Riverwatch: Why I'm hooked on angling

Mar 18 2009 Mark Goode, Surrey Herald

These are the dark days on the river. The close season is here, so for three months my fellow anglers can no longer whet their lines in the hope of a tug and pull.

The dates have been set for centuries as a way of letting fish breed in peace during the spawning season, and it occurs between March 15 and June 16 on running water.

But over recent years there has been heated debate on whether the close season should be abandoned, much like it was on still waters a few years back.

Angling is an all year-round hobby that brings much peace to men (and a few women) who regularly like to escape to secluded (and sometimes busy) spots to while away a few hours.

It is difficult to explain to someone who doesn't fish what is so satisfying about staring blankly for hours at a small orange float bobbing in the water. But the peace is one of its attractions.

It kicks in after about 10 minutes of setting up, and painstakingly putting shot, float, and hook on the line, and casting out into a baited spot.

Everything changes. You notice every detail, the ripples of the everchanging river,the sound of the wind humming through leaves, and bird song.

To pick a word, it is enchanting and made more so by the knowledge that your quarry lives in a world so very different from your own.

A huntsman can see the deer or pheasant in his sights, but for an angler,his prize lies beneath sometimes muddy or quivering water, which cannot be penetrated.

The line on an angler's reel is put through rings on his rod, which is connected to a float, set at a certain depth to notify him when a fish has taken his bait.

Underneath the float you have lead shot which cocks it, and underneath that you have your baited hook.

The smaller the float, the less shot needed to cock it. It is more sensitive, but it means you can't cast it out as far.

After setting up, you sit down, and carefully and gradually throw bait around your float in set intervals (this is only one way to fish, there are many more). For an hour it is calm and peaceful, but suddenly, you see a knock on your float. Your little orange wonder starts to move to the side and back.

You perch on the edge of your seat, slowly grab your rod, and because the set-up is so sensitive, with each knock of the float, you instinctively know that a fish is in your swim.

It could be a small fish nibbling at the bait, not able to draw the float under,or a large monster meandering by and brushing the line with its flank.

And then the moment you have been waiting for comes and the float sinks under.You strike up with the rod, to hit the hook into the fish's mouth.

And then you are in, reeling in the line and letting some go, depending on how hard the fish pulls.

Your rod is bent over in a perfect arc, and as the fish swims away it tears line from your reel.

If you pull at this point, the line will snap, so you have to play the beast, slowly but surely bringing it and letting it go when it runs.

And when you do finally bring your prize onto the bank? You put it back into the water.

Who would want to eat a fish that tastes of grass and mud anyway?