Zanderfest 53.

What is there to say that hasn't already been said or should that be what is there you can write that hasn't been written.  It's always going to be the case when you get get a gathering of angling bloggers all fishing together in one place, on one day, for one species, in honour of one chaps entrance into this world that you get several different perspectives on the day. Personally, I for one love to read all these different aspects of a session as it gives different perspectives. It's like eating a great meal repeatedly over and over again and discovering something new each time.

I think although we were gathered for one main reason everyone had their individual aspirations for the day. For some of the lads who had travelled quite far it was a chance to fish for a species which is not normally that accessible to them. For others they just wanted to get into the zeds on a new bit of cut. For me though being both native to the area and regularly fishing it for the species in question, it was more of a chance to meet up with people whose blogs I follow avidly and have a good old chin wag whilst maybe catching a zander or two. It was a bit of a trip up memory lane as well for me as I not only grew up fishing just down the canal a bit, but also reacquainted myself with rod and line again here after a five year break from fishing when snogging girls was more appealing than sitting on a dog turd riddled tow path. 

After arriving a little early I took the opportunity to have a wander down to a place where me and my old pal pinky used to get sun burnt, blank and occasionally even catch a few fish. It was on my way back that I came across Mick also looking wistfully at the water wanting to get going. Soon enough the muster began as friends old and new arrived. As I have experienced before I got a bit of a surprise when meeting some of the people whose blogs I've been following. Brian from Pike Blog was at least two feet taller than I ever thought he was and James from James' Angling Adventures seemed somewhat scaled down in real life. This isn't the first time I have encountered this strange blog-related size distortion. I thought Lee Fletcher from This Angling Life was a giant until we first met and I realized has most certainly was not the giant I expected (sorry Lee). Now this angling blog size distortion phenomenon has me reassessing how big everyone whose blog I read is and thinking truly how big is the Sweet Corn Kid? Or is Dave Burr really the Viking I expect him to be?

We did eventually form up and trickle out after the handshakes and hellos were done knowing there would be time for chatting on the bank and in the pub once cold and dark had forced a retreat. We filtered out in all directions rods in hand and the hope of submerging floats in our hearts. Actually although I did have a back up dead bait rod with me I thought this was a perfect opportunity to see how my method of the moment, walking the worm on a drop shot rig, stood up against an array of dead baits being fished all over the area.

I ended up heading down the Coventry with Keith as generally for some odd reason I don't really get on with the Oxford canal, that and I had been fishing on the Coventry cut the last few weeks and I knew that the clarity was good for what I wanted to do. My first swim was a narrowing point by a huge reed bed and after depositing a few broken worms onto a spot and jiggling the worm around over them for half an hour I struck into a small zander of maybe half a pound. Another half an hour later and a missed run on the float fished dead bait and I was on the move back towards Keith. In my next spot I was rewarded with a small perch then after constantly working the area I got the strange urge to go back my first spot and I was glad I did.

First drop in and I barely had chance to lift the rod a couple of times before I hooked a decent fish which powered angrily around under the bent rod. I don't know whether it was the good visibility in the water or my position over the fish but I got a real treat by way of a full view of a very angry zander fighting me under the water. Really and truthfully the fish looked so cool flaring its gills, shaking its head and zig zagging around that I know that memory will stay with me forever. After a bit of a fuss where I realized my net was at the opposite end of a moored boat and assistance was needed, the fish eventually found itself in the folds of the net where it was no less angry than it was in the water.

  

Not long after that I moved again up close to Joe Chatterton of Joe Chatterton's Angling Diary and after seeking permission to linger on the edge of his swim fishing the margin I dug in until dusk. My dead bait did absolutely nothing, but thank god I persisted in constantly walking the worm round on a area I kept topped up with chopped up worms. In the few hours that I stood chatting to Joe I landed another three small zander, bumped off a couple more and lost what both me and James thought was a big perch.

Knowing the temperature was always going to fall dramatically combined with the knowledge of a open fire in the Greyhound pub always meant there was going to be a rather strong force pulling us back down the tow path. For my part the novelty of having a pint of Bass in one hand and a drop shot rod in the other only lasted as long as the pint of beer did and all too soon myself, Keith and Joe were slinging tackle in cars and heading in from the dark.

Everyone else soon arrived in spits and spats lured back to the warmth of the pub and cold beer. It was high spirits all round as the beer flowed and laughter emanated from our boisterous bar blocking group. It was really great seeing friends I haven't seen in a while and meeting some new ones and happily we landed a few zander between us which after all was at least half the point of the gathering. As for the other I wasn't sure if I actually congratulated Jeff on his what I think was his fifty-third birthday, so if not the perfect way to end this is by saying congratulations, Happy Birthday Jeff and I can't wait for zanderfest 54 next year..

A very special thing

I am by my own admission a heavy user of fishing tackle. Put it this way, it is not often that once finished with an item that it is afforded a second life via purchase or give-away. But I must say I am not an abuser of tackle either, it just that I choose the items I want carefully then fish them to death using them in a multitude of ways. Generally speaking what happens is the item of tackle becomes worn out over a prolonged period then it fails in some small way. It is then repaired a few times before I arrive at the decision that it has had it.

There is one exception though! One special item of tackle which I have cared for over all others since the day it came into my hands. Sixteen years ago to the day, I turned twenty one and on that day JB gave me a gift that was a fishing rod. Up until this point most of my gear I had been using was borrowed or very cheaply purchased and therefore was rough to say the least. This rod though was another thing. It was light, long and it came in a fancy bag.

It's not often that an item of tackle actually improves massively how you fish. Sure they make you feel extra confident and the like, but truthfully they don't make an epic difference in most cases. This rod however marked that step from rubbish gear to proper gear for me and hand on heart doubled my cast. If it wasn't for the water I was fishing I would have never known either. You see we were always were aiming to fish the very end of a huge lily bed that emanated from the public bank on Coombe pool. The whoosh that fibre glass and over-flexing carbon made would be all you'd hear from us on a Sunday morning as we tried to hit that sweet spot at the end of the pads. Then the first time I took a shot with my new Diawa tornado-Z thirteen foot match rod I literally cast past the end of the lily's and almost twice as far again. I can actually remember looking down at the rod and declaring my love there and then.

I just happened that Coombe pool was in a good phase that year and me and my new rod tore it limb from limb fishing wag and mag at the end of those pads. Every Sunday I would underarm four or more Jaffas of Van Den Eyned out into the lake. Then in between catapulting out gentles I would be casting and striking at the plethora of species that were attracted to the bait. Almost every week we'd fill a net with roach, perch and skimmers. Add to them the few slabs we would pinch and the occasional big perch or roach and we were in heaven.

Coombe shifted phases and I moved on with my faithful rod in tow. From commercials to the broads and right up natural streams high in the welsh mountains I fished them all with this rod. Carp, trout, pike and eels it seemed able to handle them all when they came along. It was me that changed though! My love of fishing grew and changed then other species demanded stronger tackle, then I wanted to catch bigger fish and that meant specialist tackle. All the time though this rod was hidden away back in it's fancy bag waiting for me to pick it up once again.... and I did.

After years ignored I needed float rod to trot for grayling and the super light Tornado came out of retirement. Our relationship was rekindled and with my new passion for fishing pole floats under rod tips for crucians and tench it seemed like it would never end and it didn't. Though now I am careful with this special thing and I find myself not risking it as much as I did in the early days and use it mainly for smaller species. Saying that you cant always choose what you catch, like last year when a rude near twenty pound carp snuffled up my bait intended for crucians. The Tornado proved it was well enough made and still in good enough condition to win that battle.

More recently I've been using it to pry some delicate feeding tench from a rediscovered water and it as always it never lets me down. Bending from butt to tip it seems to just absorb the violent runs whilst reminding that there is so much fun to be had with a light float rod rather than sitting behind buzzers propping up Avon style rods

It only seemed right that sixteen years after receiving it as a present I should find myself sitting fishing with it on my birthday. As I waited for the next soft biting tench to lift my float I sat back and remembered some of the wonderful fish, amazing places I've been and great times I have had with this rod. The memories I recalled were so cherished and made me so happy it actually bought me so much genuine joy that I had to contact JB and thank her again sixteen years later for buying me such a special thing.

And again, thank you JB :)