Your Funny Fishing Stories.

The Endrick Spider

Well-known member
Joined
Apr 28, 2021
Messages
83
Location
Milton of Campsie
Many years ago now there were these four guys that fished the River Endrick together. Any salmon or sea trout that they caught through the week, these were sold to a hotel. As they were not at work on the Saturday, on the Friday night they fished through until dawn. Some of the money they got for the fish, this went towards a cargo of alcohol for the Friday night session. They took it in turns where every fourth week the one that was driving did not drink. I was working on the back shift so by the time I reached the river it was already dark. As I passed by this pool that you could see from the road, could not help but notice the flashing of lights going on all over this pool. My first thoughts were that this had to be poachers netting the pool for even the very worst of anglers would not use a torch that much. Being curious, parked my scooter and crept down to the pool to investigate. Right away I recognised the voices, it was these four guys where one of them had drank so much alcohol he had made himself sick. The reason for the flashing lights, they were searching for his false teeth that he had lost in the river when being sick.
 

GEK79

Well-known member
Joined
May 10, 2021
Messages
566
Location
Ireland
Many years ago now there were these four guys that fished the River Endrick together. Any salmon or sea trout that they caught through the week, these were sold to a hotel. As they were not at work on the Saturday, on the Friday night they fished through until dawn. Some of the money they got for the fish, this went towards a cargo of alcohol for the Friday night session. They took it in turns where every fourth week the one that was driving did not drink. I was working on the back shift so by the time I reached the river it was already dark. As I passed by this pool that you could see from the road, could not help but notice the flashing of lights going on all over this pool. My first thoughts were that this had to be poachers netting the pool for even the very worst of anglers would not use a torch that much. Being curious, parked my scooter and crept down to the pool to investigate. Right away I recognised the voices, it was these four guys where one of them had drank so much alcohol he had made himself sick. The reason for the flashing lights, they were searching for his false teeth that he had lost in the river when being sick.
One of my first fishing memories was myself my father my 2 unclesand mick the dog going to the local llyn.. My father caught a beautiful fish and decided it was going home to his nana.. He had hidden it in the water to keep cool..
Many hours later we decided to call it a day and noticed mick was over the other side of the llyn when we approached we saw Mick looking guilty and nit much left of Nanas supper.
Gary
 

Vintage Badger

Well-known member
Joined
Apr 16, 2021
Messages
555
Location
Cheshire
In the mid 90s I was fishing a small stillwater which was mainly stocked with rainbows but also had a few large browns of around the 10lb mark. It was bank fishing only, and there were a handful of small jetty type fishing platforms along one section of the opposite bank, which extended 6 feet or so over the water.

It was a warm and sunny afternoon and no-one was catching, then suddenly one of the 10lb browns jumped right out of the water and landed on one of the jetty platforms and lay upright there, wriggling from side to side! The nearest angler had to go over to rescue it and put it back in the water. I thought this was typical really, no one catching and then the fish start giving themselves up to really rub it in!
 

tarmangie

Well-known member
Joined
Mar 23, 2010
Messages
208
This happened to a mate and I a Few years ago. Fortunately we have not repeated it.
A FISHY TALE by Jack and Victor

Earlier this year the intrepid twosome noticed that entries were invited for a national fishing competition.

“This looks alright and when we qualify we will get a weekend away fishing in Wales, great”.

And so they got their entry away.



The qualifier came around and for them they did exceptionally well qualifying easily. The only fly in the ointment being the fishery owner introducing them to the match organiser as Jack and Victor and letting it be known in loud terms that they were well known as the two grumpiest old gits that frequented the fishery. This was ignored until they came ashore and the said match organiser informed them that they had qualified and that he was pleased to have them in the competition, as having heard them in the boat he could only strongly agree with the fishery owner and that the competition needed characters even if they could compete for Scotland in the grumpy stakes.

The week end approached for the competition and anticipation mounted for our pair of fishers. However there was a slight disagreement for which vehicle should be taken along the lines of,

“We have taken your vehicle every time we go any distance it is time I took mine”. “No yours is an old wreck we had better take mine”. “No it’s a great car and I never get any bother with it.”

So it was decided that Victor would take his lovely older vehicle.

They set out and on arriving in the beautiful Welsh town they were staying in Victor announced that all was well and had not the vehicle performed beautifully.

However as usual pride comes before a fall and at the busiest junction in the place as the vehicle rolled up to the turn to the hotel, where they were staying, Victor announced;

“Hell the clutch has just gone”.

This was greeted by Jack’s;

“Stop mucking around and get us into the hotel car park”.

Victor remonstrated that he was not mucking about and that the clutch had indeed packed in. There then proceeded to be an interesting half an hour whilst the vehicle was got clear of the junction and the AA were called. The nice man from the AA turned up an hour later and pronounced that indeed the clutch was dead and that all that could be done was to take the car to the local garage.

The garage whilst being as helpful as possible explained that it was a bank holiday and that the car could not be repaired for at least a week. This caused consternation for our bold pair but Jack announced that he would sort it and get a hire car organised. Easier said than done on a bank holiday Friday afternoon but he rose to the challenge and, after talking to the national call centre for a large car hire firm, he was able to tell Victor that he had organised a Mondeo and that a local representative from the firm would telephone him, get some details and come to the hotel to take them to the aforesaid vehicle. The local representative did call some several minutes later to inform him that the local branch did not have any vehicles, that they would have to travel thirty miles to another branch and that they only had a smaller car.

This did not please Jack in the slightest and there followed a heated discussion about what the national centre had promised and what they could actually deliver. This culminated In Jack telling the young lady that they could stick their car and that he would organise a vehicle elsewhere. Again, easier said than done and in fact was not actually possible. There then followed a discussion of the various possibilities which boiled down to;

organise transport back home with their usual shed full of tackle, most of which they never use or

eat humble pie by phoning the firm again and arrange to pick up the smaller car.

It was decided that b) would be the better option and was duly done. A taxi was arranged at vast cost and the driver was quizzed as to how long it would take to pick up the car and get to the fishery as a boat had been booked for an evening session. No problem says the driver at most you will be a few minutes late. Stupendous - let’s go for it, said the pair. The taxi driver for some reason, however, had managed to forget that it was a bank holiday with the result being two hours sitting in traffic jams and turning up to the fishery some two hours late. The fishery was however very good with them, commiserating and waiving any charges as the pair did not feel like taking a boat out for a scant few hours.

So back to the hotel with the feeling that the worse was behind them and that they could get on with the job of winning the competition and that all would be well with the world.

Next day dawned and they were up with the larks and off to the fishery for a practise day. Feeling great they set up, collected their boat and set off.

Initially they only went some four or five hundred yards before starting to fish and this was lucky for them as when they tried to start the engine to go elsewhere it transpired that it was not cooperating and refused point blank to start. Jack being in charge of the engine and having an engineering background was exhorted to get the finger out and get it fixed.

He did not however manage this and it was decided that the engine was in fact dead and that rowing was now the order of the day. Victor then espoused;

“No problem I’m great at rowing”.

Turned out he was not, if there is only one rowlock on the boat. So while he rowed with his oar, Jack imitated a Venetian gondolier with the other. As result it took 45 minutes to get back to the jetty with no sign of a rescue boat. Staff were fetched, apologies were made and assurances given that whilst this was a most unfortunate incident it was very rare and would not happen again. Great, let’s show these fish what’s what and off they went again. After several fishless hours which Jack occasionally enlivened with the phrase

“I’ve got one, bugger it’s got off, it’s these bloody flies”

They arrived at a very fishy looking spot and Jack decided that any normal fish would be lying tight to the bank therefore he would cast his fly there. This meant that he had to cast across Victor and during a momentary lapse of concentration he allowed his back cast to fall rather low. This resulted in Victor letting out an anguished howl as a size eight, longshank, hothead damsel pierced his ear. When he eventually quietened down enough for Jack to make himself heard he asked that Victor turn round and let him see what had happened.

Yes, he now had a damsel ear ring and it looked very fetching and what was all the moaning about as Victor had done far worse to other unfortunate fishers himself. He also noted that it was nothing to worry about as it was a barbless hook therefore it would be out in two ticks without any pain.

Jack then firmly grasped the hook and pulled. Cue more anguished howls and dripping of blood from Victor.

Jack then ventured;

“Very sorry” and that he was afraid that it was a barbed hook and did Victor want to go to hospital. Well Victor did not take this very well at all and after some cursing Jack was told to pull it out. This he did and then announced in a satisfied tone that he had been nearly right and that it was only a micro barb. Victor did not seem to think that this made much difference and sat in the huff for an hour or so whilst his ear dripped blood.

Not being one to hold much of grudge, things went back to normal and they carried on. Jack continued to fish and used the aforesaid phrase about losing fish on a regular basis whilst Victor did manage to catch two fish although Jack was rather amused that the second one was a rank stockie and had had a recent encounter with a cormorant resulting in a rather nasty gash in its flank. Fishing came to a conclusion and our gallant pair made their way to the hotel opining that they surely had used up their share of bad luck and all boded well for the competition tomorrow.

The day of the competition dawned bright and fair and our pair were at the venue in plenty of time in high spirits.

A briefing was held and they set out to a spot they had selected. It was a slow start but the engine behaved perfectly.

As they neared the end of the drift by coming up against the dam they hit a patch of fish and had four fish in the boat in as many minutes. However it was now time to move before they collided with the large rocks making up the dam wall. Victor taking his turn on the engine could not get it going and Jack had to take to the oars, no easy task with the mound of fishing gear in the middle of the boat.

He rowed for some five minutes and offered copious advice to Victor as how to sort the engine. Unfortunately this was to no avail and he had to row back to the jetty where the staff were very apologetic and arranged an engine swap to get the pair fishing again quickly.

They set out again, feeling though that their chances were indeed diminishing. They set up on the same drift again although the wind had now risen and the boat was moving faster in the larger waves. When they again arrived at the dam Victor attempted to start the new engine to be met with the same lack of success as before. Jack was very unhappy about this and although he did initially move the boat a distance from the dam he demanded that he examine the engine whilst Victor took his turn at the oars. Even with his vast knowledge he could not coax the recalcitrant beast to life leaving Victor to row against the increasing wind. Fortunately for him a fellow competitor took pity on them and towed them back to the jetty where two staff were on hand.

Again profuse apologies but Victor was having none of it. He wanted the manager and blood. One of the gents explained that he was the manager and that he and his staff would put them quickly into a brand new fishing boat and they would lose minimal time. However steam was coming out of Victor’s ears and he was not at all happy.

Jack however got on with the job of transferring their gear with the staff keeping his back to Victor as he did not wish to witness any ugly incident taking place.

Victor on seeing his partner doing this muttered something about it not being the end of the matter, got in the boat and they made off.

However all that confidence had now gone and they had to settle for a few fish for the day with all thoughts of winning or being in the prizes having gone.

At the conclusion of the event the boat was docked and the twosome started the task of conveying their gear to the hire car. Victor was left the humiliating task of taking their pitifully few fish to the weigh in.

Whilst doing so the match organiser commiserated with him noting that he had been going to come down to the jetty when they returned for the second time that day but on seeing Victors’ face decided that it would be better if he stayed out of it. The fishery manager then came up to Victor apologised for events and handed him an envelope with a substantial amount of money. This had effect of cheering him up considerably. So after partaking in the meal provided and cheering everyone else up with their tale of woe the pair started on the long way home.



Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty parties, the ear has scabbed up nicely and Victor has decided against any form of ear adornment, the old car still languishes in Wales awaiting a return trip by Victor.
his happened to a mate and I a few years ago. My most expensive British fishing trip.
 

eddleston123

Well-known member
Joined
Nov 3, 2012
Messages
9,924
Location
Peebles, Scottish Borders
This is more of a senior moment story.

Last year, I parked the car up at one of the beats that I fish. Got myself ready with all my stuff, wading staff, rucksack etc and set of on the walk downstream. My intention was to walk downstream some one mile and fish up towards my car.

After some 25 minutes or so of walking, I stopped at my preferred spot to set up my stuff, only to discover that I had forgotten my fishing rod -- the air turned blue.

However, I did walk back for my rod, but by this time I was knackered and only fished a couple of adjacent pools!

Won't be doing that again.



Douglas
 

diawl bach

Well-known member
Joined
May 17, 2006
Messages
8,373
This happened to a mate and I a Few years ago. Fortunately we have not repeated it.
A FISHY TALE by Jack and Victor

Earlier this year the intrepid twosome noticed that entries were invited for a national fishing competition.

“This looks alright and when we qualify we will get a weekend away fishing in Wales, great”.

And so they got their entry away.



The qualifier came around and for them they did exceptionally well qualifying easily. The only fly in the ointment being the fishery owner introducing them to the match organiser as Jack and Victor and letting it be known in loud terms that they were well known as the two grumpiest old gits that frequented the fishery. This was ignored until they came ashore and the said match organiser informed them that they had qualified and that he was pleased to have them in the competition, as having heard them in the boat he could only strongly agree with the fishery owner and that the competition needed characters even if they could compete for Scotland in the grumpy stakes.

The week end approached for the competition and anticipation mounted for our pair of fishers. However there was a slight disagreement for which vehicle should be taken along the lines of,

“We have taken your vehicle every time we go any distance it is time I took mine”. “No yours is an old wreck we had better take mine”. “No it’s a great car and I never get any bother with it.”

So it was decided that Victor would take his lovely older vehicle.

They set out and on arriving in the beautiful Welsh town they were staying in Victor announced that all was well and had not the vehicle performed beautifully.

However as usual pride comes before a fall and at the busiest junction in the place as the vehicle rolled up to the turn to the hotel, where they were staying, Victor announced;

“Hell the clutch has just gone”.

This was greeted by Jack’s;

“Stop mucking around and get us into the hotel car park”.

Victor remonstrated that he was not mucking about and that the clutch had indeed packed in. There then proceeded to be an interesting half an hour whilst the vehicle was got clear of the junction and the AA were called. The nice man from the AA turned up an hour later and pronounced that indeed the clutch was dead and that all that could be done was to take the car to the local garage.

The garage whilst being as helpful as possible explained that it was a bank holiday and that the car could not be repaired for at least a week. This caused consternation for our bold pair but Jack announced that he would sort it and get a hire car organised. Easier said than done on a bank holiday Friday afternoon but he rose to the challenge and, after talking to the national call centre for a large car hire firm, he was able to tell Victor that he had organised a Mondeo and that a local representative from the firm would telephone him, get some details and come to the hotel to take them to the aforesaid vehicle. The local representative did call some several minutes later to inform him that the local branch did not have any vehicles, that they would have to travel thirty miles to another branch and that they only had a smaller car.

This did not please Jack in the slightest and there followed a heated discussion about what the national centre had promised and what they could actually deliver. This culminated In Jack telling the young lady that they could stick their car and that he would organise a vehicle elsewhere. Again, easier said than done and in fact was not actually possible. There then followed a discussion of the various possibilities which boiled down to;

organise transport back home with their usual shed full of tackle, most of which they never use or

eat humble pie by phoning the firm again and arrange to pick up the smaller car.

It was decided that b) would be the better option and was duly done. A taxi was arranged at vast cost and the driver was quizzed as to how long it would take to pick up the car and get to the fishery as a boat had been booked for an evening session. No problem says the driver at most you will be a few minutes late. Stupendous - let’s go for it, said the pair. The taxi driver for some reason, however, had managed to forget that it was a bank holiday with the result being two hours sitting in traffic jams and turning up to the fishery some two hours late. The fishery was however very good with them, commiserating and waiving any charges as the pair did not feel like taking a boat out for a scant few hours.

So back to the hotel with the feeling that the worse was behind them and that they could get on with the job of winning the competition and that all would be well with the world.

Next day dawned and they were up with the larks and off to the fishery for a practise day. Feeling great they set up, collected their boat and set off.

Initially they only went some four or five hundred yards before starting to fish and this was lucky for them as when they tried to start the engine to go elsewhere it transpired that it was not cooperating and refused point blank to start. Jack being in charge of the engine and having an engineering background was exhorted to get the finger out and get it fixed.

He did not however manage this and it was decided that the engine was in fact dead and that rowing was now the order of the day. Victor then espoused;

“No problem I’m great at rowing”.

Turned out he was not, if there is only one rowlock on the boat. So while he rowed with his oar, Jack imitated a Venetian gondolier with the other. As result it took 45 minutes to get back to the jetty with no sign of a rescue boat. Staff were fetched, apologies were made and assurances given that whilst this was a most unfortunate incident it was very rare and would not happen again. Great, let’s show these fish what’s what and off they went again. After several fishless hours which Jack occasionally enlivened with the phrase

“I’ve got one, bugger it’s got off, it’s these bloody flies”

They arrived at a very fishy looking spot and Jack decided that any normal fish would be lying tight to the bank therefore he would cast his fly there. This meant that he had to cast across Victor and during a momentary lapse of concentration he allowed his back cast to fall rather low. This resulted in Victor letting out an anguished howl as a size eight, longshank, hothead damsel pierced his ear. When he eventually quietened down enough for Jack to make himself heard he asked that Victor turn round and let him see what had happened.

Yes, he now had a damsel ear ring and it looked very fetching and what was all the moaning about as Victor had done far worse to other unfortunate fishers himself. He also noted that it was nothing to worry about as it was a barbless hook therefore it would be out in two ticks without any pain.

Jack then firmly grasped the hook and pulled. Cue more anguished howls and dripping of blood from Victor.

Jack then ventured;

“Very sorry” and that he was afraid that it was a barbed hook and did Victor want to go to hospital. Well Victor did not take this very well at all and after some cursing Jack was told to pull it out. This he did and then announced in a satisfied tone that he had been nearly right and that it was only a micro barb. Victor did not seem to think that this made much difference and sat in the huff for an hour or so whilst his ear dripped blood.

Not being one to hold much of grudge, things went back to normal and they carried on. Jack continued to fish and used the aforesaid phrase about losing fish on a regular basis whilst Victor did manage to catch two fish although Jack was rather amused that the second one was a rank stockie and had had a recent encounter with a cormorant resulting in a rather nasty gash in its flank. Fishing came to a conclusion and our gallant pair made their way to the hotel opining that they surely had used up their share of bad luck and all boded well for the competition tomorrow.

The day of the competition dawned bright and fair and our pair were at the venue in plenty of time in high spirits.

A briefing was held and they set out to a spot they had selected. It was a slow start but the engine behaved perfectly.

As they neared the end of the drift by coming up against the dam they hit a patch of fish and had four fish in the boat in as many minutes. However it was now time to move before they collided with the large rocks making up the dam wall. Victor taking his turn on the engine could not get it going and Jack had to take to the oars, no easy task with the mound of fishing gear in the middle of the boat.

He rowed for some five minutes and offered copious advice to Victor as how to sort the engine. Unfortunately this was to no avail and he had to row back to the jetty where the staff were very apologetic and arranged an engine swap to get the pair fishing again quickly.

They set out again, feeling though that their chances were indeed diminishing. They set up on the same drift again although the wind had now risen and the boat was moving faster in the larger waves. When they again arrived at the dam Victor attempted to start the new engine to be met with the same lack of success as before. Jack was very unhappy about this and although he did initially move the boat a distance from the dam he demanded that he examine the engine whilst Victor took his turn at the oars. Even with his vast knowledge he could not coax the recalcitrant beast to life leaving Victor to row against the increasing wind. Fortunately for him a fellow competitor took pity on them and towed them back to the jetty where two staff were on hand.

Again profuse apologies but Victor was having none of it. He wanted the manager and blood. One of the gents explained that he was the manager and that he and his staff would put them quickly into a brand new fishing boat and they would lose minimal time. However steam was coming out of Victor’s ears and he was not at all happy.

Jack however got on with the job of transferring their gear with the staff keeping his back to Victor as he did not wish to witness any ugly incident taking place.

Victor on seeing his partner doing this muttered something about it not being the end of the matter, got in the boat and they made off.

However all that confidence had now gone and they had to settle for a few fish for the day with all thoughts of winning or being in the prizes having gone.

At the conclusion of the event the boat was docked and the twosome started the task of conveying their gear to the hire car. Victor was left the humiliating task of taking their pitifully few fish to the weigh in.

Whilst doing so the match organiser commiserated with him noting that he had been going to come down to the jetty when they returned for the second time that day but on seeing Victors’ face decided that it would be better if he stayed out of it. The fishery manager then came up to Victor apologised for events and handed him an envelope with a substantial amount of money. This had effect of cheering him up considerably. So after partaking in the meal provided and cheering everyone else up with their tale of woe the pair started on the long way home.



Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty parties, the ear has scabbed up nicely and Victor has decided against any form of ear adornment, the old car still languishes in Wales awaiting a return trip by Victor.
his happened to a mate and I a few years ago. My most expensive British fishing trip.
Nicely written, I enjoyed that!
 

vital

Well-known member
Joined
Nov 9, 2009
Messages
418
Location
South of England
Neigh Lad

I had been fishing for almost six hours now and had just about walked the whole circumference of the moorland reservoir. Conditions had seemed to be perfect: warmish, a light breeze, overcast sky, and the water lightly tinged with peat but still clear. I had been through my fly boxes and had used up most of my spool of tippet, with absolute zero to show for my efforts.

My frustration had been building for a while, eroding concentration. As a result, my casting and fishing were suffering badly. With my car in sight again, I became irritated, annoyed at myself, so I sat on a stump for a while to collect my scattered thoughts and give myself a stiff talking to. I ate and drank the last of my supplies, then “Right” I said to myself “You drove miles to get here, get your head straight, there’s less than an hour of light left. Start again. Concentrate hard. Come on!”.

Just then I noticed a horse I passed an hour ago was standing behind me, watching silently, tail flicking flies. I moved a couple of paces to avoid hitting the horse with my back cast; I cast out, pausing while line and leader settled. Suddenly I heard a distinct voice say “Put a Black Leech on and fish it fast”. I looked about me, I was still alone, just the horse which continued to watch. I hadn’t actually tried that particular pattern, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I tied one on. On my first cast a Brownie slammed the fly and I soon landed my first fish. Fatigue and doubt evaporated instantly. I moved a couple of paces along the bank and prepared to cast again. There came that mysterious voice “A Silver Invicta will work there”, puzzled, I looked around again, but the horse and I appeared to be the only creatures above the surface. Perhaps my subconscious was the better angler? I did as bid and shortly after changing flies I slipped the net under my second feisty fish. The prior, futile hours forgotten, I moved a few more paces farther along the bank, but still perplexed. “Try a Hopper in that patch of ripple near those rocks to your right” came that distinct voice. Was I going mad?

The horse continued its placid day dreaming, gazing my way. On went a Claret Hopper, to be smashed by another good trout just seconds after touching down. Before long I was netting my third and last Brown. My time was up, I tackled down and headed over to the car. In the car park, the only other vehicle was a battered old Landrover, a retriever sitting beside the driver who was puffing on his old pipe. “You’ve had a good day” he said in a cloud of blue smoke, nodding towards my bass bag as he leaned out of the window. “I can’t explain it” I replied “I was really struggling until this last hour, when a voice came into my head, telling me what to do. I checked around but I was definitely alone, nobody even in sight, just an old horse.”

“Aaah” exhaled the pipe smoker “was it a brown horse or a grey one?”

“It was grey” I replied.

“You were lucky” says he “The brown one knows nothing about fly fishing!”
 

shuck raider

Well-known member
Joined
May 17, 2006
Messages
2,002
Location
Belfast, Norn Iron
In the good old days when Bangor Sea Angling Club (NI) operated their converted trawler from the harbour there, six of the guys headed out for a cod session in Belfast Lough. Conditions were pretty rough and it wasn't long before Billy was depositing his breakfast over the side. Sadly, his false teeth followed the brekkie into the tide, much to the amusement of the rest of the crew.

Once on the mark, it wasn't long before Jackie, one of the anglers, hauled in a nice cod. Billy wasn't taking any interest in the proceedings, still feeling rather green and grumpy. Jackie, also a false teeth wearer, removed his set and popped them in the cod's mouth. "Hey Billy, have a look at this - the cod has swallowed your false teeth!"

Billy took the dentures, inspected them and said, 'Nah they're not mine, no ornamental gold filling" and promptly chucked them over the side.
 

taffy1

Well-known member
Joined
Feb 26, 2014
Messages
11,890
Location
Well within my comfort zone
After a tough night on the river Towy/Towi near Carmarthen, many moons ago, my mate & myself had to cross a farmer's field to reach the car. Halfway up the field, during a bit of banter discussing tactics or what we could have tried, he managed to stumble & fall over a Charolais cow sleeping/laying down in that field. I'm certain my breathable waders weren't leaking that night but my trousers were damp when we were both back at the car... :ROFLMAO:
 

ohanzee

Well-known member
Joined
May 7, 2010
Messages
45,364
There used to be an old poacher with a brutal squint in his eye that lived in a farm cottage on the road to Killearn, I met him a few times standing on the bridge just down from the Blane burn heading for Drymen.
On one occasion he told me he was down at the ford to get a salmon and he heard a car coming down the road, he hid in the undergrowth, and watched a police car stop facing the river, he heard the door shut, then the boot open and shut, and then watched the policeman from Balfron put a pair of wellingtons on and walk into the river, and proceed to search the water with a torch, after some time he focused the torch on one bit, reached down and tailed a salmon.

Possibly the same place the teeth were lost, the ford was a poaching hot spot back in the day.
 

taffy1

Well-known member
Joined
Feb 26, 2014
Messages
11,890
Location
Well within my comfort zone
A few other times, an acquaintance used to fish in our company, sometimes we would be a group of 4 or more. All night fishing for sea trout/sewin/ sea run brownies on my local river. I have never ever seen a particular one of that group catch at night, he photographed what others had caught, claimed them as his own & eventually had a sponsorship from a well known tackle manufacturer. Best of luck to him, I still enjoy my escapades.
 

GEK79

Well-known member
Joined
May 10, 2021
Messages
566
Location
Ireland
Many years ago now there were these four guys that fished the River Endrick together. Any salmon or sea trout that they caught through the week, these were sold to a hotel. As they were not at work on the Saturday, on the Friday night they fished through until dawn. Some of the money they got for the fish, this went towards a cargo of alcohol for the Friday night session. They took it in turns where every fourth week the one that was driving did not drink. I was working on the back shift so by the time I reached the river it was already dark. As I passed by this pool that you could see from the road, could not help but notice the flashing of lights going on all over this pool. My first thoughts were that this had to be poachers netting the pool for even the very worst of anglers would not use a torch that much. Being curious, parked my scooter and crept down to the pool to investigate. Right away I recognised the voices, it was these four guys where one of them had drank so much alcohol he had made himself sick. The reason for the flashing lights, they were searching for his false teeth that he had lost in the river when being sick.
My father had taken me to a canal somewhere in the Midlands I was a young impatient chap who was left to picker about whilst dad fished... Finally we were going home Dad asked me to clean the bait bowl so knowing home approached I gladly did..
As I stood on what I thought was the canal bank I fell straight in wellies filled gladly my father lifted me straight out by the scruff of my neck.. Was a long cold quiet journey home.. 👍
 

The Endrick Spider

Well-known member
Joined
Apr 28, 2021
Messages
83
Location
Milton of Campsie
There used to be an old poacher with a brutal squint in his eye that lived in a farm cottage on the road to Killearn, I met him a few times standing on the bridge just down from the Blane burn heading for Drymen.
On one occasion he told me he was down at the ford to get a salmon and he heard a car coming down the road, he hid in the undergrowth, and watched a police car stop facing the river, he heard the door shut, then the boot open and shut, and then watched the policeman from Balfron put a pair of wellingtons on and walk into the river, and proceed to search the water with a torch, after some time he focused the torch on one bit, reached down and tailed a salmon.

Possibly the same place the teeth were lost, the ford was a poaching hot spot back in the day.
I know where you are in Killearn, this took place in Fintry at Coolies.
,
 

The Endrick Spider

Well-known member
Joined
Apr 28, 2021
Messages
83
Location
Milton of Campsie
There used to be an old poacher with a brutal squint in his eye that lived in a farm cottage on the road to Killearn, I met him a few times standing on the bridge just down from the Blane burn heading for Drymen.
On one occasion he told me he was down at the ford to get a salmon and he heard a car coming down the road, he hid in the undergrowth, and watched a police car stop facing the river, he heard the door shut, then the boot open and shut, and then watched the policeman from Balfron put a pair of wellingtons on and walk into the river, and proceed to search the water with a torch, after some time he focused the torch on one bit, reached down and tailed a salmon.

Possibly the same place the teeth were lost, the ford was a poaching hot spot back in the day.
Down from the bridge you are talking about the Blane runs into the Endrick where this pool is called the Meetings Pool. I can remember fishing one night on the run out down from the Meetings Pool that they call Snag Ally. Did not think that there were any fish up yet but as the river was running off after a fresh spate, went for a look anyway. An hour had passed and had not seen a thing then suddenly I felt the line tighten, struck, and then this thing came right out of the water and then back down to the bottom. It was not for going anywhere where every time I put severe pressure on it it would come up and then go back down again and lay on the bottom. It would neither come up river or run down but slowly I got it into the side where it was then beached. After all that it was not a fish at all, my fly had secured itself through the hole in the handle of a discarded frying pan.
 

mr_eejit

Well-known member
Joined
Jul 1, 2009
Messages
442
Location
Derry/North of Ireland
Got my brother to drop me over the border into the Republic of Ireland on a nice sunny Sunday, took him about half hour to drive me to an old fishing ground, he drove back home and I set of down the river, was well over grown from last time I was there which was a few years, so I walked throught long grass for about half hour to get to the mouth of the river, and started fishing took about 10 cast and caught in a stubborn reed, was a bit rough trying to unhook from the reed and snapped the top of the rod, had to phone the brother and get him to come pick me up, he thought I was joking :) so another 20 minute hike back to the road to meet up with him. I'm sure he probably weren't happy, maybe I should have got him to drop one of my other rods down to me, but I got home and headed to the pub instead to drown my sorrows 😁
 

ohanzee

Well-known member
Joined
May 7, 2010
Messages
45,364
Down from the bridge you are talking about the Blane runs into the Endrick where this pool is called the Meetings Pool. I can remember fishing one night on the run out down from the Meetings Pool that they call Snag Ally. Did not think that there were any fish up yet but as the river was running off after a fresh spate, went for a look anyway. An hour had passed and had not seen a thing then suddenly I felt the line tighten, struck, and then this thing came right out of the water and then back down to the bottom. It was not for going anywhere where every time I put severe pressure on it it would come up and then go back down again and lay on the bottom. It would neither come up river or run down but slowly I got it into the side where it was then beached. After all that it was not a fish at all, my fly had secured itself through the hole in the handle of a discarded frying pan.

Below that spot there is a bend with a tree half in the bank and half in the river, it shades the river and the roots form a deep hole on the downstream side.
I arrived at the bridge to a group of proper sea trouters chatting, they said 'too early son, nothing in the river yet' and continued to discuss the serious ins and outs of rain and rivers rising, I set off up toward the Blane, there was still a bit of sun letting you see into the water, on reaching that tree I looked down and below me were a pod of maybe five or six sea trout that immediately dropped away into deeper water and vanished before my eyes, they had been lying up in the shade of the roots of the tree, had the river to myself that night and it was noisy with fish, I was shaking so hard I totally blanked.
 

The Endrick Spider

Well-known member
Joined
Apr 28, 2021
Messages
83
Location
Milton of Campsie
Below that spot there is a bend with a tree half in the bank and half in the river, it shades the river and the roots form a deep hole on the downstream side.
I arrived at the bridge to a group of proper sea trouters chatting, they said 'too early son, nothing in the river yet' and continued to discuss the serious ins and outs of rain and rivers rising, I set off up toward the Blane, there was still a bit of sun letting you see into the water, on reaching that tree I looked down and below me were a pod of maybe five or six sea trout that immediately dropped away into deeper water and vanished before my eyes, they had been lying up in the shade of the roots of the tree, had the river to myself that night and it was noisy with fish, I was shaking so hard I totally blanked.
I know the feeling. I arrived at Coolies about 11-00pm and with the river still running high but clear, knew that I would more or less have the place to myself for they can't jigger fish very well in high water. There were fish everywhere and while putting up my rod, in my own mind I had already caught all of these fish and was wondering just how I was going to get them home on my scooter. I fished for over an hour and never touched a thing which was very frustrating. I headed back to my scooter with my rod still up where now back on the road a car pulled up. It was another angler who thinking there would be a few others fishing was not pleased to hear there was no one else there for he did mot like fishing on his own. I said that I would go back down and keep him company for an hour where using the same cast of flies I ended up catching 4 sea trout in as many casts. Unexplainable.
 

lhomme

Well-known member
Joined
Dec 21, 2010
Messages
4,734
Location
Antwerp
There are so many. I've seen some weird and hilarious things in my fishing life, but seeing my uncle panic for the first time was more than funny. I must have been six or seven, and as usual my uncle woke me at midnight to go fishing. We wouldn't drive off straight away, he'd first have his breakfast (always twelve eggs, a whole bread and two liters of milk) and then head for the pub. I tasted Tuborg at the age of five. Now my uncle, who was a Belgian boxing champion in the army, used to pull all kinds of pranks on the other customers and especially on me. He'd use me as his show puppet, lifting me on my barstool with one hand, or just by grabbing me by the ankle, much to the amusement of the other drunks. Or taking me for a p*ss near a meadow in the back and telling me to hit the live wire. The guys fell off their stools when he told them. I just sulked and couldn't wait to go fishing, but my uncle needed his twenty beers to get in the mood. Usually the barmaid would comfort me with a warm smile and a chocolate drink, but one night some guys decided to get back at him for once and for all.
As we were finally driving off into the dawn, suddenly a wheel passed us by and I remember we were both surprised, there were no other cars on the road, but I'll never forget the look on his face when the car tilted and left a long trail of sparks behind us. They had loosened all the bolts. We could have died, but I laughed my head off, and my uncle only returned once to that pub. Without me.
 
Last edited:

ohanzee

Well-known member
Joined
May 7, 2010
Messages
45,364
That's a bit :oops:

Diversion a bit but a guy I used to work with used to sabotage my car and vice versa, every day you started it up expecting something to fall off or blow up, he ramped it up with WD40 on my windscreen, didn't see a thing till I put the window wipers on and couldn't see a thing! so I put a potato up his exhaust, like right up, with it parked with the exhaust facing a greenhouse:whistle: forgot all about it until the bang, then bang, then another bang and screams, he had revved it right up and fired the potato not just through the greenhouse but out the other side and through a shop:oops: it took out a display of pot plants that a woman was arranging in the next building😬
 

JoeOh

Well-known member
Joined
Jun 29, 2020
Messages
410
He'd first have his breakfast (always twelve eggs, a whole bread and two liters of milk) and my uncle needed his twenty beers to get in the mood.

Can this be for real !
Was your Uncle's name D. Dan and did he consume Cow Pie for Supper ?
 

Latest posts

Top