The Colonel's four fish in four casts

A Couple of Days from The Colonel’s Autumn Diary

It all began with a post on my Facebook wall…………..

“Well, what a splendid day. I've just enjoyed my lunch outside in the strong autumn sun, under a clear blue sky. A mouthwatering 'New York Deli' sandwich and a fine fresh brewed Indian Assam, made with proper leaf tea, of course.

A true 'weather bonus', for sure, of which I shall take further advantage tomorrow, with a day's carp fishing at my friend, Paul Drinkall's, private Willow Pool, in the hope of landing this little fella's Dad or Grandad. After that, there's the Korean Grand Prix to anticipate at the weekend. I've just realised, I was born to retire!!!!!!!”

 

Thus, the very next day found me on a familiar path towards Willow Pool. No specific ‘omens’ of note but, perhaps, a couple of indicators that I’d made the right choice. First one, there was a lot of activity in the hedgerows as the birds were feeding voraciously on the last of the summer’s food supply. All appeared to be LBJ’s…….or ‘Little Brown Jobbies’, as I refer to all those whose names don’t spring readily to mind, and who all look pretty darned similar anyway. Second, the potholes in the track were reappearing, a sure sign there’d been recent frost, which causes the stone filling them to move and loosen. And, of course, the first frosts tend to encourage the Golden Scaley Ones into their pre-winter feed-up. Optimism washed over me…….I was indeed hopeful.

The pool welcomed me. Calm and still, there was a sense of expectation in the air as I readied ‘The Bishop’, 10lb line and the proven Cotswold Baits’ Chilli Garlic Sausage. Mmmmmm, good enough for me to eat, they’ll not be able to resist. And, sure enough, they couldn’t. Not long before the alarm sounded a merry squeak, the bobbin rose and my blood pumped. Not a big’un, but a hard charger alright; it still managed to make my arm ache and heart pound. Paul had spotted the hooped rod through the open doors of his workshop and called Emma over to take a photo of myself and the pretty little battler. 

 

The little fella was quickly returned, no the worse for his visit to an alien world, but probably a tad wiser; he’ll be less easily fooled the next time.

A recast and soon the blood was pumping hard once more. This time a far better stamp of fish gave The Bishop a proper workout. Again Emma was on hand to catch the moment for me.

The Bishop poses with the pristine portly one……….the fish, not me !!!!!!!

Well, the day was becoming something special alright. But, the best was waiting just around the corner.

Within a thrice, we were in again. But now, the gloves were off. The pool had despatched one of it’s ‘big boys’ to show The Colonel who was boss. The Bishop had to strain a few more fibres in taming this big beast. Two or three times he very nearly made it to the sanctuary of those bankside reed beds, which would have meant curtains, for sure. But we won the day and a sharp whistle had Paul and Emma back at my side to help me beach this ‘whale’. Lovely, lovely fish……even gave the old Colonel a respectful salute with an erected dorsal fish for the camera.

 

Lunch was beckoning, but the fish had other ideas, and this lovely creature once more brought my kind hosts dashing to my aid.

So, four fish in four casts, all between elevenses and luncheon, and, although this diary entry is a tad short on words, I think the pictures tell the merry tale, don’t you??

To return home click: www.lonsdalepark.co.uk

The Colonel's Diary

Colonel’s Diary – Stardate 4^th September 2012-09-05

Apologies in advance to my one regular reader, but this has to be a short ( well, shortish!!) one as I know Paul is anxious to receive my report on the ‘new bait’.

Another visit to my favourite pool; you know, the one named ‘Willow’, where my nemesis, the leviathan, Walter, resides. This time my intention was to try out two new things. A new bait, in the form of a Chilli Garlic Sausage boilie by Cotswold Bait Creations and my new rod, a ‘Merlin’ by The Edward Barder Rod Company, eleven feet of the most delightful built cane you could ever wish to hold. The bait was from Paul’s shop and in the form of a ‘session bucket’ and amazing value, in my view. The rod, pristine and ‘pre-owned’, was the result of some hard bidding on a well known auction site. Well, I am a pensioner, and never able to afford the £1600 price tag on a new one.

No omens on the journey this time, unless you count being hounded by ‘white van man’ on the final leg, down the windy, unmade track to Lonsdale Park, that is. However, whilst tackling up, I was treated to a fine display of aerobatics by a large, dark buzzard, against a backdrop of fluffy, cotton wool clouds in a watery blue sky. He even did a spot of ‘wind-hovering’, for me. Must have thought he was a Kestrel; first time I’ve seen that flight pattern in a buzzard.

I attached one of the Sausage boilies onto a simple hair rig with running lead stopped 6” up the line with a split shot and heaved the lot, with a small PVA bag, out towards the middle of the pool, where intermittent bubbling was to be seen. I’d made up some bags at home with a mixture of the chilli sausage pellets that came with the session bucket, plus some chilli stick mix and mixed pellets. My reasoning was the fish would have a penchant for the hot ‘n spicy stuff, just like their owner!!!! And, sure enough, within the half hour, Delkim screamed for attention and I lifted Merlin into a pleasing hoop. Result, a two and a half pound Chub. Chub?????? Do they not understand what species boiles are designed to attract ? Nonetheless, a delightful little scrapper, I was glad I’d set up a balanced tackle arrangement, matching 6lb line to my willowy Merlin. A reassuring start, but before I can classify it as ‘an instant bait’, I needed to set my hook in a ‘golden scaley one’.

No sooner said than done. Next to fall to the seductions of Mistress Chilli Garlic was a hard scrapping Ghost Carp, testing Merlin’s metal to a greater degree. I probably bullied him a tad, as he was still tussling in the folds of my net when I raised him into an alien environment, and he indignantly gave me a good spraying of lake water for my trouble. Very promising; the classification of ‘instant’ was on the horizon. But I needed to set my steel into something larger before making it a ‘definite’.

Sure enough, the strike from the next screaming run was altogether something different. You know, that almost ponderous, cement sack but moving, feel on the end of your line. Of course, it didn’t last long. The fish decided it ought to be going in the opposite direction to the one I intended. It turned, quite violently, and the inevitable happened with a single shake of it’s head, aided by the creature’s sheer bulk. ‘Son of Walter’ had just got the better of me, I think.

It’s highly likely the next muncher of a deep red Chilli Garlic Sausage ball bait was probably Walter himself. I know lost fish always grow in the mind’s eye, ‘the one that got away’ and all that, but this latest hooked fish really did have little regard for me or Merlin. If I’d been using line capable of giving him a fair fight, then Merlin would no longer be with me in one piece, of that I am sure. I was well and truly undergunned and, although I had him on for longer than the previous ‘big ‘un’, after a couple of minutes of the Colonel’s softly softly approach he decided enough was enough, and ploughed off towards the reeds. It was then that and we parted company.

I, like most anglers, do not enjoy losing fish, but I’m comfortable in the knowledge the barbless hook and lead will be quickly shed. Even so, I called it a day with Merlin and the golden scaley ones and went back to float fishing for Roach, vowing to bring ‘The Bishop’ and 12lb line with me next time. One thing, though, I reckon this Chilli Garlic Sausage stuff is a bit of a winner………but, keep it to yourself, eh?

To return home click: www.lonsdalepark.co.uk

Tea, Cake and a Kingfisher... The Colonel's diary continues

The first essentials for my visit to the Willow Pool, at Lonsdale Park, were a wide brim straw hat and a tube of Puiz Buin factor 30 day long sun cream. It was going to be a scorcher. And about time too. The prolonged spell of wet weather was dampening all hopes of summer and causing me to suffer from mildew !!!!!! Still, not the best fishing weather, blazing sun, but an opportunity for my old bones to be warmed and for my Golden Scale Club (GSC), mandatory sun hat to give Paul a darned good laugh.

No omens, in the form of flitting Goldfinches along the access track hedgerows, this time. In fact, not a single bird crossed my path as I approached. Very unusual. But Willow Pool has never let me down before, and I’m sure it won’t today either.

I pulled in quietly behind Paul and Val’s beautiful family home, to behold a mirror surfaced Willow. A creak of the backdoor as I alighted and there was a smiling Val with a basketful of washing to go on the line. We exchanged greetings and discussed the merits of drying washing outside. Well, I am a ‘21^st century man’ now, having been schooled by my sons!! Val carried on with her laundry and I scooped up my tackle from the car together with my trusty ‘Suredale’ and net, which Paul had kindly retrieved from his tackle room for me. He was away somewhere in the Park, grafting as usual. He’ll be back for his breakfast soon though. We’ll catch up then.

I’d decided the time had come to cast a line for one of Paul’s hard fighting Carp, so I’d brought with me my favourite rod for that purpose, ‘The Bishop’, one of Edward Barder’s finest creations. Although, they’re all pretty fine in my book. I was intending to christen my recently acquired ‘Merlin’, but, knowing that the 40+ Walter was around, I wasn’t keen to be ‘undergunned’, so The Bishop it must be if that magnificent creature was to personally meet the old ‘Colonel’. I believe we’d had a very brief encounter at the beginning of the season in 2011, when he made his point rather emphatically, by flat-rodding my 2lb TC Hexagraph as he buried himself, unstoppably, in the opposite bank reedbed, at which point, the hook link failed. A real Moby Dick moment…….I’ve had a permanent limp ever since!!!!

I assembled the Bishop but didn’t cast out immediately. The lovely Em had appeared with a steaming mug of tea. She knows well the GSC priority for a good cuppa. She also had a little surprise gift, a delightful duck quill float, made by her own fair hand and from a feather from one of the Park’s own residents. Perfect size for gudgeon fishing. I thanked her kindly and also offered hearty, belated congratulations upon her graduation as a vet. Her youthful enthusiasm restores my faith in the future of the human species and gladdens my heart.

With my tea mug drained, Em returned to the house and I sat poolside, absorbing the atmosphere and allowing the pool to accept my presence before I broke it’s surface with a baited hook. I regard this as important. An angler cannot expect to just barge into a swim and fish, expecting the water to give up it’s precious residents without so much as a ‘by your leave’. No, a few moments showing respect to the place you’ve been lucky to visit goes a long way in my book. And today that respect was rewarded in an instant.

My quiet world of thought was interrupted by a regular ‘plop’ followed by a lightly splashing flutter, coming from just the other side of a protruding reed bed to my left, out of my view. Then I heard that most evocative of angling sounds. ‘Tsssseeeeeeeek’; the soft, single note, whistle/squeak that heralds a flash of aquamarine and orange, rapidly flapped wings and black dart beak. Kingfisher!!!!! Barely a foot off the surface, he hove into view, a rod length out. Straight, left to right direction, then banking left, he swept in an arc around the full perimeter of the bay and back to his perch behind the reedbed again. But he didn’t stop. ‘Tsssseeeeeeeek’, and he was off again. Same flight path, same one foot off the pool surface. At least a dozen laps; probably a ‘bakers dozen’, come to think of it. Each fly past announced by that beautiful ‘Tsssseeeeeeeek’. What an absolute treat………the omen was good.

I cast out ‘The Bishop’, baited with on of Paul’s malt chocolate boilie thingeys, which he’d very kindly given me. He and Em had been using them on the pool to good effect for both the Carp and the Roach. Next, the float rod baited with my customary flake, following a handful of bread mash with crumbled choc boilie, just to give ‘em a taster. The float had barely stood to attention before it tilted and sailed away, in confident fashion. The line was tightening to the rod tip, cleaving through the surface, as I struck…..and missed!!!!! How on earth does that happen? So confident a bite, meets with nothing but thin air on the strike. One of the delicious mysteries of our intriguing pastime, eh??

I soon got into my stride though. The Roach played ball, and a dozen had soon come to say ‘hello’, been saluted in the net by the old Colonel, then returned gently to Willow Pool, most untouched by the hand of this temporary bankside visitor. The sun reached it’s meridian and I welcomed the wide brim of the GSC summer headwear. The Bishop remained undisturbed, while the Aspindale wand saw all the action, until I set her to one side while consuming a delicious Cumbrian pastie for lunch. Cumbrian pasty???? ‘Cornish’, in reality, but our mad, mad world dictates it must be called Cumbrian…….as if my taste buds can tell the difference.

The break for repast gave me the opportunity to consider using a broken up choc boilie for the Roach, following advice which accompanied my lunchtime cuppa, furnished by the ever-beaming Paul who had returned from his toils in the Park. This I did, and, by Crikey, it worked. A hard jagging Redfin, tugged and darted to my eager net. And largest of the day too; 1lb 4ozs of fin perfect Roach.

Full belly, cloudless blue above and insects buzzing in unison, the post luncheon haze crept upon me. That wonderful drifting feeling is one of the great pleasures in life and what better place to experience it than by a quiet, still pool, rod at hand. A pulse of energising adrenalin pushed back the curtains shrouding reality, as the red tipped float dithered fractionally. My sixth sense registered the barely perceptible movement and readiness swept me back from the brink. Bristling now, I watched the crimson stick begin to swing, lift and waver it’s hypnotic dance. Nothing quick or predictable like my beloved Roach, this was the languid, almost ponderous, playing of something quite a bit bigger. And on the finely tackled float rod, not the heavily armed Bishop. Uh oh!! Here we go. Sure enough the red tip lifted way up, revealing the black and white bars below, tilted, wavered, circled a bit, then purposefully arrowed, diagonally downwards, heading for the earth’s core. Oh dear, oh dear!! Four pound main line, two hooklink, size 12 barbless, the segment of choc boilie had attracted the fish it was designed for…..a ruddy Carp.

The Bishop would have handled the culprit in very short order but the seriously underpowered Suredale took a heck of a lot longer. To the extent my frail shoulder muscles were singing the same tune as the main line, fighting for all it was worth to get the creature’s head pointing in a skywards direction rather than doggedly nosing to the lake bed, sending up clouds of silt. The dorsal twanging frequently against the taut line did nothing to reduce my anxiety either. Neither did the occasional glimpses of a ghostly shape seemingly doing whatever it wanted beneath the surface. However, as long as I didn’t tug too hard, I found I could keep some measure of control, in encouraging my friend to swim around in ever decreasing circles, very similar to that delightful little Kingfisher a few hours ago, come to think of it. A few thwarted attempts to nose dive into the reeds and my ghostly mate eventually put his snout up to enjoy ‘fresh air’, and he wallowed neatly into my net………..but only just!!

Putting the rod in it’s rest, I bent forward to gently lift the net, which was straining from a task way outside it’s design parameters. At that very moment, from nowhere, a sharp gust of wind approached from behind. It caught the brim of my straw hat, lifted it clean off my head, depositing it unceremoniously into the pool, beside the carp resting in my net. Poor creature must have thought ‘ I’ve just given him the fight of my life, and all he can do is chuck his hat at me. Gratitude!!’. I wafted the net a little to encourage the hat to beach itself, for retrieval later, and carried my prize to the unhooking mat.

As you know, attaching numbers to my quarry isn’t of high importance to me, but this little critter weighed in, surprisingly, at a mere 5lbs 8ozs. However, it’s fight was that of a twelve pounder, at least, and that’s what counts with me. It was all muscle and really didn’t want to sit still for it’s portrait with me; although I had let it rest up in the margins for a while to get some of it’s strength back, I must say.

After the swim had calmed down and the silt plume settled, I returned to fishing for Roach……….with flake, crust and corn !!! Less risk of nerve fraying battles with Carp, who should know better. The Bishop remained untroubled, my hat dried out and I enjoyed a delicious slice of Emma’s Nan’s iced sponge cake with my afternoon tea. A traditional Golden Scale Club day’s fishing……….perfect.

‘The Colonel’   9^th August 2012

If you'd like to fish our sister site, with 2 lakes (The Willows and The Secret Pool) exclusive to their very own "Secret Cottage" please see: www.thesecretfishingcottage.co.uk

To return to our home page click: www.lonsdalepark.co.uk

The Colonel's diary, and fish this week (already!)

 Colonel’s Diary – 14^th June 2012

The threat from an imminent, deep Atlantic low plus it’s attendant wind and rain prompted me to make a pleading call to my good friend Paul, in the hope I might sneak in a day’s fishing on my favoured Willow Pool, before the latest ‘British Summer’ descended. I was, as usual, welcomed with open arms. What an unselfish chap, granting me such access to his truly delightful water and the shoals of Roach residing therein.

Paul was busy himself, tending to routine chores in the interests of his paying angling guests in the Park, but I was greeted by the equally smiley Emma, who is not only far better looking than her Dad but also makes a rather splendid cup of tea too. I’d only just stepped from my car when I heard the sweetest of enquiries, ‘ Tea or coffee, Ray?’

‘What service’, I quipped, ‘I think a nice cup of tea for a change, please’.

Emma scurried off kitchenwards and I cast a quick eye over the pool. Still and calm, with a goodly amount of wind blown pollen gathered at the foot of my bank, resulting from the overnight breeze which heralded the forboding Atlantic low. Then I spied something I’d not seen before on Willow Pool……….bubbling, and lots of it, all over the small bay in front of my pitch. For some reason, and I don’t understand why, fish in the Pool are reluctant to show their whereabouts by bubbling or rolling and leaping. They ‘smokescreen’ regularly but are somewhat shy in the ‘bubbling, rolling and leaping’ department. I was suitably impressed and eager to wet a line, but first things first……my tea had arrived and Emma was keen to update me about goings on with the local wildlife, and I was keen to hear all. The fish will still be there in a quarter of an hour, while I enjoy a delicious cuppa and a chat with my very knowledgeable friend.

And so to fishing. I’d forgotten to put a tin of sweetcorn in my bag, but I had visited the supermarket on my way over, so had a nice fresh loaf for flake, plus the liquidised remains of the loaf I’d used when last I visited. I also had an idea to use a bait I’d not tried for many a year, compressed crust. And I knew Paul would have some corn in his storage box on the bank if I got really desperate for a bait change. I’d not prevail further upon his kindness just yet though. Let’s persevere with the two bread options for the time being. It’s so enjoyable catching these fish on basic, traditional baits.

At the same time as I was pinching the first piece of flake on a barbless 10 hook, I heard a flopping splash as a large fish turned on the surface. Glancing up to my right, I saw the heavy ripple arcing away from the spot. Half a second later, my gaze still affixed, the surface broke open violently as a golden scaley one cleaved through and upwards, escaping his domain in a leap of joy. Well, they’re really excelling themselves for me today, I thought. First bubbling, then magnificent leaping; they are real carp now. Three cheers.

Delighted with Paul’s carp revealing themselves in true carpy fashion, I cast my float for his beautiful roach; and they didn’t disappoint either. 1lb 9ozs was the biggest of the 20 or so that I outwitted over the day. But my biggest success was outwitting the weather, which, after a couple of hours turned quite contrary, with a strong wind blowing into my face. The Atlantic low was ahead of schedule and hurrying along apace.  If there’s one mood of the weather that’s guaranteed to irk me on stillwater, it’s a headwind; and I suspect I am not alone in that. It got the better of me and I changed to a Heath Robinson running link leger, with a bread paste bobbin indicator. Back to basics!!!!! And I still caught, even using this crudest of crude set-ups. What a pool the ‘Willow’ is.

I tired of fishing so crudely and reset the float rig, as I should have done in the first place, ensuring a deeper sinking of the line, waggler style. Much more satisfying to conquer this confounded early weather system, present a bait properly and catch the best fish of the day. I finished the day on a high, in spite of the Atlantic low, thanks to my dear friends, Paul, Emma and the Willow Roach.

Thanks Ray!

I couldn't wait to share the most recent catch report with you from Lonsdale, so please forgive me as I'll repeat it later once I've caught up with pictures!

But the Plattell party have had a 22lb, a 21lb, and a few others at ~15lb mark, and a couple of lovely tench between the 4 of them already! The boys are kindly going to lend me their memory card tonight so I can upload some pictures for you tomorrow.

And Steve stopping in the lodge said he had 5 carp last night.
It certainly seems our Lonsdale's Secret Recipe White Chocolate and Strawberry based boillies are the bait to use right now! (Can't go wrong at only £7.99 a bag either!)

It great when everyone comes up to me to show me their photo's - especially the ones with great big grins!

The fish seem to be feeding all over the park so it looks set to be a great couple of weeks!

And we're still offering the accomodation we have available for the week of the 30th June at upto half price! (for bookings upto max 4 people) 

So you could stay in a 2 bed cottage for a week for only £355! 

(If you were stopping in the Premier Inn at J42 that week it would cost you £455! 

and you only get one double room and bathroom there - certainly no fishing!)

To return home click: www.lonsdalepark.co.uk

The Happy Colonel

Wednesday, 23^rd May, 2012-05-24

It’s three day’s into an unaccustomed hot spell, and I’m taking up a longstanding invitation to wet a line on the ‘Willow Pool’, following an email from my bearded buddy with the wide grin. The omens were good as I approached Lonsdale Park. Trickling down the narrow, unmade track, my car was preceded by a pair of Goldfinches, flitting and darting between the hedgerows bounding the bridleway. A hint of a ‘golden day’, perhaps. The birdy omens got even better when I was treated to the avian acrobatics of a pair of buzzards, ascending on the already strong thermals, whilst I was setting up at the poolside. Their joyous display was cut short by a bullyboy crow, who, jealous of their flying skills no doubt, took to the air agressively when they got too close to his domain. The pair ‘miaowed’  at him and gently glided up to a height where ‘bullies’ lose their false bravery, masters of ‘their domain’. Good omens indeed.

Whilst the omens were good for a day with my beloved roach, the weather wasn’t ‘textbook’. Blazing sun and clear, bright blue sky were stacked against me having a bumper haul. How wrong to generalise and follow conventional wisdom. I’d brought the ‘Korum Sedan’ (aka Deluxe Chair) in anticipation of more sunbathing than rod bending, but my dear friends, Paul’s pristine, Willow Pool roach shoals, had other ideas. They fed consistently and voraciously the whole day long, taking breadflake and sweetcorn in equal measure. Pretty much unmissable bites on the float saw 43 of them come to hand. Yes, forty three!!!!! Ten of them over the pound, the biggest saw the readout on my new Reuben Heaton tubular, digital balance make 1lb and 4ozs. With every fish in excess of ¾ pound I was a very happy old Colonel.

As the sun was downing and the flies madly hatching, I ended the day with Paul sitting alongside,bathing in the tranquil embers of the day. We set the world to rights, as all traditional anglers do, whilst staring, memerised, at my cocked float. The red shaft wavered from side to side, lifted, falling on it’s side in a slow motion dance. ‘That’s interesting’, muttered my host. “That’s carp”, my thoughts responded. Sure enough, bobbing and leaning ritual completed, the tip ‘arrowed’ smoothly down and away, on a journey to the centre of the earth. The upward sweep of my rod met the resistance of a sack of cement, then, Izaak’s spirit smiled upon me. The hook pulled!!!!!! Well, at my age, I didn’t want to be there all night wrestling a golden scaley one, did I???? And a splintered cane rod would be no use to me when I visit again next week………if this ‘perfect roach weather’ continues.

Many thanks, my friend..........see you soon.

Ray

A Page from the Colonel's diary

 Kindly provided by Ray Kemp, aka "The Colonel"

The Colonel with one of Walter's associates.

 "My good friend and fishery owner, Paul Drinkall, had given me an open invitation to visit his own private pool, The Willows, at his Lonsdale Park fishery near Carlisle, whenever I wished. We’d become very good mates after he’d bought a centrepin from me on a well known auction site, and discovering we have mutual passions in traditional angling and motorsport. Receiving an email suggesting I might like to come up to ‘feed his fish’, I leapt at the chance, as weather predictions were ideal for a spot of roach fishing. Although his pool has a resident 40lb mirror, “Walter’, my love of the redfin jagging on fine tackle and a cane wand far more difficult to resist. I elected to go the very next day. An absolute minimum of tackle is needed on these visits, as Paul allows me to keep a made up rod on his rod rack, along with his own cane collection. Landing net, bank sticks etc are all ‘in situ’; no tackle barrow required here!! Just a good supply of ‘liquidised’ bread for the mash, fresh for the hook and a small tin of corn. These are non-pressured fish, catchable on good, basic methods and bait. Delightful.

0930 hours found me inputting the keypad code of the security gate which, grabbed by the hand of modern technology, shuddered gently before gliding serenely to my left. The car crunched forward over the gravel, to be met by one of Paul’s dogs shouting his greeting. Well, I hoped it was a greeting, as I eased my right leg from the vehicle. A wildly shaking tail  allayed any fears in that respect. I roughly rubbed the mutt’s neck as Paul emerged from his workshop, beaming widely through his bristling beard.

A warmly pressed handshake, ‘Good to see you, matey’.

‘And you too, my friend, you too’, I responded.

‘Your rod’s laid out already, with the net; care for a coffee before you start?’.

‘Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m itching to get going, it’s been some time since I last visited and those roach are calling me’.

‘Of course, of course; I’ll give you a hand down with your rod’. With that, Paul scooped up my James Aspindale ‘Suredale’ with vintage ABU 507  attached, scurrying across the garden, lakewards, a bouncing dog at his side. I followed eagerly, carrying the net, my seat and a bag with odds and sods plus the all important bait. Paul mentioned he’d not ‘fed the fish’ their usual bread mash breakfast yet; so, before anything else, I decanted some lake water into an empty bait tub, followed by three or four handfuls of the liquidised bread and a good dribble of sweet corn juice from the tin. I’d leave this to soak while getting myself comfortable before the first cast of the day.

Quickly settling in the swim,  fresh and fluffy flake pinched on the 12 barbless hook and a handful of mash hit the surface with the hollow splat that told me the constancy was just right.. A gentle underarm swing followed, sending the red tipped porcupine quill on it’s way, just two rod lengths out. Drats !!!!! The float refused to cock even though I knew the depth was correct; must’ve dropped a shot from the line since last time. Lifting the Suredale to rectify the situation I was surprised to discover ‘life’ in the rod tip. Of course, the bite had not registered on the uncocked float but, to quote extreme angler, Jeremy Wade, it was ‘fish on, fish on, fish on !!!!’ A pristine, ¾ pound roach made a darting, jagging bid for freedom before splashing and flipping into the net. Admiring the iridescent blue back and salmon pink fins I thought to myself, ‘a good omen, for sure’. Fish unhooked in the net and gently returned, I fixed the shot problem in a jiffy before swinging out another baited hook.

This time the float stood to attention, as it should in the presence of ‘The Colonel’, but almost instantly was lost in it’s own quiet world beneath the surface, leaving behind an ever widening ring of gentle ripples. A bite methinks!!!!! Having learned lessons from the last visit, my trembling hand hovered over the corks for a few seconds more before lifting the wand to set the hook. I was immediately rewarded with the unmistakable jagging pulls of my first love, a solid pounder of a redfin, or ‘a goer’ as we used to refer to them on the Thames of my youth, when the old Conservancy size limits ruled the earth. An instant unhook in the net, an admiring look before the gentle return and the float was back out in position again.

Drying my hands on a towel following the ‘mash splash’, I heard the crunch of gravel behind.

‘Coffee, matey??’ A backward glance revealed a steaming mug coming my way, followed by my grinning host. ‘Why is the man always smiling? I quizzed myself. ‘ It’ll be ‘cos he lives within spitting distance of a pool containing 2lb + roach, builds racing spec Porsches for a hobby and eats eggs from his own chickens, that’s why’, my mind replied. Having answered my own question, I took a slurp of the hot, sweet Columbian brew and a goodly bite from the accompanying Mars bar, before recounting my tally of redfins to my good friend. He went back to his beloved Porsche, content in the knowledge his guest was enjoying some fine sport. And I went back to catching roach.

Fish followed fish and they were all of the same stamp; none under the pound, all fin perfect, hard charging beauties. Over a dozen of ‘em, with the biggest 1lb 12ozs. But who counts the numbers on a day like this? I find it somewhat disrespectful to reduce it to a set of digits, when the creature has given a worthy tussle on the right tackle. It is also disrespectful of me not to mention the three chub that honourably graced the net when my roach became slightly wary of the close attention I was giving them. The Chevin tested a light roach setup to the limit, one of them leaping clear of the water in true trout style. Their cavernous mouths had developed a taste for the sweetcorn I tried as a change from breadflake. I hope they enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed my day on the Willow Pool and the company of my friend with the big grin."

We reckon he should write a book!

Thanks Ray

To return home click: www.lonsdalepark.co.uk

Visit from fishing legend Ray Kemp - The Colonel

Yesterday we had the pleasure yet again of having Ray Kemp AKA The Colonel (made famous alongside Chris Yates) fishing here at Lonsdale. Here Ray has kindly given us an account of his day fishing.

Hello Paul

My night was filled with dreams of jagging roach, creaking cane and mugs of piping hot coffee, delivered to the swim by my trusty butler. With that in mind, I must thank you heartily for allowing me to christen the recently renovated James Aspindale 'Suredale' on your lovely Willows pool at Lonsdale. I had a joyful day. It literally was a bite a cast, resulting in a catch of pristine Rutilus gracing my net, the best being five at 3/4lb, one at 1lb exactly, one at 1lb 9oz and one at 1lb 10oz. All fell to breadflake on a size 12 barbless long shank hook, fished close to the bottom beneath a quill float and between one and two rod lengths out. Light feeding with mashed bread, of course, traditional angling at it's finest.

It took me a while to work out these fish needed to 'run' with the bait before striking. No finicky fiddling and barely detectable movements of the float here; more hard charging takes that resulted in misses if struck too soon. Putting the rod in the rest and folding my arms was the answer!!!! Another abiding memory of the day will be 'the Jaws moment', when, barely a rod length out, one of your mirror carp 'head & shouldered' unannounced, causing me to nearly choke on my coffee. I imagine it was either tearing into the shoal of fry near the surface or scoffing on the odd bits of floating bread mash; or, maybe, just saying 'hello' to the old Colonel, ' catch me if you dare'. Another day, dear boy, another day.

In all, a very fine day. So fine, in fact, I forgot how cold I was, making the regular mugs of steaming coffee you kindly supplied a real godsend. Thank you, my friend. Here's to the next time.

Best regards

Ray

Thanks Ray, looking forwards to seeing you again soon! Dad says you could give Chris a run for his money as this would be a good start to 'The Colonel's Fishing Diaries'.