“Carp Diem” – A Day at Shrewley Pools

It was the kind of morning that made you believe anything was possible—sun shining, birds chirping, and Sam forgetting his sandwiches again. Mick, ever the optimist (and secretly delighted Sam would end up sharing his), was already halfway through his first cup of tea when they pulled into the quiet car park at Shrewley Pools.

“Today’s the day,” Sam announced confidently, for the fifth week in a row. “I can feel it. Big carp. Personal bests. Fame. Maybe a sponsorship.”

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just try not to snag a tree this time, yeah?”

They set up by the water’s edge, rods poised, bait perfectly prepped pellets, corn, and bread even that mysterious ‘magic mix’ Mick had bought off a bloke in a pub who claimed it was “basically fish crack.”

They waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Hours drifted by like the clouds overhead, and the carp remained firmly in hiding presumably on a spa day or laughing at them from the deepest, darkest part of the pool. Mick suspected the fish had unionized and taken the day off in protest.

Sam tried everything switching rigs, recasting every twenty minutes, even giving the water a motivational pep talk. “Come on, lads. I’ve got a net and everything.”

Meanwhile, the wildlife stole the show. A kingfisher zipped past like a neon bullet, making them both jump. A pair of ducks waddled over, clearly expecting snacks and looking personally offended when handed a bit of sweetcorn. A squirrel in a nearby tree spent a full ten minutes throwing acorns at Sam's bait bucket.

“I think we’re being mocked,” Mick muttered.

Still, the sun stayed out, the air was fresh, and the world felt pleasantly quiet aside from the occasional splash somewhere just out of casting range, which might have been a fish or just nature’s way of trolling them.

By late afternoon, Sam leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, sighing. “No fish, sunburn, one mosquito bite in a place I can’t scratch in public… but I’ve got to admit, this is still better than being at home having to do my homework.”

Mick nodded, passing him the last of the tea. “Yep. No fish were harmed today but our dignity’s hanging by a thread.”

They packed up slowly, laughing at their bad luck and the sheer absurdity of it all. No carp, no glory—but the stories, the sunshine, and the duck side-eye made it a day well spent.

As they drove away, Sam looked over. “Same time next week?”

Mick grinned. “Only if you bring your own sandwiches.”

Thanks ChatGPT I didn't have the enthusiasm to write anything. A very frustrating session indeed, the odd carp seemed to being caught on method feeder. But even when there were some small carp in the margin to the left they avoided the hookbait completely.

I caught nearly 90lb of carp here during a Shanghai AC match but today they were just not having it. Still some zombie roach milling around kept the boredom at bay as the ducks were one by one picking them off, oh and the weather was rather nice. There were some carp on the surface during some short spells but you cannot fish floating baits which was a shame, but if we do come back here during the summer, I'll bring some maggots I think.

Anyway enough of that, lets have cuppa in sun and look at the positives, at least Sam and I had some decent bonding time. 

Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.123 (Canal Zander)

Fishing is supposed to be relaxing, supposed to be an aid to peace of mind and long life. But I'm beginning to wonder.

There was this doddery old chap I met on the bank. Shaking in every limb, he was, wrinkled like a crab-apple and hair and beard like Father Christmas. But there he was, fishing peacefully away.

'To what do you attribute your great age?' I asked.
'Fishing,' he said.

'Marvellous,' I said.'Fishing,' he said. 'And booze. And wimmin.'
'Even better,' I said. 'And how old are you?'
'Thirty-three.'

I just made that up. But I have come across several cases in which fishing has brought a hell of a shock to the participants. And probably knocked several years off their lives.

It knocked quite a few years off the natural span of an angler in Melbourne, Australia. (All right. I know you know where Melbourne is, but not everybody's that well up on the Anti-podes.)

All his life he had dreamed of a giant catch. He got one: a 58lb cod. As he landed it he dropped down dead.

His loving wife gave a funeral tea which befitted the passing of such a dedicated angler. It was a supper, actually: a fish supper. Cod fritters on a bed of clams with the departed's name written in instant mashed potato over the lot. Doubtless just as he would have wished.

Anyway needs must and all that because fishing is at the back of my mind at the moment, but walking well I enjoy that especially when the weather was nice and fair for this session. It didn't start well because road works, horse and carts, dawdler's and delinquents, still it only took about 25 minutes to get there (15 minutes back) and I got fishing quick enough.

The Zander had others ideas though and after leapfrogging the hot spot without a nibble I decided to move back up the stretch and try some more cover. After nearly being taken out by a waif like cyclist on a speed trial I managed to get the first bite on smelt, which I subsequently missed. Great !!! Anyway a good few hours fishing a good 300 yards of canal with nothing really to show for it.

I had another bite where the float went from zero to a half a metre pull in a second but the bite didn't develop assuming the fish felt resistance. The telltale puncture wound showed it was a small zedlet most likely and that was my lot. The fish were there for sure, but just not up for a feed, not uncommon at this time of year but I wish they would hurry up I need a bend in the rod. 😁

Warwickshire Trout - River Alne Pt.13

Well that urge to go fishing isn't really improving I must admit, not unusual during the close season admittedly but with the weather rather nice, I really needed a kick up the backside. Now the work situation came to a head on Monday where the current car I'm working on will reach JOB1 in August and the global business put up their hands and said, there will be no more new car projects for us in the UK.

Thanks for your efforts all, good work, now you can do one 👀

Not unexpected however and the writing has been on the wall for a while due to global influences (and not selling the cars in the number they would like) so it's not that it has come as a bit of a shock. It has been certainly a challenging project from start to finish, from a clean sheet of paper, design themes, 3D surfaces, concept design and layout and then detailed engineering of the components of the centre console, where much of that bashing from one’s CAD machine from my home office in COVID. 

I usually stop at post studio feasibility working with the Clay Modelers and the 3D geometry creators however this project has been the full automotive process from start to finish. 

A few challenging forks in the road too, where with parts off tool, there was a carve up of many of the components I've designed and also many throughout the car when a new architectural box of bits had to be repackaged. 

3mths of pain then came to try and keep the project on track, which considering its obvious challenges I can sit back and give me, and my immediate team a pat on the back.  I'm old and experiences enough having been in the trade for well over 30 years to not really be phased by it, but there are youngsters in the business that are visibly down not knowing what come next. I've tried to express the positives that will come of it, and networking is one of those. It's a small group of people that move around in the main and work comes off the back who you know really.

Up until this point there has been 2 previous culls of staff and this round will be the third where the UK team will be decimated and dribs and drabs remaining for those that want to stay. I see it as a natural stop in my career and it's time to move off on to something else. So with the VR process now underway at least I'll have a bit of breathing space to find the next project. It's a small team and like a big family really and I feel some pride in that I had a contribution to what will be the only 'proper' Polestar not a badge engineered jobby.  

Maybe if those forks in the road were taken differently by the management the outcome might have been entirely different. Oh well, we will never know, not like you can turn back time now is it. 

Well ok, I stand corrected 😁

Anyway I said I wasn't going to the Alne again after blanking recently but I fancied trying another stretch that sees more foot traffic and you would hope less predation because of that. So the gear was loaded in the car the night before and after work I went for a quick session. Mainly because the weather was nice and I fancied a walk in the nice afternoon sun.

What I didn't expect was an elderly gentleman who was geared up with his fly outfit and his homemade flies, which were that small I needed to put my reading glasses on to see them. 👀 

He'd blanked on the upper part of the river and was going to join me on the lower section. He was visibly shocked when I showed him what I have been using to catch the trout on the Alne, mainly because to be honest a Salmo Hornet in the large sizes are pretty chunky I suppose.

 

They have worked really well over the years and after showing him a few pictures of the fish I've caught, he actually said....

"I'm amazed, wow, I've never seen trout the size of that on the Alne and I've fished it for years, it's made me rethink my approach"

From a fluff chucker to a lure thrower, well I doubt that is going to happen but maybe he will up the size of his flies.

Anyway the river was low and clear and if I had one or two bites I'd have been happy but after a few nice looking swims without a nibble, I knew I'd be scratching around for bites. The wind had picked up and to be honest it wasn't exactly pleasant lure fishing conditions with it hacking through the open farmland like Rachel from Accounts Tax Rises. 

I only fished a couple of hours where I lost two lures and had the worlds biggest birds nest of braid when it all went horribly wrong on the cast, which concluded the session. I must have fished 6 or 7 swims and not only were there were no signs of fish whatsoever, but the fry too, non-existent.

Still it was nice to get out and hopefully I'll get out later today as I'm typing this as some jungle drums from Buffalo Si who has been winkling out the Zander from an area that was productive last season which in his words "It's fishing better than the Hallowed !!".