Mr Monk.....

I love the new piccys in the gallery .........................more please

Yes, I would you see more too please? Very interesting to see some early set ups.

cheers guys, I`ve just been experimenting with uploading images, the ones I`ve put up are what I already had on my computer, most of my stuff is still on slides though, so I need to get a scanner set up. My photographs go back to about 1969, but most of the carp ones are from about 1974

Brilliant pod and I'm sure you've got lots of interesting stuff to show Monk. More please. I too was Carping from 1972 - till 83, in the early days I used Glass Conoflex rods, still got them somewhere.

Do you know Nick, I forgot what Roman Lakes looked like. Last time I fished them was the week before I was married, that's thirty.... thirty....... Well, a long time ago, let's say.


That's some contraption you got there. Does it have any further implications in dealing with rough slappers?

you forgot to blank your face out though.....



sure i've seen it a few times in some specialist videos....

cheers Murray, we used to fish for carp in the local canal in the 60s, but we didnt really know about carp fishing as such. Most of the carp we caught in those days were what we called black and ambers, koi varieties, the mill owners would stock with these spevie to keep the warm water filters free of weed or that was the theory anyway. The thing was that many of the mill lodges and local Rochdale canal was full of these things, the main method of catching them was by stalking them through holes in the reeds with break crust and flake.

ILLICIT MANOEUVRES AFTER DARK.

The searchlight swept across our feet. We lay still and quiet in the bushes. Heavy footsteps passed within yards of our hiding place.

?Nobody down here, Bert?, said a rather stern voice as the watchman ascended the old wooden staircase and into the cabin above. We knew that the night watchmen liked a drink on the nightshift would be soon fast asleep, totally oblivious to our two little heroes only feet below, fishing illicitly for koi-carp.

As a child I lived in an area surrounded by cotton mills; the village in which I was brought up, lay in the shadow of the Pennines. The mill owners had built numerous large and majestic mills to cater for the Lancashire cotton industrial needs. Lodges (mill dams) provided the water required to drive the mighty steam engines, before the arrival of electricity. The filter pipes were supposedly kept clean, to some degree, by the stocking of carp, in some cases lots of them.

Various varieties of koi-carp and goldfish types where present in the mill lodges, these were known locally as ?black and ambers? and ranged in colour from bright silver looking fish to dark brown and black, many were not uncommonly like the true wild strains, although generally more symmetrical in shape. The majority of these fish were half black and half amber in varying degrees.

The high water temperatures, due to the hot water inflow returns from the factories, assisted significantly in the growth cycle and biota levels of the pools. Many of which enjoyed a life span well into the late fifties and early sixties when, first alternative electric power sources took over and eventually the mills ceased business, when the textile industry crashed. Lodges were infilled to make way for car parking and the last remaining mills were converted into other industrial use.

I had been up quite early digging for worms at the farm. It was during the early part of the sixties and we had started to try a new method called bait dipping. It consisted of a long narrow bottle that contained a thick black sticky substance. We had noted the local canal anglers and witnessed their susses on this method while using bamboo roach poles. The maggots were dipped into the bottle and when lowered into the water a colourful film surrounded the bait, it was called aniseed, and tasted quite good.

I?d arranged to camp out with my mate Tommy in the garden at the back of his house. The school holidays were upon us. August had been a good month with plenty of sunshine with the nights just beginning to draw in. Tommy?s parents said goodnight through the tent door and from our sleeping bags we watched as them go up the garden path and disappear into the house. Out went the lights and we made our move. Rods and bait cans at the ready and two schoolboys scrambled towards the rear fence.

It was a bit frightening, crossing the fields in the dark, and we had to travel half a mile along the canal bank and down a dark lane and past a village called Spike Island. The mill loomed high above the railway cutting; the night shift was in full swing and the lights from the mill shone brilliantly down on the mill lodge.

Sneaking towards the watchman?s cabin, we found the place in total darkness; we passed the rods through the railings, descended a stonewall and made our way round the lodge and beneath the watchman?s hut. The hut stood on six steel legs and was situated in one corner of the lodge. This was the only place you could actually fish without being seen, although one had to be very quiet when playing a fish and if the watchmen descended the steps, it was simply a case of climbing to the back of the hut and staying motionless, close to the wall. In the dark it was impossible to see us.

The actual trick was to get under the hut without being seen. It was essential to be quiet, wear dark clothes and sometimes craw between the bushes on all fours. Once in situ the watchmen were mere feet above our heads. Early on in the night they would often make their patrols, we would climb to the back beneath the hut and watch their feet as they descended the steps and stay still while they went on patrol. It was only safe to fish when we knew where they were, in the cabin above.

The rods were baited, little more than garden canes really, and some six feet in length. These had attached wire eyes whipped on with cotton, a tin plate centre pin reel and a peacock quill. The worms were dipped in the aniseed bottle and gently swung into the weed margins. Flake was also a favourite and both baits took us steadily catching into the small hours, each fish being carefully played so as not to cause any disturbance to our sleeping friends above. Sport was plentiful, as always, with many a bright and wonderfully coloured fish coming to the bucket.

Ay around 4.0 am on this particular night, I noticed a large swirl to the right of me. A piece of crust that had fallen from my pocket had landed in the margins to be immediately gulped down by a large dark fish. More crust was thrown on the surface and the large dark shape rose yet again. No small fish this! I thought? Hands shaking, I placed some crust on the hook and cast the offering among a flotilla of freebies. One by one the crusts vanished, until the surface erupted and the line on my reel tightened and away she went. Diving deep at first into the stonewall?.

Quietly I managed to turn her and bring her to the surface. I was sure all the commotion would awaken our friends above, but the snoring prevailed. However, after a few wild dashes the fish lay beaten at our feet, a lovely carp, mainly black with just a dash of gold on one side and weighing in at about 5lb I would think.

The shuffling of feet above signalled a well-timed departure from this truly magical place, with the first signs of the sun rising over the distant fields towards the East. We returned the fish to their murky depths made our way across the dew soaked fields. As the sun rose above Spike Island, our two little heroes scrambled back over the garden fence and returned to the tent Zzzzz.

We were woken by Tommy?s dog patch, which was licking Tommy?s face at the unearthly hour of 10.00am. ?Had a good night?? said Tommy?s father as he walked towards the tent to as two bleary-eyed schoolboys poked their heads through the doorway. Of course we had had a good night, as we did on many an occasion, and indeed we continued to do so until the mill lodge was eventually infilled.

Another mill lodge, which we used to fish in this era, was built in an open are quite high up above a wall. We would sit in a dip behind some hawthorn bushes opposite a path, which encompassed the pool. Our lines would be laid across the path and into the pool and often covered in soil for camouflage, indication was a knob of bread paste pinched onto the line, with the rod being positions against the slope on the ground. Many an evening the watchman would patrol the lodge, often walking across our lines without realising what was going on? God forbid, should we have got a run as he was passing! Often we had to play the fish from our crouched positions. We used to sneak on as darkness came and fade away as the dawn arrived. A few close encounters, but for the most part we were left undisturbed.

It is over 40 years since these events took place. Anyone having fished the Chadderton district of Oldham in these periods may recall the mills of The Ace, Stotts, The Elk The Ram and The Neava, and indeed many more reminders of Lancashire?s remnants of the textile revolution, all lost now in the mists of time.

cheers Woody, yes the old Roman Lakes, we fished down there the same time as Uncle Tim, we used to get banned every other week for all sorts of serious things, like forgetting to take your cup back to the cafe, or slaggin the owners ugly daughters off.

Yes Jeff the slappers wernt quite as ruffe in those days, many of them still having both a pulse and their own teeth!


Fishing Videos Frothy or pornos? haha

Loved the pics too Monk......we ought to start a "golden oldie" section!!

hey steady on Paul, I`m not that old haha.

havemt got any fishing vids!

hahahaha,. dont tell the wife

Good stuff Mr Monk, very interesting photo's.
The one with your son was lovely, looked like he was struggling to hold it up.
Loved the facial hair styles too.
;-]

Cheers DB, My lads done quite well in the carp stakes, his best is 38.5, a Frenchy, but hes had 2 English thirties too.

Yeah the facial hair only comes out in full moons, or when I`ve not been home for 12 month.

Monk ,Great pictures mate ,herons ,monkey climbers ,and what a super pod ,plus its good to put a face to the Habit .

Cheers Les, but I`m wearing a mask

That's his Che Guevara look, Les, for when he signs on.


Must get some lessons of you Monk in how to become a Time Bandit.