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Peregrine Drosselworth is particular about everything…everything. Since childhood he has had at the forefront of his mind the imperative to do things correctly, and this extends to fishing. Doubtless this mind-set has served him well in many ways down the years, indeed – it has. But there are times – on the riverbank especially – when I wish he’d chill-out a bit and cut a few corners…
We arrived at a gorgeous stretch of river where the water ran clear and fast and at a depth of no more than three feet; it was, apparently, devoid of fish-life, but it soon became clear that barbel in good numbers were present. Not only did they occasionally leap clear of the water but by altering one’s focus they could be seen flashing their flanks and pushing upstream in bursts of a yard or so.
I soon had the two sections of my John Wilson Avon together and the handle of the Shimano folded-out and secured; out went my feeder and within minutes I was comfortably ensconced in my low chair and actually fishing. That Peregrine always makes-up his rods from scratch is, I think, the wise thing to do; not only does the ritual add to the excitement of anticipation but it also ensures that new, dependable knots are created in ‘fresh’ line. On top of this, one is more likely to tackle-up appropriately rather than to conveniently use the same rig one last fished with.
As it happened, I’d caught nothing after the fifty minutes it took Peregrine to assemble two rigs and have a couple of baits mid-stream. It was he who struck first…
“Can you take this other rod out for me?”
“I told you it was a one-rod swim”
“Never mind that – can you reel it in?”
“Ok, but that means I’VE got to reel in!” I retrieve my bait and crunch up to Peregrine’s swim with a landing-net.
“No…use mine. It’s fully extended”
“Then I won’t be able to net your fish in this current. The flow’s strong enough close-in but out there it’ll sweep the net around…I won’t be able to hold it…not with that fine mesh”. I retain my stout 6ft-handled net and eventually net the barbel, a fish of around 6lb. We scrunch up the gravel bank and lay the net on my unhooking mat; Peregrine goes for his scales and returns holding something unfamiliar to me: it’s the latest in electronic scales. He also has with him a large, dark green fold of fabric sporting various strings, draw-cords and sprung sliding toggles. After making sense of what went where, the unhooked barbel was placed on the mesh and prevented from flapping onto the stones by four protective hands; the D-rings were then gathered and placed on the hook of the scales.
“That can’t be right”
The fish is lowered to the mat while adjustments are made, then re-lifted.
“No…something not right here”
Again, the fish and the dripping mesh are placed back on the mat and the scales twiddled with. Eventually, we get a believable reading of 6lb 2oz but, of course, the wet fabric has to be weighed and taken into account. Soon the fish is being cradled in the margin and coaxed back into the stream.
Soon after I’m into a good fish that wrenches the rod over and fights well in the strong current. With no other rod to worry about, I urge Peregrine to stay where he is while I land the barbel. Once it’s in the net I take it up to the weigh-station, take out the hook from its rubbery lower-lip and slip its length into a plastic Asda carrier-bag (call it an ounce) On the spring-balance the needle wheels around to accuse the figure ‘8’. So… 7lb15oz? 8lb? It doesn’t matter that much; it’s a superb specimen whatever its exact weight.
I return it to the river, dry my hands and smile down the bank at Peregrine who’s fished-on regardless.
That’s the way to do it!
Source Article...
We arrived at a gorgeous stretch of river where the water ran clear and fast and at a depth of no more than three feet; it was, apparently, devoid of fish-life, but it soon became clear that barbel in good numbers were present. Not only did they occasionally leap clear of the water but by altering one’s focus they could be seen flashing their flanks and pushing upstream in bursts of a yard or so.
I soon had the two sections of my John Wilson Avon together and the handle of the Shimano folded-out and secured; out went my feeder and within minutes I was comfortably ensconced in my low chair and actually fishing. That Peregrine always makes-up his rods from scratch is, I think, the wise thing to do; not only does the ritual add to the excitement of anticipation but it also ensures that new, dependable knots are created in ‘fresh’ line. On top of this, one is more likely to tackle-up appropriately rather than to conveniently use the same rig one last fished with.
As it happened, I’d caught nothing after the fifty minutes it took Peregrine to assemble two rigs and have a couple of baits mid-stream. It was he who struck first…
“Can you take this other rod out for me?”
“I told you it was a one-rod swim”
“Never mind that – can you reel it in?”
“Ok, but that means I’VE got to reel in!” I retrieve my bait and crunch up to Peregrine’s swim with a landing-net.
“No…use mine. It’s fully extended”
“Then I won’t be able to net your fish in this current. The flow’s strong enough close-in but out there it’ll sweep the net around…I won’t be able to hold it…not with that fine mesh”. I retain my stout 6ft-handled net and eventually net the barbel, a fish of around 6lb. We scrunch up the gravel bank and lay the net on my unhooking mat; Peregrine goes for his scales and returns holding something unfamiliar to me: it’s the latest in electronic scales. He also has with him a large, dark green fold of fabric sporting various strings, draw-cords and sprung sliding toggles. After making sense of what went where, the unhooked barbel was placed on the mesh and prevented from flapping onto the stones by four protective hands; the D-rings were then gathered and placed on the hook of the scales.
“That can’t be right”
The fish is lowered to the mat while adjustments are made, then re-lifted.
“No…something not right here”
Again, the fish and the dripping mesh are placed back on the mat and the scales twiddled with. Eventually, we get a believable reading of 6lb 2oz but, of course, the wet fabric has to be weighed and taken into account. Soon the fish is being cradled in the margin and coaxed back into the stream.
Soon after I’m into a good fish that wrenches the rod over and fights well in the strong current. With no other rod to worry about, I urge Peregrine to stay where he is while I land the barbel. Once it’s in the net I take it up to the weigh-station, take out the hook from its rubbery lower-lip and slip its length into a plastic Asda carrier-bag (call it an ounce) On the spring-balance the needle wheels around to accuse the figure ‘8’. So… 7lb15oz? 8lb? It doesn’t matter that much; it’s a superb specimen whatever its exact weight.
I return it to the river, dry my hands and smile down the bank at Peregrine who’s fished-on regardless.
That’s the way to do it!
Source Article...
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