September is generally a month I really look forward to. The summer species are still here, it hasn’t got cold yet but the season is changing and the nights start drawing in quickly. We all dream of an Indian Summer, there’s generally a spell of really good surf and, it’s often the time of year when there’s a few big fish lurking off the beaches. But that’s only any good if you can actually get there and for me, this month, getting there hasn’t been straight forward. For one reason or another, it’s been a tricky month to get out by the lake, on the coast or even on the boat. Sometimes no amount of planning and preparation can get you there. A few times this month I’ve been ready to go only for something more important to come up at the last minute and the fishing has had to wait. And the more that happens, the more you lose momentum and then getting back into the habit of going fishing regularly when everything just flows, well that gets harder.
We did get out on one day around my boys’ birthday. I wanted something easy and something a little different for them. I was lazy in that I opted for a prolific carp pond. We grabbed a sack of dog biscuits and loaf of bread and headed off for some surface fishing. I very rarely take my kids to heavily stocked carp lakes. Yes they enjoy getting the rod bent but even at their age they can see how easy it is. Don’t get me wrong, they enjoy it, but I think they get more satisfaction from twitching a jig along in clear water catching a four ounce perch that they do a four pound carp that slurped down the bread within seconds of it landing on the water.
What I wanted to share with them was the fun of stalking a surface feeding fish. How to get them feeding first and then how to creep into position undetected before lowering a bait in carefully and having those heart stopping moments when you see a fish approaching. In truth, as much as I tried to do this, they soon worked out that the more dog biscuits they threw in, the more fish appeared in front of them and in all their excitement, they forgot about whispering and moving like a heron. There were in fact so many fish in front of them, the fish didn’t care if they did a dance on the bank. Stealth was hardly needed!
With my hopes of teaching them the basic the art of stalking cunning fish rapidly going out the window I had to hatch Plan B. Plan B meant changing the rules and on reflection, we do this a lot in fishing. Personally, I can’t stand rules in fishing. There’s nothing more off putting than a fishery or a competition that’s got so many rules I’m afraid to actually catch a fish. I guess what I really mean here is, I changed the game.
We started off throwing dog biscuits on the water. These hungry fish know what food is and so they ate it. All very simple. We hooked a piece of bread, lowered it on the water and the fish ate the bread and we hooked the fish. Easy. Changing the game meant doing away with the bread on the hook and getting my fly rod out of the back of the car. The boys hadn’t seen me fly fishing before so there were lots of questions about the kit. We then pulled out the fly box and the selection of dry flies to find something we might be able to tempt a fish with. I’ll be honest, I thought absolutely anything would do but I didn’t want to ruin the beautifully tied (not by me) selection of Daddy Long legs and May flies. Nope, I went for a weird thing, no idea what it was called but it was fairly chunky, nice and buoyant, and had a good amount of robust deer hair, perfect, or so I thought.
We absolutely cheated and threw in another handful of dog biscuits, up came the carp and I rolled out the fly. Three, two, one, nothing. All the bait was gone and the fly was ignored. Repeat the process, roll the fly into the thick of it aaaand, nothing. This time we could see them approaching and then refusing the fly. I was genuinely surprised. And because we’d changed the game and the game was now harder, we all wanted to play again. The prize was exactly the same, a common carp of four to six pounds. But because the very same prize was harder to achieve, the feeling of achievement was much greater.
Fishing is full of this. Different games to win the same prize. And I think it’s because of this, that it’s possible to keep fishing endlessly interesting. So long as you’re operating within the rules of the fishery (and that’s not always easy it has to be said), you can do what you like. The more skills you have, the more you can mix things up and take a skill from over there and try it over here. Why not use what you know for catching carp off the surface of lake and take it to an estuary and catch mullet off the top? Take the fly fishing gear you’d normally use for a rainbow trout and catch bass off the rocks. Or take the size 18 hooks normally used for winter roach fishing and go species hunting for tiny little fish in a rock pool. Give it a sexy name, call it, “LRF”, invent ludicrous rods and reels so over engineered for the application it’s untrue, but stick a big price tag on it and make a wicked Instagram account and YouTube channel dedicated to it, bruv.
I’ve definitely got my own set of games. A lot of these games are about the places and the times of year. I love fishing in the surf in autumn. Stood in the surf feeling the push and pull and all that energy. Surrounded by white noise. A light rod used by most on lakes, feeling for a gentle tap of a small eyed ray coming through the braided line or, possibly the frightening whack from a smash and grab bass taking off in the dark.
Another game I love to play is fishing at dawn in high summer. Yes you’ve got to get out of bed just after you’ve gone to sleep but watching the sun come up and listening to the cacophony of sound that a dawn chorus is. I really, genuinely don’t care if I don’t catch. But, there’s no way I’d go and do it if I wasn’t fishing. I need a game to play.
We kept playing our game back at the muddy carp pond and a couple of times we did win a prize. We also learnt that those ravenous carp aren’t as mindless as they look as they clumsily slurp down every bit of floating food they can find. The truth is, under that carefully tied fly was a bloody great hook sticking out and they could see it. It does make me laugh when intricate details of lures are sold to us. Beautifully tied flies with the tiniest flecks of colour and detail. Or plastic sandeels with a printed finish on them Monet (couldn’t think of another artist) would have been proud of. But we’re supposed to ignore the fact that all of these lures have a bloody great hook sticking out of them and the fish can absolutely see that hook! But that’s all part of the game. If the game became too easy, who would want to play? If you won every time, why would you bother? I skimmed through a video online a few days ago, a video filming fishing rigs underwater. The live video showed what was going on beneath the surface and how many near misses there were. It was the near misses that made it all fun. But the players in the game were desperate to win every time. Why? Win every time and what have you got left? You’ve ruined your own game surely?
If the fish are being respected and you’re not breaking the rules of the fishery and you’re not pissing anyone off, then play your game and enjoy it. Use whatever excuse you want to be by the water. Yes I go to at least try and catch a fish but it’s the art of fishing that brings me so much joy. Catching them, yes I love it, but fishing for them, that’s way better.
Good luck!