The Green Pool

This morning I decided to pay a short visit to a little pool I know to do a some fishing. I was not intending to write a blog today but because of the weather I have returned home early. So to fill the gap between fishing & making dinner tonight here is another blog.

Arriving at the waters edge at the start of a days fishing has to be one of the most exciting moments for an angler. It is for me & as so much in my life is about observation & study, it is the same by the water. As the Summers growth slowly decays, the reeds bow & droop & all around leaves are displaying the most beautiful shades of rust, crimson & yellows. Gently they drop onto the glassy surface spooking the Carp that swim lazily below. Summers luxurious verdant growth has faded now & the pool that I call green for most of the year is clearing, revealing its hidden depths once more.
As the rain fell in stair rods I patiently watched my tiny float for any little tremble or bob. For two hours it didn't dip into the depths even once.
Fishing can be like that sometimes & rather than stand in the rain getting soaked to the skin I retreated back home for a hot cup of tea, but not before doing a little fish watching. At another lake that is stuffed full of beautiful golden flanked bejewelled Rudd, I like to stand in the water up to my waist watching these little beauties swim all around me. Its especially good on a Summers day so as a treat heres a pic I took last year of those fish on just such a Summers day.

Watching Rudd in Summer, a lovely way to pass some time.

But today is not Summer. It is wet, sodden & dark so here is a few words about an afternoons fishing at my favourite little green pool back in August. It is not just fish that us anglers seek, it is also a way to connect with nature & enjoy the beauty that she offers us.

August 11th 2014.
I went down to the green pool today with its olive & khaki hued weedy richness. Saturated & heavy, the air thick with the promise of late Summer rain, hanging like the pause before a secret is shared. It soon came, short & sharp as lemon bursts of pencil thick rain sploshed down from the heavens sending the surface into a shimmering haze, erupting with thousands of bubbles the size of marbles & just as shiny. The surface pimpled for what seemed seconds & then as if by the turn of a tap, stopped instantly. Calm & coolness restored. Colours wiped clean with the bright sun, once more dappling the surface with sunbeams & shadows.
First cast & within moments, my polystyrene sphere twitches then slides into the soupy depths. As I connect with a solid resistance, the old cane & greenheart rod ( the rod is old & has a kink at the thin end which personally I feel gives it more character & for £6 at an antiques place it has already proved itself against some rod bending beasts ) arcs pleasingly.

An old cane & greenheart rod given another chance to relive the glory days.

A couple of minutes later a fish of such an intensity of colour is in the net. I look upon it in wonder, looking like its made of polished metal & magic. Its flanks bright brassy yellows & hints of rust & sap green, its pectorals made of rubber & sherbet yellow in hue. Quickly I slip it back before it bewitches me & i'm under its spell forever.

Not a monster but a beautiful fish in anyones book.

After the rain the surface seemed more glassy, resembling olive oil. A whole pool of extra virgin, if only I had some good bread to dip into it.
Wasps buzzed about in their jackets of black & yellow, smart & dapper. Attracted to the mussels that I was using for bait. For awhile I watched them as they clambered about on mussels ten times their size with excited jerky movements. Seeing through their eyes for a moment I realised that it must be like me finding a prawn the size of a car. Fascinating little creatures. I sacrificed one of the mussels for the wasps & the rest I put safely away, & in doing so I could feel the tiny whoosh of air as their wings invisibly beat, like minute fans as I moved the giant seafood buffet away.
The one mussel I gave them I placed upon a mossy stone, carpeted in splendid greens & over the course of the next few hours it was whittled away, piece by piece, each morsel airlifted away putting me in mind of an air sea rescue.

The afternoon drifted by, lazily but punctuated at times with rod bending action & the creak of cane. Each fish was admired & gazed upon in utter respect before being slipped back into their watery world.

A hard fighting Carp puts up a struggle.

Such lovely yellows.

I caught some beautiful small Rudd too. They have to be one of my favourites & whatever size they are you cannot deny their stunning simplicity & beauty.

Simply stunning.

As the afternoon descended into an evening of glorious dancing green gold reflections & dimpled insect surface I realised I was content. Light faded & colours drained & as the pool turned into a soup of raw umber with a hint of fresh cow pat it was time to pack up. As I did so Carp rolled on the surface, Rudd fed on drowned insects & bats flittered about on membraned wings. I sat there until night clothed me in its dark blanket & drank it all in.

The sinking sun reflected in the glassy surface.