Tackle

The Hampshire Avon

The Hampshire Avon rises in the Vale of Pewsey and, with its tributaries the Bourne and Wylye, drains the chalk of Salisbury plain. The River Nadder, which is joined by the Wylye near Salisbury drains part of the South Wiltshire Downs and (more significantly for anglers) the clays of the Wardour Vale.

The River Ebble and the Ashford Water enter the Avon downstream of Salisbury and Fordingbridge respectively.
Below Fordingbridge a number of New Forest streams enter the Avon. The Avon flows into Christchurch Harbour where it is joined by the River Stour.

The total fall from Pewsey to the sea is 110m, the average gradient downstream of Salisbury is approximately 2m/km. The flow is characterised by a high groundwater component derived from springs rising in the headwaters of the Avon and its major tributaries.

The river and its tributaries are of national and international importance for their wildlife communities.

Any bites Josh?

Josh, you OK?

Josh?

Josh was asleep.

Well, it was just past midnight and he'd never been up that late before.
How many of you have experienced taking one of your children on their first 'all nighter'? How was it for you? for me it was hugely enjoyable, a mixture of pride and excitement and memories flooding back of how I'd felt on my first nocturnal session.

We arrived at the fishery at about 7pm on a fine July evening to get set up. Josh had been fishing with me before, mostly spectating, and this was to be his first time in control of his own rod and line.
I set him up with an eight food light spinning rod, fixed spool reel, 6lb main line and a 2lb hook length to a 16 hook suspended from a float.
Bait was to be maggot and with a good population of small roach and skimmer bream in the water he was pretty sure to have some sport.
I tackled up an eleven foot rod with a small sliding ledger and maggot and a second rod with a cream flavoured boilie.
I baited up an area between a couple of bushes on my right and put a boilie on the hook!

On the hook? Yes, obviously boilies have been around for a long time and I have never used them before so I just assumed you put them on the hook. I have since been educated in such matters and the beauties of 'hair rigs' et al.
By this time Josh was getting bites and it wasn't long before he caught his first fish. WOW! I doubt that the three inch roach that devoured the single maggot will ever bring such a huge sense of joy and achievement to anybody again, and Josh was pretty pleased too! What is it that we enjoy so much about fishing? Outwitting the fish, the thrill of the fight? Neither would seem to apply in the case of this little shimmer of silver but the joy on Josh's face was as easy to read as a book. It's perhaps a little sad that many anglers lose this basic joy as the capture of such small 'easy' fish becomes a little tedious. We would do well to remember something of that first exciting catch and banish the phrase 'trash fish' from our vocabulary. Whoops, that's enough moralising for now.

By loose feeding with maggots Josh caught several more roach before the light faded and the float vanished into the evening gloom.
I retackled his rod with a sliding ledger and sweetcorn as hookbait and he recast. He actually picked up casting much quicker than I thought he would. The only difficulty he had seemed to be that the reel was physically a bit large for him to handle. When most people cast they hold the line against the spool with their index finger, Josh's isn't long enough so he had to hook the line over his finger which does make it harder to release the line at the right moment.

My usual setup is to use two storm lanterns adjacent to the seats for lighting and then washing up liquid bottle tops, clipped over the line between the first and second rod rings, as bite indicators. A bit Heath Robinson perhaps but it's cheap and it works. The only drawback is, of course, that you have to sit and watch instead of being woken by an alarm but that's no real hardship.
I have to say that Josh was not over impressed by this change in tactics and it wasn't hard to see why, no bites!
I explained that this is the way things were and if he did get a bite it was likely to be a bigger fish and this fuelled his enthusiasm for a bit longer. About two hours in fact which was when I discovered that, beneath copious layers of clothing, he had fallen asleep.

I woke him and suggested we had a midnight snack, good idea. I've got an old Renault Trafic van which makes a superb tent so we retired to the car park and brewed a cup of tea while Josh ate the chocolate, well most of it.
He got in his sleeping bag and went back to sleep and I returned to the water to do some serious 'undisturbed' fishing.

By 5am I'd caught one fish, a roach of about 4oz, well it was a slightly bigger fish. It was getting light now so I went and woke Josh and suggested some breakfast. Bacon eggs and fried bread went down very well, he wolfed it down although I have to say it looked a bit like someone had wolfed it down the previous evening but it tasted great.

Back to the fishing then. Needless to say Josh wanted the float back, I obliged and before long he was back into the small roach and the odd skimmer bream. I was, however,
catching very little so I decided to chuck out a few crusts. This is something I almost always do at first light. I cut half a dozen cubes from a nice crusty loaf and drop them in some likely spots along a nearby bank. On some waters you give up right away as the water boils with fry but on others it's frequently productive. Ideally you can see all the crusts from where you are fishing and spot any activity. Sure enough after about twenty minutes a crust was sucked down by a good fish, followed by another. At this point the boilie rod was re-tackled with a crust and we crept around to the area of activity. I dropped in another 'freebie' which was taken in five minutes so in went another, this time with a size six barbless hook in it.

Ten minutes later the crust was taken and I lifted the rod, waiting for the line to move off. It did, I struck and handed the rod to Josh. Surface hooked Carp usually move off at a rate of knots and this one was certainly no exception. Josh held on tight and looked on in astonishment as the line screamed off the lightly set clutch on reel, I actually grabbed hold of his coat to stop him sliding down the steep bank, after the small stuff he had been catching he had no idea that a fish could actually pull this hard. He made a fair attempt at playing the fish and after 5 minutes or so I netted it for him. Pleased or what? I took a photograph and let Josh gently return the fish to the water.

Now I was really pleased and proud that Josh had caught this fish but was not aware that it might have a downside. The immediate one was "lets catch another". Hmmmm, well it's not quite that easy Josh, we'll have scared them off. And more recently "let's catch some carp, I love catching carp".
To add strength to my argument (it's not always that easy) we recently had another all night session with the express intention of catching a carp for the cover shot of this years Get Hooked! It was at a local fishery, with a good population of large carp, that had been fishing well recently. A local angler was also there all night to 'reduce the odds' and another turned up before light. The sum total of our efforts... three carp anglers nil (one lost ghost carp) Josh about thirty rudd, golden orfe and golden tench to about 8oz. You can imagine the conversation; "have you caught anything Gra?", no, "I have. Has that man over there caught anything?", no. "Has that man caught anything Gra?", no. "I've caught more than anybody haven't I?", yes Josh.
He couldn't really grasp why people should 'deliberately' not catch fish, which were easy, in pursuit of something unseen which was obviously very hard to catch, that's very easy to grasp, isn't it?

Back to our original expedition and it was now about 9am. I was still fishing ledgered corn on one rod and boilie on the other and Josh was back with his floatfished maggot and catching fish again. Suddenly the bottle top on the boilie rig shot up and I struck. I knew right away that this was a good fish as it made off, hugging the bottom and taking line. After a solid fight I slid the net under a mirror of about 91b which was immediately returned.

Well that's about it, we fished on until about 11.30am and I spent most of the time watching and helping Josh who was still catching by generous loose feeding with the remainder of the maggots. He was a bit disappointed when we went to empty the keepnet, which had been kept in an outside shed, as some small rodents had surreptitiously enlarged the mesh sufficiently to allow all but a few of his fish to escape but on the whole he really enjoyed himself. He just about made the twelve mile journey home without falling asleep but wandered around like a zombie for the rest of the day and slept like a log that night.

To conclude this little tale I'd like to offer a few thoughts from my experience. If you need patience to be a fisherman, treble it and then add some if you intend taking your offspring. You'll spend a lot of time undoing tangles and getting hooks out of seats and the like. (pick a swim with no trees nearby) This also means, if you are fishing yourself, you are going to miss fish, I missed at least two 'sucker' runs on the boilies. Be as sure as you can that your subject is actually going to catch fish, he/she will get bored very quickly. Take lots of grub and treats, this is great for staving off the aforementioned boredom. If it gets really bad pick up and go home, don't inflict fishing on your pupil (you can always go again on your own). Six years old, in my experience, is the minimum age if your pupil is going to fish with any degree of independence.
Whatever the drawbacks, with a little extra patience I know you'll find it an extremely rewarding experience.

My float has been bobbing up and down, showing signs of movement from rudd and roach. I've caught, in the hour or so I've been here, about twenty small fish, and one large, and very beautiful, golden rudd, the first I've ever caught. I was surprised at how golden it was. It's back was almost orange fading to a brilliant gold leaf colour on its body. I felt so happy to holding it, as if I'd caught my first salmon or carp. It released a new and bright enthusiasm over me, reminding me of my old feelings of why I fish, which sometimes, after spending weeks after uncatchable carp, fades and disappears.

The enjoyment of catching fish is overwhelming as my float sinks and I'm reeling in another.

A rudd. Its silver scales glisten and sparkle in the sunshine, its blood red fins move in time with its mouth and gills. The hook is easily removed, with a disgorger, and then the fish happily swims away.

I caught my largest roach to date from this pool, it must be a little over a year ago now. I'd spied three well rounded tench skulking close in to the bank, but hidden by an overhanging hazel. I'd managed to crawl through a labyrinth of bamboo, under the fence that surrounds the water, and slithered my way close to the tree. There in full technicolour where the tench but to my surprise, four very large roach nudged the water's surface. They looked lazy and arrogant, as though no one knew that roach that size inhabited the pond. How big? The largest looked to be close to three pounds and the others very nearly the same.

I then fished in earnest for them. Stooped in a very awkward position, I managed to thread my rod's tip through the undergrowth and out to where they basked. I tried all manner of baits, even artificial flies, but they seemed to know all about the threats from above, perhaps this was why they had grown so big? I eventually made the mistake of leaning to hard on the branch of the hazel tree and promptly fell in!

It took three weeks of being scratched and torn to find their new hiding place, again they were with the tench, but under the roots of a fallen tree.

I tried to lure them out. I did proudly catch two of the tench, one of which weighed over four pounds. The weeks turned to months and I found out that they had a routine of moving with the sun. The water was incredibly clear and as the light moved around the pond, so did the shadows from the surrounding trees. They'd drift slowly, staying well away from the large shoals of dead-bait sized roach and rudd, who were content to bask in full sunlight.

When the sea trout were running in good numbers and the carp season was at its height, they took up a lot of my time. I slowly started to see sense and realise that I could never catch them, and with the greatest of respect left them alone.

The autumn rains came and stirred up the water making it into a thick stew of run-off and silt.

On my last outing of the year for the carp I had pre-baited with sweetcorn; and was happily float fishing for them around the groundbait, when the float sunk to my surprise and I reeled in, after a small scale tussle, the largest of the roach! It was entirely luck and not due to the skill or the amount of time I'd spent, that finally caught the emperor of roach!

But I don't hold out any hope of catching him or his brethren today. I cast out again and manage to curve my float as it sails through the air. It lands very close to the reeds which stretch out to my right. Almost immediately it ducks under again but I miss the bite. I'm using bread as bait and if I fail to hook a fish when I strike then it falls off, and I have to reel in, re-bait and re-cast.

Two black silhouettes drift under the water's surface near the reeds. They look to be carp about the size of my fore-arm. I fling my float and bait out near to where they are but they sink down and swim out into deeper water.

A wind whispers in the trees and wrinkles the surface, which moves my line and float closer towards the reeds.

It's hard to see my float tip when the ripples from the wind swallow it, and it also rides up and down on the swell.

My eyes lower and look at my rod point, then I follow the curve of the rod down to my reel. My line jerks out quickly and becomes taught and tight. I raise my head quickly and try to find my float, which has gone. I lift my rod and am instantly amazed as the fish on the other end is hardly a small rudd. My light float rod hoops over with force.

The fish on the other end bends it as if it's a car aerial. I sharply stand up to apply more pressure. My heart begins to pound once more.

The fish dives towards an overhanging holly tree by my left hand side. I lean out and lever the fish around in my direction. It rises to the surface and I have a pleasant surprise to see a small carp.

I bring it closer to me and lift it out of the water with my hands. It looks to weigh three or so pounds. A mirror carp and its small scales along the ridge of its back are silver and grey.

I should really fish more often like this. Casting in hope for anything that swims really! My line is four pounds breaking strain, so it's fine and light for the smaller fish yet man enough to handle any surprises. The same as my rod I suppose. 'Pleasure angling' is the term used, but surely all fishing is pleasurable? I do feel particularly satisfied when I fish in this way though and I never feel that frustrated emptiness that fishing for salmon and carp can often bring. However you can't have the pleasure without pain- can you?

Max Palmer is from Tackle Trader

Over the last 15 years coarse fishing has seen many changes, not just in the south west but as a whole. Match angling is no exception, in fact it has probably changed more than any other area of the sport, but why?

There are some things that will never change. Man versus fish for one and a competitive spirit and determination to do better than others is another. These two ingredients are the main reasons that match fishing continues to be so popular, from the grass roots club level right through to international level. The way matches are run has also changed little over the years. Booking your place, turning up on the day and signing in, paying pools, drawing pegs, fishing the match and gathering with great anticipation to await the results. These basics are, however, where any similarities between modern match fishing and the sport of old come to an end.

There are two major contributing factors to coarse angling that have brought about this change. Firstly, the emergence of heavily stocked commercial fisheries and secondly, the massive changes in the fishing tackle industry, fuelled by the rapid development in technology which have given todays fishermen a huge head start on anglers of just 15 years ago.

There is a general consensus that numbers of match anglers have declined over recent years, and many theories as to why. In truth, there has probably been a minor decline in terms of numbers. But with so many 'commercial' fisheries offering almost guaranteed sport, there are now maybe three times as many matches taking place each week, with far fewer anglers in each. Gone are the days where 'open' matches on our canals and rivers, saw weekly attendances of 100 plus, consisting of anglers from a wide area, all travelling to the same venue! If a comparison is possible, 80% of the anglers of today would split down into 4 matches of between 15 and 30 anglers on a familiar venue, that is generally a well stocked commercial, and that is much closer to home. Who can blame them!!

We are fortunate enough in the South West to have many such waters offering the kind of sport to which todays angler has become accustomed, the vast majority of which are present in this publication. With waters like Andy Seery's Stafford Moor, we also have a high quality match venue capable of holding events with 100 plus anglers and offering an incredible standard of angling at all times of the year! Something that the rivers and canals of our region, and other regions, simply cannot provide. Coupled with the changes in fishing habits and venues frequented, the quality and price of fishing tackle available today also has a major bearing on peoples attitudes towards match fishing. It is now an option for all anglers to obtain quality tackle at affordable prices, not least when it comes to poles. (although some poles can cost the equivalent of a decent car!!)

There are very few match anglers who do not own a pole. It is regarded as an essential part of a match anglers' armoury. Ten years ago, £200 worth of 10 or 11 metre pole resulted, for many, in a hernia or back ache! Today, for similar money, a fishable pole of 12 or 13 metres is widely available. This means the average match angler, using average priced tackle, is able to cope with 95% of match situations. In the past if you didn't break the bank, very often you where unable to compete. These facts mean that more anglers than ever before can enter matches in the knowledge that they have a chance, without being handicapped by inferior tackle and if, arguably the biggest factor in all fishing, LUCK decides to grace them on that given day, everyone can have their moment of glory.

I am positive that given the gradual decline of some of our natural waterways and canals, if it wasn't for the modern style of fishery, match fishing would have suffered a similar decline decline, and for myself and many others, that would be simply unthinkable. One thing is for certain. Getting up early on a Sunday morning, drawing a peg that you detest, giving 100% for the duration, regardless of the elements, and coming back week after week, sets a match angler apart as one of the most dedicated and enthusiastic participants of angling!

Man versus fish to the extreme?

Tight Lines