I strongly suspect this will be a case of, you had to be there! No doubt it will lose a lot in the telling because my words can not do justice to the heady mix of adrenalin fuelled action of a protracted fight on a difficult water, punctuated with a silly moment that had us laughing for hours.
Just to set the scene: Picture a point going out into a lake, its well established with fairly heavy vegetation. Trees, brambles etc overhang the water making access to the lake very limited. There are two pegs cut into the trees at the end of the point, one at a 10 o’clock one at two o’clock. Between the two at 12 o’clock there is a little gap allowing access to the water but it is too small and too close to the other pegs for it to be anything more than a one rod option. Its mid afternoon in early December it’s very cold with temperatures well into minus figures during the night and in retrospect we now know that the lake was fairly close to freezing over. It was one of those afternoons where there were only three of us actually fishing, but there were quite a few of the regulars on the lake socialising.
I was fishing alone on the point in the two o’clock peg, but Joe De Blank had popped down for a brew and a chinwag. We are sat there putting the world to rights when suddenly my right hand indicator starts knocking and twitching before stuttering unconvincingly to the top where it stops without taking any line off the reel. On this water that usually means one thing, the Bream are having a play. This looked different though, the line was taught and had that almost imperceptible movement that only an experienced eye would spot and recognise as an indication that a fish was hooked but not taking any line.
Sure enough, upon picking up my rod it wallops over and the culprit is clearly no bream. Straight away the fish sets off heading to my left which is just about the worst scenario in this peg. Joe quickly winds in my left rod and I start to franticly pump line back onto the reel in an attempt to get the fish on a short line before it can get round the point. It was always going to be a close call but in the end it was agonisingly close, the fish just making the snag I knew lurked off the end of the point by a matter of inches. Just as it all went solid a voice shouts from across the lake “is he in Joe?” Joe shouts back “yes mate but it’s just snagged him!” I looked up and realised that we had quite an audience. The guys and their visitors had moved to a vantage point that gave them a full view of the action. Now we knew they are watching, and they had our attention, the bull sh*t and banter starts going backwards and forwards across the lake.
“Shi* I am going to have to go in” I announced almost thinking out loud “ just hang onto my rod a sec” Not wanting to get any of my clothing wet I nipped into my bivvy emerging wearing just in a T shirt and boxers. Taking the rod back off Joe I slipped into the margins where the frigid water lapped threateningly close to my most delicate areas. It was cold but with adrenalin pumping and whoops of delight and shouts of encouragement from the other bank it wasn’t so bad. I carefully made my way round the tree line, submerged hawthorns cruelly hacking at my bare ankles, ice cold water lapping round the family jewels. All the time fighting gravity and the unstable sloping lake bed which were both trying their best to deposit me at the bottom of the very deep marginal slope. God it was dangerous!
Eventually I was out in front of the little gap with the fish snagged just a few yards further out into the lake. With the improved angle I could actually feel the fish and could give line and then take it back before everything locked solid once more. After a few minutes of this, it was clear that we had reached a stalemate and no amount of pulling on my part was going to change the situation. I don’t like putting the rod down and simply hoping the fish swims out of the snag. It always strikes me as a desperate last resort when all other options have failed. Being out of options though, that’s exactly what I did. I waded to the bank opened my bail arm and put the rod down on the ground then stood watching the line. After a few minutes of this Joe says “jesus Andy go and put some pants on, you are going to freeze to death mate!” Strange thing is, excluding the initial shock I had not really felt the cold, but now he mentioned it, I was bloody freezing. My legs were so cold they felt like they were burning. I did not really want to leave my rod but it made no sense, or at least at that point in time it appeared to make no sense, to stand around in my undies.
Not wanting to be away from my rod a second longer than needed, I just grabbed my pants and struggled into them snagging as they do against wet skin. All the time this has been happening Joe is shouting a running commentary and fending off the sarky comments to the pi*s takers across the way. As soon as I got back to my rod I picked it up wanting to make sure the fish was still on. Sure enough despite not being in direct contact as soon as I tightened up I could still feel it kicking on the other end. No idea what made me do it, because I had tried several times before without result, but I just gave one more little heave on the rod.
There was no sensation of anything giving, no tell tale pluck of the line or anything. I just gave another heave of the rod, the fish boiled on the surface and suddenly I was back in direct contact. Totally taken by surprise the fish had the upper hand and making the most of its advantage it shot off to my left again like a Polaris missile wrenching my rod round into an alarming curve. Before I knew it, the fish was off round the point out in front of the 10 o’clock peg still going like a train with my line trailing through the overhanging branches. “Shi* Joe I am going to have to go back in again!” I shouted, panic now setting in.
Now consider, Joe knows exactly what’s happening and what’s being said, as do I. Our audience despite a clear view are slightly distant and as such a bit more detached. I say that so you can imagine what occurred next from their perspective.
Totally freaked that I am going to lose the fish after all that effort I start franticly clawing at my button and fly of my pants with my left hand. All the while my rod is bucking in my right hand as I slowly let line off the reel with my finger. Fly down I just have to drop my keks step out of them and wade after the fish. Unfortunately with only one angle of pull and the fabric still clinging to my wet legs and undies it soon became apparent that the fish would be in the next county by the time I got my pants off. There was only one option, unthinkable at any time, with an audience of first rate pis* takers and wind up merchants as witnesses, even more so. With the loss of the fish a real outcome there was nothing for it, I just had to bite the bullet and utter words that no man should ever have to pass over their lips.
“Joe Pull my pants down mate?” “You can f*uck right off” came back the understandable reply. “No seriously mate, I am going to lose this fish, I need to get into the lake NOW! I just need you to give them a little pull just get them moving I can do the rest!” I said pleadingly. “I’m not going anywhere near your pants” he says as the fish takes another few feet of line. “FOR FUC* SAKE JOE JUST DO IT!!!!!!” “Oh Shiiiiiiiiit!” Joe exclaimed in resignation. Clearly wanting the ordeal to be over as swiftly as possible, hopefully without any of our barracking audience noticing, Joe grabs my pants at either hip and gives them a quick but purposeful yank.
It was just like the world had gone into slow motion. In a split second several things happened. Silence, total absolute silence fell amongst everyone on the lake, an icy blast left me reeling in confusion, seeking an answer my head snapped downwards, the rod knocked as another few inches of line came off the reel, I noticed that not only were my pants round my ankles but my boxers were as well, then the realisation hit me that here I was bollock naked playing a fish in front of a sizable audience, a bit more silence and then finally the whole lake erupted into gales of laughter.
“Oh for f*uk sake Joe!”
Boxers back in place I waded out and we landed the fish from the 10 o’clock peg without any further problems or incident. Or rather, we did as best we could while hardly being able to breath through laughing.
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