The Big Bream Fish-in

We arrived on the Friday afternoon via the Cat and Fiddle Inn over the moors, what a fantastic scenic route, the sun was shining and the countryside looked breathtaking.

Before this though we ended up at Morrison's in Chesterfield due to my mate Greg and his great organisation skills (not). When Greg and Craig came to meet me at my house the first thing Greg said, "can we call at a supermarket? I need some pop and cashback." Not bad considering he had been in Mansfield all morning shopping. So Friday afternoon we ended up at Morrison's when it was very busy.

Richard on Boundary

After we eventually set off it took us about two hours to get to sunny Knutsford, behind Max and Paddy in a camper van for 30 miles! Boundary Park looked well and a local said the fishing had been slow but OK, so we were looking forward to getting the rods out.

We went to the shop to get our tickets and proudly announced that we were with the FishingMagic party to which the woman behind the counter looked at me gone out, and said she hadn't a clue what I was saying. Then a guy came out from the back of the shop and once again I proudly said who we were and expect 20 or so other anglers turning up for Baz's bream fishing. But I received the same response, "who? FishingMagic? Here? No mate you must have got the wrong lake, how many 20? You better get a peg then before the locals turn up!"

So with no one knowing that they could be invaded by a group of website anglers we set off and found a peg, after we had shifted six reserve match signs.

I phoned Baz to tell him that we were there and that we would see him Saturday. Then we got the bivvies up, rods out, kettle on and all was well. Greg and Craig were just around the corner from me and next to my peg was a local lad called Ian. I had to be careful with my bivvy because behind me was a fenced pen with goats in it and I didn't want them eating my bivvy in the middle of the night.

I managed to get the rods out before dark and I was nice and settled for the night time. I started to get knocks straight away, there was plenty of fizzing and fish were feeding and moving but I never had a run that night or indeed the early hours of dawn.

I managed to get a few hours sleep and around 7am I had to take my first visit to the toilet and shower block. I walked in, looked at the showers and guessed that they had not been used since 1975. I then looked at the toilet and yep, they had not been cleaned since 1975, god what a hole they were but when a man has to go he has to go!

Around 8-ish I was outside my bivvy when I first met Peter Bishop. We had a chat and Peter decided to fish on the opposite bank to me. A while later Baz and Sgt Bash turned up. We shook hands and had a good natter and I knew straight away I was going to have a good laugh with these larger than life characters. Due to my bank being full Baz and Sgt decided to fish the far bank next to Peter. Eventually other FM members turned up, some to fish, others to just have a chat and a laugh.

That afternoon around six or seven of us ended up in Baz's peg all chatting and having a real good laugh.

I went back to my swim a couple of hours later and found I had a new neighbor to the left of me, along with Mrs Knutsford and their screaming kid. Now Mrs Knutsford was for some apparent reason wearing jeans but they were round her knees thus showing everyone her lovely pink thong. The problem was that she probably weighed 25 stone, and showing her thong, overhanging belly and stretchmarks isn't my idea of looking fit. I knew it was going to put me off me dinner so I decided not to look anymore and pretend they weren't there.

I sat back and I could clearly see the far bank. I don't think Baz was very impressed with the depth of the lake and decided to build his own sand bar with 10 ton of groundbait. I was joined by Sgt Bash and together we watched Baz single handedly launch spod after spod of groundbait in a 50 meter radius, 100 yards out. Eventually the lake started to subside, the lake water soaking up all the crumb Baz was putting in. God we laughed.

So Saturday night came and I couldn't buy a run. Greg and Craig had caught a couple of bream, but Greg cant fish at night due to the fact that he goes into a coma once asleep and nothing will wake him, so it was left to Craig to land Greg's bream.

I don't mind admitting I blanked but I had met some great lads who I now consider good mates; Peter, Baz, Tom, Wendy and everyone else who turned up for the day.

On the Sunday we all had another get together to show off our FM tee-shirts and caps that Graham had kindly given us and agreed that the tradition of blanking was well and truly alive. But we had all had a good laugh and in my book this what it's all about.

I set off back to sunny Chesterfield via Stoke and the A500 and I was home in one and a half hours which I was very pleased with. I unpacked, showered, and went and joined my family who were having a 70th birthday bash for me mother-in-law. Which reminded me of the Goat I had befriended whilst waiting for a screaming buzzer which never came. HAPPY DAYS!

Richard Wilson 3

My Missus reckons my fishing success is inversely proportional to the distance I travel and the amount of preparation I undertake, and I'm beginning to think she's spot on. The more I prepare, the further I travel, the less I catch.

Boundary Water Park near Knutsford was typical of my day trips. An 80 mile round trip on the day but beforehand I bought a new unhooking mat, what seemed like three tons of groundbait, corn steeper, liquidised corn, lobworms, maggots, and even a spod, then had to upgrade my rod and line to deliver it the 40 yards Baz suggested I needed to fish. The old wallet took a bit of bashing as a result. Next, I spent the previous afternoon making myself a laughing stock in the park paying out 40 yards of line on two rods and clipping up so feeder and spod aligned when I cast.

"Soft get! You won't catch anything here mate!" Said the great unwashed in the park.

After what seemed like hours of meticulous preparation I was all set and arrived at Boundary water Park at 7.45am. No sign of Baz or the others and the guy in the shop knows nothing about FishingMagic.com and anglers traveling from all around the country.

Eventually, I find one FM angler, Richard Wilson, making friends with the resident goats, having been there since the previous night. The goats are the only things around Richard that aren't bedecked in camouflage! After introducing myself to Richard and walking around the available (not too many) swims I note the lake is choked with weed and decide my only chance of a fish is the far side of the lake. After setting up I cast around and find submerged week almost everywhere I cast. What the hell I thought, I'll just have to fish over it and then proceeded to mount a groundbait assault that could have built a small island, but when my initial plan with the spod didn't work properly I resorted to a faithful old cage feeder about the size of a budgie's cage.

Over the next hour or so I followed Baz's instructions about feeding heavy to the letter and delivered 45 huge feeders full at 40 yards range and then fished hair-rigged Frenzied Maize or lobworm tail and maggot on a long tailed feeder over the weed. Sounds good in theory but after five hours I hadn't had so much as a knock.

In desperation I even had an hour fishing double maggot up in the water but not a single roach would oblige. During that time Beecy came and went, deciding the venue wasn't to his liking either and headed back to Sheffield. Frustrated by the lack of piscatorial activity and any contact with fellow FM members I packed up and went in hunt of any comrades. Eventually I stumbled upon Sgt Bash and Baz, then my old pal Eddie Cardus turned up (in nervous frenzy awaiting the outcome of the Everton-Liverpool match), quickly followed by Richard, Granville Marzdin himself and Wendy Perry. There may have been no fish but the next best thing is the company of other anglers. We met as strangers but left as friends.

As for the fishing, well, I'm hardly a stranger to the blank but it was good to meet my fellow posters at last. Baz and Tom (Sgt Bash) stayed on the night possibly to keep an eye on Richard and ensure he didn't invite one of those goats into his Bivvy!

Well, it can get boring in a bivvy overnight and a man needs company....

Peter Bishop

The plan was simple: due to having to work Friday night I would grab a few hours sleep Saturday morning and get up for 12 o'clock, nip to Asda and get in some supplies and fill up with fuel. This would the get me to the lake, sorry, mere, for 2pm at the latest which would give me plenty of time to find a nice clean gravel bar and to get some bait down.

The reality was that the alarm went off and I just rolled over and went back to sleep. It was 4.30pm when I finally crawled from my pit.

By the time I had sorted everything out it was 6pm but I was on my way. I arrived to find a full car park, but where were all the familiar faces? Finally I ran into Sgt Bash (Tom) and Richard Wilson on the end peg just past the house overlooking a nice big bay which was all tree lined and with reed beds in the margins. The news was bad though, Richard had been on since Friday and had no luck. Tom pointed out where he and Baz were located on the other side of the lake, and as I had not brought my barrow I opted to join them. On driving around I spotted a nice large hole in the fence, right behind a nice looking peg. That will do nicely I thought to myself. I then found Baz and sneaking up on him and barking "can I see your license Sir!" Now how many people get to do that? He spun round then recognized me and the usual banter between two friends ensued.

Ten minutes later I was back in my swim sorting out my gear. I had decided not to bother with the bivvy as it was going to be a mild night and I had my fleece-lined bedchair cover. Rods were set up and the bait was organized, time to find a couple of sweet spots on the lake bed. But where was my marker float? After going through all my kit and the light starting to fade a small Fox spod was used instead. I managed to find two patches of gravel but the weed around them was thick, and on retrieving the marker float all went slack. A quick dozen spods of groundbait were quickly cast to the spots I had found. It was getting dark by this time so I thought of getting some tea and joining Baz and Tom for a chat while the swim settled. I found out that Baz had also had the same luck with spods as I was having.

On returning to my little camp the rods were baited up and cast to the gravel spots, one with pellet and one with corn, and I settled in for the night. The night was very uneventful with regards to the fishing. I was kept awake all night by the Acorn tree dropping its fruit on me and the fact we had the brightest moon I have seen for a long time. Rods were recast every couple of hours through the night. But to no avail, the buzzers only gave one solitary bleep all night.

At first light another couple of spods were cast to each spot and breakfast was cooked. I joined Baz with my steaming mug of coffee and plate of bacon and beans. A good chat about fishing ensued and then it was time to give therods a last cast. 9am soon came and it was time to pack everything away. A quick look at the end of the lake revealed my spod that had been lost. So that's a blank but in every other respect an excellent evening spent with friends in beautiful surroundings with the chance of a good fish. Who could ask for more?

Bryan Baron

My fishing weekend began on the Friday night with the arrival of Tom. He was staying the night at my place, so the odd bottle of cider would be quite in order. It is something we have been doing now for the last two years and I couldn't be in better company. Tom stays at my place and I stay at his in Derbyshire, all depending where we are fishing, and who has got the most chicken joints and pies in. We made an early (ish) start after a nosh up on the Saturday morning and got to Boundary at 8.30 am.

From left, Baz, Tom (sat), Peter and Eddie ("Yes, the water's that way lads, honest!")

The first person we found was Richard. How we found him I will never know as he was all camoed up. But what a really nice bloke he is. We had a chat for about half an hour, and Tom and I decided to fish the opposite bank. I will never understand why we took that decision as I had done the homework, and was told that the side where Richard and his two mates were ( roadside pegs) was the place for the bream.

It had been some time since I last fished Boundary, and I was a bit put off to find out that the place was solid with Canadian Pondweed. I leaded about for over half an hour until I could find a clear enough spot to put my bait. At the same time looking for fish movement but I didn't see any at all. After about two hours our tackle was all set up, and I told Tom I was going to do a Rolf Harris and go on a walkabout to see who had arrived. I covered half the lake and ended up back in Richard's camp. What a laugh, Peter Bishop had just left Richard and was set up about 50 yds from where myself and Tom were. I went one way and Peter went the other. We were chasing shadows.

As I was talking to Richard I got the call from Wendy that she was on the way. I told her that Richard would be the first person she came across near the goat pen. I don't know what it was with Richard and them goats, but he wanted to be alone.

Back at my camp and I met up with Peter. Another great bloke and not what I expected at all. If you ever meet him you really must ask him to recite the story of the Barnsley whistle. He does it to perfection. Eddie Cardus paid us a visit but didn't fish. He's a great Liverpool supporter you know.

Wendy turned up later - what that girl had to put up with later I don't know......

Graham was the next to turn up with his grandson, and Wendy and Richard came around to join in the banter. It was a great pity that we didn't all get pegged close to each other.

Richard's mates Greg and Craig were the only two to catch out of our crew. They had three bream between them at about dusk, each weighing around the 7 lb mark. And they were fishing the roadside pegs. One day I might learn to take my own advice. The party broke up and Graham and Wendy went home.

Bream were topping infrequently throughout the evening and just into dark. I had quite a few blips on the alarms but they never turned into anything. I put this down to the lead possibly being lodged in the weed and the fish feeling the resistance and then dropping the bait. How I envied Greg and Craig on the opposite bank. Try as I might I just couldn't reach their swim unseen with my leads.

I know I shouldn't laugh, but as Tom was showing me his cooking skills on his new Triana he said, "look at that Baz, cooked to perfection." He half turned to look at me and he knocked the pan and its contents off the stove and it went all over the floor. He was doing chilli con carne and it just looked as though he had been caught short as the rich and lumpy contents of the pan lay in a neat little pile on the deck. Luckily there was just enough left in the pan to cover his pasta.

I offered him a tenner to scoop it up and eat it but he said there were maggots in it which he had also knocked over or he would have done.

The next thing that happened was that Bryan turned up, and once he had set his gear up he came over to our camp and we had a good old natter. He was in the next peg to us. After a few scoops of cider, we finally hit the hay.

One thing I like about doing an overnight session is being up as daylight breaks. Now I would see where the bream were rolling, and I could put my bait on them. But apart from lots of silver fish topping there was no sign of the bream.

Bryan came over again and I got the kettle on. Me and Tom sat watching Bryan eating a full cooked breakfast that he had just made. Our lips were salivating at the smell of freshly cooked bacon and black pudding. Bryan must have caught the murderous and hungry look in our eyes and he promptly left the area.

All in all I enjoyed the weekend and meeting the lads and Wendy. Carp to 31 lb had been caught by the regulars, all on the roadside pegs - aaarrgghhhh! Yes I would fish this place again, but this time I would stick to what I knew about it.

We went to say goodbye to Richard and his mates, and as we were talking, one of the goats had half the sleeve of Richard's jacket down its neck. I've never seen a bloke move so quick in all my life. The camo coat was retrieved and the goat gave Richard a knowing wink ;-)

Here endeth the lesson.

Baz and Tom