High Quality
Open the downloaded document, and select print from the file menu (PDF reader required).
Season
91/92
DEAR DIARY..
PART TWO
AUGUST
hatwhich needsto beproved cannot beworth
much/'
NIETZSCHE
"
Madame,
we are the press. You know
our
power.
We fix all
values.
We set all
the
standards.
Your
entire
future
depends
on
us."
JEAN
GIRAUDOUX
Following on
from
the Linear trip the
wife
and I
were invited down
to
KevinMaddock's
own
Withy Pool
for a
couple of days. The intention was notto
do any
serious carp fishing,
though
should I want to the opportunity wasthere.Kevin's rise
from
garage mechanic topublisher
and
owner
of one of the
nicest set ups
it's
been my good fortune
to
visit, is a classic example of what thiscountry
can
offer
someone
who is
willing to work hard, take risks and go
for
it. Too
many people
sit
back
on
their fat backsides and demand a
luxurious
living
from
the
State
as if it is
owed to them. In their eyes Kevinwould be viewed as another luckybastard. Oops, sorry!Ialmost slippedinto lecturing mode there.Arriving at lunchtime on a hotAugustday wewere takenon aguidedtour
of the
pool. Withy
is
splendid.
Crystal
clear waters, landscapegardened banks,
and
carp
of a
size
to
make your
jaw
drop.
We
left
Kevin'skitchen, walked across his lawn andstood on the banks of the pool. It's as
close
as that.
"Let's
go
round
thisway
I'll show
you
some
fish."
We strolled in the suntogether whilst he explained how hehad turned Withy into the water it istoday with hardly a
fish
under twentypounds and a best topping
forty.
"Lookthrough those
branches,"
hesaid,
"there's
usually a
fish
or two laid uphere." Even without polaroids I had no
difficulty
spotting
the two
fish.
Christ,
I
thought, staringat twoenormouskippers. Kevin peered over myshoulder and said, "They will be abouttwenty
five,
c'mon I'll show you somebigger ones
if
we're
lucky."Sure enough, sunbathing in somesunken branches were three carp of thesize
he was
looking for. Three thirtypounds plus mirrors. What a sight.
FROM
THE
RIVERBANK
There are two lakes at Withy, the one
I
have described
and a
small
one
Kevindug out, which is basically a fun pool.
It is
chock
a
block
full
of
fish
of all
varieties and it was on here that I choseto spend a
few
hours fishing the poleduring the
afternoon before
we were to
go out for a
meal. Despite
the
clear
sky
and high temperatures it was a bite a
Unhooking my
albino Mississippi
catfish.How longbefore I
catch another
one?
(Courtesy
Kevin
Maddpcks)
chuck
with no idea what was going to
come out
next.
Roach followed
crucian,which
followed
skimmer
after
smallcommon,
after
perch, mirror, gudgeon
etc. It was
wonderful fun.
After
about an hour the tiny Image
Worm
float
buried
just
like
it had
done
before
but the strike was met by a solidresistance that
didn't
budge. I thought I
was
fast
but it
started
to nod
slowly
and
kite
to the
left.
Steady pressure
saw
a big near black shape
surface
and rollover. It was an enormous bream.
Like
most stillwater bream coming
from
heavily stocked waters its weight
didn't
quite match its size, but at 51b9ozs
I
wasn't complaining.
I
certainly
can't
recall catching a bigger bream
before
on the pole.
At
steady intervals during the
afternoon
four
more bream cropped
up
before
I
came
off one
putting
an
abruptend to their co-operation. No moreshowed
after
that which was a pitybecause
the
first
fish
was if
anything
the
smallest
of the
five.
Looking back
I
wish
I'd weighed the others but it
seemed pointless. Even
if
they werebigger, it wouldn't have made for anymore pleasure.Around
four
o'clock Kevin joined
me
and was staggered to hear about thebream, "Thereareonly ninein
here!"
hesaid, "butthebestone we put in did
go
nine
pounds,
have you got it?" Onlythen did I begin to regret losing thatlast one.
We
chatted on discussing hisupcoming attempt on the World
catfish
record in
Russia.
In
between times
I
continued
to
catch
fish
until
one of the
'carp'
I
hooked
refused
to
submit.Despite having the pole directly overits head and with the certainty that it
didn't
weigh all that much it still stuckto the bottom like a limpet. "I bet this is
a
cat", said Kevin. Sure enough it was,but not any old cat, this was an AlbinoMississippi
Catfish
andwithoutashadow
of a
doubt
I had in my
possession
a
British record
fish.
We
weighed it, photographed it, witnessed
it and if I
hear much more aboutbloody introduced records
I
swear I'll
claim
it. Now
won't
thatput the
'cat'
amongstthepidgeons!
Poor
old
Kevin.
Catfish
King
of
England, preparing to travel thousands
of
miles across
God
knows
how
many
frontiers
to the
Volga
delta, miles
from
any
civilisation,
in
search
of a
recordcat and a tosser like me gets one on his
back
lawn. Ain't
life
a
bitch!!!Seriouslywe had agood laugh aboutthat
fish
and in truth it was caughtthree times in three days, so itobviously
isn't
very clever,but howmany records
can you
think
of
caughton the pole? I guess I'm just a star!
On the
subject
of
records,
the cat
isn't
my
first
involvement with
a
record
fish.
My
step grandfather caughtarecord
silver
bream shortly
after
the
Second
World
War which he had
stuffed
andmounted in a glass case. The
fish
wasauthenticated
by
someone
from
the
London Zoo but unfortunately was lost
in the
great
floods
of
1946/7
before
aclaim
could
be
made.
To my
eternalshame I have to admit to compoundingthe tragedy by losing his personal diaryduring
a
house move which
fully
documented its capture.
The
concept
of
making record claims
has
always
left
me a bit
cold,
particularly
nowadays when many
fish
are
known
by
name.
If you
catch
a
carp
four
ounces under the record today and
I
catch
it
again
at
four
ounces overtomorrow what
is the
difference?
We
both have caught the same
fish
haven't
we?
There are no doubt anglers aroundtoday who are claiming to have caught
a
hundred twenties when in realitythey have actually
onb
dozen
different
ones. Catching
it the
caught two
112
first
time
is the
time that matters
to me
not its weight. This is where so manyanglers go wrong and
get
caught up inhaving
to
exaggerate their catches
or
simply
lie.
Mind
you
I
only
fish
to
please myself
and no
longer
feel
any
need
toimpressmy
peers
whoeverthey mightbe. In anycase doesn'tthesize
of the
fish
caught
say as
much
about the
water
as the
angler?
Anyway,
over
a
splendid Cantonesemeal that night in Hitchin we decided
to
rise
earlyand
have another play
on
the
small pool.
I
chose
not to
fish
but
coach
Kevin again
on
the pole so we
could
have
a
natter.Dawn
in
August
is
fabulous.
Goneare
the
chilly starts
you
experience
inJune and to
some extent
July.
The
landhas
warmed
up and itis greatto be out
there.
On our trip to Linear we hadconcentrated
on
small
fish.
This
was
Kevin's chance
to
hook
a few
fish
thatwould stretch
the
elastic
and it
wasn't
too long beforehe had thechanceto
find
out
what that meant when
he
hooked
and
expertly landed
a
threeand ahalf
pound
tench. Thiswas
followed by a few
small carp
before
breakfast
intervened.
The
wife
and I
took
an
opportunity
to
do
some
early
shopping
in
Hitchin
and
decided
to
have
a
quick hours
fishing
before
setting
off for
home.
Weall
take
different
memories home withus
from
ourfishing trips.Onthis
one
mine included
findingthe
elusive
forty
and
inducing
it to
take
floaters,
though
in
truth
I felt
no
desire whatsoever
to
cast
a
bait
to it. For
Christine
on
thistrip
it was the
sight
of me
slipping
off
my basket and disappearing into the
water on my
final
cast
before
packing
up. She
still
has
fits
of
giggling thinking
aboutit
now.
Before
we did
depart. Kevin showed
me
his
'proper'
catfish
rearing tanksinwhich
he has
grown
fish
on
from
fry to
their current size of around fourteenpounds. This
was my
first
experience
of
seeing
and
touching
one of
these docile
giants who
were
not in the
least
concerned about being stroked
by a
stranger.One day I'dliketocatchoneby
design,
though quite when I'mgoing
to
find
time
I'm not
sure.
Life
sometimes seems
too
short.August
had
still
more treats
in
store
Having my string pulled! (Courtesy Kevin Maddocks.)
for
me in the
shape
of the
Evesham
festival.
DickDerringtonhad told meon thequiet backin Maythathe wasgoing to propose me as a contestant in
the
Wychavon Campionships
on
Bank
Holiday
Monday
but
that
the
final
say
would rest withthecommitteenothim.When
no
invitation arrived
I
wasn't
too
upset
but
then
out of the
blue
I got a
phone
call from
Dick.
"I've
had somebother getting hold
of you
mate,
has
no-one passed on the message? You'reinon
Monday/'
Perfect,
there was the press match onFriday,
two
days split
between
trippinground Shakespeare country with the
wife
and watching the John
Smith's,
andthen
fish
theWychavononMonday.
Last
year
on the
Friday,
the
CoarseAngler team starring Colin Dyson, RobHewison
and
myself, won the teamcompetition
hands down.
Colin and I
also
finished
second
and
first
individualstoboot.We had
intended
to
repeat the
feat
this year, but so as not
to
cause any
conflict,
or to be seen as
tapping
Rob to
write
for C.A., I had
lined up one Richard Wade Esquire, awell known alcoholic,
to
guest
for us.
However Colin was replaced asmagazine editorat theninth
hour
byJames Baxter,
throwing
my
plans
into
confusion.
When Colin rang on the Thursday to
ask if he was
still fishing
on
Friday
Iwas at a
loss what
to
say.
I
hadn't
aclue
who was
making
up the
thirdplace now the role of captain had beenwrested
from
my
grasp.
I
didn't
find
out
until
the draw
that
the third
placehadgonetothat well known CoarseAngler Journalist.
Mrs
Baxter!
Colin
meanwhile, had
turned
down
the
opportunity
to
fish
for the
National
Press
team,
due
entirely
to him
mistakenly thinking that his brilliant
performance
the previous year and hisshareholding
in
Coarse Anglermagazine, would
qualify
him for a
place in this year's team. Alas this wasnot so and the nearest he got to
Evesham was the
Ecclesall
RoadTesco's.
Frankly I was not
amused
in the
leastand
could
nolonger raiseanyenthusiasm for fishing to win. Thiswouldn't upset anyone because the aim
of
the press match is not to provideanyone with
a
gloryopportunity,
it isto
get everyone down early and createan
atmosphere
of fun.
Dickie
uses
hisconsiderable ingenuity to make itimpossible
for
anyone
to
field
a
team
of
ringers
and run
off
with
the
loot. Evenwhen you win you rarely get the loot!It's fun, it's relaxedand itexists purely
for
enjoyment. Let's hope that neverchanges.
Thirty
minutes into
the
match
I
left
my peg and
didn't return
for the
bestpart
of
four
hours.
In
between
I
socialised
and, as
Cilia
would say, had
a lorra,
lorra
laughs.
Ron
Fearnley
wastotally
exasperated having been done
off
by no
less than seven chub. Sincethat
day I
have never bumped into
him
Add a Comment