Article - General
Straight Rod Syndrome ('SRS') and other matters...
By John, added on 31/10/2007
I've been having a hard time of it of late, in angling terms I mean. Five trips on the trot and not a fish on the bank. Five blank trips that have found me beside both river and carp pool. Yes of late, I seemed to have caught nothing but a good bout of that angler's concern… 'Straight Rod Syndrome’. Others coined the phrase of course, but undoubtedly I find myself currently afflicted. Call me Jona.
While it's true conditions have been difficult of late, with low, clear rivers and lakes suffering from cold easterlies, high pressure and cloudless nights, my fishing companions on these trips, whilst also finding the going difficult, have still managed to bank fish (and deservedly so). Whilst a blank or two in a row doesn’t normally raise a second thought, after five such trips, doubts begin to arise…
Just what have I been doing wrong?
Have I not been putting in the effort?
Have I not concentrated?
Have my tactics or bait been wrong?
Does any of this even matter, as long as I have enjoyed these trips?
And I have, very much so. My fellow angling companions, with their bankside tea (my turn next I promise), and the glorious sounds and colours of autumn have seen to that.
But why I wonder has my float sat motionless, my bobbins hung limp?
Why am I piscatorially troubled of late?
Fishing time is precious, so I always try to ensure I enjoy myself whatever the conditions, species or venue. I’m not normally the type to get downtrodden about not catching as long as I believe I have ‘fished well’. This might sound like I’m taking things too seriously but I’m not. No what I mean is, and I’m trying to not sound like an idiot here, and most likely failing, is that I come away thinking I have fished relatively confidently and effectively. If I think this is the case then I’m always happy regardless of the outcome and a blank just means I’m more encouraged to get back out again as soon as possible. Conversely, a nice catch or two is like an addict’s shot in the arm, an angling ‘fix’, subsequently I’ll be less inclined to return bankside side till perhaps the following week or so.
To be fair, usually I do come away content with the way I have fished, and even
when I don't I may still come away having enjoyed myself. But of course there does come those trips, normally to a new and challenging venue, which see endless calamities of angling error occur*. Rings are missed when running them with line, trees are caught up in (or fallen out of), casts are repeatedly off target, centrepins seem to overrun for fun, and bait is sprayed so ineffectively, over such a wide area, that even the term 'loose feeding' is pushing it. We’ve all had those moments I’m sure, when all the ducks seem so out of line, that just for a spilt second,
you find yourself thinking about those unused golf clubs, sat under a film of dust in the garage.
However none of these factors have significantly occurred of late. I just seem to have simply blanked, despite ‘fishing well’ . I realise I'm risking
sounding like some big headed idiot saying that (perhaps I'm just a rubbish angler!).
But I've genuinely kept mobile, tried to find fish, risen early and gone to bed late. I’ve baited spots and kept checking back on them, changed tactics, fined down tackle, moved pitches and roamed the river, but still the rod remained straight.
And yet however much you tell yourself;
‘it’s all part of the challenge’
‘your always learning’
‘it’s another piece of the puzzle’
Somewhere deep down inside comes that little voice that counters with…
‘accept it…your failing sunshine’
Just maybe then 'Straight Rod Syndrome' can never totally be understood or comprehended. It just exists and there's nothing the humble angler, or even the collective might of the whole tackle industry, can do to solve it. All the same,
looking through today's catalogues it looks like they've given it a dam good try...realtree
toilet roll holder anyone?
So if 'SRS' is something that is eventually due every angler, we must just accept that our turn will one day come. But if this is the case, that it can't be avoided, then just as it comes it must also go. Else how does it ever become the next anglers turn?
But now I feel slightly guilty, knowing that whilst I'm hoping for my turn to end, this would mean some other angler is going to suffer in my place. Perhaps then, so I can rest more easily, it can pass to the chaps that noisily arrived carrying their rods made up on shiny, stainless rod pods last week. Then, without any hint of angling etiquette, proceeded to set up practically on my lap. Nothing strange in that perhaps, it's an everyday occurrence isn't it on most carp waters now? Well yes it is and on such waters you would probably accept it as such, however I was fishing on the Royalty at the time. I know the carp and barbel worlds are merging, or colliding depend on your viewpoint, but this was just ridiculous.
Anyway...
Besides the blanking, other 'episodes' have also occurred recently, those funny little things that, believe it or not, can still occur whilst 'fishing well'.
For example, perhaps stupidly not taking a bedchair, sleeping on the cold October floor is not recommended, or just completely losing one’s bearings in carp pool copse in the middle of the night, there seems always to be something.
Actually, perhaps the copse incident needs further mention….
Rarely can you see nothing at night, but on this occasion, taking the steps of a fool off the well trodden path, I couldn’t see much further than the end of my nose. To make matters worse I was carrying a made up MKIV at the time and was seriously concerned for its tip. On a couple of occasions it had already got stubbed into a tree trunk, but thankfully had'nt done any damage.
Anyway, deeper and deeper I seemed to stumble into the abyss, trees continued to close in from every angle like a scene from some grim fairytale, and I began to get ever so slightly worried. Not exactly scared as such, but a little worried all the same. Round and round I circled my head torch, an Eddystone keeper would have been proud, but it’s so called 'light emitting diode' failed to penetrate more than a few yards.
At one point, cold and disorientated, frustrated and hopelessly lost, I was seriously debating just sitting against the nearest tree and going to sleep for the night. Waiting for first light and my escape. Was I making it worse to keep going? Where would I end up? Perhaps I would stumble on some ghostly, mist shrouded carp pool that only became visible to pitifully lost carp anglers on the darkest and coldest of nights….
…The perfect carp pool, three acres of intimate lilies, reeds and overhanging trees. The stock unknown, the lake quiet and bait boats still fifty years off…heaven.
They’d all be here too, Albert tackled seemingly for roach, Bill with bite marks to his nose, sat alertly over his rods, Denys sat quietly in the corner behind his silver winch fit for a shark…and one more. It looks like Richard, but his face is only dimly lit by the draw of his cigarette, he’s set up on the dam, coat jacket huddled high around him, hat pulled low …
….eventually I did find my way back out. Emerging at midnight like Dr Livingstone from the jungle. It felt like I’d been away hours but in reality it was probably only minutes. Quite embarrassing really, but definitely something to look back on with a smile. At least I stubbornly refrained from shouting for help though, nicely avoiding having to suffer the merciless ribbing of my fishing companions, till now
of course, those potential rescuers of men.
Strangely, I've since learnt I'm not the first person this has happened to either,
in the exact same place too. Just maybe the ghost lake theory isn't so far fetched after all?
* Of course sometimes the venue itself, the weather or the company is so good it
makes up for just about anything.