THE other day I was talking to Angling Times editor-in-chief Steve Fitzpatrick about what we thought was the most exciting thing about fishing.
Was it the waiting and the anticipation of that next bite? Was it the take, the playing of the fish, or the landing of our prize? We agreed that it had to be the take every time.
Is it a float lifting and then slowly sinking below the surface that sets your pulses racing? Maybe it’s a predator slamming into a lure, or a chub tapping on the quivertip before pulling it round 90 degrees? If you’re a carp angler, it’s probably all about sitting in your shelter on a still, silent night when out of the blue the indicator flies up and the buzzer screams a one-toner as a big fat mirror hits the lead on a bolt rig.
Whenever a fish takes, our heart rate steps up a gear and with boyish enthusiasm we hope and pray it’s the biggest fish in the lake. Even if that fish turns out to be a 2lb carp or 1lb chub, you didn’t know that at the time you first made contact did you? No – when the moment came it was your first 20lb carp or 6lb chub. Just keep at it, and eventually your dreams will become reality.
On my barbel guiding days I can see what the take does to an angler. When the rod bends over double I tell them not to panic, and to just pick the rod up without striking. The answer is always the same: “No problem, I’ve been fishing for years so I won’t panic.”
But after a wait which may be one minute or one hour the rod thumps over as though a sack of spuds has hit the line. My pupil lurches forward, sometimes falling off his chair as the rod is being pulled off the rest. In blind panic he strikes!
Of course, the fish is traveling at 100mph and the angler strikes on powerful line in the opposite direction and is nearly pulled off his feet. But that’s what it’s all about, and he’ll remember that take for the rest of his life, whether it’s from his first double or a 6lb barbel.
Later he may well recall the playing of the fish and the photo of his prize, but it’s the take that will really stick in his memory.
It’s the same for me – even now, after so many years, it’s that buzz of the take that keeps me going back for more.
Only the other day on the Severn I was sitting there with two rods, hoping for a chub or a barbel on the boilie, but because of cold water entering the river overnight I was hardly confident of a bite. I’d been almost comatose, looking at the stationary tip, and then suddenly it doubled over.
What a take, what a chub, and just like one of my customers I was all over the place once it was in the net. I tell you, the day I don’t get that feeling is the day I will pack up. Will that be soon? No chance!
