First Casts and Final Pages

Can you remember the first fishing experience you ever had? Did you start young, or come to the sport later by accident I wonder? Was it a eureka moment or did it take more patience to convert you?
The first memory I have of anything in my life, full stop, is of a fishing trip. Or more accurately, sitting in the back seat of my Dad's silver car and crunching up mints, the pieces dissolving smaller as the river got nearer. Why this moment I'm not sure. For some reason I remember putting the fish back (my favourite part of the trip as a small boy), better than actually catching them in these early trips.

But if my own first casts are all but lost in time, the kids who I take fishing these days will have a better record. As can be seen with young Luke and Zack (5 and 7), who I took to South View Farm with their dad for a first ever try at fishing (above). I love this picture. Just look at that expert, double handed grip by Luke, and the look of fierce concentration glued to both faces. Perhaps true anglers are born, not made?
Easily said, but what is the best age to start a child fishing? This is not always an easy one. Fly or sea fishing take greater levels of coordination and safety awareness, and tend to suit older kids of ten or more best I think. But take the simplicity of a pole on a small lake and you have a light and largely tangle proof way to have some fun.

Setting the lads up with a top 3 pole kit each, it didn't take long to start learning and catch some fish, starting with a cute perch (above) for Luke. "It's called fishing, not catching" is wisdom you'll often hear from old heads. But when you're very young the catching part of the deal is vital. It gives you that taste of success- and after even a small early fish you'll find even the biggest fidget finds the patience to wait for that feeling again.

Luke was next, with a perfect and not-so-little gudgeon. Is there a more appropriate small boy's fish? And from these humble beginnings we began to refine things; like striking before your float has travelled half way across the pond, and bringing the fish in steadily and gently rather than giving it a flying lesson.

A few things begin to dawn on me the more I take kids for fishing lessons in Devon. Firstly, that all children are naturally interested in water and fish. We talk as if it's a battle to get kids fishing, but actually you just have to get them out on the bank. I have yet to meet a boy or girl who didn't ask loads of questions or didn't want to inspect, hold or release their first fish. The other notable thing is how meticulously they will count and record what they catch. Kids love to compete with each other and to loudly announce "that's ten now!" or "That one was the biggest wasn't it?"


Sometimes they have a case too. Because on this trip Luke seemed to catch the most fish, but Zack took the biggest between them with one or two really nice roach (above). You can tell kids they're "about the same" in the catching stakes and they don't believe you; you can also tell them the size doesn't matter. And it doesn't, until younger brother catches a bigger one.
Here's a news flash: kids want to go fishing. There might be more distractions these days, but they are no different to kids ten or thirty or a hundred years ago; curious and fun-loving if you can only give them your time. Or maybe it's the other way round and they give us their time, because it's one of the most fun things you'll do in a season and worth every minute.

By the close of play we had ticked just about every box for a first fishing session, apart from the runaway monster. Matt, the two boys' dad, nearly provided this in dramatic style as he tried the same margin the boys had been fishing and spent a full ten minutes playing a ghost carp that looked eight pounds or so. Eventually, after we had formed a little rogues gallery of spectators, the hook came out sadly. But perhaps it doesn't hurt to have something to aim for next time? I get the feeling Matt will now feel like he has unfinished business with carp.


In other news, there is little fishing to report just of late, largely because "Tangles With Pike" has been in production at the expense of everything else. In fact, without the expertise and assistance of my designer Garrett Fallon I would most likely have lost the plot. Anyhow, suffice to say that on cold days so far, the closes to fishing I've got has been a spot of fly tying.

Perch are always popular, not to mention fun to tie. The above is a future addition in my current "Predator Fly of the Month" series for Pike and Predators magazine.
Such things will have to suffice for now, because most of my recent fishing has been done in the recesses of my memory. It is only when I look back at all the many pictures, articles and notes that I realise just how much work has gone into my stories- and by "work" I mean perhaps a minority of actual fishing time. To any of my friends who wonder what I'm doing buggering around with a tripod, tutting to myself and switching lenses while you're happily fishing, perhaps the new book will be enlightening.
Not long now until "Tangles with Pike" will be ready to order at www.dgfishing.co.uk, but in the meantime, here are four of my favourite pike fishing "selfies" of all time, achieved using a tripod, a timer switch and usually several attempts separated by bad language. I tell you what, if any blog readers can successfully name all four of these waters (answers in the comments box please) I will put your names in a hat and the first out will win a copy of "Tangles with Pike". Over to you:









Here's a hint: They're all in south west England

New steps and old favourites

Oh dear. I'm looking at the blog and have just realised it has been ages. July has rapidly flown past and I'm going to have to cram a fair bit into this update. Brace yourselves!
One major step for me has been to join a syndicate this summer. This is something I've never done before in my life, but I found the draw of a quiet and very traditional looking lake quite irresistible. And as you can see above, part of the joy is just having access to somewhere private, enjoying nature, some fish spotting and maybe even catching the odd beastie without the hurly-burley of a day ticket fishery. Those who have done it themselves will realise it's not always cheap. But I figured it could be now or never: I thought if the offer came in five years time I might easily be lacking funds and wonder why I missed my chance before.


While most anglers will join syndicates for species like carp though, I've been just as interested in the rudd that an old, secretive lake might produce. I've had great sport so far and some of the fish have been as vividly coloured as any rudd I've ever landed. They're all worth catching as far as I'm concerned, but I would dearly love to catch a two-pounder on the fly from here. So far so enjoyable though- and with some good ones sighted I've been stepping up to large size 10-12 spiders. This one is the king so far, at around a pound and a half as you can tell from the size of the reel:


Just as agreeable as the fishing though, is the way that the handful of members are really civilised anglers who are refreshingly lacking in the tunnel vision that can afflict carp angling. Although they like to gently take the Mickey, they've also taken great pleasure in borrowing my fly rods to successfully catch rudd- which is great to see. Equally though, the learning process works the other way and I just love the crafty ideas carp heads get cooking with. It's going to be a lot of fun.

In fact, contrary to expectations, I've come much closer to banking carp on artificial flies than on bait so far. I've taken carp on things like bloodworms and floating snails previously, but I get the feeling these wily syndicate fish will be a challenge. They're certainly eating natural food though- so who knows? I came painfully close with a fish that looked every ounce of twenty pounds at close quarters, for example. After several refusals with a damsel, I watched a bigger fish turn and have a look. With the fly settling gently on the weed I held my breath- and watched as lips opened and sucked the lot in! A rod-wrenching battle ensued, but the fish got mired up in the weed. Try as I might I could't free it- and by the time I'd literally got in position to reach under the bank I'd lost her. Frustratingly, I literally had the net ready and even touched the beast's tail. So close to what would have been my best ever fly caught carp, and not a dog biscuit copy in sight! A nine weight outfit is the next logical step, with extra strong leaders- because fish of this size in this much weed take no prisoners.



Crazily enough, my other notable capture has been a fly caught gudgeon (above), fluked on a carp pattern. Perhaps I should come clean: my phone had gone off (don't you hate that when you're fishing?) and the fly had sunk right to the bottom. As I picked up the rod and brought it in, the cheeky little thing attached itself, grabbing the fly fair and square in the lips! You really couldn't make it up.


Another little success has been getting my dad on the bank again, who might not thank me for telling you he's recently turned 70. He's very much the fair-weather fisherman. If it's a grey day, it can take serious arm-twisting. When it's sunny though, he doesnt need asking twice and so we hit the smaller of the two Creedy Lakes. Lovely it was too. I've commented before how many anglers can't look beyond weights- which explains why this weedier pool tends to be quiet while the main lake sees more rods than the Tackle and Guns Show. We had takes on both floating and bottom baits and it was exciting stuff- here's the old devil with a plump, dark gold common. The killer bait were cat biscuits sneakily nicked from my folk's old moggy:

In actual fact, the typical residents here are much skinnier and longer though, almost resembling the wild carp you read about in old angling books. I did a little field testing with some late samples from the Bait Factory and these did the trick for some runs. I'm not one for using PVA products and multiple rods on such classic waters, opting for small boilies float fished (I know, revolutionary isn't it to avoid three ounces of lead). I find that by wrapping these and the hook itself in soft paste you can guarantee a clear hook point on the strike, the paste offering protection from debris and weed (if you're curious, keep an eye on the Bait Factory site for some techy points and tips shortly).

This pretty low double was my best, fighting ludicrously hard:

And actually, that will do for this instalment. I've missed some bits out (including some news on "Fly For Coarse" and some exciting summer events!), but will add another entry soon. It's meant to be a blog after all, not War and Bloody Peace.

Taking Stock

As the first signs of spring start to flirt with us, I've been busy gearing up for some hopefully better conditions with some new arrivals. Priority number one has been my site (www.dgfishing.co.uk) which has undergone a revamp thanks to Marc Hogan (hoganwebsolutions.co.uk), who comes highly recommended for any of you who, like me, are not the most technically minded. Do take a look! There are new things to order, but also some great free content including some more features from the archives. Perhaps the one that makes me smile the most to this day is "Gudgeon at Ten Paces" - a piece that the late Kev Green took on. Some editors would probably have ruled it out as a bit daft, but Kevin was of that scarcer type who can also laugh at fishing and embrace something quirky.

Also on the updated site are some more of my photos from the past couple of seasons. I don't think any keen angler ever regrets taking too many pictures- and recently I got a couple of favourites beautifully rendered as canvas prints from Canvas Design (www.canvasdesign.co.uk):

I'm quite blown away by the quality- and in fact looking at them sitting on my wall I'm wondering why I didn't do this earlier! I've also been in touch with Conrad at Canvas Design and they can also offer a discount for any anglers and photographers reading this- just use the code "fish15" for a very cool 15% off. Why not treat yourself?

Otherwise it's time to make some new memories soon by sorting out the horrible tangle that is the garage and filling some fly boxes with ammunition for the warmer months. The Southwest Fly Fair at Roadford lake was a great event to get the ball rolling, and I was proud to be on hand with Turrall to tie some of my predator flies that feature in their new range of "Flies For Coarse Fish". When you use flies time and again you get real confidence in them, but I did also like the set up displayed by our neighbours the Arundell Arms, who had a neat little "test tunnel" to show how your flies move in the water! Very cool- here's a pike special tied by Pete Wilkins, captured in motion:

Also at the show were various other stands and personalities from the region- but it was a particular pleasure to meet wildlife and fishing artist Robin Armstrong. He has such a personal connection to nature and our rivers and it was a pleasure seeing him at work. In fact my only regret is that I didn't take along my copy of "Dartmoor River" to be signed, which is an absolutely beautifully illustrated angling book.



Spring is undoubtedly my favourite time of year in fact. Everything feels optimistic and no matter how poor the weather might prove in march or April, there's still the whole summer ahead. And while the rivers close shortly, I can't wait to get onto some still waters and canals in particular. This time of year can be brilliant for big perch in particular, but it's also not too long before a little sunshine will encourage fish like rudd and roach to come up for flies on still waters. Time to get tying- or indeed just grab some flies from my site, they're virtually all in stock now on my site. Ok, sales pitch over. Feel free to shoot me, but just make sure you go fishing and drink in the spring.

I'm going to do exactly that, while I also drink in this rather splendid bottle of Californian IPA, a gift from my globe-trotting girlfriend Paulina Mroczynska. What can I say? Perfect fisherman's booze. I'm one lucky bloke and you know my style:

A Random Road Trip

The sums still seem nuts as I weigh up a week long road trip. 950 miles. About seventy quid's of worms, casters and maggots. A selection of random B&Bs. And all for the love of... well, the unexpected. I wanted to stop at a whole stack of those places you usually pass by thinking "that looks interesting", but never actually making a cast. There's a certain irony that in our age of information overload places such as urban waters and canals offer a good deal more mystery than the really "classic" destinations. And on this note, I was pleased to be in the company of Russ Hilton, who shares my taste for the sort of fishing detours you don't often see in tourist brochures. I can see it now: "Come fly fishing for roach with a series of bus shelter lunatics in a small town you've never heard of!" It wasn't all grim though. The Monmouth and Brecon Canal was just one overdue stop off. So many times, I'd seen it and wished I had a day to kill when headed for the Usk or the Wye. A good move, because in its own quirky way it has a beauty all of its own. Along with local angler Ray Minty and fishing author David Overland, we had a really varied day. As well as urban stretches, there are miles of canal with a leafy backdrop of hills and mountains. Little surprise that the place was the inspiration for parts of David's beautifully illustrated book "Fishing with Emma", which has just been released: We had plenty of bites and an eventful day. The roach responded well to bread, but the fish probably weren't quite as big as the one David is describing to this young angler, who caught a beautiful little perch and then proceeded to tell us he was going to catch "a hundred" more: I genuinely enjoy budget travel. It forces you to get stuck in and leave the script behind. Aside from a stop off of comparative luxury with Merlin Unwin, our overnight haunts were crazily varied. Homely B&Bs at one end, closer to Bates Motel at the other. The sort of places you find a hundred chipped ornaments and little stickers providing dire warnings about crimes you hadn't even considered. "Setting off the fire alarm will result in a fine of £1000!" or my personal favourite: "Strictly no more than one person in the shower at any one time." Yeah, because that's the obvious thing to do in Bradford isn't it, have a four person romp in a shower. Appearances can be deceptive however. Far cosier than its rather grim frontage was "The Noose and Gibbet" in Sheffield, the scene of the last public hanging in England: I have to say that some of the best fishing of all came in the most unexpected places. Such was the Steel City. We'd really just stopped for a walk and a few pictures, but slap bang in Sheffield you have both the River Don and the Sheffield and Tinsley Canal. The latter was crawling with roach, which were there for the taking with just a waggler rod and a few maggots, as well as some surprise sacks and bits of broken stereo. The trip was like this throughout in fact, with the sort of surprises that made you go "wow!" and others that you prayed would drop off your hook before you had to handle them. I can only scratch the surface in my scribblings here. There are enough clues, twists and turns to give Hercule Poirot a headache. Some big fish, some small fish, others in the "you bloody couldn't make it up!" category. All will be revealed in due course, but it's amazing what you find when you were looking for something else entirely. Such as a pub where you can still buy two pints of amazingly good bitter, a massive pie and a gut busting sandwich for little more than seven quid. Or a local character who still cycles to his favourite spot at eighty years young, having fished there as a boy during World War Two. The trouble is, I now have a notebook crammed with raw material to be hammered into a form less chaotic than the recesses of my brain. I have many anglers to thank for their kindness recently, with both planned and totally spontaneous encounters. Not least of all Neil Williams and the brilliant members of GUGGS (The Grand Union Gudgeon Society). Having received an entertaining email from them after my piece "Gudgeon at Ten Paces" in Improve Your Coarse Fishing, a meet up was essential. With the motto "Size Doesn't Matter" GUGGS (www.guggs.net) epitomise the fun-loving essence that is missing from so much in today's fishing scene. We had a lot of laughs tackling gudgeon with the lads, aiming for a specimen "Thirty" (yes, a thirty gram gudgeon). That's another story altogether, but having winkled out some beautiful whiskery blighters, both myself and Russ Hilton are now proud, card-carrying members. Converts even get their own GUGGS name (the first two letters of your surname, followed by first name, making the two of us "HiRu" and "GaDo"). Russell perhaps loses a few brownie points however, for switching his attention to what GUGGS refer to as "nuisance fish"- in this case bream. A fine catch to end a fun and fascinating week:

Perfect Pond Fishing

There's always something about quiet farm ponds that takes me back to boyhood. It's refreshing to find that off the beaten trail of the better known commercials, cute little backwater fisheries still exist. The sort of diminutive, secluded waters where the next bite could be anything from a pretty roach to a giant perch or golden carp. Flanked by craggy trees and rusting farm machinery, I had a good vibe about this trip. Along with fellow pond hopper Chris Lambert, I was off to a swift start by fishing match style today, feeding a selection of my favourite baits for big perch, roach and carp in the form of casters, chopped worm and pellets. It was hardly a push over, but fishing fine and building the swim carefully the perch soon showed. We didn't see many average sized samples- most were either tiny or absolutely solid. Disaster then struck as I hooked a substantial carp on the pole line. For five or six minutes battle continued before the top two cracked! The fish was gone by the time I regained control- damn it, I have a hunch it was a big fish lost. Sport then continued on the centrepin and long float rod, while Chris began to get interest on tiny fish baits. The next perch gobbled up a worm and caster bait before plunging away strongly. This one was really feisty- and it wasn't short on spirit. We had weighed it quickly at alb 14oz, but to our surprise this one looked even fatter after a couple of hours in the keepnet. We strongly suspect it snaffled one or two of the baby perch, roach and gudgeon also present- and later the same perch went 2lbs 2oz when the weight was checked again! This is the joy of pond fishing on a secluded water. Where stocking levels are sensible, you get some real quality fish. Unexpected specimen of the day was arguably the surprise enormous gudgeon Chris caught. At 3 oz this was a titanic little beastie, not to mention splendid looking. It was a testing day overall, where cute presentation and regular feeding worked best. The last fish was another sweet surprise in the form of a cracking roach. Uncanny how the best always seem to show as the light goes and at 1lb 6oz a very respectable pond roach. A great day on a cute water and for my money, pond fishing takes us back to the simple joys of the sport- the jagging fight of those perch, the warm spring sun on your back.