The final countdown

First fishing trip in my new van Vicky.  Poor old Poppy died and went to the scrapyard in the sky.  Well she didn’t die I killed her.  Was out with the dogs one morning a few weeks ago and was on my way home down a narrow country lane.  There’s a guy coming the other way and he stops in the narrowest part of the lane.  I stopped at the widest point and flashed him on.  He flashes again and so it went for a minute or so.  I put the window down leaned out and gestured him one last time, at which point all the dogs thought it would be a great idea to climb over me and get out of the window.

After blocking and returning excitable hounds to the seating position I was, in a bad mood at this joker’s refusal to see sense and pass at the widest part of the road.  I slammed the van into first then second then third at which point the gear stick snapped off in my hand. Leaving me stuck in second.  I came levelish with the guy and through my open window berated him for being a knob.  Could he not see he had chosen the narrowest part of the lane.  

Submissively he put his arms up and asked me to calm down. Explaining he had run out of fuel and was stuck.  He added do you think you could back up !!!!!  “Does it look as if I can f'in back up you knob”, I said brandishing the gear stick in mid-air.  I pulled my wing mirror in and brushing his I squeezed by.  Driving the few miles home in second gear, I put the 4 way flashers on.  Only to be flashed by all and sundry, and people hollering at me, your four ways are on and can’t you go faster!!!

So to today and driving through the light snow and milky Tupperware sky, Vicky and I motored along to the Rolling Stones, Mick was in full flight “this will be the last time, this could be the last time, maybe the last time but I don’t know” Vicky was cooking and I didn’t want to get my multi-layered clad against the cold body out of her comforting womb effect.  But “let’s get it on” said Marvin Gaye and I climbed out and unloaded multiple tackle.  As said before you need to take the lot to the lake as you just know what you are going to draw.

Talking of draws, maybe this time I would get prime real-estate at the Carpy end, and when Simon offered me the draw hat I danced a jig at pulling 14 a prime peg.  The jig came to an abrupt end though as they all gleefully told me that I was drawing the golden peg and had to put it back in.  Then as you would have guessed I drew a dog of a peg, peg 8 as far as possible from Nirvana.

So suck it up princess and go for the silvers was the plan.  The winds direct in my face, my hooter was soon dripping and bluing up nicely.  Trying to do fine work with glasses steamed up and numb fingers was no fun.  But eventually I was ready.  The swim showed no sign of life at all and I stood to have a pre match adrenaline piss, adrenaline that’s a joke.  After peeling of the layers the wind hit my parts and they shriveled away almost to being a girl, but I did manage to offload, oh the relief.  Relayering I somehow managed to dislodge my glasses reaching forward to stop them falling down the bank I stood on my landing net pole and broke it.  Bugger.  Coupled together an old landing net section with a bank stick and was ready to go.

I always do the same thing at the start of the match, and ensure even if they are small that I have fish in the net and do not blank.  In this case it generally means a little loose feed to the far bank and then ping a waggler in and get a few small Roach.  As in the case of the last match 2 pegs to my right it resulted in 3 big Chubb and a stack of Roach as I stayed on it all day.  But that wasn’t going to happen today.  It wasn’t too long before I realised that not only were there no fish there.  The wind was affecting the accuracy of loose feed and making it difficult to get tight and hold.  I changed to a heavier waggler and fed soft pellet and whilst a 10 oz. Carp rolled against my float and hour of minor alterations up and down and shotting patterns etc led to a further blank.

The wind now was becoming very difficult and I put the waggler down and fished the pole line.  Nothing for 30 minutes, and a change to the whip under the bush to my right.  Still nothing.  I pinged out the method, ate a scotch egg and down hot fruit drinks and watch an immovable tip sitting rigid in the wind.

In short it was time for a walk. Had to get the blood moving, it is surprising how a cold wind affects moral and condition of the body and brain.  A short walk saw most of the guys struggling.  Brian had a small Carp and Chubb.  Mark had 11 small fish. Will had nothing on peg 15; Simon on my golden peg 14 had a few small ones.  Caught on something he found in the bottom of his tackle box, secretive bugger.  Brian Jackson next to him was also catching but struggling.  Neil Pegrum had nothing and Jimmy next to me had had a massive specimen 1 ounce Perch.

So back to purgatory and on my peg 4 hours had passed before I had my first bite under the tree to my right.  It was a Perch.  Well at least I think so it was just about big enough for its first stripe and had eyes bigger than its belly literally.  With 25 minutes to go Jim had had two more tiny Perch.  I was laughing at life in that slightly hysterical way and the wind dropped for the first time.  I grabbed the light waggler and pinged it tight.  With just a dimple showing at least now I could see any movement. Sure enough with 15 minutes to go. It dipped I struck into what I thought was thin air, but it was a roach just so light it didn’t register till I saw it near the bank. In the final ten minutes I had a further 8 fish and just as the bites were picking up the all-out was called on the last Championship match of the season.

Will had ended up with 2 Carp for 12 pound and looked a likely winner of 15.  The ding dong battle between Shutler and Team Russ finished the season as they had started. Close. Me well I think I have done enough for third again in the Championship, (always the bridesmaid, never the bride, still I am an ugly fecker) but must let others do the mathematics.

Scores on the doors. Well sorry about this but cannot get pics from Marks phone to my laptop as my camera battery died.  Needless to say I wasn't last Neils plan to fish for bigguns meant DNW.  I surpassed Jims 3 Perch for 2 oz. With 10 fish for 3.5 ounces. Here's what I did get before battery failure.

First Mark trying to weigh in his privates , shouldn't bother Mark an ounce wont make the difference!

Put the kit away and slipped back into Vicky, put on the vibes and listened to the Animals “We gotta get out of this place” appropriate really on such a cold miserable day.

My net