David Gauntlett
Senior Member
Had an afternoon into nighter on The Colne yesterday with Conrad Farlow, that man on a mission to catch a barbel from 50 different British rivers. This trip was an attempt to make it river number 41 so far, would you believe 
Sadly, I must have upset some fairly powerful barbel gods,'cos despite being in a good swim, poor Conrad had to be content with crays and chub, from a river that had dropped a lot and lost most of it's pace and colour in the five days since my successful trip on Monday
However, I can proudly say that I put on a pretty decent comedy show to cheer the young chap up, so I hope it wasn't all bad for him. The show was staged in my swim, which was basically just somewhere I had plopped myself down within easy hailing distance of Conrad, as I waited for the inevitable roar of success from that quarter. Now, bare in mind that I had not had so much as a chub knock since we arrived much earlier, in the beautiful sunshine....just an endless succession of crays (which I managed to leave with an even worse head ache than the one I had)
Anyway,the curtain went up at 11.30pm, when completely without a warning of any kind, my rod launched itself from my two rests like a javelin...I swear it would have done Jessica Ennis proud. It landed seven or eight feet out in the river, and proceeded to head off downstream and under the tree I had been fishing to, doing a fair impersonation of a speedboat as it went. The show continued with some memorable moves on my part, mainly the bit where I fell (quite stylishly I thought) from my seat as I lunged frantically for my extended landing net pole, obviously in the hope of using that to reach my rod before it completely disappeared.
The really class bit came when my tucked side roll with pike bought me within reach of my handle, which I grabbed and swept overhead in a stunning parabolic curve....which SHOULD have put the net effectively in the area to achieve the intended rescue. Sadly, during it's numerous hours of zero motion, my net had obviously got bored and decided to make friends with a particularly large bramble. Then end result was a crack loud enough for Conrad to hear...and my net and handle ending up in two distinctly different areas. Scores on the doors? one rod, one reel and one landing net down so far.
After A great deal of searching with my head torch, and probing and branch moving with my broken pole, I gave up on the lost rod, and decided setting up my second rod (despite having no landing net) had to be better than sitting twiddling my thumbs while I awaited Conrads victory roar, after which we could go home. So, I got my second rod out of my sling, and slotted the two sections together. It was then I noticed that one of the rings was performing a rather novel movement...up and down on the line, quite independently of the blank. One of the rather delicate looking singled legged rings had proved that looks CAN be everything, and snapped off flush with the rod.
It was around about that time that I had to choose between the two options that I saw open to me....packing away what was left of my gear...or suicide. Sadly for some, I chose the option of packing away (it was close though) and sat behind Conrad, until eventually we gave up and toddled off defeated.
Scores on the doors now? I broken rod, one lost rod, one lost reel, one broken landing net....fish nil.
Just to adjust the scores a little, I went back to the swim this morning, clutching chesties and a stout pole, and found the rod and reel where I had hoped it might be...lodged firmly in the hairy red branches that seem to lay on or just under the waterline of most old, overhanging trees. The fish (I suspect a large carp) was long gone, and as it was a barbless hook, no doubt so has that. I suppose SOMETHING had to go right...now I just need to find someone who can professionally swap the delicate single leg rings I have (which had bothered me since I started using the rods) for some decent standard type versions.
I can sort my landing net
I feel rather unwell. Is golf easier? Or do senile old fools struggel with that as well
Cheers, Dave.
Sadly, I must have upset some fairly powerful barbel gods,'cos despite being in a good swim, poor Conrad had to be content with crays and chub, from a river that had dropped a lot and lost most of it's pace and colour in the five days since my successful trip on MondayHowever, I can proudly say that I put on a pretty decent comedy show to cheer the young chap up, so I hope it wasn't all bad for him. The show was staged in my swim, which was basically just somewhere I had plopped myself down within easy hailing distance of Conrad, as I waited for the inevitable roar of success from that quarter. Now, bare in mind that I had not had so much as a chub knock since we arrived much earlier, in the beautiful sunshine....just an endless succession of crays (which I managed to leave with an even worse head ache than the one I had)
Anyway,the curtain went up at 11.30pm, when completely without a warning of any kind, my rod launched itself from my two rests like a javelin...I swear it would have done Jessica Ennis proud. It landed seven or eight feet out in the river, and proceeded to head off downstream and under the tree I had been fishing to, doing a fair impersonation of a speedboat as it went. The show continued with some memorable moves on my part, mainly the bit where I fell (quite stylishly I thought) from my seat as I lunged frantically for my extended landing net pole, obviously in the hope of using that to reach my rod before it completely disappeared.
The really class bit came when my tucked side roll with pike bought me within reach of my handle, which I grabbed and swept overhead in a stunning parabolic curve....which SHOULD have put the net effectively in the area to achieve the intended rescue. Sadly, during it's numerous hours of zero motion, my net had obviously got bored and decided to make friends with a particularly large bramble. Then end result was a crack loud enough for Conrad to hear...and my net and handle ending up in two distinctly different areas. Scores on the doors? one rod, one reel and one landing net down so far.
After A great deal of searching with my head torch, and probing and branch moving with my broken pole, I gave up on the lost rod, and decided setting up my second rod (despite having no landing net) had to be better than sitting twiddling my thumbs while I awaited Conrads victory roar, after which we could go home. So, I got my second rod out of my sling, and slotted the two sections together. It was then I noticed that one of the rings was performing a rather novel movement...up and down on the line, quite independently of the blank. One of the rather delicate looking singled legged rings had proved that looks CAN be everything, and snapped off flush with the rod.
It was around about that time that I had to choose between the two options that I saw open to me....packing away what was left of my gear...or suicide. Sadly for some, I chose the option of packing away (it was close though) and sat behind Conrad, until eventually we gave up and toddled off defeated.
Scores on the doors now? I broken rod, one lost rod, one lost reel, one broken landing net....fish nil.
Just to adjust the scores a little, I went back to the swim this morning, clutching chesties and a stout pole, and found the rod and reel where I had hoped it might be...lodged firmly in the hairy red branches that seem to lay on or just under the waterline of most old, overhanging trees. The fish (I suspect a large carp) was long gone, and as it was a barbless hook, no doubt so has that. I suppose SOMETHING had to go right...now I just need to find someone who can professionally swap the delicate single leg rings I have (which had bothered me since I started using the rods) for some decent standard type versions.
I can sort my landing net
I feel rather unwell. Is golf easier? Or do senile old fools struggel with that as well
Cheers, Dave.
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