FREE-LINE 01.pdf - Page 65

The Woodcarving… With Half a Worm Exclusive
on without fear of spooking the fish,
at least any more than I had already.
With carp still cruising along the marginal weed I was finding it very difficult to stay in my swim and kept nipping the few yards round to the willow for a look every fifteen minutes or
so, eventually seeing a fish cruise
over my bait. Fortunately another
member soon arrived along with
Cyclops and his dog Mouse, which
took my mind off the situation a little.
We sat there chatting and enjoying a
brew on the warm summer day whilst
I was hoping my right hand rod tip
would hoop round at any minute.
After a while I began thinking that
my hookbait must have been pinched
by a perch, but having already caused
way more disturbance than necessary
I was unwilling to check it yet. About
an hour and a half after getting my rig
in position word spread round the
lake that Shoulders had been banked
from Weedy Bay, and while I really
wanted to go and see the beast, I
wanted to catch my own even more
so, so I stayed put. Cyclops took
Mouse for a look at one of Horton’s
(and the UK’s) finest whilst I stayed in
my swim appearing far more antisocial than I am. Little did we know it at
the time, but that was to be Shoulders’ last ever capture despite not
dying for several more months.
Cyclops returned with Mouse and
soon, accompanied by a short screech
from the alarm, my right hand tip
hooped round. I jumped off my bed
chair and nipped the few yards down
the slope to my rods, grabbed the
lively one and leant into (hopefully)
my first of the season.
It kited out from under the willow
into the weed, and after a few halfhearted lunges, rose up in the water,
Speechless… Well, almost!


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