this poem I have one thing to say,

Remember this all you matchmen, when you come out to play.

No matter how good you think you are,

Without help from your mates, you won’t get very far.

So try to help each other, here and there,

Confidence and success, should be there, for all to share.

What will be the outcome for each of you.

We all need help from time to time, help each other and be a good sport.

Share all your knowledge and walk the “Walk Of Fame”,

Or keep it all to yourself and soon walk that “Walk Of Shame”.

Keep passing on your knowledge and experience to each and all.

Ensuring the future of our Match Fishing.

Gordon Rowland                                       10th Aug 2014

Pewsey and normal Jogging

After last weeks defeat to Radcot I stayed late into the night constructing a set of six Voodoo dolls clad in Radcot T shirts and Gore-tex. On completion I placed a copy of their photo on the dart board surrounding the dart board with the voodoo dolls; and let the darts fall where they fell this week.  Needless to say if it worked then Pewsey Blue were not the only ones to live with the pain this past week.

It was with some difficulty I turned out this morning.  Hard frost and a bloody cold night had left Poppy whiter than white; and she struggled to chug into life (battery needs charge).  I loaded up with the kit my bait and Mark Russ's bait nearly forgot the bread punch and got under way, to the sounds of Thin Lizzy and "Killer on the loose again."

Apt as within a hundred yards a Blackbird had flown from the kerb and lodged in the radiator grill.  I should have heeded the Shepherds warning as the morning red sky was offering up sacrifice after sacrifice.  By the time I got to Wilcot road to park up I had had a near miss with two Deer one Magpie and two Pheasants.

Unfortunately I had hit two Pigeons, one Magpie, one Pheasant and three Blackbirds.  The front of the van looked like an abattoir floor.  So it was with some trepidation I walked up to Bowdens stretch.  It was this stretch of course that saw me fall in on the way to the draw back in the summer. With all that had happened this morning that really would top the day.

I met up with Take That senior tour 2035 - the final come back tour (photo above) and we waited for the dismal turn out to increase.  Draw time came and went as Leos mobile rang with apologies from Nic he was going to be 5 minutes late having arrived without his rod bag!

Martin and Alan joined us and Brian puffed his way up the tow path. I drew for Nic peg 3.  Bugger you really wanted peg 1 on this stretch the absolute flier but or 2 or 3 would ease the pain.  Now for the rest of us.

Now before I go on I have defended Brian Shutler to the hilt in an effort to dispel this myth he is lucky.  But this past year .......well you have to see it to believe it; and patience is replaced by disbelief.  Hes right you still gotta a catch em, of course you have but when you sit on em week after week;  well you are  half way to the money.

We have developed a theory that Brian has doctored the bag along with Simon wit a "draw App"  we are convinced this app comes with fingerprint identification technology..  He denies of course.

Still back to the draw, we dive in I get 7 in the middle of nowhere as bloody usual and Brian well he dips in and comes up with.............yes you have guessed it Peg F'in 1..........Bloody unbelievable with Kev the Bread on 3 well its game over might as well go home now.

Sulky tantrum to one side I decided , I have got this far might as well have a look at my peg.

As always this stretch never offers much hope but today this looked awful.  It was possibly the worse draw this year so far and that takes some doing.  To my right Alan and on the end peg Steve Dean.

I set the whip up to fish of the first drop off and plumbing up I hooked a jack pike around 2 lb which took the plummet.  Fine start. new rig tied and plumbed up I did choppy line left and up slope and ledge rigs for opposite.  In addition a Drennan Ultralite with canal dart set at two feet.

Had a quick drink, pre match pee and a Toffee crisp.  With Mark not turning up I would have to re think buying a bag of chips for tea on the way home.  As I was relying on his cash for the bait.  Not impressed Team Russ!

Almost ready and Martin has no bait so I sell him Marks and we get under way.

20 minutes on the whip with Punch and nothing.  Nic a little red worm through the head and go over the choppy Line and a 3 oz Perch comes to hand followed by another.  And that my friends is it; from 10 O'clock till 10 to 2 I had nothing.  Two small Perch come after that. So 4 bites and 4 fish. Time to give the game up me thinks.........

Leo called and we all cheered at being released from the purgatory.  The moaning began and we started the weigh in. End peg Deano had just over the pound, I thought I might have pipped Alan to my right but a 6 oz Perch gave him 9 ounces in the last knocking s of the match.  So to the scores.

I managed 7. 5 oz for my 4 fish. Simon the Championship leader and ounce behind me. Martin one fish for half an ounce before Leo bucked the trend with a small skimmer and  bits for 1 lb 2 oz. a winning weight on the day; as the superstars on 1,2 and 3 couldn't top it.  Unsurprisingly Brian still managed a pick up for section default, in fact he equaled Steve Dean on cash as Steve didn't do super-pools Brian got the super pools as well.....................yes I am actually lost for words.

Top two only on pay out due to low attendance. So well done to Leo and Deano.

Still managed to pick up 11 points so I guess not too bad, but Brian and Simon stride on-wards and we are running out of matches. Both Brian and Simon could probably stay in doors for the rest of the season and still come first  and second.

See you next week.

Wx Winter on the home straight and back on the cut

Its here last round of the Wx Winter League and after a three way tie in the last round we go into the match 1 point behind Radcot.  The strength of the teams this year mean you gotta be on your game.  We have done well to fish the four river matches and still be in contention before finally getting them all back home on the cut.

It was tight in other areas as well. Individually the reigning champion was in the running again with Chris Rushton who having tied last year Brian got him on weight.  Brian Ballard Radcot was also looking favourite. Warning going to be a lot of pics in this blog.

Hanging in there myself. Could I keep up my record in this comp of finishing top 10 for the last three years?  So to the draw and Leo pulls out peg 1. Now we should jump for joy as we had pegged it to have 4 sections at Milkhouse and 2 at Wilcot  idea being consecutive pegging would reduce end pegs.  And we had 1 of them.  However as several anglers had not bothered to make the final match the equivalent of one team was missing and it turned out to be peg 7 .  Meaning there was a gap between all sections and 12 end pegs bugger.

The chopping and changing of the teams meant some casualties and poor old Dazzer and Bob Garrett found themselves dropped.

On the chopping and changing its something you get used to in this comp. However we had decided to try and fish the same team and if not for Mark Russ being on hols we would have done it. Kev Chubb very kindly filled in for the holiday boy. Left to right Spanners, Me, Chris - back - Kev, Leo, Brian

Pewsey RED kept a core of anglers , but again holidays affected and they didn't always put out a full quota. Considering they did well. Nic , Graham, Steve and Martin

So to my peg and it was the same one I drew in the wx summer league, and not a peg I am a fan of. Perm peg 15 and the style.  Not bitchin just don't like the peg.  Still head down ISIS to my left and Gary Didcot from Radcot on the squat fish rushes to his left.

The match started weirdly with several whistle blowers having a slight disagreement by a minute or so. So three whistles in the first three minutes.  Never mind we were under way and I had three small roach on punch first three drop ins.  I should say at this point that the Enviro Agency are working on the Wharf.  They have put in frames, either side and pumped out the water to start work on the Wharf walls.  So ropes across at Marlborough and Wilcot means no boats.  This was unexpected we had based our plan around coloured water..  With no boats for a week and cold nights the canal had cleared leaving a picture of clarity and a blanket of leaves on the bottom.

The only fish I could see was a Pike around 5 lb.  But then it seemed everyone had pike in their swim as Esox made hay in the clear water. 6 bites and 6 fish in the first hour all on punch then nothing for 30 minutes. Dobbing around my other swims produced nothing but twigs and leaves.  In fact it was 3 hours (1.30) before  I got another bite a tiny  Perch over the choppy line.  This was proper winter league fishing blustery , cold , clear water and scratching for ounces.

2 PM hour and half to go and I am still 7 bites and 7 fish Worryingly I can see both ISIS and Radcot scratching out tiny squat fish, and then panic Gary (Radcot) has elastic out. Obviously a better fish.  Isis on my left loses two reasonable Roach.  I am in a mild panic , because as hard as I try my swim is devoid of fish.  Radcot are back on the squat fish as is ISIS.  Me nothing!!!!  C,mon think, don't panic there is an hour to go.  On a whim I hooked out the punch again.  After all bigger baits like maggot worm and pinkie are doing nothing.  Single squat on a 24 is also bombing out.

I decided to hold off putting a nugget of licky bread in and just go over the earlier baited line. Off me seat and picked out a a slightly heavier rig that would be more stable in the wind , but with a smaller hook I went down to 2 mill bread punch. It had been in 30 seconds when it slid away. Then another and another and another. Finally the fish were there.  Suddenly flying fish in all directions and a tail walking pike crashed through.  Killed it dead. 10 fish 10 bites and 20 minutes to go. And no bites for 10 minutes. Do I stay on the bread.??? 

ISIS and Radcot still picking of the squat fish. Bugger stick with it.......... and with that the float dipped and I was in.  In fact I had 14 more fish and no missed fish in the last 20.

The weigh in of my section we walked up to peg 6. Sure enough Gary Didcot had a load of squat fish and a bonus elastic pulling Perch.  The two lost Roach by Len Baldwin meant he and I were tied for second.  Bugger needed to beat Radcot but least I didn't lose even more points. 

Brian came along with a smile to say he had won his section of A1 end peg but Radcot Radcot John Swann had second so Radcot still one point in front.

C section and how did Kev do.  His normal consistent self he had more fish than anyone but was pipped by Radcots Frank Humphries who had a bonus 10 oz Perch

Radcot nose in front again. So how did D section and Chris My Little Pony Rushton do?  On again for the individual title his job to win his section for both himself and the team.  He did another second behind Graham Godwin who again bagged the big Perch for the second match in a row.  Main thing was he picked up two points on Radcot so our noses in front again.

Back to the pub to see how Wilcot had fished.  E section first. Leo bringing home the bacon here with another section win for the Blues.  Crucially Brian Ballard tied for second.

To F section cyanide straight and Spanners .  A long face from the boy made us realise it was gonna be as tight as a ducks ass. Amazingly tight with only Tony Leach bagging several Big Perch clear and well out in front.  The top three teams well represented here with only an ounce between them. But with Chris Bowden winning out to take second over Gilbert ISIS 8 drams behind and Spanners 8 drams behind that. Oh my god that's tight.

It was with dawning realisation we realised we had tied again on the day with Radcot but with them going into the match with a one point lead they had done it. It would need a miracle for the points guys to find alternative result.

We tried to smile through the wait, with another photo which Nigel Russell bombed.

It was good to laugh and take the piss out of each other.  Its not life or death, and after what had happened in Paris this weekend certainly has to be taken in context.  There was no finger pointing or seriousness.  It was typical of the feeling that the Wx has.  Its all done in great humour but with a little bit of competitive niggle.  Thoroughly enjoyable.  I have to be honest I had sort of planned a few ideas but fair play to Radcot they were worthy winners.

Quick mention for the match winner Tony Leach, a double for him after winning the Wx Summer League Canal match as well, and this time of a 200 quid golden peg well done Tony.

Every cloud though has a silver lining.  For me I took delight as I am sure the rest of the team did in Our Little Pony Chris Rushton picking up the individual title and trophies. Under barrage of abuse cheering and clapping he collected his prizes.  With many people explaining to him that the trophy was reel but it wasn't real, so don't try and use it!!

For me personally I keep the run going of being in top 10.

So I asked this years worthy Champs to gather for a picture that I could pin to my dart board the Radcot Rascals enjoyed the moment and fair play to them.  They epitomise this comp.  Friendly but competitive.

Left to right John Swan, Frank Humphries, Gary Didcot, Chris Bowden, Brian Ballard and Keith Taylor. Downed my drink and hit the road feeling anti climatic we were so close again. Still always next year.

The journey home was accompanied by appropriate music , bit of blues from BB King "the thrill is gone" followed by the Doobie Brothers "what a fool believes" .

With the Farm singing "Altogether now". I could see my fellow team meats and I joining in with the last track before I got home. Elkie Brooks.

"Fool if you think its over"!!

Pewsey Lake - Memories - All alone with the moonlit ripples ..........

Remembrance Sunday and its a club match at the Lake. I just cannot believe another year has flown by and its 12 months since my wife and I visited the tower in London to see the poppies.

If I live to 150 years old I don't think I will ever feel such emotion again. From wonderment at the spectacle to absolute despair and deep sadness at the volume of loss.

In addition a frustration at not being able to communicate to my friends and Military colleagues the depth of my gratitude.

As always we observed a minutes silence for all those in Pewsey and the considerable military presence on Pewsey doorstep who left this land never to return.

Its been a funny week for memories. I have sold the flyer for which I will have fond memories, and purchased a new vehicle for fishing and my dogs and in honour of my military friends will name her Poppy.

Mid week I took and evening run to the lake to check on its condition ahead of today's match; and the solitude and stillness of the venue reminded me of younger days.  A real trip down felony lane, when I was less than a good boy.  When night fishing meant freedom from home and prying eyes, a chance to take a girl along for a bit of "night fishing" .  To act as the tough hero and protect the fair maiden from the spooky night noises. 

The bark of a fox, the cackle of a spooked Pheasant.  The tawit tawoo of a spinning head Barn Owl.  At night, every noise is magnified 10 fold completely different to the day when the cacophony of a multitude of sounds dulls not sharpens the senses.

Those of you that have fished at night will attest to the beauty of a rolling tench as it silhouette's against a full moon reflecting on a still pond; and the rippled splash as they radiate out and bump up against a lily pad sending mercury liquid diamonds in all directions. 

Going back to the felony lane comment.  Those who grew up in the 70's will remember in that slightly more innocent time. When entering teenage years meant you left the famous five and the secret seven behind and started down the darker routes of your elder brothers Dennis Wheatley occult books "the Devil rides out", and a new author James Herbert with terrific paperbacks called "The Rats", "The Survivor and The Fog.  These books with there racey stories opened your eyes to the fairer sex.  Girls with short skirts, skirts so short you could almost see Jack and Danny!!!

Still trying to get a girl along wasn't the core task,  it was always the fishing.  Minor misdemeanors occurred when at the sound of the clinking bottles of the Milkman we sneaked ahead of him into Langford changing the numbers on doorstep messages  in the hope of gaining a bottle of gold top or fizzy Lemon and Limeade Corona! (in them days people would leave a small square shape basket , with a numbered dial on their doorstep for the Milky.  Instructing him to leave up to four pints that day)

The trick was to find someone asking for 1 pint and move it to 2.  After he had gone pinch a bottle and move the dial back to 1, leaving the Milkman and house owner to disagree at the end of the week when the bill was to be settled.  I was never comfortable with it, but running with the big lads meant you had to join in or face their torment later.  

Ripples here too. I think God has paid me back 5 fold with bad luck over the years. So I have paid my dues for a cold creamy gold top glug of drink which left a my burgeoning wispy moustache white. 

Even now I don't think you can beat a sultry, still day next to a secluded pond, bread flake on the end of a cage feeder full of brown crumb. Rod in rest and a Wrigleys Spearmint gum silver wrapper folded over the line to indicate the bite. Unwrapping a foil parcel and sinking your teeth into at thick cheddar and pickled onion doorstep, washed down with a pint of cold milk. Lovely.

A crash and splash of a Carp down by the flying pegs , brought me out of my thoughts. It was nice moment. Good to be happy for a change. Lets hope the positivity remains for the day and I draw well for a change.  If not ........... As an anonymous philosopher once said says " Life isn't about waiting for the Storm........ its about learning to dance in the Rain"

So to the draw. I drew the Golden peg number 13 a real flyer. Bunged it back in the hat and we all dived in 14 for me 15 for Mark and guess who on the flyer ........yes it was that Golden hand Brian Shutler.  I was in shock. First time in two years I have drawn at the Carp end of the lake.  Not quite 12 or 13 the real flyers but the right end I will try to make the most of it.

The peg itself offers so many options I was slow setting up.  Just couldn't decide how to attack it.  7.5 feet deep I could see almost the bottom ring on my keep net it was gin clear, and the bottom covered with leaves.  I decided to fish mid depth to start with on the waggler against the bull-rushes opposite me. I baited a line with micro pellet a short worm line and the pole..  Brian did the same and Mark opted for the feeder against the rushes.  I was in straight away with 3 little Crucian type Carp around 4 oz a piece then a run of Roach and Perch.  Non of us were really catching except Brian and I bagging the small Roach.  Mark switched to the waggler and immediately hit into a Carp that rammed itself in to the rushes and he lost it.  The first of a trend forming.  

At 11 o'clock I called for a minutes silence and we all bowed our heads in memory of those who gave for us.

After the silence I slid the pole out, the waggler line had gone quite, so why not.  I was disappointed to find there was no real response.. The winter cold water stopping the eager beaver bites of the summer.  Marvelous draw the right end and the weather turns - sods law.  Brian still on the wag, was into a Carp, 

  

Brian landed his carp and I couldn't really begrudge him. He had been stung in the face by some sort of Hornet and he was looking like a cross between Robert Niro in Raging Bull and Rocky Balboa.

Mark was in as well and he landed his at nearly 6 to 7 lb, after a long fight.  Bugger what to do? 

Mark was in again and so was Brian, with Brian announcing it was Carp o'clock.  The mind games began.  Do I chase the Carp or hope they will come to the waggler line.  Brian had a two foot deep shelf I had nearly 5 feet and no shelf, so the bait was being intercepted before it could get down.  A change to the splodger and I chucked it straight into the rushes forgetting to clip up. One word two syllables " Bellend".  I was fish for fish with Brian except his were Carp to my Roach.  Mark had a run of 5 casts into the rushes or the tree opposite before getting one right resulting in a immediate fish.  He was going well and it was no certainty that Brian would win the match and the Golden peg.

Mark had to stop faffing around and get the bait in the same place each time and then land the Carp.  Me I was still plodding away on the Roach, the bait on the bottom making no distance.  Gary Perryman on 11 had two daddy Chub and Brian had another Carp  - foul hooked - but a Carp.

In essence I was being spit roasted between them.  The match was creeping away from me and Rocky and team Russ were disappearing into the distance. Finally with an hour to go I whipped the waggler back and instead of flipping a 3 oz Roach across the surface, the rod hooped over double style.  As a raging monster ploughed headlong into the bull rush.

After a short scrap it went solid and I pulled in, a dead weight of rush, rotting end tackle, feeders and snapped line from years gone past. The match fizzled out with Mark losing more Carp and Brian catching several little pup Carp  to top his day.  With 20 minutes to go I flung the feeder and sat the rod in the rest, whilst I packed away ahead of do scales and board duty.

I had been beaten fair and square.  A good angler (Brian) on a good peg had fished well with few mistakes and I think he had done us all.  I if I was Mark I would have been raging at the lost fish.  I swear he could have won the match.

So to the boards.

I weighed in my 59 fish.

  A paltry bag for a lot of accurate casting and feeding.  This week was not my week.  Very few big fish in my swim or maybe I wasn't good enough to catch em.  Either way, I tried but I failed.

Mark, had 9 lb 11.5 oz and what could have been.  Brian looking even more like Rocky pulled his nets to the sound of me chanting Rocky, Rocky, Rocky and Adrian where are you Adrian.  It was good to see the big fella smiling, he had done me on small fish as well with a couple of bigger Roach and a hand sized skimmer.  An exhibition of waggler fishing and thoroughly deserved; and all with one eye closed.

Gary next and two very impressive Chubb graced the scales backed up by a pile of small stuff of the out pipe on worm.  Jimmy had struggled. Nic had lost a double figure fish, Martin ran me close.  Simon continues his impressive run with top section points as Roly and Will struggled.

So to the money.

One eyed wonder

Brian first with his wad, 1st prize, first in super pools and £ 160 of Golden Peg money, a very fruitful day for this popular fella.

Well done to Gary on his second and silvers pick ups , and a consolation prize for Team Russ.  With Roly and Martin in the background plotting how they were going to knobble Brian for the next Championship match.  The boys pose for the photo left to right 1,2 and 3.

Homeward bound then.  The WHO on the stereo, bit of Magic Bus, and Happy Jack as the winter night drew in quickly; Poppy purred along and I look forward to a hot bowl of homemade Stew and dumplings.

Do the blog and start on cleaning the kit for the final round of the Wx Winter league next week.

Just one final thing. That anonymous philosopher earlier" Life isn't about waiting for the Storm........ its about learning to dance in the Rain"

Well.  Towards the end of the match the drizzle came down and trust me I am learning to dance in the rain.  In fact I am a hunk-a-hunk burning love and I am ripping up the dance floor.

See you next week

Wx Winter round 4 Radcot - Foggin ell!!

In a week where I picked up a new van and advertised the Flyer for a giveaway price.  Brian kindly offered to pick me up and take me to Radcot.  A welcome relief saved me pissing about with insurances and sorting those details that make a new vehicle yours.  Popped into Salisbury and picked up the teams bait and ended up watch Mark Cannings who hooked a 25 lb + monster on a 6 elastic skimmer rig. I watched him for around 40 minutes and he had already been playing it for some time.

It was stalemate as he couldn't get the head up on the fish so I left him to it.  I would imagine it would still take a while and fish would have lost weight by the time he lands it, because the time it was taking, it must have missed a few meals.  How much did it weigh Mark???

Radcot is going to be tight. News from angling contacts in the area and those friends who have visited and fished recently; left me with a state of mind that I would have to scratch.  I would be happy with 6 points at worse.  It would equal last year where I struggled with 32 gudgeon for 1 lb 3.5 oz and 6 points.

Still can't count your chickens in this competition.  Plenty of talent all around.  In fact it irritates me a little that some look on this comp as a second rate to the similar competitions.  Fact is many of the guys in this comp have been top notch for years and its a pleasure to fish against them.  Oddly enough the draw wasn't at the Swan pub, new ownership I believe.  Which in a way detracted from the day.  Nevertheless thank you to Clanfield Football club a very good replacement and the second time we have used it this year.

Being one point behind Radcot and them being on their home water we would have to go some to level up the scores.  But I was up for it.  In fact I was well in the zone and gagging for the match to start as early as last night (Saturday).  I was trying to keep a lid on my energy to fish and was determined to fish a perfect match and not make any mistakes, or tangle rigs. Just be on it and do the team proud.

Into the car park and share out the bait, and it was with some relief that the draw was done and we could get to our pegs and get it on.   Leo asked if I would like a short walk I declined and ended up in D section perm peg 7.  I consulted with the oracle (Graham "Thames" Godwin) as I had never fished the area all my previous 4 matches on the Radcot stretch I had drawn Grafton lock or A section.  He winced and said depends where the Perch are but that is a very weedy swim we don't normally put it in - you could scratch Gaz.

Not good then.  Brian on the other hand had drawn the first swim above the Radcot bridge where the river and a side stream confluence - and I could tell by his beaming smile he was happy to draw another flier.

Thanks to Brian for getting me as close as possible and Marc Russ for getting me over the bridge.  The fog was starting to lift as I got to my peg and looked into a clear weedy river.  I set up and got eh net in.  I could see right to the bottom of the 4 meter keep net.

The swim offered options but on plumbing around it was clear there was weed everywhere.  There was the odd "hole" and Bleak were pipping on top everywhere.  First mistake left my pole rollers on Brian's van so had to improvise with the rod bag.  But my new Preston Dri fish wellies were a dream warm and comfortable, dear but worth it to have warm feet again.

By the time the off was called the river had coloured a little and I couldn't see the bottom of the net. In the hope the fabled Perch shoal was around I cupped in the choppy on 13 meter line and left it alone for 10 minutes whilst I tried the whip inside.

No bites for me after 15 minutes.  Where as Graham Godwin 100 yards down stream was into his third Perch.  45 Minutes in and whilst me and two above me hadn't even had a bite; I could here Graham announcing he was on around 10 lb of Perch and into his first Bream!  Clearly the Perch he mentioned were well and truly in his swim.

I flicked the stick out as the river had started to move enough to pull it through. But it was stop start as I moved up and down trying to find a line through the weed. But to no avail.  I resulted to lowering a rig into where there was a 4 foot gap and had my first bite on the hour a Gudgeon.

I started to ping the caster across to the reeds opposite ahead of the waggler following.  I kept going with the "hole" changing to a heavier rig to get the bait passed the surface feeding Bleak.  After an hour and half I had one 2 oz Perch 1 Gudgeon and 4 bleak.

So I cast the waggler across and started the metronomic process of feed. cast, hook bleak, swing in Bleak, feed, cast swing in Bleak.3 Hours in and Graham down stream is bagging with big bream now.  Up stream no one is really do anything special and some have resorted to flinging the feeder to try and get a big Chub.

Me I keep rotating with getting a few Bleak close , then across on the waggler to get more Bleak and a 2 oz Chublet - specimen - lol. Changing from caster to maggot and then pinkie brought more fish but incredibly they were smaller still!

We are into the last half an hour and as the sun sets, I note the anglers up stream are now catching Roach and pulling away from me.  Nic Worters - the other Pewsey Red angler on peg 1 told me later it was if someone had hit a switch the Roach were not there, and then suddenly with 35 minutes to go it was one a chuck.

I don't think there is anything as frustrating as trying really hard constantly changing tweaking the depth on the waggler but being unable to catch anything but embryo size fish.  In fact one of my fish I kid you not was two eyes and an arse.

So the all out was called and another match slips by.  That's 4 rounds and despite me doing well it has been loads of small stuff and not one single bonus fish. Lets hope the final round on the canal in two weeks brings my change of luck and I can get a few Bonus fish.

I weigh in a one Gudgeon a stack of bleak, 2 small Perch about 2 oz and 1 Chublet of around 2 oz. For 2 lb 8 oz.

So frustrating I tried so hard but ended up with my worst result of the comp so far 4th in section.  I here Graham down stream from me ended up with 39 lb of Bream and Perch with one of the Bream going 7 lb.

I was packed up so followed the scales up the bank and initially I was pleased having beaten a couple above me.  Pete Gilbert was a bit grumpy as he was convinced the he had been cheated out of 3 lb by the scales man.  But as I said its the scales man's decision and both Nic on the scales and Frank on the board agreed it was 2 lb 15.

Pete smiled and walked away saying that was 3 all the way.

Frank Humphries and and Nic Worters on the first two swims over the bridge had struggled as I had with lots and lots of Gudgeon and Bleak, but it was the last 1hr  / 45 minutes when the Roach arrived that made the difference and they were worthy 1st and 2nd.

I trudge back to the car park to meet Brian with an annoying frustration settling on me like the fog that was beginning to blanket us all and cover a lovely sunset.

I came into the day upbeat thinking "its all gravy baby" but the gods of angling knew different; and took me down a peg or two.  As we gathered in the Car Park, Brian joined us and had come second in his section with nearly 12 pound, being pipped by the Thames legend Brian Ballard who had 19 lb with three Perch over 2 and half pound. Marc Russ went by disgruntled with his result and Leo was slightly more up beat with his third.  Chris had one his section again - truly a purple patch for my little pony , he must be on for the individual title - good on him. Spanners had an unusual 5th.

With that in my mind Brian and I headed for home , and I started to analyse where I had gone wrong and let the boys down.  To be honest though I don't think I had anything but Bleak in front of me so would have struggled to do better.  Hey ho.

As we entered Tidworth I rang Leo to see if they had finished totting up the scores.  Surprise , surprise three teams had tied for 1st on the day, Radcot, ISIS and Pewsey Blue with 29 points each!!!

What a lift that was for me, before the match Radcot was 1 point ahead of us; and despite wanting to be level or in front going into the last round on our cut. Still being only 1 point behind was not bad at all. Relief.

So we go into the last round in two weeks and its game on boys...............love it.

Next week back on the club Lake to scratch the tiddlers out of the gin clear pond, as it smothers itself with its winter coat of fallen leaves.

Its gonna be tough , but rather be fishing than anything else in life...