1st write up, not deer related I'm afraid but wanted to share a beautiful moment.
I've never been much of a fisherman, when I was a kid it was catching roach in silted up ponds, but I didn't have the patience to appreciate it. Mackerel fishing was always a blast and great memories were made but it was always more of a holiday activity. The last time I tried fishing was with a hobo line around a beer can for catfish in Colombia, I got sunburnt, dehydrated, eaten by mosquitos and didn't catch anything. Frankly I have no idea where to start.
I'm lucky enough to live near a beautiful chalk stream some of which flows through common land. Me and the 4 year old would often walk down by the stream and see people trying their luck.
After watching someone catch a little perch(I think), the boy says to me "daaaaaaad, can I have a go?" My boy loves the outdoors and if I indulge him In anything it's outdoor adventures. My reply was something like "son, dad doesn't know anything about fishing but let's give it a go , let me ask this gentlemen what we need to get started".
What we needed was a dip rod, pre tied line with hook, float and shot sinker. The gentleman as it happened even showed us basically how to present the bait and let it drift down the stream in a realistic manner without spooking the fish.
The next weekend we went to the local tackle shop to buy our kit and a landing net in case we were lucky. Christ on a bike! It was like the grand bazarr of gear and accessories who knew fishing could be so complicated. I just read off my shopping list to the man behind the counter who for around 30 quid gave us all we needed. With a tin of sweetcorn as bait because that's what I remember we started that afternoon. That evening we focused on getting the drift of the sweetcorn barbed hook at the right speed and depth after much trial and error got something that looked natural. The dip rod was in fairness to long for a four year old to hold steady without help and after a while splashing around with the landing net was more interesting.
The next day after nursery, I finished work early for the day picked him up and went straight to the stream. This time we had more luck. Drifting the sweetcorn off a weir we were getting nibbles in the turbulent water. With both of us holding the rod he could feel the gentle tugs transmitted as the fish took nibbles, the excitement built. As we replaced the nibbled corn with fresh, we got more nibbles but couldn't get the hook to set with a jerk of the rod. It was getting towards home time and for dinner, when finally we hooked something with a great tug and a splash we saw a silvery belly against the surface od a decent size fish again i think it was a perch, biggest one id seen caught in that river... and then it was gone. We tried a few more times but the commotion must have spooked everything, besides we were very late for dinner.
On the walk home my boys eyes were wide and bright with excitement. "Son do you know what your new nickname is... I'm calling you chispas (Spanish for sparks). The tales around dinner table for my wife and youngest admittedly had a fair bit of added bravado. We were becoming fishermen!
On the Thursday evening we started later. This time my father in law joined us. The conversation was in Spanish but great practice for my lad who was explaining to Papito all of his newfound knowledge. My father in law was walking down the bank looking for signs of fish and sceptical of our set up. We tried our previous spot but not even a nibble. "It's OK dad if at first you don't succeed try try try again". What can I say I'm a proud dad!
We changed tactic by walking further upstream as far as we could go, only about 20 metres. My son enthusiastically chucked in a handful of sweetcorn which we let drift down the stream shortly followed by our sweetcorn on the hook drifting about 5 cm beneath the surface. We took care holding the rod steady as we walked carefully keeping the sweetcorn in the current but just beneath the surface as we gradually approached the weir.
In the last meter before the weir we felt a large nibble and jerked the pole just in time. The pole bent and we had hooked something big, I was surprised at the power a fish in only about a foot of water could generate. As we had no reel we pulled him in bit by bit walking slowly backwards relaxing the tension and then increasing it. We could now see what we were dealing with, it was a HUGE BROWN TROUT! My son was amazed, "Papito, venga aqui, miracle este" (Papito come here, look at this). He jogged up and I passed my father in law the pole and saw a huge smile cross his face. I grabbed the landing net and started gently pulling in the line by hand feeling the fishes power subsided slightly as it tired. We netted the fish, still and whilst still in the water I wetted my hands and gently grasped the fish and removed the hook. We were astonished! This was the largest brown trout I had ever seen in the wild, and all caught on public land with a pole.rod and some sweetcorn. Passionate fly fishers must spend hundreds of pounds to catch something like this. After a few minutes letting the fish recover in the current we let it go.
As a prologue my father in law now wants to come fishing everything he visits and was busy phoning all his friends back home about the lethiathan we caught. I had to correct my sons nursery when I picked him up next, who told me he had a great imagination telling stories of the giant fish he caught with his dad and grandad - errrr he actually did all of this here's the picture.
I am so grateful to have shared this experience with my son and couldn't be more proud of him. I appreciate so much the experiences nature and the outdoors give us, these ave been passed down through the generations and I have now passed to my son. Now I'm hooked, but think the beautiful simplicity of tenkara fishing is for me. Does anyone else fish this style?
Thanks for reading and I hope the write up warms your heart just to the fraction it does mine.
I've never been much of a fisherman, when I was a kid it was catching roach in silted up ponds, but I didn't have the patience to appreciate it. Mackerel fishing was always a blast and great memories were made but it was always more of a holiday activity. The last time I tried fishing was with a hobo line around a beer can for catfish in Colombia, I got sunburnt, dehydrated, eaten by mosquitos and didn't catch anything. Frankly I have no idea where to start.
I'm lucky enough to live near a beautiful chalk stream some of which flows through common land. Me and the 4 year old would often walk down by the stream and see people trying their luck.
After watching someone catch a little perch(I think), the boy says to me "daaaaaaad, can I have a go?" My boy loves the outdoors and if I indulge him In anything it's outdoor adventures. My reply was something like "son, dad doesn't know anything about fishing but let's give it a go , let me ask this gentlemen what we need to get started".
What we needed was a dip rod, pre tied line with hook, float and shot sinker. The gentleman as it happened even showed us basically how to present the bait and let it drift down the stream in a realistic manner without spooking the fish.
The next weekend we went to the local tackle shop to buy our kit and a landing net in case we were lucky. Christ on a bike! It was like the grand bazarr of gear and accessories who knew fishing could be so complicated. I just read off my shopping list to the man behind the counter who for around 30 quid gave us all we needed. With a tin of sweetcorn as bait because that's what I remember we started that afternoon. That evening we focused on getting the drift of the sweetcorn barbed hook at the right speed and depth after much trial and error got something that looked natural. The dip rod was in fairness to long for a four year old to hold steady without help and after a while splashing around with the landing net was more interesting.
The next day after nursery, I finished work early for the day picked him up and went straight to the stream. This time we had more luck. Drifting the sweetcorn off a weir we were getting nibbles in the turbulent water. With both of us holding the rod he could feel the gentle tugs transmitted as the fish took nibbles, the excitement built. As we replaced the nibbled corn with fresh, we got more nibbles but couldn't get the hook to set with a jerk of the rod. It was getting towards home time and for dinner, when finally we hooked something with a great tug and a splash we saw a silvery belly against the surface od a decent size fish again i think it was a perch, biggest one id seen caught in that river... and then it was gone. We tried a few more times but the commotion must have spooked everything, besides we were very late for dinner.
On the walk home my boys eyes were wide and bright with excitement. "Son do you know what your new nickname is... I'm calling you chispas (Spanish for sparks). The tales around dinner table for my wife and youngest admittedly had a fair bit of added bravado. We were becoming fishermen!
On the Thursday evening we started later. This time my father in law joined us. The conversation was in Spanish but great practice for my lad who was explaining to Papito all of his newfound knowledge. My father in law was walking down the bank looking for signs of fish and sceptical of our set up. We tried our previous spot but not even a nibble. "It's OK dad if at first you don't succeed try try try again". What can I say I'm a proud dad!
We changed tactic by walking further upstream as far as we could go, only about 20 metres. My son enthusiastically chucked in a handful of sweetcorn which we let drift down the stream shortly followed by our sweetcorn on the hook drifting about 5 cm beneath the surface. We took care holding the rod steady as we walked carefully keeping the sweetcorn in the current but just beneath the surface as we gradually approached the weir.
In the last meter before the weir we felt a large nibble and jerked the pole just in time. The pole bent and we had hooked something big, I was surprised at the power a fish in only about a foot of water could generate. As we had no reel we pulled him in bit by bit walking slowly backwards relaxing the tension and then increasing it. We could now see what we were dealing with, it was a HUGE BROWN TROUT! My son was amazed, "Papito, venga aqui, miracle este" (Papito come here, look at this). He jogged up and I passed my father in law the pole and saw a huge smile cross his face. I grabbed the landing net and started gently pulling in the line by hand feeling the fishes power subsided slightly as it tired. We netted the fish, still and whilst still in the water I wetted my hands and gently grasped the fish and removed the hook. We were astonished! This was the largest brown trout I had ever seen in the wild, and all caught on public land with a pole.rod and some sweetcorn. Passionate fly fishers must spend hundreds of pounds to catch something like this. After a few minutes letting the fish recover in the current we let it go.
As a prologue my father in law now wants to come fishing everything he visits and was busy phoning all his friends back home about the lethiathan we caught. I had to correct my sons nursery when I picked him up next, who told me he had a great imagination telling stories of the giant fish he caught with his dad and grandad - errrr he actually did all of this here's the picture.
I am so grateful to have shared this experience with my son and couldn't be more proud of him. I appreciate so much the experiences nature and the outdoors give us, these ave been passed down through the generations and I have now passed to my son. Now I'm hooked, but think the beautiful simplicity of tenkara fishing is for me. Does anyone else fish this style?
Thanks for reading and I hope the write up warms your heart just to the fraction it does mine.
