I am looking back fondly upon tackle dipping days as I'm getting ready to set sail on a return into the world's best attended participation sport or diversion, call it what you will. I still have much of my bait and tackle stored in the garage, a lot of it most likely illegal and in need of substitution now so I will be making an early visit to one of the many nearby fishing tackle shop in the vicinity, and for some of the more general stuff, an internet bait and tackle site.
The 1st time I went maggot drowing was with my father and his brother who was a keen maggot drowner, to a gravel pit near St Albans when I was something like 8 years old. I can't recall a lot about it, but I did catch a brace of chub which I was extremely pleased about. I say that 'I' caught, of course in reality my dad set up my bait and tackle and my uncle taught me how to cast so that was about the extent of my skill. I seem to recall that that weekend I was also wearing my 1st fur lined parka coat. The things you remember eh?
In my early teenage I grew very and I was in a gang of chums who would go to our village ponds on a Tuesday and Thursday after school. And, if I was not playing football or rugby, I'd go for the day on a Saturday. And if I was I'd try and go for the afternoon after the game if there was time.
Much of my bait and tackle was pretty old and second-hand. Our village didn't have an expert fishing tackle shop although we had a mini department store that had a small choice. For more and superior equipment you would have to travel into Guildford. We also did not have a place close by that sold maggots, so very often bait concoctions would appear, and digging up worms was a very important requirement.
We also used to cycle out to a small river at the boundary of the village which was a bit daring because we did not have permits for it but it was always good fun if you could get a good swim. I recall once getting into a shoal of gudgeon and having thirty minutes of amusement pulling them out and releasing them again in an almost continual motion. I know squeamish people, I know, not much in the way of laughs for the fish but then again, being a wild fish isn't great at any time as far as I can see. And when I went home I did throw in the balance of my bait for them to enjoy in peace.
Those were marvellous days, I recall clearly the old lady who lived along the road from the ponds that we had to see first to get a day permit and wandering around the two ponds to see who was already in place, picking a pitch if ones favourite was not available and then getting the bait and tackle sorted out for the day and sending the first cast of the day out into the water. Then later, the excitement as someone got into a pike, everyone grouping round offering advice on how best to play it and then hope to be the person to be asked to hold the landing net as the fish comes into the bank.
Those were halcyon days, an early time when as kids we would let loose to make our own entertainment, no trouble, no naughtiness or hurting other people. I do wonder how many youngsters at the age now that we were then would be able to do that. I don't know, but I expect it's not so simple now.
20101213
The 1st time I went maggot drowing was with my father and his brother who was a keen maggot drowner, to a gravel pit near St Albans when I was something like 8 years old. I can't recall a lot about it, but I did catch a brace of chub which I was extremely pleased about. I say that 'I' caught, of course in reality my dad set up my bait and tackle and my uncle taught me how to cast so that was about the extent of my skill. I seem to recall that that weekend I was also wearing my 1st fur lined parka coat. The things you remember eh?
In my early teenage I grew very and I was in a gang of chums who would go to our village ponds on a Tuesday and Thursday after school. And, if I was not playing football or rugby, I'd go for the day on a Saturday. And if I was I'd try and go for the afternoon after the game if there was time.
Much of my bait and tackle was pretty old and second-hand. Our village didn't have an expert fishing tackle shop although we had a mini department store that had a small choice. For more and superior equipment you would have to travel into Guildford. We also did not have a place close by that sold maggots, so very often bait concoctions would appear, and digging up worms was a very important requirement.
We also used to cycle out to a small river at the boundary of the village which was a bit daring because we did not have permits for it but it was always good fun if you could get a good swim. I recall once getting into a shoal of gudgeon and having thirty minutes of amusement pulling them out and releasing them again in an almost continual motion. I know squeamish people, I know, not much in the way of laughs for the fish but then again, being a wild fish isn't great at any time as far as I can see. And when I went home I did throw in the balance of my bait for them to enjoy in peace.
Those were marvellous days, I recall clearly the old lady who lived along the road from the ponds that we had to see first to get a day permit and wandering around the two ponds to see who was already in place, picking a pitch if ones favourite was not available and then getting the bait and tackle sorted out for the day and sending the first cast of the day out into the water. Then later, the excitement as someone got into a pike, everyone grouping round offering advice on how best to play it and then hope to be the person to be asked to hold the landing net as the fish comes into the bank.
Those were halcyon days, an early time when as kids we would let loose to make our own entertainment, no trouble, no naughtiness or hurting other people. I do wonder how many youngsters at the age now that we were then would be able to do that. I don't know, but I expect it's not so simple now.
20101213
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