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THE CLUB EVENTS
And setbacks at top level!
M OST anglers have
regrets about some
aspect of their sporting
life. In my case giving up match
angling at the tender age of 15 is
top of the list. I had done quite
well, for my age, winning
occasionally against good
opposition, but I packed it in for
the usual reasons.
A few years on and settled
down to married life, I took up
fishing again, becoming
interested in both tench and
pike. Living in South Yorkshire,
however, and with transport
problems seriously limiting my
results, I soon became
disillusioned and looked for
another challenge.
Maybe I should have gone
straight back into match fishing
then, for it does not really matter
where you live or what the level
of sport is like in match fishing.
The main aim is to compete
against whoever is there on the
day, and to achieve a feasible
target weight for the water. It
was perhaps fortunate for me
that I didn't, though, for the
intervening venture was the one
which laid down the foundations
for my future competitive
efforts.
The purchase of a motorcycle
brought the River Idle within my
reach, and a great love of river
fishing developed. The Idle is a
tributary of the lower Trent.
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Notices went up announcing the
Severn-Trent Water Authority's
River Idle Improvement
Scheme. The floods were a
problem, no argument there, but
to cure it the river was
devastated. Every bush and tree
was removed on the banks which
had the treatment, and the banks
landscaped so they could be
mown by tractor. The whole
river bed was lowered by about a
yard, and Europe's largest pump
was installed at Stockwith.
Lew Grade's crack about
'Raise the Titanic' — that it
Nowhere is it much more than 20
yards wide, averaging between 3
and 5ft deep. It was a jungle of a
river, with rafts of weed making
roach of 21bs 4oz. I will never
forget that fish as long as I live. It
was beautiful, and almost
certainly had not been caught
would have been cheaper to
lower the Atlantic! — could have
been made reality by that pump.
I was devastated. Some boffin of
it almost unfishable during the before. Only someone who has an engineer had turned my
summer. Even a light shower caught his first genuine 21b dream river into a canal, without
would flood it in winter, a roach, by design, will understand even asking my permission, and
handicap which was to lead to its why I could not fish any more had added insult to injury by
virtual destruction, though I was that day. An ambition had been calling it an improvement
blissfully unaware of that at the achieved; there seemed no point scheme!
time. in fishing on. It was time for another change,
Floods were such a problem Little did I know that my but where? Around that time I
that 22,000 acres of land went paradise was about to be lost. was fancying myself as a good
under water almost every winter,
for weeks at a time. Fish stocks
were low and whilst the average
size was high, good catches were
few and far between. So were
other anglers!
I am making it sound so
uninviting, but I came to love
that river, haunting its banks
from its confluence with the
Trent at West Stockwith all the
way up to Mattersey. It was my
river, and I fished it as often as I
could.
It was hard work, but it was
rewarded. You could not catch
on the Idle by fishing badly.
Baits had to be presented
perfectly with float tackle or the
bites did not come, but each year
bigger and bigger roach turned
up — glittering indications that I
was getting better.
Eventually came the fish, a
Opening day catch from the Idle
in 1982
 angler. Local folklore always had
it that anyone who could fish the
Idle could fish anywhere, and I
believed it. I knew I was the best
stick float angler in the world,
and I had also acquired a
quivertip rod. It was time to go
match fishing again, and this
time I was going for the top dogs.
I fished the Trent, Witham,
Derwent and Aire. I fished
ponds, lakes and reservoirs. I
even joined a winter league. And
boy, was I found wanting! Whilst
I framed in a 300-pegger on the
Trent, had a second at
Worsborough Reservoir, of all
places, and picked up the odd
section I knew I was out of my
depth.
I was still the best float angler
in the world, seeing nobody who
looked better than I thought I
was. But maybe that was because
the waggler was winning all the
matches at the time, and
something called a swimfeeder.
Even the pole was starting to
make an impact in places.
Disillusioned, I took stock of
the situation and realised I had
aimed too high. I was also 32
years old, and I had wasted 16
seasons when I could have been
learning to compete. I decided to
drop back to club match fishing
the following season, and start to
learn my trade from the bottom.
I had enjoyed my year on the
open circuit, but didn't like
being shown up as often as I was.
I vowed I would be back, but
only when I was ready.
The summer of '83 saw me on
the Trent every Saturday, at club
level. I was still biased towards
the float and was quite
consistent, finishing between
second and sixth most weeks, but
I could not seem to win one.
Taking stock of the situation I
had to admit that the feeder,
whilst seeming to be
'Little did! know that my paradise was about to be lost'
Winter floods on the Idle and the
process of improvement* has
begun
inconsistent, was the winning
method. With a little reluctance I
decided to spend the rest of the
season on the 'pig,' and on
September 24 finally made the
breakthrough at Fiskerton using
a block and feeder with hemp
and caster.
Within four weeks I had won
two more, but the busy part of
the club season was then over. I
carried on alone through the
winter, practising hard with the
feeder. I also read a lot, and went
to forums. I sought out top
anglers and pestered them to
death. I wrote to people, and
listened and learned . . .
The summer of '84 was like a
dream. I drew well, and fished
well. The groundbait feeder was
working, and experiments I was
doing with additives bolstered
my confidence. Fifteen matches
into the season I had made the
top two 10 times, with three
other placings in the top four. It
continued to go like that, but I
gradually realised that the
dominance of the open-ended
feeder was declining.
For the opening match of the
following season I chose a
200-pegger at Burton Joyce and
got a top 10 placing.
Unfortunately I blew this one by
losing a carp — heartbreaking,
for £1000 went with it! I also
contrived to drop a £100
skimmer at the net, but that's
fishing. The '85 summer was
dour on the Trent, but I had
continuing success with the
block and feeder and maggot.
I had perfected the technique
to be described by Tom
Pickering in his Coarse Angler
article in February 1986, and the
Bob Roberts, with a 97/2/6 carpfron
method was working so well for That confirmed what I knew
me I decided to have a crack at already — that club standards in
the Burton Joyce Saturday series. my neck of the woods are very
Those who are familiar with that high. The exercise has been a real
scene will know it's tough, with eye-opener for me.
top anglers at virtually every peg, I hope this article doesn't
but I got a good start — section sound like trumpet blowing, for
win at the first attempt from a that's not the intention. It's just
bad draw. that the editor, Colin Dyson,
Sadly, though, that draw was noticed my resultsHt club level
the first of a long succession of and we ended up swapping
duff pegs. I always seemed to letters about various aspects of
draw the road stretch, which match fishing. He's always been
doesn't usually respond well to conscious of the fact that articles
the feeder method. It got me from top match anglers
down in the dumps, and against sometimes go right over the head
good advice I threw in the towel. of the club man, and was looking
I should have persevered, for someone who could maybe
knowing a good draw would write with the club man in mind.
come sooner or later; but it was Whether I can do the job
easier said than done. remains to be seen, but I'll try.
It's easier to see, with This is just what Colin calls the
hindsight, one's mistakes. scene-setter, where I'm supposed
Perhaps mine was to go to what is to introduce myself and set out
arguably the most difficult match my qualifications for writing
in England and expect to win. At about some of the methods. Club
the time, though, I could not fishing has given me such a lot it
understand why I didn't! will be a pleasure to try and put a
It was probably a reaction .to little back.
this that I went back on the float I'll be dealing with some of the
in 1986.1 had become bored with problems I faced, and how I
the feeder, and also had a spell of sorted them out, but I must
illness. I needed to relax, and stress that I don't know all the
often I relaxed too much, going answers. Maybe you, out there,
in for a bit of bank walking on can help me too, so if you
sunny days. In consequence the disagree with anything, or can
number of wins dropped a bit, add something useful to my
though in a 20 match spell I contribution, why not write in
scraped into first or second place and have your two-pennorth. I
nine times, all on the float. am conscious of the fact that
Admittedly some of these were there are far better match anglers
on the wasp grub, but it was the than me, even at club level.
float nevertheless, and it was It's really all about putting the
very good fishing. Three times I pieces together. We all have vital
went to the scales with over 251bs bits of the jigsaw. Put them all
and failed to win, and on one together and we have Tom
memorable occasion I scaled Pickering potential — at least in
nearly 371bs and only came third! theory! •
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