Everything went wrong, but I finished second...Kingsland Silver

Not permanently pegged

Eleven of us fished this Fenland Rods match. The downside started when we got to the fishery to be told that we couldn’t drive our cars up on the bank to our pegs. Apparently someone had reversed into some trees and got stuck and Richard, the farmer, spent a fair amount of time getting them out. Luckily I had put the front Octbox wheel and the handles into the car so I could convert the box into a trolley. I don’t normally do that – it creases my back, and I normally use a Frenzee trolley.

Even so because there’s a slope up to the lake and the grass on the top is not even, I was cream crackered  by the time I’d got the tackle to the peg. The moveable platforms here are good and big, but  there’s a short drop down to them, over ground which is bumpy and not easy to shuffle around on while getting the gear put together. They are also a foot off the ground and were well off the water.

The wind was cool, but into my bank, so I thought that if it warmed up I might have a bonanza second half of the match. I started on a bunch of dead maggots in the left margin, as Kevin Lee had won a match here last year at the same time of year, doing that. But all I got on a bunch of deads were rudd, most of which fell off.

Foulhookers

So out to eight metres with pellet for nothing. Then back to the slightly deeper margin, where I managed to foulhook, and lose, three big fish. Then I landed one...foulhooked in the pectoral fin. Then things got worse. Almost three hours gone, one fish in the net,  and I went to cup out bait, only to see my Number Four section break apart. It’s been repaired twice, but I think it’s just old. I estimated that in three years, at a rate of 70 matches a year, exposed to the sun and elements for eight hours at a time, that’s 1,680 hours laying in the sun. So it’s, like me, knackered.

Comedy time

I telescoped it together and promptly managed to foulhook another biggie which shot 20 metres along the bank and buried itself in the bankside reeds. Then commenced a comedy. I gingerly got off the platform, managing to do so without actually falling onto any tackle, carefully stepped over it all, and crawled along the bank, managing to gradually get my hands up the pole to the top two. But I couldn’t reach the elastic.

So I re-assembled the pole and, gingerly holding it, went back to my holdall, across the hills and hollows, and extracted my long hook. I walked back to the reeds, managed to reach the top two again and grab the elastic with the hook, and twist the hook round the elastic. I pulled it back so I could grab the elastic with my hand, pulled, and of course it broke. But at least I’d retrieved my top two.

Believe me, I was fed up, and considered packing up. Instead I went to the car and took out my old margin pole – at least 40 years old – which has just two tops. I rigged these up and somehow managed to lose another four carp, and land about six around 4 lb, mainly on corn. The best spell was the last hour, in the righthand margin, as the sun made it difficult to fish the swims I had baited.

There are no pictures as I couldn’t be arsed – hot and bothered and fed up, and last to put my tackle away. Both John Smith, in the next swim (who had lost a lot of fish in the reeds), and I moaned about the difficulty of packing up on a slope and taking everything to the top of the bank and then back to the car on hard, bumpy ground. We were on our last legs.

The weigh in

The scales came to me and I admitted to 25 lb, but the fish weighed 37 lb. I didn’t even ask what the rest of the weights were. I took the last stuff back to the car and managed to make my way slowly towards Callum, who had the board. To my amazement he said I was second, which lightened my mood a shade. Tony Nisbet had won with 81 lb 11 oz, starting on pellet and finding  rudd, and suddenly contacting carp when he changed to luncheon meat. But he told me he lost five times as many as he landed.

The result - obviously the fish have not acclimatised to the cool weather.

I’m undecided whether to risk fishing Kingsland again if we can’t drive to the pegs. I don’t always do that, but the Silver lake has a very wide track round it and I’ve never known anyone to get into difficulties there. The average age of club match anglers is getting higher every year, and in the Spratts club we voted not to go there again as it’s too dangerous for any of us who are unsteady on our feet, especially if it’s wet.

So it ended with just one tiny chink of happiness in a day of gloom. That’s life I suppose. But I did order a new Number Four from Decoy on the way home. Should have no problem as it's a Browning Xitan Z12, and still current.

Next match Horseshoe on Wednesday. I’m happy with any swim there.