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.!
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment