Article - Coarse
The Diary of a Lake - Part Nineteen
By Mike, added on 29/04/2008
Stardate Captains Log; 28 April 2008
Our Favourite Cliché
Since moving permanently to France, I think I have become completely hopeless with women. When I lived in the UK, greeting women all seemed so easy. With a family member – an embrace, with a professional encounter – the shaking of hands, with a familiar friend – a peck on the cheek was usually exchanged. Now I don’t know where I am or sometimes even what to do.
Here in Brittany, greetings, at least to me, don’t seem so clear cut. I constantly concern myself about making myself out to be a complete fool. A professional encounter with a French lady is the easy one – the usual shaking of hands. I familiar neighbour, once into their tactical meeting drill – means the exchange of simultaneous kisses on opposing cheeks. But do I actually make contact with the kiss or just the kind of smuch smuch noise, with your lips facing skywards. However with close neighbours, I have got used to which method is to be employed. The very difficult one, is when or how do you progress from the shaking of hands to the kissing, as you gain familiarity with another female. There is always physical contact though, never nothing, that’s just being rude or slovenly. When I meet someone, I often just stand there like a lemon, trying to sense what would be the most appropriate meeting. I stand & wait for the forward lunge by the other party, as soon as this starts, I reciprocate. Easy huh? But then is it two kisses or four? There appears to be no pattern. Two to start, then progress to four…nope. If its two, then its always two, if its four, then its always four. Sally said recently ‘oh I don’t know about this kiss kiss thing, I’m never sure what to do, why can’t they just say hello’.
Anyway, to fishing. Jason, Kevin & Daz were coming on Sunday. No problems there – straight hand shake will be fine. I really enjoy it when fishing visitors come, for many reasons. Mainly though, I am always intrigued to see what fish get caught & particularly since 2006, their respective size. I have made a lot of changes at the lake, many not visible. When I first took on La Morinais, there was no marginal weed at all. The normal French way it to prevent or cut out any marginal plant life, which is what the previous owner had done here. Now, there are thriving weed beds & most of the shallow water is abound with a large variety of marginal plants & weeds. To me, this has a very important contribution to make in the provision of a huge food larder for the fish. When the French anglers see the lake, most are appalled by the weed growth & are very quick to point out that the marginal weed should be cleared immediately, ripped out & burnt. I am sure some think I am not looking after the lake properly & things are getting out of hand. When I explain that I have spent hour after hour planting marginals over several years now, I just get puzzled looks. Back to the point, I am absolutely convinced that the increase in marginal plant growth, is one major factor in the accelerated growth rates in the carp.
Jason & Kevin are regular visitors, they know the lake reasonably well & appeared to set up wisely in their efforts to catch some large carp. It was a first time for Daz, but his colleagues had, I thought, advised him wisely about his best chances of some fish.
The rain had been pouring down, almost all of the day & what looked like all night, during the two days before their arrival day. They pitched up, then the rains came again - most of that night, then most of the next day too. It wasn’t until mid week when things started to brighten & warm up. The fishing was very slow indeed. An awful lot of rain water was pouring into the lake & this water exchange must have some significant impact on you if you are a cold blooded & very sensitive fish. If the carp were lying low, I had some understanding for the slow fishing, but the fish were active continuously, leaping & rolling, constantly on the move.
I always take my early morning walk around before breakfast, which turns into more of an event when anglers are here. Each morning though I would return to the Gingerbread house & Sally would ask ‘any news?’ Apart from a 23lb common ‘Nope’ was starting to be the regular reply. ‘Whats going on?’ she asks. ‘I don’t know’ I reply, because I really had no idea at all. Fish were moving, rolling & leaping & showing all the signs of feeding. The weather was now good; warm, nice breeze, but few fish. Last year was a slow year for the fishing across France, but this was linked to the bizarre weather. Now I am wandering if this season is to be similar. Too early to tell yet. Big abundance of natural food now though, how much of a factor is this playing?
The walk about on Friday morning was a different experience altogether, I was met with some very big smiles. I often say ‘one fish can make all the difference’ & for Jason it did. On the photo he is holding a night prowler mirror weighing in at 42lbs 8oz, a fish I have not seen for several years.
My family waved the anglers off on Saturday evening, hoping as always, that they had had a good holiday. Now then, to the cliché ‘You should have been here last week’ or in this case – yesterday. It is now Monday & I am going to describe what happened on Sunday morning, yesterday morning. We had planned to go off to a Vide Grenier (loft emptying, like a UK car boot sale) at Gournon near La Gicilily. I reckoned the kids would be up & breakfasted ready for a departure about 9ish. If I got up at first light at 6.30, I would fish until 8 o’clock. Back for breakfast & away without holding the job up.
The alarm bleeped at 6.30 & I was up sharp. Quick pee, wash, dressed, then straight outside & off to the lake. I had put on a pair of slip on trainers, my ‘stalking shoes’ I call them - nice & soft for creeping along the banks without thumping your feet on the ground. The morning was very still & the air still warm from the previous day. Heavy cloud had held in the heat during the night, so there was no early morning chill or mist. This was classic bubbler weather, it had to be.
I walked past the big island & headed for the far western end of the lake, very few anglers choose to fish here but I love it. Lots of overhanging trees with a consistent 3 foot depth. There were ripples everywhere, coming from all directions. A few moorhens were scuttling about but the mallards were up the other end, leaving the only other residents to make such large ripples – the carp. I put two grains of maize on the hair. A simple rig; a 2BB crystal waggler but the only weight, a No.1 shot four inches from the hook. 10lb line on the centre pin. Cast out fifteen yards or so, next to the right hand overhanging tree.
After just a few minutes…bubbles. The fish were either there already or quickly smelt the scent & homed in. Ten minutes in & the float snatched & lay flat again. That’s all I need; one snatch & you know you have fish in the swim. A few minutes later, the float pings, snatches then slips away. First contact. A bonny eight pounder charged around the swim, surely ending the chances of a further fish within the time I had in this spot. The fish was unhooked & released in the same spot. More bubblers…..same place...couldn’t believe it. All the commotion & the feeding fish never flinched.
I cast in again & settled in the seat. Fifteen minutes this time, then without any warning, the float slid away. Instead of a jagging rod top, this time the rod went round solid & held, something very heavy started moving away & to the left. Instead of a screaming reel, the centre pin gave a steady click..click..click..click & kept going. A huge golden swirl revealed I had hooked one of the big mirrors. This is why I have taken to using a centre pin, the direct feel with your fish, not indirect through a fixed spool. Even a slow but heavy run can get your thumb uncomfortably hot. A ten pound common can almost set your thumb on fire & leave a white burn mark.
The fish was beaten & ready for the net. But then there is that grating up the line & everything goes solid. I can see the fish swirling just ten yards out, tethered around a branch dangling in the water. The fish weakens & comes up to the top on its side. Another burst of energy & it goes down, taking the branch down into the water with it. The water is surprisingly pleasant & not cold at all. Up to my thighs, pull as tight as I dare, the fish comes up to the top & I make the scoop. With the fish in the net, drop the rod & wade out to untangle the line from the end of the tree. The fish & me sloshing back onto the bank. I weigh & photograph the big mirror & very happily pack up. Two mirrors with plenty of time to spare.
On the way back to the Gingerbread house I stop off. I am watching several carp feeding, very close in. The water is souped up & they look easy takers, but now I am just very happy to watch, I’ve had my fish. With my gear, I walk on. I put my gear away & walk back down towards the boathouse. There is a long wooden jetty & Kevin had been baiting this area the previous week. Off the end of the platform, an area of around twenty square yards was like drinking chocolate. Fish were rolling amongst their fizzing bubbles, on some kind of gross feeding binge. Heads were bobbing up, leaving trails of bubbles marking their route beneath the surface, always staying over the baited area, not straying outside. It all looked so easy & probably was, surely two grains of maize under the float, cast into the soup would be fearlessly taken. But again, I’d had my fish & it was off to the boot sale. Sometimes its so damned hard & frustrating, yet sometimes its so easy. Tomorrow no doubt, it will be back to normal.