(published previously on PurePiscator)
It all seems so long ago and yet I can recall my wonderful sessions at Cheshunt reservoir as if they happened last week. Mind you, I have to refer to my fishing diary for greater technical detail. The diary, written in longhand, often supplemented by sketches and recently the discovery, in my late father's attic, of boxes full of my fishing experiences recorded on 35mm transparencies.
Cheshunt. Sunday 15th – Sunday 22nd August 1971
Arrived late afternoon in nice weather and carted gear around to Bill Keal's hut. Ray and John set up at the top end while I slept as I wasn't feeling too good. They then went to the pub but by the time they returned I was feeling much better and began to set up between the two lily pads to the left of the hut. It got rather chilly during the night so we reeled in our baits and retired to the hut for a sleep.
We were up and fishing early the next morning and soon swung into a routine of fishing through the night until about 11.00am, then sleep until early evening when we scrubbed up, went to the pub for ale and food and returned for the next session.
My diary meticulously records the fish caught, time of capture, weight, bait and any other relevant details. The carp were not large by current standards (in fact they were not even large for the 70's), being mainly mirrors from two to five pounds with my best for the week being eight and seven pounds.
The fishery has an illustrious history. Dug in 1836, Cheshunt South Reservoir was one of two lakes built to supply drinking water to London. It never fulfilled its intended purpose and was used as a fishing lake instead [1]. Almost certainly William Senior fished there as early as 1874 and it is he who played a large part in securing the lease in 1910 for the Highbury Anglers' Society which, in 1916 became the Red Spinners Angling Society [2]. Perhaps the fishery is best known for John Andrews' record carp of 20 pounds 3 ounces captured on the 9th September 1916.
One single memory will forever stay with me and that is my first introduction to the water. The fishery was slap bang in the middle of north London's suburban sprawl, trapped in a cobweb of busy roads. From one of these roads one drove along a short track (at the corner of which lived the warden), through a gap in the screen of high trees and there it was – tranquil, green, wild flowers, insects, birdsong and there, down a flight of steps nestled the most delightful lake one could wish to see.
For a long stay we, my friends and I, would let the warden know of our presence and put in an order for his milkman to leave a few extra pints. Next we would scrutinise the log book kept in a wooden box by the entrance to see what had been captured, by whom and when. And then, in the very place that Hugh Sherringham surely must have stood, we would scan the lake. I cannot better the words of Jack Hilton: "Even so, once one had walked down the long flight of steps under an archway of trees, into the hollow marked by the pool, it was like entering another world where only the leap of a big carp could interrupt one's tranquil thoughts".[3]
The lake was rectangular, being 500 x 70 yards (a little over 7 acres), its long axis running north/south with the depth varying from five feet to eight feet. At intervals along the sloping upper bank were wooden cabins; some were large enough to accommodate three anglers whilst others were more of a garden shed design. The really upmarket jobs incorporated a small kitchen/storage area and a wooden balcony. I'd never seen anything like it; nor have I since. Quite, quite magical.
Fishing was comfortable, the upper slope giving way to a path around the lake almost at water level. Swims were self evident, being at regular intervals between the beds of lilies. The north end was my favourite place for floating crust cast against a stand of reeds. Fishing then was a different affair: no hair rigs and certainly no self-hooking rigs, bait was potato, pork luncheon meat, cat food and worms. I used (and still use) cane MK 4s from JB Walker and the ubiquitous Mitchell 300 loaded with 10.4lb Platil. I later moved over to a pair of green Olivers' 11 foot glass rods. Often I would take my Oliver's tench rod to float fish for anything which happened along.
My "bivvy" was an Efgeeco umbrella stained with dark green and brown Dylon dye, under which I reclined on a similarly camouflaged deckchair. A grey ex-army blanket kept away the early morning chill. Sleep was unintentional but usually unavoidable at 3.00am. In those days there was constant tweaking with the tackle. Runs were signalled from a Heron bite alarm with its corrosion prone contacts and an antenna which changed sensitivity in a direct relationship to falling night temperatures. Clutches on the 300's also needed constant attention as the temperature fell. The fall-back of course was a cylinder of aluminium foil either laying free on a yard square piece of black plastic sheeting or placed inside a flower pot when the wind gusted. We also used knitting needles as a primitive fore-runner to monkey climbers. The bale arms were left open for this was free running ledgering or, more usually, free-lining big baits such as potatoes, meat and floating crust. A penny was placed on the spool to prevent coils of line snaking off in gusts of wind. There really is nothing that can beat the adrenalin rush as the Heron buzzes, the foil twitches and lifts as line runs out.
Terminal tackle (one couldn't refer to it as a "rig") was often a single large hook – anything from a size 4 Partridge Jack Hilton to a 1/0 Hardy's salmon iron, the latter having had the loop removed and replaced with a blob of solder. Sometimes a small running lead was added for distance casting with small baits or to present an anchored crust.
In advance of one of our trips Ray thought it would be an idea to try for tench and crucians using red worms and brandlings and that we should secure a large quantity for pre-baiting. I volunteered to do so and a particularly fertile compost heap yielded two plastic sacks full. I didn't pick out the worms as there were so many; thus the muck went in the sacks too. Having heaved the sacks around the lake we fed almost the whole lot into one swim deciding to then leave it alone for three days. On the appointed day we topped up the swim with the remainder and cast our floats. We had not a single bite.
I have to say that I believe carp fishing then had a distinct fun element about it. I don't mean larking about whilst doing the actual business of fishing because we fished in deadly earnest but I don't recall ever getting too far away from the notion of the contemplative man's recreation. Maybe that's why I never caught a double figure carp from Cheshunt. John was our joker in the pack. All week long he had been encouraging us to voice crude opinions and compose lewd limericks featuring friends and club members. On our final day he revealed that he'd rigged the hut with a tape recorder and hidden microphone. So far as I'm aware that tape still exists. Sadly my good friend John does not.
Readers may be wondering why I have written all references to the lake in the past tense, surely the lake is still there. Alas it is not:
"In April 2004, Broxbourne Council approved an application from Thames Water Properties for a certificate of lawful development to discontinue Cheshunt South reservoir (under the Reservoirs Act 1975). The reservoir site has been identified in the Council's Local Plan Second Review as a long-term housing allocation site." [4]
So there you have it. A fishery which arguably has a history even greater than that of Redmire has given way to "up to 300 units"[5] (that's houses to you and me). Such is progress.
References
- http://www.bbc.co.uk/london/content/articles/2006/07/31/reservoir_closure_feature.shtml
- John Andrews, Waterlog, Medlar Press, Spring 2006
- Jack Hilton, Quest for Carp, Pelham Books, 1972
- http://www2.broxbourne.gov.uk/Press/News1.aspx?PressID=4581(Link expired)
- http://www.broxbourne.gov.uk/PDF/PP-CheshuntSouthReservoirDevelopmentBriefFinal.pdf
My thanks to James Townsend for digitising my colour transparencies.
