Author Archives: The tuesday swim

Fish Island & the Lea Navigation in 2007

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

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While routing through some old hard drives I discovered a folder labelled ‘East London.’ Being distracted by anything rather than my actual task of finding some new work I  went through the images recalling the journey I took on a still, misty spring day in 2007. For those who remember this area before the Olympics will recognise the route I took from where the main Olympic stadium now stands, to the old Lesney Matchbox factory, sadly demolished. Although I have nothing against the Olympic park I do look back with fondness for the more industrial and run down feel of the place, the shear lack of people, where I once fished undisturbed.

Seeking the pure piscator.

20 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in General fishing

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Over the years I have met many anglers that tread different paths, some have become friends who I now fish with, and others I have talked with on the subject but have never made it to the waterside. Amongst these anglers I can single out a few that I label as the ‘pure piscators’,  these are anglers who hold  a real close connection with a place and a first-hand knowledge that is cherished, and on occasions, shared.

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One such ‘pure piscator’ I met about ten years ago was the colonel (the father of an old girlfriend) who fished the Nadder for brown trout. His world on the Nadder was small but complete, his relationship with the river and the trout was intimate, when he immersed himself in the practice of dry-fly fishing he was content, it was pure. On my first visit to the Nadder I took down a collection of dry flies bought from Farlows of Pall Mall (when the flies came in a little complimentary round tin), the colonel was quite overwhelmed with the gift and added them to his box of disheveled looking dry flies, but I could sense he felt these new flies were interlopers amongst his own flies, each one of his flies had a history, a track record, the new ‘boys’ from London had to prove their worth on ‘his river.’ As a potential son-in-law I too was on trial as I entered this small world below the chalk hills of Wiltshire, my approach and attitude to the river was carefully monitored as my host put me on the right spots to fish. After an hour I started to catch some small grayling much to the disappointment of the colonel, he only considered the brown trout to be worthy of a bend in my rod, he loved the Nadder and the brown trout but grayling were not part of his world. The colonel’s tackle and casting was a little below par, but his attention to the tippet, and the delivery of the fly cast in the right places was faultless, everything else did not matter. Anyone who knows the Nadder (rumour goes the Nadder gets its name from the many tight bends, just like an adder snake) will understand that casting is limited to only a few yards; there was no need for expensive reels or rods. It seems a common trait that the pure piscator uses simple and reliable gear, normally tried and tested over the years, their real strength lie with experience and knowledge, their minds are not clouded by tackle manufacturer’s promises of guaranteed catches or gimmicks. To some extent I have been guilty of this, spending years accumulating fishing tackle, (be it mainly vintage). In a moment of ‘pure piscatorialism’ I have given away or sold a lot of the tackle that I just didn’t use including a ridiculous amount of fishing jackets. Now with less tackle I can concentrate on the important things, the way I fishing.

Relaxing fisherman

 

Some pike, but more…

20 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by in Pike

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The tuesday swim tries to steer away from the ‘catch report’ style of blogging and keep close to the perimeter fence when it comes to writing about angling. On the outskirts I tend to find something to write about or photograph, rather than attempting to hit the mainstream.

Yesterday was a long over-due fishing trip with a very old friend from my Shoreditch days back in the early nineties. To be fishing with Tony again was as ever good fun, a chance to catch up and to talk endlessly on the subject of fishing. The last time we fished together was six years ago for salmon on the Alness in the North-East of Scotland.  Today we were in search of pike and the outcome was quite successful, in fact it was probably one of our most prolific trips ever. Yes we took some mug shots holding some of the better pike (we caught nine in total) but the real joy was spending time with an old friend on a wind swept autumnal day in Sussex. Tony even thought he might snare a pike using his fly rod, perhaps he thought we were back on the Alness. By five the light was dropping as was the wind, so I picked up my camera when the lake took on a new and quiet personality…

 

 

Fallon’s Angler – A new publication.

02 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by in Fallon's Angler quarterly, Reading

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If there is one pastime over others that has had millions upon millions of words written about its many facets, it has to be angling.  Angling books tend to be split into two camps, the ‘how to’ and the ‘why do I do it and what a lovely place to do it in’ categories.  But when it comes to angling magazines nearly all of them lie in the ‘how to’ editorial style. However, this type of content does have one grave repercussion, it encourages tackle firms to infiltrate the article with product placement, written by anglers who are tied into contracts. The outcome is sterile, advertorial pieces that suit the tackle industry and not the reader.

Fallon’s Anglers is a magazine that goes against the grain which has been put together by an interesting gentleman called Garret Fallon who has bravely decided “what the hell, I’m going to do this myself.” Garret has managed to get a group of distinguished writers and some lesser known writers like myself to put together a collection of words and images. The content covers all disciplines and is varied, often personal, but always interesting and occasionally funny but certainly not  portrayed as being pompous and self-righteous. Issue one has over 28,000 words accompanied with images by writers such as Jon Day, Tom Fort, Kevin Parr and Chris Yates.

To order a copy please go to http://fallonsangler.net/ and try something new.

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Ultra floats.

18 Thursday Sep 2014

Posted by in Tackle

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I quite enjoy using and accumulating fishing tackle from the same era as when I was a young lad, but at the age of ten or eleven most of the tackle I owned was hand-me-down rubbish, a pink solid glass rod paired with an Intrepid Black Prince reel was my only kit. With my inadequate tackle and limited funds the only ‘good’ items I could afford in my local tackle shop, Penfolds of Cuckfield were fishing floats.

When entering the narrow shop illuminated only by artificial light, carded displays in glass cabinets from various manufacturers covered one wall, it was always the Ultra range of floats that caught my eye. Neat rows of floats organised into models and then graded  into sizes lined up like church organ pipes standing to attention as if on parade.  To a novice angler the range was beweildering, I mean how many ‘onion’ floats do you really need, and how different are they from a ‘Ducker’? To understand the range was an education in how to fish, although attractive they all had a utilitarian purpose.

Thirty years on I still have a few remaining Ultra floats, a band of brothers that managed to avoid the pitfalls of being cast into overly optomistic situations, less lucky comrades were lost in battle, eventually washed away by the ebb and flow. Today though I was most pleased to find that good friend and dealer in nostalgia John Andrews of Arcadia had located a lost battalion of Ultras, locked away in a box for decades but now released, dressed in black (as I remember them) and the earlier olive-green version.

 

Sweets of Usk

08 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by in General fishing, Tackle

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A person who is born in the town of Usk or has lived there for  forty years or more can qualify as a ‘Usk butterfly’. The butterfly symbol was used by Usk craftsmen who created Japanned finished wares, it distinguished their work from nearby Pontypool who created similar work. Last week I was fortunate enough to meet a Usk butterfly for the first time…

Thursday I found myself driving to South Wales with fellow photographer, angler and friend, Nick Moore to cover the stills for an advertising campaign. We were staying at the famous Gliffaes County Hotel that sits on a rocky outcrop in the Usk valley. The hotel is very much of the arts and crafts Edwardian style, and mainly caters for the brown trout, sewin and salmon fisher. As anglers we were both quite frustrated by the prospect of staying at this hotel in earshot of the river Usk, unable to fish, only to work! Ever an optimist I packed a spinning rod, reel and waders hoping that I could grab an hour before or after dinner and winkle out a salmon. The previous day I was talking to John Andrews of Acadia about our predicament and his reply was ‘do yourself a favour and drop into Sweets of Usk…’ I had heard of this old style tackle shop but had never been there so during our drive up to Wales I mentioned this to Nick and the possibility of a detour to visit the tackle shop, after a short conversation a decision was made and we took the turning to the town of Usk. On arrival we found a tiny wooden-clad shop front with the glass panelled door covered in various notes and signs obscuring what was hidden within, to be honest we thought the shop was closed. On close inspection I could see the smiling face of a well dressed lady who was reaching for the locked door, before long we had entered into another world.

When we first stepped inside Sweets we were overwhelmed at the sheer array of things to look at, there were  trays of hand-tied flies, old books, stacked boxes, photographs old and new, wooden carved salmon, tweed jackets, bags, cane and carbon rods, we were struggling to know what was for sale and what items were on display for sentimental reasons. The air smelt of wax and old books, the sun had just come out and shafts of light shone through the gaps in the glass illuminating the shop in dappled light, the atmosphere was thick and there stood behind the wooden counter our host with her infectious laugh and sweet smile. Nick and myself were actually quite dumb struck like a couple of  school boys, but we were soon put at ease with Mrs Williams offer of tea and stories that were attached to every object that we pointed out. We felt that we had entered someones front room for the first time and with that in mind turned down the offer of tea for we felt that we were intruding. Instead we turned our attention back to the shop, its history and the content. I spotted a delicate looking cane trout rod that turned out to be a Harry Powell rod who originally opened the shop in the 1930’s and was told that “Harry’s rod would never be sold, it is far too special.”  Mrs Williams told us about Lionel Sweet who took over the shop from Harry Powell and of his legendary fly casting skills (in 1953 he became the Casting Champion of Europe which he held for twenty years)  while his wife Molly hand-tied the flies in the shop. In the early 1960’s Mrs Williams started work in the shop after her parents were looking to find her some temporary work, then in the 1970’s she took over the shop with her now husband, Mike. Over forty years on Mrs Williams, the Usk Butterfly continues to offer her time and hospitality that is warm and genuine,  in truth we felt after an hour that we should leave but I think she enjoyed our visit as much as we were. The shop is very much orientated to fishing the Usk which is literally a stones throw from the shop. I spotted a cupboard of boxes with labels from bygone Redditch tackle firms, stacked in a higgledy-piggledy manner. From this cupboard Mrs Williams showed me some of the contents including some floats,  “I have a few floats for the boys in the village, you have to get them started somehow,” it was almost as if this was a rite of passage, from float to fly. By five o’clock we had to leave, we could have stayed longer as I know that Mrs Williams  had many more stories to share, time was not an issue in this shop, it looked like it had stopped many decades ago, but we had to move on and step back into 2014. A meeting had been laid on for us to discuss the photo-shoot that was to take place on the following day, the contrast was quite extreme.

In hindsight there is a slight sadness about this shop as you realise it won’t be around forever. When Mrs Williams locks the door for the final time I can’t see this business being passed on or sold as it stands, the vintage tackle dealers and auction houses  may buy up the contents and the shop will be lost. The stock is probably worth very little but some of the historic photographs and wood carving are worth considerably more, but as a collection under one roof it is priceless. On a historical and social level Sweets is a very rare place to discover. For now it still stands as a business supplying the Usk fishermen with flies, spinners and line, it is a very honest place and certainly not a parody or museum.  For anyone who remembers fishing tackle shops that precede the 1980’s when the owners were normally a husband and wife duo, this is a place you have to visit and spend a few pounds. Sweets is a tackle shop that survives where many others were lost to  Angling Centres with departments run by ‘experts’. My experience in Sweets reminded me how far we have come as a country over the last thirty years, we seem to be in a big hurry. Sweets is a real lesson in customer care and understated knowledge, an antidote to modern shopping. This little tackle shop is in no rush, run by a lady who has  time for anyone who steps through the door, I’m just looking to find an excuse to go back soon, this time though I will accept the offer of  “a nice cup of tea with welsh water” as Mrs William would like to say.

Mrs Williams
Hand tied
Mrs Williams
Mrs Williams & Nick
A customers discarded waders!
Sweets Tackle shop Usk

 

Boy’s Own summer adventure.

15 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by in General, The Lea Valley

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After a few weeks away in both the French and English Riviera I find myself back in London with a twelve-year-old to keep entertained for a few days after the devastating news that his laptop has fallen foul of a hardware failure. Next week I have a two-week stretch looking after my two-year old daughter, a much more daunting task,  this week though I thought a digital free two days with my stepson could manifest itself as a mini boy’s own adventure.

Day One:

In my basement along with a collection of fishing tackle, pots of paint and various tools is a canoe suspended from the rafters that has for the last two years hung dormant, today seemed the right day  to get her out (I think one speaks of a boat in a female context?) and take her down the River Lea. This particular canoe has taken me into the drink on a few occasions, she seems to sense a nervous pilot akin to a horse. The canoe twitches from side to side until the rower relaxes or the nervousness results in a dunking! Once settled though,  a serene calm takes over and the river is experienced from a completely new perspective. To sit low down in the water is really quite interesting for an angler who normally spends so much time looking at the river as it passes by, in a canoe you become an integral part of the rivers ebb and flow. The Lea was looking splendid though, the water was clear and fairly high for the height of summer, the banks over-grown and looking quite wild. Not much fishing goes on here, well perhaps a little bit?

By lunchtime the clouds were gathering and a darkness came over the river that suggested it was time to set off for home.

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Once home I thought it was time to put on a ‘proper’ film, I had forgotten about the piggy scene!

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Day two:

For our second day we were to go in search of The Lost Pond in Epping Forest, travel light and catch ourselves a mid-summer crucian. The Lost Pond or Blackweir as it is also know is set in the forest away from any road which involves a short walk, this I like, it keeps the lazy anglers away. After passing by Baldwins pond and walking through ancient woodland which was just starting to turn to gold, The Lost Pond appears in a small clearing, surrounded mainly in reeds broken by six gravel banked swims.

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With us both fishing, our first three casts resulted in three tiny golden crucians and then nothing, not a nibble! We only stayed for about an hour and a half, trying every swim but nothing would bite, one or two missed chances but not a fish, very strange. Then on my last cast a slight movement to the float resulted in what looked like a rudd/crucian hybrid, in its imperfections it was a perfect end to a two-day, non-digital, 3D adventure.

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