Dangerous actions whilst fishing

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rodders

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Just thought this thread might be interesting...many years ago comming back from a session on the Severn late evening alone, I decided to take a short cut across a field, instead of keeping to the path( as one should). The field was divided by a barbed wire fence, at about crotch height. No problem me thinks and cocks a leg over, tackle in hands heavy rucksack on back. Oh shit... supporting leg goes and I end up with my left leg tangled in the wire and me hanging from it with just my right elbow on the ground. The wire has dug into my calf and I can't move because my weight is supported by the fence and the tip of my elbow is just..just touching the ground. No mobile phones in those days.. Lets shout for help.. only in the middle of a hundred acre field and its going dark.. oh shit. Over the next few minutes panic set in.. would they find me next morning?? What if the farmer or other anglers didn't visit next day?? There were no thoughts of sacrificing my leg ( like the guy who cut his arm off recently. A plan came together, I could just reach my chair at a streach of the finger tips, having grasped this I managed to use it as a crutch and got my free leg into a supporting position, thus able to free myself and lived to tell the tale.. Had to go for a tetanus next day as my leg was badly cut. Anyone else have any close shaves???

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Mark Wintle

Mark Wintle

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25 years ago, I was match secretary, and went swim clearing one Saturday morning on the tidal Frome at low tide. Wearing waders, I waded in the mud which was about 6 - 12 inches deep over gravel, clearing the Norfolk reeds. I was OK until I found a spot where the mud was much deeper and went in over my knees. As I struggled I got deeper until it was up to my waist. I was on my own. I had a six foot piece of steel 1" water pipe. I thrust it into the mud to try to find hard bottom. It went in the length of my arm plus the six foot; at least 8 foot of mud. The tide turned to come up. I tried shouting for help and shouted loud enough to get an echo from the river cliff 300 yards away. No-one came. After an hour, with the tide up 6 inches and due to come up 4 ft ie over my head, a man appeared walking his dog. At first he didn't want to help but he agreed to go to the farm 300 yards away for help. Whilst ghe was gone another man turned up on his way to the boat club near the farm, he also agreed to get help. Ten minutes later, both were back with 2 other men and some rope. It took all 4 to pull me out. I went home and had a long bath to wash off the mud. Guess what peg I drew the next day?
Moral - Never wade into soft mud or bog, in Poole Harbour (the Frome drains into here) many are rescued every year.
 
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Ergo

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I bought a cheapo secondhand match box and adjusted the legs at the side of the river.

I pulled hard on my pole, the legs slipped down and I started going forward head-first into the water. I had the idea that if I was to jam the pole down I could push back. Funny how poles snap under the wrong kind of pressure. :(

I did manage to stay dry, packed up my bits and went home. There I looked at the leg grip bits, they were all knackered. The box is now in my shed used as a tool box. Tyhe pole was wrecked.

Don't buy cheap second-hand gear.

I can't see my Milo tardis letting me down like that. If my Super Legion was in a similar positiion, I would take the dive rather than risk it. :)
 
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Ron Troversial Clay

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Many years ago I spent 5 days fishing for the big carp and yellowfish of the Vaal River near Kimberley.

The farmer let me use a canoe with paddles to get out groundbait accurately. The canoe was one of those kayak types.

Whilst I was chucking out bait the darned thing overturned and dropped me into about 15 feet of weedy water. Although I was a resonable swimmer, the weed caught me and I screamed for help.

My late wife Margaret was a championship swimmer in her younger days. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't here today.

I still shudder when I think about that experience.
 
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Peter West

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Many years ago three of us went what?s called long lining near Morecambe Bay, we had to be on the sands by 4am to dig for bait and bait up 100s of hooks, we them followed the tide back in after attaching markers to post dug into the sand so we could find them after. Hours later we walked back out with the tide to look for our rigs, after much walking and searching with binoculars we where unable to find anything, not realising and keeping track of time it started getting dark, we had walked so far out towards the sea we weren?t sure which was the way back to the main land and by now it was getting dark, of course the tide was staring to turn and no mobiles them days
We had to try and follow the tide back in, which by now it was midnight and believe it or not we honestly didn?t know if we where going back to land or walking farther out to sea, at times we where up to our waist in water having to cross water filled gullies, we finally got back to land at 3am we had been out walking for over12 hours, we had ended up miles from the car and in a sorry state, never been long lining again since that day, we were told afterwards that locals lads watch you with binoculars baiting up and then sail out in small boats to steal the lines and fish.
 
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Peter West

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Just been wondering whats happened to the other two lads i was with, both where into course fishing not seen them for years since they left out company, are you out there **** Wright and Gerry Pendriegh.
 
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John Jones

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Some years ago I was fishing the Teme with my buddy Graham, when I had to negotiate a stile.

The stile post nearest the river had a small gap between it and the steep bank down to the river.

Like an idiot, instead of climbing the stile, I tried to pass on the outside of it, and the inevitable happened. I slipped and to avoid falling 15 feet into the river I grabbed the post.

Result was the most excruciating pain I have ever known. The bicep in my upper arm was torn completely in half leaving me with a withered arm.

I now have only half strength and the dull ache reminds me of that stupid action constantly.
 
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Nigel Moors 2

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When it was my 18th birthday I headed into Poole to stay at a mates before we hit town at night. In the afternoon he suggested going out into Poole harbour in his boat and heading towards Brownsea island. We hadn't made out as far as the island but the boat engine packed up. He fiddled with and it ran again for 10mins so off we went again. Then it packed up again and no amount of fiddling would get it running. Then we found ourselves stuck on amudbank mile from land and getting on for 5pm. No mobiles etc etc. After another 2 hrs of sitting there our attempts at getting the motor to run proving fruitless another boat came past, saw we were in trouble and towed us back in. By the time we got back to his house to get washed up it gone 9. Some bloody birthday that.

Two weeks later the same mate was working on a school roof (we were both sparky's) and fell legs akimbo on top of a gutter pipe, ripping his scrotum away! Not really a fishing related story but more an illustration of what he was like, needless to say - I never went out in his boat again.
 
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Blunderer

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Not fishing related at all this one, but scrotum related after Nigel's post triggered a memory.
We were sledging on "Paddy's Meadow" aged about 10, when a local lad called Christian suffered a similar testicular tragedy. The hill we sledged on was very steep and at the bottom the smoothis ground became very bumpy and then it ended abruptly with a rotton fence.
Christian's sledge wason eof the old style wooden low sledges, with runners that lifted the seat about 5 inches from the ground.
After a day of laughter where we sledged at 100 mph then bailed out before the rough ground, Christian really got going and didn't bail out. His slege hit the rough ground then sudenly hit a sort of fence post and stopped. He of course was thrown forward by the momentum and landed in a heap. Screaming. When we ran down he opened his trousers and the fencepost had had a nail on it which ripped his strotum open as he shot off the sledge.
Ouch.
 
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Jeff (Cheeky Monkey) Woodhouse

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From the look in your eyes Nigel, it could have been you ripping your scrotum away! :eek:)


Remember the winter of 63, so cold that brass monkeys were walking around singing carols, suprano. One Sunday my mate Dave and I went to Stamford Park boating lake to see what our fishing spot looked like. SOLID!

So we started walking out on the ice, further and further, many yards from the bank. In fact we walked all around the island (for anyone who knows it), but as we got to the more open bit where they launched the boats from, there was one loud crack came from the ice.

It's a sound I will never forget and cannot compare anything to it. You hear it travel away from you yet it's not quite like breaking glass. A strange noise that suddenly makes you realise what an utterly stupid pratt you are.

By then there was nothing else to do but walk back to the rear of the lake and thankfully we both made it. Makes you realise how thick the ice must be on these Russian lake to drive a train across them as they did outside of Leningrad during the war.
 
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rodders

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This is all good stuff, Withered limbs,scrotum's ripped off, neck deep in mud..lovely, keep em comming.
 
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david bruce 1

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I like to fish in out of the way places. Fighting may way into and through a heavily wooded area- mainly crack willows etc.on the bank of the river Dane I trod on what looked like a few dead branches left from a winter flood. next thing I am up to my armpits in a hole that opened up as the dead braches snapped and I am suspended with my feet off the floor and my rod bag and tackle bag up around by neck forcing my arms skywards. Every time it tried to get a foot hold on the branches lower down they just gave way and if I tried to lower my arms more dead branches snapped and I fell in further. Visions flashed before me of being washed out down stream in the winter floods as a half rotted skeleton. If I had had a mobile I couldn't have reached it. Eventually I managed to remove my rod bag from around my neck -nearly straggling me- and with feet and hands was able to spread the load - I must admit quite considerable- between several braches and slowly crawled out over the top with every snapping branch, and several did, putting more fear into my heart. The only damage was bruised and skinned upper arms and armpits and a racing heart. It seemed this was a side stream in time of flood and it had filled with dead braches and debris which I had then fallen through. Naturally I always tread more carefully on dead branches now and tell someone where I am going!.
 
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Nigel Moors 2

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Jeff - the look in my eyes is there now after the sledging story as it is very close one of my own childhood accidents.

Where I lived in Germany back in the early 70's (dad was a squaddie) we had a big hill which ran out at the bottom of the hill to a play area and an area full of washing lines. I hit the bottom of one of the poles much as Blunderers sledging mate had done. I too was thrown forward with the sledge at a dead halt. But one of the wooden slats on top of the sledge that you sit or lay on was driven into my thigh. It crashed into the bone, severed the main muscle running down the thigh and made a this sickening sloppy gurgle sound as I pulled myself off of it. The rest I don't remember as that's when I started screaming. The only saving grace was that my head cracked into the pole too which probably stopped the leg being more damaged, this also probably explians the look in my eyes!! Was off school for 16wks with that thanks to the army medic who stitched me up making a right dogs dinner of it.
 
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Twainy

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When I was in the forces, I was on exercise one night on Dartmoor. Thick snow and we were advancing in line abreast. I passed a small tree and the next thing I knew was upside down in a ditch staring up at the sole of my left boot.
I had stepped through a loop of surface tree root hidden in the snow. I fell down the ditch but my foot and 8 inches of shin stayed up top.
On the way to hospital in a land rover, the medic gave me entenox. It did nothing and he decided to try it out himself to see if it was working.
Within seconds he thought my injury was hilarious.
I had to snatch the mask back for pain relief!
 
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alan

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A couple of weeks ago I was fishing Haslar wall in Gosport, I saw a swirl around my line as I was reeling it in, so I walked down the slope thinking i will stop above the green bit. I stopped walking about a meter above it, but slipped, looking down I could see a ledge so thought sod it im going down anyway, the ledge will stop me. I hit the ledge and kept going, dug my fingers in to the wall and managed to stop with my feet hanging over the ledge. I had to shout up to my mate to come and get my rod so I could try and get back up. Luckily it was low tide, or the ledge is about 4 meters under water.
 
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david bruce 1

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Thanks for the reference Twainy - put me right off by cheese and tomato ketchup butties!
 
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Coops

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As kids a group of us used to fish a local authority pond. One of my friends decided he was bored and started to 'fly fish' with his standard coarse gear.

Whipping the line behind him like a fly fisherman, with just a bare hook and bait, he caught a passer by in the ear lobe with the hook and nearly ripped his ear off his head. Blood everywhere and a very unamused victim!
 
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Coops

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A non-fishing one which I will never forget because of the stupidity and (for us who were watching in an inebriated state) hilarity of the occasion.

My cousin, me and a group of mates, then in our teens, were on our way home late one night pretty much the worse for booze. My cousin, in the middle of Tunbridge Wells, decides he needs a piss. He whips out his tool and urinates in a shop doorway. He hears someone coming and tries to finish quick and get his manhood back in his pants, but does his zip up a bit quick and catches his foreskin in it, trapping about an inch of skin in the teeth of the zip.

He was in so much pain he can't bear to touch it to free it, and you won't believe the amount of blood the wound produced. We got him to casualty with it still trapped and poking out of his strides, where he became the butt of some pretty cruel jokes from the nurses on duty. He needed an aneasthetic to free him and stitches in the wound.

Needless to say he's never been allowed to forget it.
 
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