The Reverend Stewart Bloor, perhaps better known as Sedge in the pages of FISHINGmagic, is an ordained Minister and Director of the Sedgley International Christian Ministries.
He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops.
IT’S A FINE LINE BETWEEN SUCCESS AND FAILURE
With a couple of days free in my work schedule, I decided to wave goodbye to the month of May with a session on Kingsmead in Berkshire. I don’t know what you do in your car when travelling to a fishing session. I guess if you have a companion, the time is taken up with conversation – no doubt about angling. I usually divide my time, depending on how I feel, between pondering work-related topics and listening to music.
Ryemeads as the sun set on the venue
On this occasion I was in a Trojan mood (That’s the name of a record label, by the way, nothing to do with horses!). So, to tunes such as ‘Skinhead Moonstomp’ by Symarip, ‘Rudy, a message to you’ by Dandy Livingstone and The Upsetters’ ‘Return of Django’ I made my way down the M5, M42 and M40.
In the mood to moonstomp and then Plan B – Ryemeads
The CD I played also contained the greatest instrumental ever composed by man – ‘The Liquidator’ by Harry J and The All Stars. By now I was in the mood to exchange my FISHINGmagic cap for a pork pie hat, pull up on the road side and do some Moonstomping of my own. Actually, I did end up on the hard shoulder – but to change a tyre, which decided to ‘blow out’ just as I drove into Buckinghamshire. Motorway hard shoulders can be dangerous places at the best of times, so I was relieved to get back into the car and continue my journey south.
Arriving at Kingsmead I was disappointed to discover all the pegs that covered the part of the pit where the bream are caught were taken. This has been my problem on the two previous visits – I haven’t been able to get into the main bream swims. So I was faced with a choice, either to fish elsewhere on the venue and target carp, or to put Plan B into operation.
Ready for the catapult
Plan B won. I’ve fancied a crack at another RMC venue, Ryemeads, and so used this opportunity to do just that. Good planning meant that I had given myself plenty of time, so I was able to circumvent the M25 well before rush hour descended. (I don’t know why we call it that, because no one seems to be rushing anywhere, and it certainly lasts for more than 60 minutes).
Bedded in for a two-night session with the tincas
Anyway, late afternoon and I’m all set up and bedded in for a two night session after the big tench that inhabit Rymeads, which is in Hertfordshire. A number of casts with the marker float rod revealed there was a plateau about 70yds in front of me. This was 10ft deep, with the drop-off either side falling to 16ft. Certainly a feature to aim for.
With the second rod I decided to fish the margins. Mixing up a groundbait mix that was predominantly brown crumb, dead maggots and corn, I put out numerous balls, and then settled down for the bright sun to set. Scanning the lake, I saw no signs of rolling fish. But then again, it’s the movement beneath the surface that really counts, not the action above it. It’s just that lots of fish activity, particularly over your baited area, does seem to inspire lots of confidence!
I missed the express train
The first night passed without any incidents whatsoever. I couldn’t even muster a line bite. But then again, I was using back leads! However, at 9.30 a.m. as I was making toast for breakfast, suddenly and without any warning whatsoever, the plateau-placed bait was picked up by a fish that took off like an express train. Sensing that one of the lake’s big tench was about to pose for my camera, I lifted the rod and struck – into thin air.
Not my fault if I’m a bird magnet
Reeling in, I was greeted with a sight that did not have me jumping with joy. The hook had pulled from the line, and the resultant section of curly line left me in no doubt at all that the fault was in the knot that I had tied. I’m usually so meticulous and check and re-check all the knots I tie. But this one had somehow escaped my attention to detail. In fact, I was left to rue this mistake. It is indeed a fine line between success and failure!
Later that day, speaking to my wife on the telephone, I related losing the big fish to her and when I meant to say ‘I could kick myself’, I actually said ‘I could kill myself’. Just for a moment my wife had thoughts of me committing suicide over a lost fish, until I corrected what I had said. I do take my fishing seriously, but not THAT seriously!
Back to my role as a wildlife magnet
The rest of the day provided as much action as the night before had done and most of the time I was staring at motionless hangers, willing them to come alive. The weather, in true British style, came to the rescue and offered at least some variety. Bright sun, downpours and strong winds all battled with each other to be the dominant meteorological feature for the day.
I also continued in my role as a wildlife magnet, as a couple of ducks decided to hang around the bivvy. With initial caution they kept their distance, but once they realised I didn’t have the words ‘orange sauce’ flying through my mind, they became quite friendly. Eventually their caution was thrown to the wind – it was my bait bucket that did it – and they made the bivvy porch their new home.
Chilli con carne – you have to look after yourself!
Night number two, as with the first, proved to be very quiet. Packing up, I was indeed left to ponder on what might have been. Instead of a blank, I could have been travelling back with a new personal best tench under my belt. Specimen hunting is indeed a fine line between success and failure. Although I don’t think inverted commas would go amiss around those words. After all, fishing is all about enjoyment. And even though I had blanked I had still enjoyed my session at Ryemeads. And that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?
A pleasant journey and thoughts of ageing hippies
Driving home, my first priority was to get a new tyre, which I did in Hemel Hempstead. As this was the start of a Bank Holiday weekend I decided to give the south-east motorway system a complete miss, and intended to pick up the M40 north of Oxford. How grateful I was for the motorway bridge at Junction 9, because the elevated position let me know that there was serious congestion below.
It never rains but it pours!
I decided to take the more leisurely route home from that point, avoiding the motorway completely until almost in Birmingham. A very pleasant journey it was as well. Passing through Woodstock, I wondered how many ageing hippies, on that very route, have suddenly felt the urge to dust down the old kaftan, put flowers in their hair (I wonder if they would be breaking the law now. After all, many of our wild flowers are endangered species), grab a guitar and start singing songs about San Francisco.
Travelling through quintessentially small English towns such as Stratford-upon-Avon, Shipston-on-Stour and Henley-in-Arden with their thatched cottages, stone cottages and unique sense of history, it made me realise how much we miss by travelling on motorways. For sure, they’re convenient and fast. But perhaps in the hustle and bustle of modern life, with our desire to get from A to B as quickly as possible, we miss out on so much?
But one thoroughly modern invention I wouldn’t do without – the CD player. Which, on the return journey was switched on to radio mode. So, listening to Senegal beat France in the opening game of the World Cup, the lost fish at Rymeads became a distant memory. Not that I don’t like the French, you understand……
Next week’s PP is self explanatory really – ‘Carp, Carp, Carp!’ I recently enjoyed a few sessions after the species that seems to polarise anglers more than any other. Love ’em or hate ’em, the point is they provided me with some enjoyable sport. Read out how I got on next Thursday. See you then!
The Reverend Stewart R Bloor Sedgley International Christian Ministries PO Box 1216, Dudley. DY3 1GW. Telephone : 01384 – 828033 Web site : www.sicm.org e-mail : missionscentre@sicm.org
