Confessions of a Carp Fisher by B B

Before I tell you a little of this book, let me say, without fear of contradiction, that it is most beautifully delivered. It is comprised of twenty chapters, including two by Flt-Lt Burton, and the quality of composition never dips a once. Clue number one.

The second, and perhaps equally telling clue, is that this is the favourite fishing book of one Christopher Yates.

Some readers may wish to halt their study here.

B B, or Denys Watkins-Pitchford, first gave us this delightful collection of stories, places, memories and advice in 1950, and this must not be forgot. Only a very few of us even knew of this time, much less ventured out in search of fish, and this must not be forgot either.

If you worship at the alter of modernity, therefore, you may not enjoy this book. If you rely for your inspiration on the next carp magazine edition, it is doubtful that you will enjoy this book. If you regard deep and ancient pools – those heavy with weed, surrounded almost entire by bristling Yew or laden Oak, inaccessible, except by forgotten paths, haunted by long dead priests, visible only after a walk of many miles, and reluctant – so, so reluctant, to give up their submerged treasures, as mere stuff or fancy, then you will most assuredly not enjoy this book.

And if you don't – you must regard yourself as a miserable, ungrateful soul; heartless, unthinking, devoid of inner beauty, and unworthy to class yourself truly as one of Izaak's eternal flock. And I care not if you disagree, as this is as lovely an anthology of piscatorial memorabilia as you will ever find. It is a thing of highest merit and to be enjoyed only - perhaps in a cosy nook, with a glass of ale and a restful eve spread before you. It meanders along like a sprightly stream, with stories of lakes (often trudged), fish (rarely caught), and dreams (always bright).

This work is memorable in so many ways, not least of all for the rich fund of tales and statements that stand out, jump out even, and which are worth committing to the mind. Even if they hold true no longer - this matters no great deal:

“But anyone expecting to hook and land a 15lb carp in the dark is the world's greatest optimist”.

“So far as my experience goes, it is certain that good luck is the most vital part of equipment of him who would seek to slay big carp. For some men I admit the usefulness of skill and pertinacity; for myself, I take my stand entirely on luck”.

These are merely two drips of a streaming torrent.

There is also an account of perhaps the most remarkable record carp catch ever recorded. On 24th July 1930, Mr Buckley, who had only ever fished for carp once before, sallied forth onto Mapperley Lake in search of carp, but was armed only with Roach tackle and line of three and a half pound breaking strength. Notwithstanding, Mr Buckley found. hooked, and landed a twenty six pound fish. His blow by blow account is recorded in his own words together with some comments on three other double figure fish he caught on that most memorable day.

Of course, the meaner minds will tell us that much of the book can now be disproved, and perhaps all be argued against. But this rather misses the point. If your mind is closed to anything but poundage and numbers, then do please read other volumes. But if you have any sense of history or artistry; of what a carp lake should really be, or of the true worth of even a modestly sized carp, then you may and should take a great deal from Mr Watkins-Pitchford's endearing work. It is a book with which to stock the more nobler recesses of the mind, should you posses them. It gripped me from the first page, sorrowed me when it ended, and entreated me to read it again. But I need no such entreaty, for I shall never part with it.

Such stories, lovingly told, and advice, freely given remember, come from an age gone by, and from a man who was helping to lay the foundation stones of the sport we have all, for one reason or another, come to love. B B and his like will only rarely be seen again, and then not obviously, for I fear they may have been forced to ground. But it must always be remembered that these men are our forebears, the trail-blazers, who spent countless hours and days either frozen, or sweltering, usually fishless, always patient, and ever dreaming of monsters of a size we now take for granted, and at which some even sneer. The determination, ingenuity, and sheer dogged patience of these men mark them out as special. If it were not for them, we none of us would be as we are today; we none of us could count so many prizes and have our lives filled so much with peace; and we should never have so rich and abundant a bounty from which to draw our boyhood hopes, and against which to measure our manly achievements.

If we are not grateful to B B and the other great men of carping history, and we must include Mr Walker and – yes- Mr Yates in their number, then surely we must be miserable scoundrels, and not worthy of the name: “fishers amongst men”.

Mr Yates chose exceeding well; and how I would like to fish at Beechmere Pool. Just once.

Thank you B B et al.


P.S. I have recently been given the following link, which provides historical background information on Beechmere Pool:

http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/bradmere_pool.htm

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