Where Did it start for you

We'd moved to wales for one week and I decided to go and see what was around. I was eight years old at the time and I'd been stuck indoors for the previous week, (suffering torrential rain syndrome.)I'd walked down the road that led from our house to find a "meandering" river around the next corner. I ran the whole of the way back home and shouted to my sister that there was a river down the road. We cut two nut stick from the tree in our garden attached some fishing line "pinched from father" and went and caught some minnow. Rain came back for three weeks after that and I wasn't allowed to go fishing, then my Birthday came. I opened a long present from Mum and Dad first "a fluorescent orange shakespeare spinning rod with reel and accessories" (my eyes nearly popped out of my head) then my next present from my Grandad, (Hardies book of fishing) "what a combination". I improved my fishing rapidly and learned how to get the chub that frequented the river feeding. it was in the early eighties and I was ten or eleven at the time. I was a member of the Angling Times (Rod Bender's club) "remember that?" and just about that time I remember picking up the weekly issue of AT from the local village shop. My eyes were fixated on the front cover as I went home. Some bloke was posing with a monster on the front page. The article said that a New Britsh Record carp had been caught at a place called Redmire Pool. I asked my Dad if he'd take me carp fishing and I was hooked.
That fellow on the front page of the Angling Times sparked something inside of me that would never go out, I had a burning desire to catch one of those creatures and that desire still burns inside of me to this day. The fellow on the cover of Angling Times became my Idle and I vowed that one day I would go fishing with him. I wrote to Jimmy Saville to see if he'd grant me my wish, without reply. But that never dissheartened me and I suppose that I still live in the hopes of one day being able to have a chat with Chris Yates, who knows maybe even wet a line with him. For me though that was how it all came about.

What turned you into a fisherman?

Nice post Chubber,

I believe I was a fisherman from the first time I caught some taddies in my net, I was facinated, and so it went on. Did the garden cane and cotton thing for sticklebacks and eventually caught my first roach. Proper gear came at christmas, a spinning rod too!!!
By the age of 8 or 9 I was off all over on my bike, you could in those days.

Strange really, non of my family fished and no one introduced me to it, they still all think Im barmy.

At the age of three I was taken fishing by my Father & Grandfather around Surrey, Berkshire & Oxford & the New forest . On my fourth birthday I was given the top section of a split cane Avon rod, handle attached to use, still have it in the loft somewhere. I met and fished with the late great Mr Stone & Mr Hargreaves and sat spell bound in awe watching Mr Walker Fish and listening to him on the prize presentation night ( albeit a bit technical for a 10 year old)
I have carried on for 44 years and I am still learning. I do fish with Mr Yates, and still use cane and will do until His Holiness Mr Izaac Walton calls time and I drop off my wicker basket.

Old cane never dies Merlot.

I started fishing aged six. My dad made me a bamboo rod with safety pins for eyes and a tiny centre pin reel.
The first fish I caught (I can remember it like yesterday) was a tench, it was massive, huge! About half a pound probably!

My dad then took me onto the river, the Bristol Avon at Lacock, it was chub city. He took us there every Sunday, 5am start, but we never wanted to go home at 1pm for Sunday lunch. I can remember my first proper chub 2 1/2lb. I waded out (with just my pants on) it was summer, lovely and warm. I was fishing a large bodied wagler (I didn't know what a stick was) with a lump of bread, it glided gracefully downstream and went under. I thought it was bottom, so I gave it a yank, whooo hoooo, I was into a chub.

There was no going back after that, I was hooked.

Yep, I was also a Rodbender member, I wish I still had the hat that my badges were sewn on to.

Lovely memories.

I love nostalgia threads

I'm sat with a big grin thinking about my first 5-7oz perch from the Great Ouse at Willington, Beds c.1980.

Caught on a garden bamboo cane, Wilco hooklength and home dug worm.

That first glorious summer was gudgeon heaven!

I cant really remember my first ever time but I do have clear memories of trying to cast a float, and always letting go too early with the float ending up on the floor behind me or worse, in the next blokes swim!

Aaah...

jumpers for goalposts

Nice one chubber, enjoyed that.

about a 1year 1/2 ago on the river thames for the day , my dad convinced me to have ago, havin always thought fishing was boring i was reluctent. with seconds i hooked a 5 ounce roach and thought it was fantastic. i got a license and came back camping for a few days later in the year and caught little tiddlers for hours!

7 years'old on my uncle Martin's farm in County Mayo. No running water, no toilet, but the river Moy running 100 yards away! Like all Irishmen uncle Martin fished both for pleasure and the pot so he fished nearly every day and of course I went along. Tackle was primitive: a long straight branch cut from the hedgerow, strong line, a cork bobber, and a stout hook baited with worm. I was captivated from the first day and soon took over fishing duties, roaming the banks and wreaking havoc amongst the trout and the salmon parr.

I carefully hoarded my spends and bought a 5ft rod and reel in Dublin on the way home. I can still remember it! White fibregalss with a white plastic coloured handle, whipped and trimmed in red. The reel was a blue centre pin. I still ahve a faded black and white picture of me using the same outfit at the Vale of Avoca in County Wickloe a few years later!

In later visits I graduated to Salmon often illegally caught by lamplight in the dead of night in winter. Wild chases by bailiffs followed by hot strong tea and a nip of poteen when we got home.

Those days laid the foundations for my love of fishing and wild places. Martin is now in his 70's and stricken with throat cancer, but he still loves to talk fishing and his beloved Moy trout.

You will remember it forever Christian, that's what makes it special.

5-6 years old with my Dad on the Lea at Tottenham Lock and catching little perch and gudgeon on a five foot bamboo rod and small bakelite reel.

No reel. Not even a rod. Just a piece of string attached to an enormous double jointed yellow plug. Standing beneath the motorway bridge (M1 J20) flaying the River Swift trying to catch pike. Caught an absolute whopper that must have gone at least 3lb and left the treble in my thumb. I was hooked from then onwards!

I didn't have any family members that fished, but used to wander around the local countryside.
At some time,probably 8 or 9 did newt fishing in the pond over the fields, with a worm on the bamboo pole and cotton.
Developed from there catching 3 spined sticklebacks and then perch all from the same pond.
First proper rod a two piece fibreglass spinner with a tin centre pin,can't remember how I got it.
Next step was a 3 piece,split cane with a fibre glass third piece(Dawsons??) and an Intrepid monarch.I can't remember how I got them either.

I can remember the first proper reel I had was an Intrepid Black Prince. The line nearly wore through the bail arm.

Chubber post 2

still at the same address just across the fields from the River Ithon (tributary of the Wye)I've always been told that there are no Barbel this far up the wye (some people think there's an imaginary underwater border telling the Barbel not to cross, but anyway. By now I'd developed a knowledge of the chub pools. My Dad had gone fishing early in the morning and caught a 1 and 3/4 pound chub. I pestered my Mum to take me fishing that same afternoon. We went down to the wooded river banks to a deep pool that I'd not fished but was aware of the inhabitance of chub. I'd decided to try a spinner for chub and cast almost to the far bank just under the trees. I saw a big fish attack the spinner and a chub of 1lb 12oz was brought to the net. I was later joined by a freind called Tony so Mum was happy that I was in good company so left us and went home. We continued our fishing on my favourite pool up the field from the woods. I'd put a float on and a lump of cheese. I was busy talking I lost sight of my float "Tony can you see my float" I asked "No mate" he said, so I struck just incase! I was met by a tightning of the line and we both watched in Awe as a missile shot up river, I still don't beleive that it was a chub "it must've been a Barbel, it headed upstream of my position and I couldn't control it with the spinning rod. I know now that I should've given it line but I didn't the fish snapped my line like it was cotton. I looked behind me to see the float sticking out of Tony's forehead. I still wish that I'd landed that fish!

chubber post 3

Somewhere around the same date, I was walking the Wye at Builth Wells, as I walked along the stretch known as the groe (primarily a fly fishers pool) I saw a Barbel sunning itself under a tree. As I said before the locals will have you think that there aren't any this far up (but I know better) seeing as they are here then I feel obliged to presume that the missile fish on the Ithon was one.

I moved house to a small holding further up in the hills. We owned seven acres with a brook running through it. I learned the art of what was known as "Dapping" here. You tied a fly onto a normal float rod and gently twitched it along the surface. This accounted for many a big trout, well that and the fact that somebody taught me how to tickle them. within the first summer I'd emptied the brook of large trout and left just the small ones. I was now forced to walk the river further afield. I came across some lovely trout pools but by now I was finding it too easy to catch trout and my hunger for carp got the better of me. My parents seperated the following summer and everything my Dad had ever worked for he was forced to sell. He and me had just completed an extension onto our property but nevertheless. he sold it and we moved into the local town of Llandrindod Wells (the carp mecca). I fished the lake throughout that summer, but never even caught one carp "perhaps I should've tried potatoes" as referenced in "Casting At The Sun" but instead I used bread crusts on the surface. The closest I got was pulling my crust out of one of the wily old carps mouth.
I made friends with another youngster who told me that he'd show me how to catch a carp. So I accompanied him to an old slate quarry "now filled with water" he assured me that there were big Carp in there some fish bigger thasn those of your dreams and he was right!
We were sat by the trees at the back of the pool.I could see my sweetcorn neatly on the bottom under my float, then it clouded over and I could no longer see it. All of a sudden my rod tip caught me straight under the ear. I'd lent it over a broken off branch and as the carp pulled it it flew up and hit me. It was then that I got to feel the full power of a carp. iIt led me a merry dance in the deep rocky waters but I eventually landed a pristine conditioned fighting machine of 4lb 2oz, my first carp and I'd also found a water that I was to fall in love with. There were some absolute monsters in there and still are today.

I can remember my first fishing trip and still get ribbed about it by my best mate.

I was probably 9 or 10 and my best mate and his Dad were avid fishers. It was the middle of the school holidays and they were going to go fishing. I asked if I could come along and they said yes so begged my mum if I could go and she agreed, but only if I was sure an adult was going to be there and had I got clean underwear on.....!!!!

Now, not knowing a thing about coarse fishing, but having fished off the harbour wall on holiday, I took the same gear with me, namely 1 crabbing line with bright orange string, a 4oz lead weight and a size 2 hook on a metal boom.

We parked in the farm and my mate disappeared quickly so his Dad and I carried all the tackle.

I had a great morning trying to hook double maggot onto a size 2 hook, trying to "gently" cast into the water so as not to spook the fish, watching as my mate "artistically" cast with his 12 foot blue fibreglass Shakespeare rod. He let me have a go and I managed to cast onto the opposite bank, got snagged up and lost all his terminal tackle.

Needless to say, all excellent memories and one's that will be with me for ever and definitely started my "passion for angling".