A float with soul

The demise of the "Fishing Gazette Bung" can probably be correlated to coincide with the rise in influence of, first, The Pike Society, and latterly The Pike Anglers Club of GB. Both organisations placing emphasis on the role of pike within a healthy, balanced, fishery and, therefore, promoting the catch and release ethic of modern predator angling. Fifty years ago it was so different and I have to admit to catching my first ever pike using one of these hideous contraptions - all four or five pounds of it! I no longer own one of these floats, nor a gag or gaff, which were also essential pieces of  pike fishing kit way back then. I typed "Fishing Gazette Bung" into Google search and was immediately directed to e-bay where I stole this image of the float that I'm alluding to - £35! You bloody sure?  I could get one for less than two bob (that's 10p in today's money!) when I was a teenager.

Let's be fair! Any item's only worth what someone else is prepared to pay for it. If the guy gets £35 then fair play to him, but rest assured it won't be me becoming the proud owner of said bung. My recollections of this float pattern are from a time when I was finding my feet and exploring the possibilities of the venues within a cycle ride of my parental home. I think that what I most remember is the tactile feel of the slotted cork body as it flexed to entrap the line between itself and the central wooden peg .

As soon as I'd the ability to travel further afield, via a Bonelli 125 then a Suzuki TS 250, my tackle became far more refined as I came into contact with a wider range of other anglers and also evolved into an avid reader of the angling press. I think that one aspect, of that period, which really stands out is that many of the items required were not commercially available thus we had to manufacture them ourselves. This is particularly true of the specialist stuff which was required to tackle the vastness of Wilstone Res as the tench revolution gained impetus. We had rod pods (dam stands), swingers, spods and so many other items which the modern carp boys think they invented. Each and every one hand crafted by angler's looking for solutions to specific problems. I don't recall any of the guys in The Tring Syndicate looking to make money from these creations, simply happy to exchange ideas and pass on innovative thinking as part of the process. 

The original ET "Backbiter" in conjunction with an ABU Cardinal 66X
I realise that I used this image just a short while back, but it does fit the bill here.

I don't know the exact date that Eddie Turner started to market the ET Backbiter alarm, although I still own an original pair, but do know that prior to that momentous event my pike angling bite indication was via the use of a float. Colin Dyson, Vic Bellars, Barrie Rickards and Ray Webb were at the forefront of the quest to move pike fishing out of the dark ages of "the only good pike's a dead one" mentality. Although there were companies already marketing new wave pike floats, the DIY mentality had taken hold and I was happy to experiment with balsa and other materials to create some functional, yet primitive, pike floats. I have a very tired, old, image (May 1982) of a Loch Ascog pike leaping clear of the surface, one of my original floats clearly visible - a float which still inhabits my tackle boxes in 2019!

At the end of November Bev and I travelled down to Devon, via Bath, to rendezvous with Craig & Carrie-Anne, Leon & Leeney (Pauline) for a, pre-Christmas, social. Apart from the spectacular success of the gathering, everyone knowing that there's so much more to life than the mundane, the cork from the celebratory bottle was claimed by yours truly, knowing exactly what I wanted to do with it! A pike float - what else? It's now finished and I have to admit to being satisfied with the end result. OK, it won't win any prizes for build quality or craftsmanship yet it will do the job I constructed it for. A unique, cork bodied float and direct result/reminder of something extraordinary which has happened during my life.

A selection of my home made pike floats. The one on the top right is that which
is in the 1982 photo; the float in the centre of the top row is my latest addition to
the ensemble and the only one made using a cork body - all the others are balsa.

The thinking behind my design was to demonstrate how simple it is to fish effectively with a free lined bait, without the need for bite alarms. This type of float, being extremely buoyant, far more sensitive, as an indicator, than any other bite registration method. Basically the weight of the bait is used to counterbalance the bottom only float and any feeding activity will be directly relayed to the angler via visual movement. Technically the use of a float means that the bait isn't being free-lined yet, surely to God, the bait presentation, thus the business end, is identical?  Why am I out on this tangent? I don't do float fishing as a rule because I'm an old git with failing eye sight. I think it was a direct consequence of being critical of a young lad on Youtube who'd advocated the technique claiming that his light indicators were sensitive enough to register a bite, even in weed, whilst using treble hooks! However, now having constructed this float and knowing where the initial spark came from, the "Kefalonia Gang" cork float will ensure that my efforts are focused upon landing, and photographing, a fish using it. The rest of the crew wanting to see the fruits of my labours, whilst wearing some of their hideous gifts as proof. Even if I manage to complete such a challenge, I'm not too sure I'll need to share the resultant images with visitors to this blog?

All that remains to say is how grateful I am to each and every visitor to my blog during 2019. Your support is truly inspirational and I'm very humbled by the sheer number of unknown visitors to my incoherent ramblings. I thank you all most sincerely. Wishing each, and every one, a wonderful Christmas holiday and a safe, peaceful and prosperous 2020. Toodle-pip! Dyl

All work - so no play!

This past fortnight has seen work go off the scale in the digital manufacturing department of FSIS. The run up to Christmas, school holidays and associated chaos have combined to render the section under-manned and the resultant workload has the overtime rota in meltdown. Because I'm such a company man, it took little more than a nano-second to say yes to every hour on offer! "Money grabbing bastardo", or something similar, forthcoming from my Departmental Manager (Ginger Twat!). It's nice to be nice. I'm only doing the extra hours because I feel a duty to my employers in this situation. Customer service is, after all, one of the three main business drivers! If you've made it this far and not been sick - well done! It's total bollocks! I go to work to earn enough money to live, the more I earn, the better my life. Extra hours is not because of some sad joy derived from manufacturing digital ink but, far more accurately, what that money can allow me to do when I'm beyond the factory boundary.
FSIS are a brilliant employer and I really do enjoy going to work at the Pyson's Road factory, however, it is not for the love of ink making. I have to work, fact, and this facility is within sight of my bungalow. The wages are very competitive, for the Isle of Thanet, and the guys I work with are a great bunch of characters. It's a no brainer but; when I go home work stays behind and doesn't return to my thoughts until the start of my next shift - bloody brilliant. Two more years until I retire and I've said to Bev that I'll have every penny offered up to that date. Can't say I've heard too many complaints, about the situation, from someone who's already retired?
One more shift to survive/complete before the Christmas holiday period kicks in. OK, I know we're in the factory Monday & Tuesday (half-day) but we ain't making ink! The weather has conspired to ensure that this period hasn't been one in which I feel I've missed an opportunity. It's been absolute shit and the water levels are so high as to make the majority of my favoured fisheries completely un-fishable. My new syndicate membership card arrived, in the post, last Sunday and I've still not been down for a look, as yet. The coming holiday break will certainly see me having a stroll around the complex, if not casting a bait?
Knowing that a blogger's yearly review is imminent, I'm already looking forward to 2020 and the start of a new chapter in my quest for that "split cane thirty challenge". Steve Boncey has agreed to give my pair of 1959 B James & Sons , split cane, "Dick Walker" Mk IV's a complete makeover so they will be ready and waiting cum 16th June. If he is able to do half the job that he did on my 1956 Hardy Perfection Roach rod, then I'm in for a real treat. "Don't look back - look forward" You have to be an FSIS employee to understand the relevance of such twaddle!

Chiff - chaffy

Walking back from the local shop, yesterday afternoon, I was stopped in my tracks by a piercing "tsuu-weet" call emanating from a small ornamental birch tree in a front garden just feet away. The culprit was soon located and I spent a few moments watching the Chiffchaff, cos that's what it was, flitting about in the spindly branches. It was calling frequently and provided a nice reminder of how even the most mundane of locations can provide surprises, all that's required is being receptive to the sounds around you.

An autumn juvenile at our garden feeding station

I will admit to being rather fond of Chiffchaffs they being one of the first species to proclaim the onset of Spring, yet also capable of brightening any winter's day when one is encountered around the local parks or gardens. Indeed, we had one over winter along Vine Close a couple of years back, Bev and I able to enjoy some nice sightings from within the comfort of the bungalow. Reading some of the latest posts at Not Quite Scilly I was reminded about a rather intriguing bird that John Holyer discovered within a wintering flock, which also contained a Yellow-browed Warbler, down at Stodmarsh in late 2003.

A strikingly pale individual which really stood out from the other Chiffchaffs in the group.

The most striking feature of this individual was how pale it appeared in comparison to the familiar "collybita" birds. Obviously Siberian Chiffchaff was quickly offered as an id option and, along with several other local birders, I spent many days with this individual attempting to figure out the conundrum it posed. What I really needed was to hear it call and perseverance paid off when I finally heard the bird utter that "typical" tsuu-weet contact call, so Siberian it wasn't! Didn't stop an awful lot of birders turning up and ticking that box, as I got told on several occasions, "it's obviously a Sibe!" With that Yellow-browed as an additional incentive to visit the reserve, this bird was seen by a good number of experienced "twitchers".

The Yellow-browed Warbler that overwintered at Stodmarsh NNR winter 2003/4

I had been very fortunate to find a "cast iron" Siberian Chiffchaff out on The Ash Levels way back in 1994 and that piercing mono-syllabic call note is unique. Certainly, in no way can it be mistaken for that of our nominate population? So I had to conclude that the Stodmarsh bird was an "abietinus" individual from the North/North Eastern European population. Now; whilst I'm no longer involved, therefore bothered by what's happening, in Kent (UK) birding I do keep an eye on what's being reported because it might help me whilst I'm out with the rods? An influx of Short-eared Owls, Cattle Egrets or Bee-eaters, at least I'm aware of the situation therefore prepared for such a sighting should I be so lucky?

Another angle of the Stodmarsh bird - pale as you like

Racial variation is something which I became fascinated by whilst in my final birding years. It didn't matter if I was looking at gulls, cormorants, Chiffchaffs or Peregrines, there was so much more to looking at birds because of these nuances. I've made reference to the fact that "experienced twitchers" had ticked the Stodmarsh bird as a Siberian Chiff, purely because twitchers ain't birders, just as carp anglers ain't speccy hunters! I do enjoy "Devil's Advocate" purely because I now realise how unimportant any of this stuff is. If you really wanted to see a Sibe Chiff, then away you go, exactly the same as those guys who catch a mid-thirty but hadn't weighed it. Why should it bother me how others gain pleasure from these pointless, but undoubtedly enjoyable, hobbies?

Another (autumn) juvenile Chiffchaff in the garden 

That Stodmarsh encounter has lead me to keep an eye on the news pages of Birdguides and, as yet, I have never seen a report of an "abietinus" Chiffchaff but, in contrast, Siberian Chiffchaff regularly appear in the rare bird news. How many of these reports are erroneous? Not that it really matters, certainly not to me!

How would you get on with this bird at the local SF?

The Chiffchaff puzzle is one that has provided an immense amount of scope for pushing myself as an observer. The racial variation v's species debate is more about science than field observation, but I will continue to stick to my guns and make decisions based upon what I can see through my binoculars - not down the lens of a microscope!

Time spent on holiday, Tenerife and Grand Canaria, has allowed me the chance to spend a prolonged period watching the Canary Island Chiffchaff. Vocally it is un-mistakable - one turns up in a Devon SF - silent what would the "twitchers" make of that?

The power of pictures

We've been here before? With an archive of many, many thousands of very sad, old, slides, stored inside shabby boxes and carousel cartridges, it comes as no surprise that they're not in particularly good condition. However, what they do have is an incredible ability to transport me back to an insane period of my life, one where responsibility was completely ignored due to the obsessional desire to chase big fish!

Why do I have so many? Simple really. I worked for Kodak in the Distribution - Southern Region Warehouse, during the eighties, and the ability to obtain, process paid, Kodachrome, slide film, at  a very competitive(?) price, was a brilliant spin-off.

Looking back through these snap shots has been an incredible insight into the crazy journey that my angling has taken me on. There are so many images of fish of which I have absolutely no idea where, or when, they were taken? This is the very opposite to modern, digital image capture, where date, time, camera model and umpteen other statistics are recorded as standard. If I'm lucky there might be a hand written note to accompany a slide? One other nice distraction has been seeing the faces of some very old mates, many of whom I've not seen since leaving Hertfordshire in 1993.

Ronnie Thomas with a 23 lbs plus from Emberton Park 

Cuddles with a Zed at Three Holes

Paul (Elbs) Elborn with another Fenland Zed

A Mapledurham pike - a low double from The Thames in the snow

That they mean very little to the rest of humanity doesn't prevent me smiling as I revisit these memories.

Fenland remembered

This is a tale from the murky depths of my youth, a sorry period of drunken lunacy, obsession and the pursuit of large fish; some of which I actually caught! I might have told this story before but, I've been going through some very old slides, looking for images for another project and came across photos of the fens and the zander we were then chasing. It was the Bank Holiday weekend, late August 1987, and the motley crew (Cuddles, Elbs, Sye, The Mitch's and I) were back on the Sixteen Foot Drain. It'd been quite a good campaign, up to this stage, with some decent fish falling to our rods. Although I can't find the diary entry I'm pretty sure that Phil Mitch had actually taken a double prior to this session and this is what spurred us ever onward and upwards?

Phil Mitch poses with a magnificent Zander - the weight of which I have no record

What I must mention is the fact that, the late, John Foster was R/O of the Fenland PAC and our antics caused him much angst. Fortunately we were able to resolve our differences, became good mates and he actually invited me up to give a talk at one of the PAC meetings. Looking back, we really were a bunch of c**ts (and that's not coots!) deserving of all the stick we got in the angling press of the day. Did we care? Got it in one - we loved it, catching loads of fish, sticking two fingers up at the establishment of the period. You've got to remember that the scene was far more disciplined than it is today, we really did rock the boat. Don't like it? What you gonna do? The two Mich's and Cuddles, combined, weighed over 60 stone and weren't particularly PC. A guy on the National Anguilla Club stand was left a seething/gibbering mess by Simon Mitch. I think it was Reading University? The Eel guys had quite an impressive photo board and the soppy sod asked Simon what he thought of the display? "So that's what a whole one looks like" Absolutely brilliant - total meltdown by the eel disciple, we were in fits of laughter - completely helpless, didn't help matters when a couple of other guys attempted to act as mediators - we fucked them off as well! Result = another mention in Snide Rumours & Dirty Lies - David Hall loved us, we filled plenty of column inches and he even allowed me to write articles, for which I got paid, couldn't get much better?

Cuddles with a Three Holes zed - RIP old mate.

So back to the day in question. We would have spent lunchtime in The Cherry Trees, at Welney, supping a good few "light ales" probably in the company of Ernie James, the last of the Fenland eel & plover netters, who was well into his eighties and still enjoyed a beer. Zander fishing was all about the hours of darkness, thus days were to be filled with catching bait and drinking beer. Horrible! I'll draw a veil over how we managed to travel around the fenland roadways - we were young and stupid if that helps? All I can say is we never got caught, which isn't a defence, just a statement. The chosen pitches for this particular night were close to the bridge at Three Holes and we were in good spirits, quite literally, as we set up camp for the coming night.  We all drank Nelson Mandela (Stella to the un initiated) which was still rated at 5.2% abv at the time - proper lunatic soup! Twenty four cans a day wasn't beyond the capability of the most hardened members of the gang. Quality street drinking men - guys who lived and have died by their own rules - nothing more to say.

One of my very early Zander from Three Holes - frosty dawn  January 1982. What was that permed hair all about?
I blame Kevin Keegan!

The Great Ouse River Authority still existed and their rod licence was required to enable us to fish these fenland drains. Three rods each, so that's a possible eighteen between us - bloody great. On that fateful night, surely one of us would have a result? We didn't sleep , simply passed out, yet our senses remain tuned in and , at 03.15 hrs, the piercing scream of my homemade back-biter, all 95 decibels of Tandy car alarm, had me swiftly beside the rod as the line steadily trickled off the spool. Was this the moment, the one that I'd been dreaming of ever since my first zander fishing trip, some six years earlier? Only one way to find out! Over went the bale arm and the rod hooped over my shoulder as I connected with my foe, somewhere out in the depths. No head torches back then, just a simple bike lamp, carefully positioned by the front rod-rest which provided the illumination for the finale of any battle during the hours of darkness.

This  zander remains my PB - 9 lbs 8 oz October 1985

Convinced that I'd actually hooked the zander of my dreams I happily allowed this fish to waste its' energy out in the depths of the central channel. My emotions were a complete mess, never had a Zander done this to me before. Absolutely no idea how long had elapsed before I was ready to draw my prize over the net, but I just recall the absolute horror when I realised that my adversary was, in fact, a pike! I unhooked it and placed it into an ET "Pike Tube" because it was obviously a double, but went back to my bivvy, after re-casting the rod, completely gutted!
With no further action, I slept through well after sun-rise and it was only when I'd dragged myself from the sleeping bag and fired up the kettle that my capture was of interest. Even in those days I only got going once the caffeine had been supped. There was a pike in the tube and one that I needed to  weigh (as I knew it was a double) because my recording of accurate statistics are so much more important than guesstimation!

17 lbs 1 oz - 31st August 1987

In the bright morning sunlight I had a reality slap - what was my problem? It was a truly magnificent fish, absolutely pristine. What's not to like? I realise it wasn't the zander I so wanted, yet not the fault of this pike. My expectations were a manifestation of very personal origins, this pike was the kick up the arse I needed, at that period. In 2019 I'm able to look at the image and smile. What a complete cock I was back in August 1987.

Exciting times

Under no circumstances is that post title to be misconstrued as a reference to the General Election! I've almost given up the will to live, such is the level of deceit being peddled by all of our leading political figures. No, my excitement is due to being accepted as a member of a local angling syndicate. As is the norm, in 2019, carp dominate this particular two lake complex but there are also decent stocks of tench, bream and pike, hence my interest. Roach and perch are also present so there's plenty of opportunities for me to explore. My membership has been confirmed, via a phone call, and I just await an email to set me on my latest adventure - I need a printed copy to comply with syndicate rules until my official membership card arrives.
Benno, Luke, Tom Bradbury (remember him?) and I are pike fishing the RMC in the morning, so there should be something to blog about when I get home. In the mean time, take a moment to think about this farcical election. Do any of the candidates, in your ward, actually represent what you think? In Dumpton we've only had one leaflet delivered - by the Lib Dems - and that was pushed into the post box not handed to me on the doorstep. It would appear to me that the only option left is to go to the polling station, on 12th Dec, and spoil a ballot paper. At least, having made the effort, you are fully entitled to voice an opinion. The whole lot of them are a disgrace and a sad reflection of what our proud democracy has now become - a bloody sham! Fishing in the morning - I'm off to bed. Toodle-pip.

Bread and butter pike fishing

I suppose it's very much an age thing; realisation that enjoyment of angling can't be measured, purely, in terms of pounds and ounces. When I picked up the rods again I knew that it had to be different, even if Bev hadn't got a clue what she'd done by agreeing to my accompanying Benno and Sye back up to Loch Awe for "one last session!" Once the seeds had been sown, the desire returned, Pike became the species which I used to revisit the lunacy of my earlier dalliance with specimen hunting. Setting myself the challenge of a "twenty" was folly, yet allowed me to rediscover the thrills of pitting my wits against this freshwater shark. Even now, almost fifty years since the first, their unblinking stare and awesome dental weaponry is a route straight back to my original encounter - so vivid is that moment etched in my memory. Every capture has this magic, size irrelevant, it's all about the adrenaline rush caused by a bite alarm, or float, indicating a take.

There's a great deal said about familiarity and contempt, but I'd choose experience (getting old?) as a better way of explaining this mind-set. As an individual I have been fortunate to have witnessed the capture of thousands of pike, hundreds of doubles and a good few bigger specimens, to an exceptional 38 lbs + by Paul Elborn at Llandegfedd Res, 1990? Whilst involved in this pike fishing circus I've certainly had my fair share of action, with some stunning fish falling to my rods. Yet what about today, what do I now want from my piking?

There's the real crux - what do I want? As I said at the start, it's not about pounds and ounces, thus it has to be about something else. Ambience, avoiding the crowds, peace and quiet, wild fish, yes all, or some. of these factors is what pushes me on to seek pike away from the well trampled banks of conformity. That there is a price to pay, in as much as the fish are not huge, is one that's well worth paying. Of course I could still stumble upon an absolute monster, yet harbour no such desires - I just want to continue to catch pike on my terms. I still take great pleasure in any fish weighing more than ten pounds, the records of which I have  going right back to 1981 when that first one slipped into my landing net.

This Matt Hayes "Limited Edition" centre-pin has been absolutely ruined in the angling social media.
I own three and they are superb, just required a little TLC. It took no more than a few tweaks
of the spokes, and central adjustment screw,
 now they spin as free as my Match Aerial

My venues of choice allow me to employ tackle and techniques which only serve to enhance my enjoyment of every fish caught. Centre-pins fitted to 1.75 lbs t/c compound taper rods is only the start.  Bite indication is via roller type alarms in conjunction with monkeys on angled needles; quirky enough to have started many a conversation with anglers, dog walkers, joggers and other bank side visitors who have crossed paths. I've already mentioned my bait preferences and presentation in some of my recent posts, so won't go over it again here.  One aspect of pike fishing which is now starting to attract my attention is that of their nocturnal feeding behaviour. I'd caught quite a few pike during the hours of darkness during my previous incarnation but, somehow, always put it down to luck? The winter eel adventure of 2015/16 was to change my thinking and I am now embarked on another voyage (not overly serious, as yet) of discovery. Pike do feed under the cover of darkness, fact! Can I use this information to my own advantage, time will tell.

One of the pike caught , in darkness, during the eel campaign of Winter 2015/16

What I will say is that fish safety is paramount in everything I do, so my bite registration is not up for experimentation. I use techniques which have stood the test of time and, as such, are sensitive enough to ensure that I'm able to react swiftly to any taking fish and so avoid deep hooking my quarry. Obviously no bite registration system can totally eradicate this scenario, no matter how sensitive your bite indication. So the one piece of advice I give to anyone starting out after these fabulous predators is "join the Pike Angler's Club of GB". This organisation has done more to promote the enjoyment of catch and return pike fishing than any other. They are best placed to assist any beginner with all the advice on how to fish for, land, handle, unhook and return these creatures to the fisheries, from whence they came, in the same condition as they came out. This information is freely available via many avenues, books and promo videos being particularly useful yet, it seems to me, Youtubers now hold sway. Instant access, instant gratification, no membership fees or visits to the library.

The finest book ever published on the subject - ask Eddie Turner!

It would be unfair of me to point a finger at an individual, so I'll generalise this gripe. Lots of these "Johnie cum lately" wannabee famous types place far more importance on "thumbs up", "likes" and "subscriptions" than what could be the possible result of what they're advocating. Free lining dead baits is a massive no-no! It's a method which was frowned upon because of the high risk of deep hooked, thus dead/mortally injured, pike way back in the Fred J Taylor era. In 2019 it has no place at all. Imagine my dismay when I watched a young guy, a keen and relatively successful angler, promoting the use of this technique. I was going to post a comment but already another viewer had made an observation only to be inundated by supporters of the "channel" griping on about the "Pike Police"
Many of my favoured fisheries are subjected to the activities of Eastern European farm workers using illegal long lines in order to put pike on the table. That an angler uses Youtube to promote an equally out-dated method to fish for pike is very disturbing. The only thing that can be guaranteed, under these circumstances, is that fish will die because of the lack of sensitivity with bite indication. It takes a very experienced and confident angler to remove hooks that are out of sight in the throat/stomach of a pike. The best a novice can hope for is to use a pair of wire cutters and watch the fish swim away, the throat completely stitched up. There is a role for free-lined baits, but chuck and chance it ain't. To promote the tactic to combat weed? You cannot be serious!