Howard Cooke
Senior Member
When thinking about rigs and bait and tackle I, like many of you I imagine, randomly search the Internet. And in doing so, one can't help stumble across various blogs and articles by all manner of folk- all providing a marvellous and personal insight into a world of inspiration and fishing joy. How do these people do it? An endless stream of red letter days it seems to me and I never seem to be able to match them. Are these works of fiction or a genuine record of fishing mastery? I just don't know. Anyway, I am starting my own blog and here is my first entry:
"The weather was by no means perfect. The Kennet was totally frozen over apparently and farm animals were literally flying about the place, such was the ferocity of the wind. I had to duck for, well, a duck actually. I checked the thermometer as usual and at -45c I was in two minds whether to make the 400 mile trip or not. Sod it I thought, even if I don't catch, it will be nice to just get the line wet. When I arrived at the river, I was delighted to find I had it to myself. I initially thought I saw a couple of anglers daft enough to brave the elements like my good self. But when I approached them, I realised they were both dead. Frozen solid. One of them had quite literally died whilst landing a small crayfish. Why do people persevere with luncheon meat in these conditions. After a quick brew, I wandered along the river, admiring the wintery scene before me. It was so peaceful and deathly quiet. I found a swim just passed the green bridge on a bend. Looked very fishy. Using the frozen arm of a dead angler, I repeatedly smashed at the ice and managed to make a small hole- just big enough to plop a bait in. Perfect. Bait was simplicity personified- a small brown leaf, lightly pinched onto the hook. A single no. 4 shot 1 inch from the hook completed this simple rig. I lowered it into position and waited. The bite was savage and instant. But somehow I managed to reach forward and wrestle the otter to the ground. I punched him repeatedly in the face and told him that he and his sort were not welcome on our rivers. Mr Otter said fair enough and agreed that he would gather up all the other otters and they would move to Hull. No sooner had he left when the rod wrapped round and after an incredible fight, a 26lb barbel graced the landing net. This was followed by an 18lb chub, caught on a dead mans finger. I couldn't see how the day could get any better so I brought the session to an end. When I got back to the car, Pippa Middleton was leaning against it and asked if I wouldn't mind holding her clothes as she was on some sort of underwear modelling shoot"
"The weather was by no means perfect. The Kennet was totally frozen over apparently and farm animals were literally flying about the place, such was the ferocity of the wind. I had to duck for, well, a duck actually. I checked the thermometer as usual and at -45c I was in two minds whether to make the 400 mile trip or not. Sod it I thought, even if I don't catch, it will be nice to just get the line wet. When I arrived at the river, I was delighted to find I had it to myself. I initially thought I saw a couple of anglers daft enough to brave the elements like my good self. But when I approached them, I realised they were both dead. Frozen solid. One of them had quite literally died whilst landing a small crayfish. Why do people persevere with luncheon meat in these conditions. After a quick brew, I wandered along the river, admiring the wintery scene before me. It was so peaceful and deathly quiet. I found a swim just passed the green bridge on a bend. Looked very fishy. Using the frozen arm of a dead angler, I repeatedly smashed at the ice and managed to make a small hole- just big enough to plop a bait in. Perfect. Bait was simplicity personified- a small brown leaf, lightly pinched onto the hook. A single no. 4 shot 1 inch from the hook completed this simple rig. I lowered it into position and waited. The bite was savage and instant. But somehow I managed to reach forward and wrestle the otter to the ground. I punched him repeatedly in the face and told him that he and his sort were not welcome on our rivers. Mr Otter said fair enough and agreed that he would gather up all the other otters and they would move to Hull. No sooner had he left when the rod wrapped round and after an incredible fight, a 26lb barbel graced the landing net. This was followed by an 18lb chub, caught on a dead mans finger. I couldn't see how the day could get any better so I brought the session to an end. When I got back to the car, Pippa Middleton was leaning against it and asked if I wouldn't mind holding her clothes as she was on some sort of underwear modelling shoot"
