The lead image comes from last century – sounds a long time ago when you put it like that – when I did an overnighter on a lake in the Midlands. I knew that it was going to snow, in fact I love fishing in those conditions.
The only issue I have is in terms of the car getting stuck, the actual fishing itself is something I always look forward to. The journey to the lake was snow-less and it was only during the night that the white stuff fell. Fortunately, it didn’t affect travel and the seventy-odd miles back home were uneventful.
Sadly, that was the case on the lake in question as well, as my rods on the pod remained untouched from the time I cast out the day before, until I reeled in the next morning.
Not only did the snow fall but the lake froze as well. Those were the days (I was in my early thirties at the time) when I didn’t bother with a bed chair. I used to pitch up, cast out and either curl up on the floor or sit in my standard chair.
It was during the same decade of my own life that I did eventually move into the world of the bed chair and sleeping bag. After all, I’m not interested in hardship for the sake of it, as if it’s some sort of macho image that I’m trying to promote.
Far from it, I started doing more nights and the type of fishing meant that with bites few and far between, there was plenty of scope to add a few home comforts to the equation.
Back to the session in question though, although a snow fish would have been nice, it wasn’t to be. Nevertheless, all part of the great life experience that we call memory.