FL02 PDF (212pp) - Page 122



Wellington Boots and Waders
that I was having a Crohn’s disease
attack. I had also started vomiting. I
love fishing, don’t you? I took some
extra medication and lay on the bedchair in my sleeping bag wanting to
go to sleep and praying I didn’t get a
screamer.
Well I got the next best thing; a
drop back that made the bobbin hit
the deck as if it had fallen off the line.
I put my shoes on and could see that
the bobbin was on the deck, but
before I picked the rod up I checked
to make sure that it hadn’t just
dropped off, and it hadn’t. I picked up
the rod and took the line out of the
clip before winding down like mad to
try and catch up with the fish. The
fish had run what seamed like 100yds
back towards me, but was probably
no more than 10yds at the most.
There was a heavy weight on the end
and at first I thought it was stuck
behind the weedbed, but it started to
move and kite left, and it felt a good
fish. It continued to kite down to the
left, and once it had gone as far as it
could on the line, which was already
out it just kept on going and was taking an alarming amount of line off the
spool. After the previous two fish the
(Above) Two on at once.
(Right) The other fish hooked at the
same time.
122 FREE LINE
night before that didn’t do much I
was now beginning to wonder which
fish I was attached to. Thoughts of
the Turtle were going through my
mind, and the thought of a mid-40
male fish charging around wasn’t
making me feel any better. To make
matters worse I was beginning to
question my decision to use a size 8
hook instead of my normal size 6’s,
but a 6 just didn’t look right on a
15mm bait, so an 8 it was.
I had by now managed to slip into
my chesties, but if you can picture 20
stone of vomiting carp angler putting
on a pair of chesties in the dark whilst
playing a fish, ‘slip’ doesn’t actually
come to mind. I had now walked out
into the shallow margins with a net,
and then I walked down slightly
towards the next swim so I could get
away from my other lines. The wind
was still howling past me, the net was
being dragged away from me, and the
waves were absolutely huge. I can’t
imagine what it must be like fishing
some of the big French waters in a
storm. Every time I got the fish any-

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