Memories are Made of ... Opening Days of the 1960's - Part One, Tench Fishing
IT WAS 10 O'CLOCK in the morning and I'd just arrived at Mick's house and was totally knackered! I was a bit early, several hours in fact, but the anticipation and excitement of an opening day of a new coarse fishing season had urged me to leave home early hoping that the hours would somehow pass by at a faster rate.
Dig those crazy waders man!
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My distressed physical state was caused by the five mile bike ride with all my gear strapped to various parts of my body and bike frame. That 'gear' included a rod holdall a little taller than me (quite a liability on a push bike), a wicker basket with a dodgy strap, a keepnet, landing net and various other bits and pieces. It's also not a good idea to cycle with your waders on as they tend to get in the way!
The reason for this life threatening expedition? It was the 15th June, that's why! Oh and it was in the mid 1960's, probably 1967.
The most eagerly awaited day of them all
Some of our younger readers may not fully appreciate the significance of the dawn of a new coarse fishing season but back in the 60's it was a day for new dreams, a chance to renew acquaintances with lakes and rivers which had been 're-born' after an enforced three months absence. As far as I was concerned 'The 16th June' was the most eagerly awaited date of all, possibly only beaten by my childhood Christmas days (but it was a close run thing).
For me it also meant a rare chance to fish seriously for tench. They were a scarce thing for me in those days, still are if I'm honest, and only usually possible if I could persuade someone to take me to a suitable lake. That someone was usually my uncle Mick, my dad's brother. He and his other brothers introduced me to fishing at a very early age.
Mick was and still is very much a coarse angler (damn good match angler as well) as well as an occasional trout and salmon man. Ron was also into the coarse side of things but I think trout and salmon were his main love.
Salmon in the Stour!
In fact my introduction to our great sport came while watching the pair of them successfully manoeuvring Devon Minnows in the lower reaches of the Dorset Stour. Fishing for salmon in the Stour! Told you it was a long, long time ago! Tony was the sea angler; his catches of bass from the local shoreline were exceptional. Peter and Eric also fished a bit (it was a big family!). So I had a good grounding in just about all aspects of fishing and the fact we lived in the Christchurch area probably had a positive effect as well!
Anyway, back to 1967. For several years around that time it was 'tradition' to open the new season at some lakes that nestled alongside the River Wylye in Wiltshire. The lakes were controlled by a local club but by virtue of an exchange policy the necessary permits were secured.
It never seemed to be a problem to get the tickets, which was surprising as the lakes were very good. Thinking about it now, perhaps my uncles had 'good connections' or favours were exchanged. Whatever, I had a ticket and I was going tench fishing on the 16th!
Nice cardie Neil, but get your flippin' hair cut!
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Having arrived at the house somewhat early, my nan would usually spoil me rotten. Minced beef and mashed potato followed by bananas and thick custard were the order of the day and then Mick would come home from work early. It was then down to the fishing shed to sort out the gear. This was no ordinary shed, Mick was a 'Chippy' by trade and the hand built Aladdin's Cave was a great place to spend many, many hours. But not too many today!
My usual jobs included sieving the brown and white breadcrumb and riddling the maggots. Occasionally that would include some 'specials' that were busily working their way through a couple of dead pigeons or lamb's hearts. A few worms from the wormery completed my list of things to do. Time to go!
Fishing myths and legends
It was about an hour and half drive to the lakes. The Mini van, orange with one green door, was a perfect fit for holdalls, baskets and garden chairs (no bivvy chairs in the 1960's!). I still remember getting a thrill out of pushing the engine starter button on the floor of the van; we were really on our way now! The route is forever engraved in my
memory: Ringwood, Fordingbridge, Breamore, Downton, Salisbury, Wilton and the Langfords (so many fishing myths and legends!) and then left at the church.
Although we fished the lakes a few times and occasionally in matches, there were only really three areas we knew well. I'm sure there were plenty of other good areas known to the locals but we were really confident of catching in just these three. We usually planned to arrive at about 5pm or 6pm and I can't ever remember not fishing one of these three spots on the 16th! Plenty of people used to fish these lakes on the 16th so I suppose it was good fortune on our part, or was it because of my 'well connected' uncles again?
Although we arrived at the swims in late afternoon I can honestly say we never wet a line until we heard the chimes of the church clock at midnight! I think that was instilled in me by my uncles but it also seemed to be observed by everybody on the lakes. On one memorable occasion, a less disciplined angler was left in no doubt as to the error of his ways!
Looking back now, there is no doubt in my mind I was always in 'the good swim'. We had very few bad opening days but I'm sure my uncles always arranged things so I ended up in what I thought was the best swim. Again, at the time, it never even crossed my mind that such manoeuvrings were going on!
Float fishing for tench with a centrepin
The usual method for the tench was always to float fish a few rod lengths out and invariably with a centrepin. We always lit the float by way of a powerful torch! It never seemed to put the fish off and seemed to be the standard method of the time. It was also a good training aid for accurate casting as I would get a lot of verbal hassle if I had to move the torch beam around to find the float! Most people on the lakes used this method and were very careful not to pick a line that meant a torch beam directly reflecting into the face of someone on the opposite side!
On one occasion I was more than a little annoyed when the batteries of my torch failed and was somewhat at a loss as to what to do next. This was the time I was introduced to the silver foil tube on a knitting needle indicator (still using the float)!
Double maggot and flake cocktail
Favourite bait was bread flake but I was never confident with it (is it still on the hook?), so I compromised and fished very successfully with double maggot/flake cocktail. The tench usually obliged and although not big by today's standards, were great sport, probably averaging between 2lb and 3lb. They were in excellent condition and good fun. Occasionally a bream would show up and on one memorable trip a very big shoal arrived and went on a feeding frenzy!
Stinking wet nets
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The few hours between midnight and dawn were really special. We did catch a lot during those hours of darkness and the sounds of the lake and its surrounds are with me every time I go night fishing. Dawn was a bit special as well. This was the time when we could begin to see what was going on, who was where on the lake and who was catching or sleeping! My memory tells me the tench were always 'fizzing' at dawn but that can't be true. I do recall the breakfast chats and wandering around the lakes comparing notes with guys I sort of recognised from one year to the next and generally feeling good about the season to come.
Those smelly nets
It was usually 'all over' by late morning and the painfully slow packing up process seemed to take forever. The car park (various lay-bys) was always an awfully long way away and usually took a couple of trips to complete the task. The walk to the swims the previous day had been a pleasure and surely only took a few minutes!
I don't remember too much about the drive home. I was usually asleep by the time we turned right at the church and didn't wake up until Christchurch, my chauffeur having taken me to my door. I was an ungrateful sod! The trip was usually finished off nicely with my mum complaining of 'those smelly nets' but I was as happy as I'd ever been.
Those opening day trips and similar early adventures courtesy of my uncles shaped my angling future. Most were at their expense, time and money, a fact that I was completely oblivious to! I owe them a lot.
Part 2 - Trout Fishing at Chew
Graham Marsden
