Going off Script

Sometimes you can go fishing and everything just works out perfectly; the fishing is easy and it just all works. I love those kind of days…. Saturday was an example of just the opposite!

I’d promised Rhianna that we’d go fishing. We had the bait, the tackle, the time and some ok weather. Rain was forecast later in the day, but we’d be finished before it arrived so nothing to worry about.

We jumped in the car and paid a trip to a fishing shop I’d never visited before in Crediton, before heading over to Harpers Lakes near Tiverton Parkway. What with the detour to the shop it took quite a while to get to the lakes and when we did we found it pretty busy, but worst of all the parking places were full. Undaunted we tried the nearby car park only to find that the ticket machine was only taking cash and the card payment wasn’t working – we didn’t have enough cash which posed a problem…. All the road nearby is double yellows so the only other option would be a very long walk or to park illegally. By now I had a slight nagging feeling of frustration tinged with paranoia that maybe things weren’t going our way. With that at the back of my mind I chose not to tempt fate by parking without a ticket or on the double yellow lines and decided to head off to another series of ponds – Newcourt Barton. We’ve fished there numerous times before and knew we could count on the carp there to put a smile on our faces. Just needed to get there now…

We left Harpers Lakes to find the North Devon Link road and M5 Junction 27 solid with bank holiday traffic. Not a problem, we’ll head across country around the back roads. This did the trick and whilst it did take a while, we got to our destination at Newcourt Barton ponds without further mishap or any lengthy waits in traffic.

Several other people had also had the same idea and the top ponds we usually fish were busy so we opted to fish the bottom pond. We set up a pole, our chairs, landing net and all the tackle, food, bait etc. I plumbed the murky depths to find the swim we’d chosen was no more the 8 inches deep. At this point before I could even utter any expletives, the first drops of rain fell. We hastily stuck up the umbrella and huddled underneath as the rain steadily grew more intense.

We ate our food whilst watching the rain and weighed up the options – brave the rain, cart all the tackle to a different swim and try to get our fishing mojo back or alternatively to throw the bait in, pack up and scarper back to the car.

We chose the latter option and drove home – all without so much as baiting a hook.