The closest I’ve ever came to fishing is buying one of those bamboo sticks with a hair net sticking out the bottom from the pound shop then going to the local park to catch baby sticklebacks. Either the so-called net would fall off into the pond or I’d fall in instead. My fishing career ended there.
Then a week ago I heard a couple of mates had started regularly going fishing at a reservoir close to where I live. So I gave them a shout to see if they had a spare rod for me to give it a go, a chuckle echoed down the telephone as they agreed to take me with them.
Most local fishing spots charge around £20 (2013) a year for a license, since I didn’t have the usufruct to be there we agreed to use the excuse of it being my first time in the hope I’d be let off. Be warned though, some places can charge a thousand pounds fine for you not being a member if you get caught on site without permission.
After parking up and finding a suitable area to sit we unpacked everything we needed including a ‘real’ fishing net. It was around 8pm, after a perfect summers day the sun was beginning to set, which I’m told is the best time to get a catch, apparently the fish prefer to feed from the surface toward night time, especially during warm days.
I didn’t really like the part where I had to kerf a worm then skewer it with the fishing hook, the little wriggler clearly had some idea of what was going on. Then we added some kind of special food to the float to help entice the fish toward the worm and prepared for cast off!!
Thinking of myself as having pretty good rhythm I figured casting the line off would be pretty easy, we all counted to three and I hurled Earthworm Jim toward his fateful doom. “How was that?!” I yelled. I couldn’t see which part of the reservoir it had landed in but it felt like I’d done a good job. “It’s not even in the water! You’ve landed it in the grass!” came the reply, followed by a snigger. Somehow I’d managed to hurl it to my direct right. Fortunately the area where it had landed was overgrown with thick long grass, so no fishermen where sat there.
One of the others recovered it for me as I reeled the line back in for a 2nd attempt… this time I barely got it in the water. It landed about 2 feet from the embankment.
After some deliberation at this point, everyone decided to move further around the reservoir to a more target rich environment. So we clambered along the arroyo, found a better spot, and my 3rd attempt was perfected.
I still never caught anything the whole time we were there, but the others did. It was pretty enjoyable being sat there outside, waiting for a bit of excitement every time somebody got a bite. It’s all peaceful and relaxing, and nowhere near as boring as I thought it might be. I’m still a little confused how someone can get addicted to it though, but it was fun.