I'm recalling fondly on tackle dipping days as I am getting ready to embark on a return into the world's favourite participation sport or hobby, call it what you will. I still have most of my bait and tackle packed away in the garage, most of it almost certainly outlawed and facing substitution now so I will be making an early sortie to one of the many neighbourhood fishing tackle shop in the locale, and for a lot of the more normal gear, an internet bait and tackle shop.
The first occasion I went fishing was with my father and his brother who was a very keen maggot drowner, to a gravel pit near St Albans when I was around 8 years old. I do not remember much about it, but I did get a brace of chub which I was highly satisfied with. I say that 'I' caught, of course in reality my old man set up my bait and tackle and my uncle showed me how to cast so that was about the boundary of my skill. I seem to recall that that weekend I was also donning my 1st fur lined parka jacket. The things you remember eh?
In my early teenage I got very devoted and I was in a group of chums who would go to our village ponds on a Tuesday and Thursday early evening. And, if I was not playing football or rugby, I would go for the day on a Saturday. And if I was I would try and go for the afternoon after the game if there was time.
Most of my bait and tackle was fairly elderly and second-hand. Our village did not boast a specialist fishing tackle shop although we had a mini department store that retained a small choice. For bigger and better tackle you had to go into Guildford. We also didn't have somewhere nearby that sold maggots, so fairly often bait mixtures would appear, and digging up worms was a very important requirement.
We also used to go out to a small river at the frontier of the village which was very daring because we rarely had permits for it but it was always good sport if you could bag a quality swim. I remember once getting into a shoal of gudgeon and having 30 minutes of glee pulling them out and freeing them again in an almost continuous motion. I know vegans, I know, not much fun for the fish but then again, being a wild fish isn't much fun at any time as far as I can see. And when I went home I did bung in the remainder of my bait for them to scoff without risk.
Those were superb days, I remember with great clarity the old lady who lived down the road from the lakes that we had to talk to first to get a day permit and strolling around the two ponds to see who was already in place, selecting a swim if your favourite was not free and then getting the bait and tackle set up for the day and getting the 1st cast of the day out into the water. Then later, the excitement as someone got into a carp, everybody grouping round offering advice on how best to play it and then hope to be the one to be asked to hold the landing net as it comes into the bank.
Those were halcyon days, an early time when as kids we would released to make our own entertainment, no trouble, no naughtiness or annoying other people. I do wonder how many kids at the age now that we were then would be permitted to do that. I don't know, but I reckon it's not so straightforward now.
20101213
The first occasion I went fishing was with my father and his brother who was a very keen maggot drowner, to a gravel pit near St Albans when I was around 8 years old. I do not remember much about it, but I did get a brace of chub which I was highly satisfied with. I say that 'I' caught, of course in reality my old man set up my bait and tackle and my uncle showed me how to cast so that was about the boundary of my skill. I seem to recall that that weekend I was also donning my 1st fur lined parka jacket. The things you remember eh?
In my early teenage I got very devoted and I was in a group of chums who would go to our village ponds on a Tuesday and Thursday early evening. And, if I was not playing football or rugby, I would go for the day on a Saturday. And if I was I would try and go for the afternoon after the game if there was time.
Most of my bait and tackle was fairly elderly and second-hand. Our village did not boast a specialist fishing tackle shop although we had a mini department store that retained a small choice. For bigger and better tackle you had to go into Guildford. We also didn't have somewhere nearby that sold maggots, so fairly often bait mixtures would appear, and digging up worms was a very important requirement.
We also used to go out to a small river at the frontier of the village which was very daring because we rarely had permits for it but it was always good sport if you could bag a quality swim. I remember once getting into a shoal of gudgeon and having 30 minutes of glee pulling them out and freeing them again in an almost continuous motion. I know vegans, I know, not much fun for the fish but then again, being a wild fish isn't much fun at any time as far as I can see. And when I went home I did bung in the remainder of my bait for them to scoff without risk.
Those were superb days, I remember with great clarity the old lady who lived down the road from the lakes that we had to talk to first to get a day permit and strolling around the two ponds to see who was already in place, selecting a swim if your favourite was not free and then getting the bait and tackle set up for the day and getting the 1st cast of the day out into the water. Then later, the excitement as someone got into a carp, everybody grouping round offering advice on how best to play it and then hope to be the one to be asked to hold the landing net as it comes into the bank.
Those were halcyon days, an early time when as kids we would released to make our own entertainment, no trouble, no naughtiness or annoying other people. I do wonder how many kids at the age now that we were then would be permitted to do that. I don't know, but I reckon it's not so straightforward now.
20101213
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