Nightmare scenarios when out fishing.....

[tigger]

I was once stood mid river whilst trotting, the water lapping just below the tops of my thigh waders and right at the limit before getting wet. As I looked into the water to my left, I spotted a large juicy korum cage feeder about level with the tip of my 11ft drennan avon duo lying on the river bottom. The water there was about 4 1/2ft deep.

Anyhow, I had a brain wave. I'd try to get it by using my rod tip :stupid:. With my arm outstretched, I leaned out and with great accuracy managed to get the tip guide through the holes in the feeder :applause:.

Now all I had to do was gently lift the large cage feeder out . The problem was, as I tried to do so, the bloody feeder was still attatched to a load of very strong mono, which was snagged firmly on the bottom mg:. I tried all kinds of manouvers to get the effin rod tip out of the feeder mesh with no joy. mg::Cry::nightmare: .
So that was it, I was stuck there. I couldn't put the rod down as then it would be washed around in the flow and the tip would snap off. I also had no idea how I'd get close enough to reach the feeder without letting go of the rod:frusty:. I couldn't walk forward as the rod tip would just crack off as it bent.

I stood there, completely stumped for several minutes .
After much deliberation I moved forward, filling my waders with water and feeding the rod back as I went. The water went over my waist. I literally had to put my head underwater to get hold of the line fastening the feeder to the bottom and then firmly but gently pull that rather than pull the feeder as the tip would snap.
Bear in mind during all this my left arm was stretched out backwards holding the effin rod and the flow was putting lots of pressure on the point were my hand was gripping it.
It really was a nightmare scenario and I honestly don't know how I managed retrieve it without breaking the rod.

All that aggro for a bloody old feeder!

 

[steve2]

I know the feeling having fallen in when trying to recover a lost float. There was a reason why no one else had tried and I found out why.

 

[mikench]

I was once stood mid river whilst trotting, the water lapping just below the tops of my thigh waders and right at the limit before getting wet.

I remember that only you were there to drag me out if I looked like drowning. It's amazing what we'll do to get something for nothing. You risk a rod, your life and limb for a £3 feeder or me.

 

[sam vimes]

Semerwater on a decent summer day. It's not remotely unusual for the weather to turn up there, just as it did on the day in question. It started out nice but the afternoon was spent watching the rain come down in stair rods. None of that was a big problem. However, the tiny summer trickle of a stream, that was crossed without a second thought, certainly was. You'd have struggled to get your ankles wet at the start of the day. Going the opposite way round would be a very, very long walk, that might present even worse obstacles. Going up the hillside would be just as challenging, with numerous dry stone walls to navigate, and no guarantee of being able to get over the raging stream further up.

That was quite a scary crossing and the long drive home was rather uncomfortable.

 

[mikench]

It looked a desolate spot. Do we need one of these just in case?

Dryrobe Advance Short Sleeve - Medium - Black / Red - Wetsuit Centre

 

[Richard Bartlett]

Sunny Saturday afternoon in June on the R Ure above Ripon. Out for a few hours flyfishing & I'd waded 2/3 across the river to get a good stance on a particular pool. Not dodgy wading, the deepest I'd crossed was around knee height. Now standing in calf-deep water I'd fished for no more than 10 minutes or so when I started to notice a few bits of leaf coming down the river - clearly there was a drop coming in. Fished on for another 10 minutes, keeping an eye on the level - no doubt now, it was definitely coming up. What was scary - it was coming up really fast! Really fast. Deciding discretion was the better choice, I started to make my way back to my bank (& car). Reaching the slightly deeper (previously knee-high) section I was extremely worried to discover that it was now amost thigh-deep & flowing very very forcefully - so much so that when I tried to venture into it my feet were taken away. A couple more attempts to cross were proving to be extremely dangerous - with a very jumbled boulder-strewn area just downstream I wouldn't have stood a chance if I'd gone over.
Deciding the only safe-ish course was to make for the other bank over slightly calmer & shallower ground I set off. After a few minutes of some very dodgy wading I got to the margins. Ten minutes previously these had been no more than ankle deep - now it was almost to my waist! And I was confronted by a near-impenetrable wall of tangled willow for around 50 yards back!Despite getting badly scratched & sweaty, I eventually made clear ground & took the only course of action available to me - walk downstream the 3 or 4 miles to Ripon, across the river, then 3 or 4 miles back upstream to my car - not a prospect I relished given that it was a very warm afternoon!
After 3 miles I was getting close to Ripon when a passing dog walker saw me (in full fishing gear, a long way from the river) & had a bit of a chuckle when I explained what had happened.
To my eternal gratitude he told me to hop in his car & the lovely chap took me all the way back to mine!
Whilst I'd been walking I'd occasionally checked the river & reckoned that it had come up around 4 feet in 15 or 20 minutes - scary stuff!

 

[The bad one]

I'd have though the nightmare scenario whilst out fishing would be going for a **** in your onezzy suit and dropping a log in the hud without knowing you had.

 

[tigger]

I'd have though the nightmare scenario whilst out fishing would be going for a **** in your onezzy suit and dropping a log in the hud without knowing you had.

Lol, I remember your m8 doing that Phil, I think he had diarea though and had a black cloud of flies following him around . Beats me how he went back to his bivvy and slept in his own cack mg:

 

[peterjg]

A couple of years ago I went fishing on the K&A canal and parked my car at the top (near the gate) of a sloping grassy club car park. I packed up earlier than usual because I was a bit worried about the car getting stuck in the mud. Well yes it did get stuck. Emptied the car of all my gear, jacked the car up, used twigs, stones and the car mats to try and get traction - the car was hardly moving! I reckon I must have jacked up both front wheels àt least six times and was absolutely knackered. My health is not too good and a couple of walkers kindly pushed the car (with me driving) up and through the gate. They were so nice, I was so grateful, I really thought I was going to have a heart attack, without them I would still be there!

 

[108831]

Many years ago when i'd walk miles lugging a box,holdall and carryall i'd walked round the other side of a 250 acre lake(1 access point),fished all day,caught loads,packed up,lifted my basket over my shoulrer and my back went,took me three hours to get to other anglers who helped me get my gear back to the car,i can still remember the agony,two and a half months it took to get over that...

 

[John Keane]

Last year, salmon fishing on the Spey, the river was running about 1’6” and my mate and I were fishing one of my favourite pools on Tulchan D Beat. Because of the higher water I couldn’t get out to the wade I normally like and was forced to fish closer to the bank. This was where the wading was distinctly lumpier and the rocks were coated with brown, slimy cr@p that needed a big flood to clean it all off.

Anyway, my mate had been fishing the lower pool, without any luck, and had come to sit on a bench around 25 yards downstream from me to watch me fishing. Even using a wading staff I lost my footing and fell in, backwards. Now I am a strong swimmer and was unwilling (stupidly) to let go of my Hardy rod and reel. Feeling comfortable, with knees raised, I began to scull, one handed, in towards the bank and my mate. It quickly became clear that I was going to miss my mate so I shouted for him to grab my rod tip to guide me in. He had to wade around 5 yards out to achieve this, but he managed to get hold of the rod and guide me round in an arc towards the quieter water.

At this point the rod came apart and he fell backwards into the river with me! Earlier I had declined to have my rod joints taped by the ghillie. Spey casting puts rotary force on the joints of a rod and can twist the rings out of alignment, taping the joints goes back to greenheart rods with brass ferrules and tape can sometimes remove the finish from the rod and I didn’t want that to happen to my treasured Hardy. Needless to say, had the joints been taped my mate wouldn’t have got a dunking.

A bright, cold April day is not one for stripping down to your undies and attempting to dry your gear out! We managed a soggy traipse and a drive back to the fishing lodge which had a log fire and a drying room.

It was only afterwards that I realised how lucky I’d been as my complacency at being a strong swimmer could have been the death of me because if my mate hadn’t got me out at that point there were no exit points on the bank for hundreds of yards and the previous year a lone angler had fallen in a hundred yards or so upstream from where I fell in, but on the opposite side of the river. He was missed at the end of the day and his body was found the following day in a turbulent pool called The Washing Machine, half a mile downriver from where he fell in.

Needless to say, this April, I will be taping my rod joints!

 

[mikench]

Sunny Saturday afternoon in June on the R Ure above Ripon. Out for a few hours flyfishing & I'd waded 2/3 across the river to get a good stance on a particular pool. Not dodgy wading, the deepest I'd crossed was around knee height. Now standing in calf-deep water I'd fished for no more than 10 minutes or so when I started to notice a few bits of leaf coming down the river - clearly there was a drop coming in. Fished on for another 10 minutes, keeping an eye on the level - no doubt now, it was definitely coming up. What was scary - it was coming up really fast! Really fast. Deciding discretion was the better choice, I started to make my way back to my bank (& car). Reaching the slightly deeper (previously knee-high) section I was extremely worried to discover that it was now amost thigh-deep & flowing very very forcefully - so much so that when I tried to venture into it my feet were taken away. A couple more attempts to cross were proving to be extremely dangerous - with a very jumbled boulder-strewn area just downstream I wouldn't have stood a chance if I'd gone over.
Deciding the only safe-ish course was to make for the other bank over slightly calmer & shallower ground I set off. After a few minutes of some very dodgy wading I got to the margins. Ten minutes previously these had been no more than ankle deep - now it was almost to my waist! And I was confronted by a near-impenetrable wall of tangled willow for around 50 yards back!Despite getting badly scratched & sweaty, I eventually made clear ground & took the only course of action available to me - walk downstream the 3 or 4 miles to Ripon, across the river, then 3 or 4 miles back upstream to my car - not a prospect I relished given that it was a very warm afternoon!
After 3 miles I was getting close to Ripon when a passing dog walker saw me (in full fishing gear, a long way from the river) & had a bit of a chuckle when I explained what had happened.
To my eternal gratitude he told me to hop in his car & the lovely chap took me all the way back to mine!
Whilst I'd been walking I'd occasionally checked the river & reckoned that it had come up around 4 feet in 15 or 20 minutes - scary stuff!

I bet you had a few in the Bull!

 

[john step]

About 3 or 4 years ago I had a tumble on the slippery rocks on the Tidal Trent at Girton. Anyone who knows the tidal will know how remote it can be.
There was no one anywhere near and I had not seen a soul all day.

My feet just went from underneath me and I went down breaking 3 ribs and banging my head on the rocks. I am not sure if I was completely out of it but I was certainly disorientated and I lay there for some time.

I came to a bit and realised the tide was rising and my arm was getting wet. I managed to crawl backwards up the bank to my seat and sat there for about an hour before I felt able to pack up and get home.

I still had not seen another person. I tend to fish the non tidal now.

 

[mikench]

Pete I like fishing but not that much.

 

[nottskev]

As a novice angler, one of the few options open to a boy with a bike was the tidal Dee below Chester, where you could catch a few dace, eels and flatties. Chester died as a port city when the Dee estuary silted up, and the stretch I was on this day was at the upstream end of the new cut - the legacy of an 18th century scheme to keep it navigable. The river flows in a straight line out to sea between super- steep high banks lined with stones, covered with mud. The banks are treeless, the surroundings bleak and I was in one of the choice swims above the sewage outfall.

Anyone with any sense would check the tide times, but as a kid, you winged it. At certain times of the year, big tides come in with a bore, and it's a sight to look down the river, see a big step in the water and watch the mud fly as it scours the banks as it comes upstream. This all comes with a special, eerie atmosphere; the wind drops, it all goes quiet and still, the river races in the wrong way, and the water fills up to the top of the flood bank with awesome speed. You half expect the sky to turn black, flocks of big black birds to fill the sky and other creepy film effects.

You'd have to be daft not to notice all this, but that afternoon, I'd caught a dace, faffed around unhooking it and putting my keepnet in, and I was just bending down to put the fish in the net when the top of the bore snatched the fish from my hand, took my net off upstream and immediately came over the top of my wellies. It took a second for what was happening to dawn on me, before I discovered the meaning of panic in a whole new way. I threw my rod and reel as high up the bank as I could, followed by my empty basket - the water had knocked it over and washed all the contents out - and dragged and scrambled my way up the bank with the rising water. I lay down at the top of the bank soaked, scratched, stung, sweating and covered in mud.

I appreciate that a bit of common sense prevents that kind of thing. Even so, I tend to give tidal rivers a miss.

 

[ian g]

I was fishing the upper Severn one cold winters day trotting for grayling , The wind was blowing and the hail blowing across the river . I was wearing chest waders but standing on the bank which suddenly gave out under my feet . I dropped into a couple of feet water on my arse , As I got up with a wet arm feeling a bit shocked I looked to the bank and saw a rottwieler looking down at me , for a minute I was thinking what do I do here? Luckily his owner was soon on the bank and helped me out . Change of clothes and a hot coffee and I was ready to go again

 

[steve2]

We do put ourselves in danger just to catch a fish, wind,rain, snow,ice but we keep on doing it we must be mad.My worst nightmare having team member collapse and die while fishing a match miles away from the nearest hospital.

 

[103841]

I posted this some time ago but this seems a good time to refresh people’s memory or bring some critical info to those unaware. I assume the technology hasn’t changed over the years.

YouTube

 

[sam vimes]

There's an app called what three words (what3words.com). It's a free download on a smartphone. The emergency services are using it more and more.

what3words | Addressing the world (link especially for John Step)

 

[ian g]

Thanks for both those posts , could save a life.