Another Fishing Year: John Wilson's Fishing Diary

INTRODUCTION

When I wrote my very first hardback book, A Specimen Fishing Year, published by A&C Black, way back in the heatwave year of 1976, little did I realise how much would change both in my personal life and in British freshwater fishing over these following three decades. Being then in my early 30s and now in my early 70s, I guess my hair was always going to change from dark brown to a mixture of grey and white. Like most of us however, I never contemplated divorce and remarrying. But eventually everything does settle down again, and becoming a real live ‘granddad’ to my daughter Lisa’s two girls, Alisha and Lana, makes me feel extremely proud, as does watching my son Lee, who is a carpenter-joiner, work creatively with a length of wood.

I certainly hadn’t visualised the amount of travel and exotic sports fishing that I would now be enjoying back in those early years of running a tackle shop in Norwich for six days a week, when the only way of fishing regularly enough to be able to write about it, was to grab ‘dawn starts’ two or sometimes three mornings a week before gunning the car back into Norwich to open the shop for 9am But I guess eventually selling the shop (John’s Tackle Den) after 26 years became inevitable in order for me to concentrate upon angling journalism and TV commitments.

I have in fact during these past 40 years now penned over 30 angling books plus filmed some 130 television programmes and videos. My Go Fishing series made for Anglia Television (and shown on Channel Four for ten years) spanned 18 years and remains the longest running British angling series ever, something of which I am extremely proud. I have also been extremely privileged to have created a piece of natural history, from excavation to landscaping and stocking, in the shape of my own lakeland fishery, which nestles beside the house within sight of my beloved River Wensum. All would have been mere pipe dreams back in the mid 1970s.

Now while my 1976 diary essays mentioned a hidden fear for silver shoal species (although I was catching numerous big roach and dace at that time) not recruiting within the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk in the numbers they should have been, due mostly to cormorant predation, who could ever have predicted the kind of decimation we have since suffered, and continue to do so due to a totally ‘gutless and ineffective’ Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, and I might add, so far as the angler is concerned, a succession of ‘head in the sand’ governments, whose statute it is to protect both our salt and freshwater fisheries. When oh when, will the ‘black death’ as this bird is now known, be put where it well and truly belongs, at the head of the ‘vermin list’ along with rabbits, grey squirrels and rats, etc.? This one creature has obliterated the legacy of prolific river fishing that has always been handed down from one generation to another where children learnt to appreciate natural history by first trotting a float downstream for small silver shoal fishes, gudgeon and the like, before moving on to larger goals. And could anyone ever have foreseen back in 1976, that carp would become so prolific to eclipse roach both as Britain’s most common and most popular species?

What about the weird and comparatively recent phenomenon of species like tench, bream, barbel and carp each now being caught at somewhere between 25-40% heavier than their respective record weights back in 1976. In those days 6lbs tench, 8lbs bream, l0lbs barbel and 30lbs carp were truly ‘huge’ fish for specialists like me to aim for. Nowadays, they are everyday catches on many waters up and down the country. Some say that global warming and our now mild winters are partly responsible for these particular species packing on weight, while others attribute the increase to fish being regularly and selectively fed large quantities of high nutritional value boilies and pelleted food. I think in addition, that because these species find themselves in many cases the ‘dominant’ species in rivers and lakes where they once had to share the natural food larder with vast shoals of roach and other silver shoal fish, due to cormorant predation, they no longer need to compete and subsequently grow fat as a consequence. The huge tench I caught back in June, with four of them heavier than the once British record, are a prime example.

Though primarily a book about a calendar year of specimen hunting around my home ground of Norfolk and Suffolk, including the trials and tribulations of endeavouring regularly to catch the whoppers, that 1976 year’s diary also contained a number of side issues, from using the first prototype float rod manufactured entirely from super lightweight, carbon fibre, (which we now take for granted) to my scuba diving in local gravel pits during the ‘then’ close season, (why oh why did we pander to the greed of commercial fisheries and abolish it?) and playing with various ledger rigs on the bottom to find out why a simple fixed paternoster set up worked best. A method I still use incidentally for much of my ledgering.

Yes, those early years certainly provided a wonderful training ground and a platform for thinking, innovative anglers to voice their experiences. Sadly however, many fellow angling writers and friends like Doug Allen, Peter Stone, John Darling, Ivan Marks, Len Head, Colin Dyson, Trevor Housby, Bernard Venables and Dick Walker, who all contributed immensely to that period, have all passed on. Although we are all considerably more informed from their respective inputs, and freshwater angling today would just not be the same.

What you are about to read actually came about following a pike fishing session out afloat on the Norfolk Broads with good friend Nick Beardmore who informed me that a mate of his had just bid over £150 on eBay, to secure one of my 1976 A Specimen Fishing Year books, which originally retailed at just £4.75. I could not believe it. I was of course both flattered and flabbergasted, but then got to thinking about the unique comparisons that could be made from writing a sequel. So here it is. As in 1976, an open, honest account of each and every fishing trip both at home and abroad, with warts and all, including those inevitable ‘blanks’ that I made during the year of 2005.

But I doubt that I’ll be around in another 30 years to see if ‘this book’ ever fetches over 30 times its original published price. Now there’s a thought!

John Wilson

Sunday, 2nd January

Gusting, bitterly cold westerly wind. Bright sunshine all day.

It’s certainly no coincidence that I chose to start this diary by boat fishing for pike with my dearest and oldest friend John (Jinx) Davey from Bungay in Suffolk, (we met when teenagers over 45 years ago, fishing the River Waveney for roach) on a lake near Norwich which I call ‘The Conifers’. Because this exceptionally prolific pike water provided the very first entry in my first diary book back all those years ago in 1976, when my boat partner for the day was another old friend, the late Doug Allen.

Averaging between 10 and 14 feet deep, this lovely ‘natural’ lake is decidedly ‘round’ in shape and completely surrounded by tall, ivy covered fir trees, hence my nickname for it.

It is also quite unique in that of all the locations it has been my good fortune to fish within the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk over these past three decades, ‘The Conifers’ simply hasn’t changed one iota, either in appearance or the fish it contains. And I cannot truthfully say that of anywhere else I fish, particularly the rivers. Its coloured water for instance, still produces a mountain of roach, perch, rudd and bream upon which preys a healthy stock of nicely proportioned double figure pike plus the occasional specimen over 20lbs. Even the old boat house is still there (though ‘leaning’ somewhat) despite gales having toppled huge trees all around it, and inside is the very same, ancient wooden boat (lovingly re-varnished and re-painted every so often) that I first fished from 30 years ago.

OK, enough nostalgia for this essay. How did Jinx and I fare in such appalling conditions with my estate car’s thermometer showing an outside temperature of just 2°C on our 8am arrival? Wind chill alone from the force 6 westerly, gusting every now and then up to 7 and 8, actually gave us second thoughts about even taking the boat out, despite the forecast of a bright and sunny day ahead. But within half an hour we had rowed (well Jinx had) half way across the lake to a favourite spot 80 yards upwind from a thick line of tall reeds along the eastern, willow-clad shoreline and put the mud weights down, bows into the teeth of the wind.

Using three rods apiece our selection of smelt, mackerel and herring dead baits were fanned 30-50 yards out all around the boat, presented ‘static’ on the bottom. Both our downwind baits had floats set well over depth, while the others were free lined, with 3x2SSG shots pinched onto the traces below the swivel to hold them in position against the ‘yawing’ of the boat, and to provide a little resistance to a pike, in order that it moves off away from the rod and gives a positive indication. This is most important to alleviate possible unintentional deep hooking.

I was just about on the point of regaining feeling in the fingers of my left hand (why on earth don’t I remove dead baits from the freezer earlier on the day before a trip?) and enjoying a cup of coffee, when the sensitively set free-spool ratchet on my Baitmaster reel started to sing. The float on the ‘downwind’ end rig must have shot away quickly because I didn’t see it go, so I wound down instantly and heaved the rod back into a full bend. There then followed a spirited fight from a nicely marked and proportioned pike of around l0lbs which I chinned just clear of the surface with a gloved hand to remove the trebles, both of which were lodged in the scissors, before allowing it to crash-dive down to the bottom. Incidentally, when possible I always prefer to unhook pike without bringing them into the boat and especially without using the net, which is taken along ‘only’ in case a whopper turns up. Then I’ll get the scales out, and weigh it in the landing net, deducting the weight of the net afterwards. For yours truly, those days of moving each and every fish from the landing net into a specialised sling have long gone. I simply cannot be doing with all the hassle of slime and cold fingers. I am perfectly happy ‘guestimating’ its size and I’m sure the fish would agree. In fact I don’t use a weigh sling for any of my fishing in Britain. I do own a giant, reinforced weigh sling for the likes of Nile perch, Weis catfish and mahseer however. Besides, if the fish is already in a landing net, then it is already lying in the perfect receptacle for hoisting onto the scales.

After around an hour, with no further pick-ups, we decided to up with the mud weights and move around 80 yards across the lake in order to grid search as much of the bottom as possible. But as Jinx was about to reel in his last rod, a pike snuffed up the joey mackerel and fair sizzled line from the reel upon feeling the hooks. This particular fish put up an incredible scrap for such cold conditions and I rather think Jinx was expecting to see something larger than a long, lean machine of around 17lbs when it finally hit the surface in a shower of spray. Still, two doubles on a bitingly cold day in little more than an hour’s fishing was perhaps more than we had expected.

We moved immediately afterwards, but had to wait a good hour and a half for the next piece of action, which strangely also happened just prior to our moving position again, when my float suddenly started zooming across the waves before sneaking beneath the surface and line peeling from the reel. Again an instant strike, (I’m always of the opinion that if the pike is any size at all, the hooks will be inside the jaws, which is why I only ever use comparatively small, whole or half-dead baits of between four and seven inches long) and my rod arched over to what felt a nice fish. Following much head shaking and several long, powerful runs, the 15lbs test line ‘whistling’ in the wind, alongside the boat came a superbly shaped and spotted pike of fully 15lbs. I gently eased out the duo of size 8 semi barb less trebles, and off she went.

Incidentally it may be interesting to note that throughout this winter I have been using pike traces made from a revolutionary new material, 30lbs test, titanium wire, which though noticeably thicker than the 30lbs test, easy twist ‘stranded’ wire that I would normally use for pike, but is still relatively supple, simply does not fray or kink, even after catching dozens and dozens of fish. These matt-black 18 inch long traces cost £5 and come fitted with two size 8, super strong and sharp Owner trebles, with a power swivel at the opposite end, and are available direct from Dunstable tackle manufacturer Mick Willis (tel. 01525 221968) whose customers have literally used the same trace all winter. And they say there’s nothing new in fishing. But back to ‘The Conifers’ lake and those pike.

The session was now hotting up despite the cold westerly, and we moved once more, another 80 or so yards across the lake, always keeping within around the same distance upwind from the easterly shoreline. This time it was a run for Jinx, whose small roach was gobbled up by an equally small pike of around 5lbs.

The time by now was around 1pm and we decided to make one last move and due to the cold, settle for a 2pm finish. These days I’m pleased to say, and I don’t care if it is to do with age (well, we are both over 60 after all) both Jinx and I know when we have had our fill. Reminds me of that famous Fred J. Taylor saying which goes, I’ll be glad when I’ve had enough of this. And it’s so true.

Lo and behold at around three minutes to 2pm (I swear) the ratchet on one of my multipliers presenting a free lined herring’s head suddenly screeched into life, and from the moment of connecting, I suspected a big fish, because it felt really heavy and kept low to the bottom whilst I pumped it gently towards the boat. It then must have seen the dinghy’s outline directly above and power-dived with incredible speed before turning around and zooming straight up to the surface beside the boat, performing a simply marvellous ‘tail-walking’ sequence. Jinx and I looked at each other totally flabbergasted. The last thing we expected from any of the pike in such cold water conditions (the lake had been frozen over only three days before) was an aerial display. And what an incredibly long fish it was too. Well over 20lbs ‘long’ but noticeably lean in the body. I just couldn’t be bothered with net and scales, and so called her 19lbs, after chinning her beside the boat to remove the hooks and watching her disappear into the murky depths. What a great day’s pike fishing against difficult odds and a wonderful start to 2005.

Tuesday, 4th January

Blustery south westerly wind, heavily overcast, mild.

Following Sunday’s pike action despite the cold, I was really looking forward to today. The wind had swung more southerly bringing in a decidedly mild air stream. Absolutely perfect conditions for pike fishing on a small private broad off the River Bure near Wroxham, which had been dredged several years back, but according to my boat partner Nick Beardmore, had not been fished since. A wonderful opportunity for Nick to show me the effectiveness of his ‘special’ homemade pike dead baits, which he calls ‘mackreels’. These unique baits consist of several inches of pig’s intestine packed full of minced mackerel and other oily fishes, plus various fish oils, tied off at both ends to resemble a sausage, or section of a thickish eel, hence their name.

Within an hour of dawn breaking we had the boat anchored up in the middle of the five acre broad, which is completely fringed by an impenetrable jungle of alder carr, willow and tall reeds, and, fishing three rods apiece, employed our most effective technique for Broadland pike, of fanning a selection of free lined dead baits all around the boat - smelt, herrings, and of course Nick’s mackreels.

Now I’d love to say that during the following six hours before returning to the boathouse in mid-afternoon, those pike went crazy, but I would be lying. The plain, inexplicable truth was that we just couldn’t buy a run on anything. Not even on Nick’s smelly ‘mackreels,’ which benefit from a good stabbing with a sharp knife immediately prior to casting out, in order for the oils and juices to permeate through the water. They certainly leave an attractive ‘slick’ on the surface, and I shall definitely be trying them again, where on hard fished lakes, rivers and broads, I fancy they will have a real edge on all the more popular and regularly used dead baits.

So I have to chalk up the first ‘blank’ (you didn’t assume I always catch, did you?) of the New Year. There is an inevitable ‘high spot’ to most fishing trips however, and ours was experiencing the rare sight, while walking back to the car, of a bittern getting up from a narrow, reedy dyke not ten yards away and flying over the marshes. And mere minutes later, a marsh harrier quartering the marshes beyond.

Unfortunately Norfolk pike fishing will have to take a back seat for the next couple of weeks. On Friday I’m off to fish in South America along Brazil’s famous Rio Negro (part of the Amazon system) for the most colourful freshwater predator of them all, the peacock bass. And I can’t wait.

Saturday, 8th January

Overcast with drizzle, followed by baking hot sunshine. Very humid.

Mention Brazil, and what comes to mind? Coffee? Pele? Anacondas? Well, hopefully, for Christine Slater of Tailor Made Holidays and me, plus our five British guests, it’s going to be the totally unique sports fishing, with magnificently coloured peacock bass and huge catfish heading the long list of hard battling predatory adversaries.

Brazil is in fact the planet’s fifth largest country behind Russia, Canada, China and the U.S.A. It is even bigger than Australia and covers almost half the continent of South America, bordering ten other countries plus the Atlantic Ocean. To the east and south are rugged mountains, fertile valleys and narrow, coastal plains, while the northeast consists mostly of semi- arid plateaux. The centre west is largely a vast plateau of savannah and rock escarpments, and the fabulous northwest contains the famous hot, humid and wet, rainforest-fed, basin of the Amazon, the world’s second longest river, behind Africa’s River Nile.

I previously visited this fascinating country back in 1993 to fish for the high-leaping golden dourado of the Parana River near Foz just below breathtaking Iguacu Falls, the borderline of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. And I not only became mesmerised by the sheer magnitude and beauty of it all, but also totally fascinated by a whole host of weird and colourful species from armoured catfish to the fearsome piranha. But I have to admit, by comparison with the Amazon system, in South America, the Parana is simply just another river.

Extending also into Peru, Bolivia, and Venezuela, this massive Amazon watershed is the largest on earth, dumping into the Atlantic Ocean one quarter of the world’s fresh water in which live some 4000 species of fish, from the enigmatic arapaima to giant catfish, not forgetting the myriad of miniature and attractively coloured fishes kept by tropical aquarium enthusiasts. This is more species even than in the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans combined.

During its 4000 mile journey across South America the Amazon is fed by over 1000 tributaries, the largest being our chosen destination, the mysterious Rio Negro, which is up to 12 miles wide in parts, and itself containing a staggering 2000 different species, some of them more representative of saltwater tropicals, like garfish, barracuda and poisonous stingrays etc., to the hard hitting peacock bass and unusual fruit-eaters.

Following long hauls from Heathrow to Miami and then onto Manaus, our final 200 mile flight deposited us at Barcelos, followed by an hour’s speedboat ride to the famous Rio Negro Lodge, which nestles amongst dense tropical jungle literally within spitting distance of the river. What a place! But were we knackered after such a lengthy journey.

Incidentally, fishing out from here and from both the Rio Area Lodge and the Amazon Queen, an 85 foot long purpose-built houseboat (two alternative angling options], in fact the whole unique Amazon fishing experience, is the brainchild of owner and founder of Amazon Tours, ex-helicopter pilot Phil Marsteller, who originates from Ohio. Phil opened the Rio Negro Lodge in 1998, and its comfortable, air-conditioned accommodation provides immediate access to the vast maze of waterways and lagoons draining this upper Amazon rainforest, via fibreglass, shallow draft Nitro bass boats sporting 90hp outboards, zipping guests quickly along (two to a boat) at 50mph into the very heart of the Amazonas.

Having spotted vultures, giant terns and kingfishers, night herons, plovers,