Angling is a dream.
Anyone who stops for a moment in the wonder of nature and wildlife understands the dream world that we live in, be you a fisherman or not. But if you are an angler you perhaps understand it a little bit deeper.
Being up at dawn on a summer morning and venturing down to a lake side to exist in a world of lazily drifting early morning fog over a pool of inky water.
The rising sun cresting over the treetops, piercing through with glorious, golden rays of light and waking up the world.
The beauty of being beside a still lake or pond is that it reveals one of the magics of water. It reflects our world back to us, like a mirror. And like Alice through the looking glass, anglers find it impossible to resist looking into it, and being taken by its hypnotic wonder.
The slightest movement on this mirror, like skimming pond skaters twitching over the surface, breathes life into everything around. Ripples spreading gently across pools or ponds are mesmerising.
The health benefits of fishing are immeasurable. In this dreamlike paradise, everyday worries and stress, anxiety and depression wash away with the water. No more does that world exist. There's only you, the float or bobbin, and the calming embrace of nature to set the scene. Until it is broken by the intense excitement of a screaming bite alarm when a monster from the deep ventures to take your carefully presented bait. Whether relaxing calmly or exhaustingly winding in big fish all day, sleep comes easy after a day of fishing
The denizens of this still, silent and peaceful world lurk in its depths. Skulking Pike creep slowly through the underwater vegetation, ever vigilant for their next meal to snap at, while fat, lazy Carp bask in the late afternoon sun, drifting peacefully by.
All anglers dream of fish, whether the angler is asleep or wide awake.
Sometimes the dream is of leviathans. Huge monster fish that emerge from the water and are so big it defies belief.
I have these dreams from time to time. But most often, when I dream of catching a fish, they are about as big as to fill my hand.
As a child a monster fish was one big enough to fill my palm. Perhaps a Rudd of 6-8oz. And an impossible fish one where you had to use two hands to hold it. A 2lb Tench!
Rivers are the other side of the scale to stillwaters. Rushing by like thunder, over waterfalls and through weir pools, but also gently flowing by making a sound track that is calming and peace inducing.
The swirling, twirling flow provides another hypnotising way the water can magically transport you to a world of peace and dreams. Anglers swept off to this world dream of the
fantastically rainbow coloured Grayling drifting through the water like graceful ballerinas, elegant and delicate, while Minnows in the crystal clear rivers rush and dart like arrows, keeping pace with their fast flowing world.
Chilly winter mornings strolling the river banks looking for tantalizing spots to trot a float down the flowing glass-like liquid where the grass underfoot, once green, is now glistening like crystal with frost, and crackles and crunches beneath your feet. Falling leaves from trees, golden red and yellow, dancing down from the branches like confetti.
There is still nothing that delights me more than the journey down to a babbling brook, net and glass jar in hand. Rolling up the trousers to the knees and dipping my feet into the chill water. Swooping and gliding the net at Stickleback, Bullhead and Minnows and filling the jar to observe the fish better.
Canals, though also still waters, provide a different angling world. Where the industries and urban life of the human race meets the natural beauty and wildlife of nature.
Perched alongside the straight lines and brickwork of everyday life, the swans gracefully gliding, rippling out bow waves that spread out peacefully like silk in the breeze; happily reveal to you that the countryside isn't very far away, and can combine together perfectly.
Shipping out a pole towards a bramble-covered bank, or alongside a gently bobbing canal boat, remaining still as a heron, you know its mystery as to what will happen next. Every moment passes with patient anticipation. Will the float dip and yawn, and will we get a chance to meet, face to face, one of these magnificent creatures from under glass? Or will it remain, hiding its mystery, leaving us in the glorious world around us to contemplate its own?
Golden Rudd as bright as the sun's rays, with their blood red fins, to red eyed green Tench with paint brush tails, that could easily have painted the whole scene around you.
The joy of people can often be found here especially. Canal boats busying up and down, joggers happily chatting as they pass by, though shattering the peace, is a vibrant reminder of all the people who also appreciate the same watery landscape you do. Children with their parents coming up to you and watching with excitement to see what fish you might catch next, and cheeky dogs with tails wagging, hoping you might have a bit of spare luncheon meat bait you might be able to treat them with.
Minutes can blend into hours when you are fishing. For time itself is magical here. Often it slows, minutes feeling like hours. Lazily sliding by in peace, sometimes even to seemingly stop entirely. Other times it passes like lightning, particularly if that float does dip under the water's surface. Excitement, heart racing, minutes seem like milliseconds! In the blink of an eye, it is gone.
Time you see, when fishing, doesn't just slow, stop and speed up, sometimes it reverses entirely and takes you back to your childhood. Such is its power. Days gone by are revealed by the canals, an industrial age long forgotten returns, like the horses pulling the canal boats along the towpaths you now fish
The sheer power of water is truly seen within the sea. Violently crashing against the rocks and rolling in large sheets against the sandy shores. The fish that make this impossible paradise their home are vast and varied. The ravenous Dogfish hunting among the barnacle covered rocks, the darting Bass sailing among the waves, snapping up small fishes in silvery schools.
Strong sea breezes thrust sand and spray into the sea angler and the wind can blow through you. It’s invigorating experiencing the force of nature flowing around and through your very being.
But the sea can also be witnessed by the angler in calm, lapping lagoons of hidden underwater plants, molluscs and crustaceans. Kelp and weeds like a rainforest in a different medium, where creatures dwell hidden in a world so different from our own, it may as well be another planet.
Sound also fills the world of the angler here, the crying of gulls on the air and the piping of oystercatchers busying around the surf, picking at the pebbles and sandy surf lines for morsels of food. At night, the sounds relax the weary angler, as sea salters rush up onto the rocks to scurry around your feet.
An angler gets to witness all of this, and dream of what lies beneath.
The anticipation of a bend of a rod is extreme, as the denizens of the deep, vast oceans are innumerable.
No matter what waterside world the piscator chooses, fishing gives us anglers the excuse to stop and exist in a world surrounded by beauty and magic.
I for one wouldn’t want to exist without any of it. Other water users, I'm sure, enjoy aspects the angler gets to dwell in too, but it is the angler who gets to unlock the secrets beneath the waters surface. That opposite dream world filled with impossible fishes.
