‘Finally, in June, I got over myself. The Raconteurs were to be on the mill pool, the weather was fabulous, and there were roach, dace and chub tumbling about in the fast water, just waiting for me and my reel. I loaded the line, paired it to the Quinquaginta, and set off for the river where I fastened an appropriate elder pith float.’
My fishing tackle has always been a ramshackle affair with bits and bobs collected, scrounged and, shhh, even ‘borrowed’. Many rods are ‘two for one’, some are even three; the tip from one, the middle from another and the butt section fashioned from something else altogether. My oldest friend Phil has a two piece carp rod that I have repaired so many times in the last forty years that we’ve nicknamed it ‘Trigger’s Rod’, on account that it has probably had seventeen new tips and fourteen handles.
Don’t misunderstand me, I really appreciate artisan works, and over the years I’ve been able to celebrate special birthdays with special presents. For my eighteenth I was gifted a wide drum Aerial made by Fred Crouch. That has been very well used over nearly forty years and I know for a fact that at least one of the components is held together with super-glue. Trouble is, I can’t recall quite which bit, so that adds an extra dimension of peril whenever it is pressed into active service. For my twenty-first birthday I had a beautiful three piece Avon rod that caught my first two pound roach. That got damaged in a car door, or run over (I can’t remember which), and was broken just above the cork, which I later repaired.
For my fortieth I had a carp rod made by Agutters, christened ‘The Forty’, with the idea being I might one day catch a forty pounder. To be frank, it’s a heavy old thing, and I have other carp rods now, so that one is rather well preserved (mainly due to little use). I currently wield a MKIV by B James, a bit bent and creaky, and what we believe is an Oliver’s blank from a north London tackle shop which is a thing of beauty for the barbel (it took three monsters in a morning last year and sprang back each time like nothing had happened). For my fiftieth, Andrew Davis built me an eleven foot nine inch special, to my own specification, that we named ‘The Quinquaginta’. I have looked after that one quite religiously and am pleased to report that it regularly visits the bank for roach trotting, or a session on the lake for crucian, as was intended.
I never quite understood how anglers could purchase a rod or reel and never take them out to fish. I recall a conversation about favourite items of tackle and one contribution stated, “it would be my Lythe Aerial hands down…but it’s value limits where I can use it…”. A further reply on the subject of Chris Lythe reels said, “I have only used mine once…!” Well, if you can’t afford to buy two, the first to use and the second for the study, why have it at all, I thought?
I sided with the person that looked at the conundrum through the eyes of the craftsperson, “how would you feel if you spent all year making a rocking horse for your first grandchild and at Christmas they didn’t want to ride it? Worse, they hid it and prayed you would die young so it would increase in value…what a way to live your life”.
And then it happened to me. Through sheer good luck and great fortune a very special artisan contacted me, after we’d been discussing what would make the perfect dace reel, and uttered those words, “I’ll make it for you”. It took two years or so, from offer to delivery. It was worth the wait. Every single piece was fashioned on an ancient lathe; even the screws were hand cut. No, this is not a fishing reel. This is perfection. This is art and engineering in ultimate synergy.
How on earth can you take it to the riverbank? Conversations began with the dearest of friends. In what circumstances could this realistically be used as intended? I couldn’t have gentles as bait, for fear that dust would blow under the spool, nor white bread because the starch might damage the backplate. Luncheon meat? Too greasy. Sweetcorn…sticky…and ground bait…? Certainly not! And so it went on for months. Soon it was winter, the rains came, and the banks were gritty and too hostile. My reel sat safely in its leather block pouch.
Finally, in June, I got over myself. The Raconteurs were to be on the mill pool, the weather was fabulous, and there were roach, dace and chub tumbling about in the fast water, just waiting for me and my reel. I loaded the line, paired it to the Quinquaginta, and set off for the river where I fastened an appropriate elder pith float.
I was a little timid at first, as you’d expect, but soon got into the flow and it was just exquisite. The back panel and brass was a glorious compliment to the sunshine and the underwater lilies created the perfect backdrop. It pulled line just thinking about it, and sat light in my hand like a piece of ancient hand-crafted gold leaf jewellery. Gradually, as the morning matured, the reel gained a little dust, water splashed upon it, and perhaps even a dash of fish slime; and so the seal was broken. I was a happy angler again and all my anguish was swept away on the summer currents.
My best friend Rob has an Edward Barder carp rod made in 1993. Whipping is deep green with one inch intermediates. It has copper wire wraps on both the lower binding of the butt guide and ferrule. The inscription reads, “11’ Chris Yates Bishop Carp rod, hand-made by Edward Barder for the Crimson Quill Club”. Rob would be forgiven for putting it in a glass case but that isn’t his style. Instead it is perched on two wooden pegs above the front door, primed and ready, with a Richard Carter Dragonfly sat in the reel bands for good measure.
Very ‘avant-garde’, I’m reminded of when The Crimson Quill Club decided to take our ‘Cane to Spain’, and test the rods on the local carp. We bashed those rods in and out of an aluminium boat for seven days. One evening, Rob lent his Barder to a dear school friend of mine who was acting as ‘ghillie’.
It was a fabulous night, most memorable perhaps for the wild boar that came to drink and swim across the river at sunset. We caught super carp too. I can recall sitting behind Paul as he lifted into a very large fish right next to the boat. The rod took on a most frightening curve as it turned and bore downstream in fifteen feet of water. Paul, used to fishing with modern black rods, stood up, moved his left hand down to the butt of the Barder, and simply levered the rod, pivoting the now circular cane off his other hand over the reel. I couldn’t resist taking a photo, then turned and pulled an alarming face at Rob, sitting at the front of the boat. Cool as a cucumber he smiled, gave a little laugh, shrugged his shoulders and, like the sage he is, whispered to me…
“Made to be used my friend, made to be used”.
Writing & Images – Tengisgol June 2022
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