Bygone Times Re-visited

[Stour Otter]

Editorial from The FISHING Gazette & Sea Angler, No. 4451 Vol. 145 Sat., Aug. 11, 1963. Price: 1s 6d.

A Riverside Personality --
Mr. Olley of Throop Fisheries

By C. J. Bell

AS HE LOOKS AFTER THE REQIREMENTS OF SOME 1,000 anglers annually, it is not really surprising that the name of "Bob" Olley is becoming well known. Mr Robert Arthur Olley is the bailiff of Throop Fisheries, situated on the River Stour. His riverside cottage at Holdenhurst village, cannot lie more than four miles, as the crow flies from the centre of Bournemouth Square.
Born at Great Yarmouth in 1902, Mr Olley is a man on many parts. His great love has always been fishing and his indeed happy now that he is actually earning his living from the sport which has given him so much enjoyment in life. He become bailiff at Throop in 1954 in answer to an advertisement in The Fishing Gazette.
Mr Olley's father was a chartered accountant at Great Yarmouth and he himself was apprenticed as a brass moulder. For many years he worked in the famous Bly Foundry. He caught his first fish when five years old on the well-known Ormsby Broad. Since then he has won many angling trophies.
On the River Ant he caught a roach weighing 3lb 5oz., on July 25, 1939. An exceedingly well-remembered date since that fish is reputed to be the biggest known river every caught. He won the News of the World Prize of the Year with this specimen and if you wish to see it, you will find it nicely encased in a place of honour in his comfortable front room at Holdenhurst.
Although roach fishing was and is his speciality, Mr Olley is an expert on sea fishing. He once caught 283 fish in one night's fishing off the beach at Hemsey near Yarmouth. He landed three cod of approximately 18, 17 and 12lbs. when fishing form the Wellington Pier at Yarmouth in an off-duty spell from fire watching during the war when he was an A.R.P. warden.

Game and Sea Fishing
Coming to Throop, Mr. Olley naturally took an interest in the salmon and has grassed a 16 and 22-pounder in one week. Indeed there seems to be scarcely a species of fish that he has not handled.
Despite his activities at Throop he still finds time to go over to Hengistbury Head three nights a week where he has good sport with the sole and bass.
I asked Mr Olley if he could recall any amusing or interesting incidents during his sojourn at Throop. There were many. I have picked out one or two.
The visit of the renowned and imposing figure of Mr Fred Emney, the well-known theatre personality to Throop for a day's fishing rather appealed to me. It seems that Mr Emney did not find his legs quite man enough to support his bulk on the uneven banks of the river and called for a chair. He thus spent the day going to various salmon "lies" not only with his rod, gaff and inevitable cigar but with the kitchen chair over his arm. I regret to say that the jovial comedian did not make contact with a salmon. Had he done so there would have been little time for sitting.

Six-hour Battle
Then there was the incident of Mr Ashby. A well-known local salmon enthusiast, Mr Ashby hooked a salmon in the Throop weir pool at about 10am. one Sunday. It was a bitter day with snowflakes falling. Despite his experience, Mr Ashby found the fish was getting the better of the fight. He did everything possible to tire the salmon but no progress was made at all. Flasks of hot tea and rum were sent to help sustain Mr Ashby against the bitter cold. By 2'oclock several acknowledged experts including the late Mr Stanley Tompkins the lessee of the fishery. Of course, Mr Olley was there too. Words of advice were thrown from the bank to bank. Even the rod was passed over. All this activity made little impression on the fish which complicated matters further by hiding itself under a big boulder. Then as four o'clock approached the line snapped. Over six hours had Mr Ashby struggled in vain.
More fortunate in a contradictory manner was Mr Cyril Inwood of Northampton. He was spinning for salmon and was disgusted to find he had foul-hooked a barbel which eventually weighted 13lb 5oz. The coarse fishing season had not closed and this fish won Mr Inwood a "Rod of the Year" prize.
Tragedy too has stalked the delightful Throop fisheries during Mr Olley's regime. On two occasions anglers while spinning have hooked and brought to the banks the human remains of drowned persons. Over all these incidents, and they are too numerous to mention, rides the congenial character of "Bob" Olley. A little man, he is all muscle and whipcord. Sparkling eyes light up when fishing is mentioned. It does not surprise me that Bob is popular.
He has had an interesting life. For a time he was "mine host" at the "Coach Makers Arms" at East Dereham in Norfolk before moving to take over the "Cherry Tree" at Bungay. Here he became part-time bailiff on the River Waveney.
So it follows that Mr Olley's background fits him admirably to welcome his many clients at Throop. Not only does he cater for their every whim but he takes their money from them too. Always of course with a smile.
Mrs Olley keeps their comfortable cottage in beautiful order. She has quite a job as their main room is festooned with brightly polished brass ornaments. Many of them made by her husband during his brass foundry days. There are a couple of parrots (one who can tell you the names of the fish!), a large black dog, various rods, cups, tackle and notices too -- maggots for sale and local River Board licences.

[AllRounder]

Another enjoyable read John. Many thanks for posting.

[Martin James]

A very nice man with lots of good advice.

[Grumpy]

I really enjoyed that piece Stout Otter.Thanks for posting.

[DaceAce]

Olley's claim for the biggest river roach wasn't true. At the time the biggest river roach was the Hants. Avon record of 3-10.

[Rutilus]

Fascinating read that. As a Norfolk man I have never heard of that River Ant roach and despite a search through my books couldn't find any such record. I wonder what happened to the set up fish? Interestingly the Coachmakers pub in Dereham still exists as does the Bungay Cherry Tree whose angling club still controls stretches of the river Waveney.
His sea catches from the Norfolk coast only serve to highlight the exceptional stocks that were there during and for a period after the war before the big commercial boats started up again.

[Crucian]

A good read, thanks for posting

[Stour Otter]

Editorial from ANGLING, Written by anglers for anglers - Feb.,1976 Price: 40p

An appreciation of centrepin fishing
By Peter Wheat

BACK IN THE 1880's The Perth-based firm of P.D. Malloch brought out a new kind of reel, the side-caster, to answer the growing demand for an easier alternative to the centrepin for salmon spinning. This reel, made first in heavy brass, later in aluminum, worked as a centrepin when retrieving line but as a fixed spool for casting, and doubtless this operation must have influenced both Alfred Holden Illingworth and J.E. Miller as, 20 years later, they worked out their primitive designs of the true fixed-spool reel.
It might be thought strange that in an article intended to be an appreciation of centrepin fishing it should commence with a resume of fixed-spool history, but my purpose in this respect has been to identify the reasoning behind the fixed-spool principle, and to establish exactly why and for what it was first considered necessary.
I think the point is clear that the fixed-spool reel was not invented for coarse fishing. It owes its origins solely to the needs of game anglers to long cast easily; the Malloch side-caster for salmon, the Illingsworth series for trout. Fast retrieve gearing aided the movement of lures and baits, particularly when gathering line from a downstream position, and the slipping clutch yielded line under pressure by allowing the spool to turn, which was a big help when employing fine line essential to the careful presentation of a small bait, in clear water, at longish range.
Not for a moment am I suggesting that fixed-spool fishing should be for trout only. It would be plain silly to attempt to disprove the wide-ranging usefulness of modern fixed spools in many kinds of angling and that is far from my intention anyway.
Personally, I am so confident of the centrepin being a better reel than the fixed spool for playing big, fighting fish, that just so long as I can get a bait or lure out far enough to be effective with a centrepin I would not dream of using a fixed spool.
There are many examples; Margin fishing for carp, laying-on for tench, swimfeedering a near bank slack for chub or barbel, trolling from a boat for pike, are just a few of the many which spring to mind. The thing about a centrepin is that it is a simple reel, easy to understand, with direct control over hooked fish -- a far better routine than playing fish through a system of gears, despite the amount of print expressed to the contrary.
Playing a tough, stubborn fish from a centrepin is an exciting experience second to none in my book. With the ratchet on, the pitch of its scream provides an excellent guide to the speed at which the fish is moving, which I find a help in judging exactly how much pressure to apply to the edge of the drum to resist the fish to the maximum, forcing it to fight the "weight" but without giving it the opportunity to snap the line.
Using a centrepin for under-bank and short-range fishing takes little skill to perform efficiently. In fact it is very easy indeed, and just so long as the reel revolves reasonably smoothly and has a lightish ratchet it does not have to be a top-class trotting centrepin. Even an old fashioned Nottingham star-back is serviceable if it is in good order.
The larger the diameter of the drum, by the way, the easier it is to retrieve line fast on a fish which decides to turn towards a snag. I have found slack line a problem when river fishing but it can happen in a still-water fishery and one needs to guard against this by using a centrepin of at least four inches diameter.
However the real meat of centrepin fishing is long trotting, and it is for this method that the reel performs the best of all.
It takes much patience and skill to cast and work a float 30, 40, 50, anything up to 70 yards down a length of river, keeping the line well mended, and staying in contact with the terminal tackle ready to strike a second the float dips for "looks unusual", an expert 'pin trotters of the caliber of the late Jim Sharp, Lloyd Gladstone Gough and Dave Steuart have my unbounded admiration. They belong to a fast-disappearing breed now that centrepin reels are no longer commonly available, and that's a pity.
Long trotting tackle is a very individual choice. The gear which suits one angler will not suit everybody, but here, briefly, is what I use. ROD: between 11 and 12 feet, through action, hollow-glass, enough stand-off rings in the right places to hold the line in the same curve as the rod, without "corners" forming, and a butt several inches longer than the length of the forearm. REEL: four-inch wide-drum Speedia WR Products, cageless type. I consider this reel the finest trotting centrepin ever produced commercially. An advantage of the wide drum version is that the line can be spread evenly over a large area, so preventing the line burying turns tightly underneath each other (when under pressure from a fish, for example) which can spoil fluidity of casting, cutting down distance and causing looping around the saddle (reel foot). For the same reason I do not favour adding new line over old line, filling the drum deeper and deeper. LINE: 100 yards, either nylon monofil for braided Terylene dressed with silicone grease. Terylene, however, puts considerable wear on rod rings; is also drifts across the surface in a big belly in windy weather, and using it means that a nylon link must be added for the hook attachment -- weakening the strength of the tackle by an extra knot. FLOATS: Mainly swan quills, cork on quill and elder pith on balsa dowel, mounted on the line with long rubber bands above and below the body to firmly maintain the set depth.
For swims of greater depth than the length of the rod it is of course necessary to use top-ring sliding floats, with either a nylon stop-knot or a fragment of rubber tied in above the float at swim depth.
The pure form of the Nottingham cast, as practiced by J.W. Martin "Trent Otter" is as follows. The rod is held in the right hand near the top of the handle with the reel positioned directly underneath so that it can be controlled with a finger or thumb, depending on personal preference. The rod handle rests against the inside of the forearm, and the line hangs down for almost the length of the rod. Now the rod is swung round left, across the body, until it is pointing slightly astern of the angler, and at the same time a loop of line is drawn off the drum with the left hand until the arm is a full stretch behind the angler. As the terminal tackle straightens out behind, so the rod is brought swiftly forward again until it points in the direction of the cast. As this position is reached the loop is let go from the left hand and a finger on the right hand simultaneously flicks the drum to set it in motion. When the tackle hits water the same finger applies pressure to the drum to prevent overrun. It is a system which helps co-ordination to quite a degree when first making the attempt at centrepin casting.
The Nottingham cast is quite easy to master, and the more it is practiced the easier it becomes to mould the various stages into one fluid motion, almost without thinking.
Incidentally, the direction of the cast should be slightly upstream, so that, as the tackle settles in the water, it is possible to bat back slack line and have everything under control by the time the float comes opposite and begins to move off and find fish downstream.
Summing up, it is my humble opinion that the centrepin is not a reel we can just let die without a fight, because our foreign-dominated tackle manufacturers are prepared to let it. The centrepin remains a very useful piece of fishing equipment, and as such should again be freely available in tackle shops.
The art of centrepin fishing is not something future generations of British anglers should only have knowledge of by reading old fishing books, and it's a crying shame that apparently we are so taken in with fixed-spool reels that we are happy to allow this to happen.

[Stour Otter]

Editorial from FISHING - No. 9, Friday April 19 1963. Price: One Shilling

D. L. WRAY and a ...
Discourse on Crust

OWEN Wentworth's contribution on breadcrust, dealt with but one aspect of crust as a bait. If one looks closely at an average "tinned" loaf of bread it will be seen that there are no less than five different grades of crust surrounding it. They range from underbaked soft pure white to charred, brittle black.
All make excellent hook baits with the exception of the charred portion, which I shall refer to later in this article. The part which the angler decides to use should depend firstly on the quarry and secondly on the speed of flow if fishing running water.
Owen Wentworth has already mentioned the use of the soft white crust. From his comments I presume he confined his observations to roach fishing. This type of crust is to be found under the "eaves" as it were; at the shoulder of the loaf, especially on the ends.
The sides offer a smooth variety of golden shades which are ideal for roach and chub fishing. The tougher texture of this portion gives it an advantage over the soft white for fishing the streamier swims where its tenacity in adhering to the hook enables one to fish it with confidence.
A small cube on a No.8 or 10 hook will withstand a vigorous 40-yard cast exceptionally well. This portion of the loaf is too soft for legering in anything but a very slight stream, although it is admirable for long-trotting with float tackle.
The swirling weir pools and the fast, heavy water of the barbel swims demand a really tough crust which will stand up to a continuous buffeting for some time. The top of the loaf will provide this, not the blackened area, but the dark-brown, slightly overdone crust surrounding it.
Care should be taken in choosing a suitable size of crust in relation to the hook size. It is also important to ensure that the hook point penetrates the outer toughness twice so that the bait nestles in the bend of the hook, ensuring a firm hold.
Now, that black burnt area on the top of the loaf conceals a secret. If the outer layer is removed it will reveal a soft, golden inner crust which many roach anglers consider the supreme roach bait.
On its day it can be deadly. Whether it is the softness or the slightly burnt tang in the taste which many find so attractive I don't know, but the roach certainly go for it.
Now this question of preparation. All that is necessary is a loaf that is a day or two old and has been kept in a cool atmosphere. During warm weather simply wrap the loaf in a slightly damp tea-towel, not a wet cloth, that will ruin it.
When in use at the waterside keep it out of the sun and a strong wind, either of which will rapidly dry up the moisture in the bread and leave it brittle and crumbly.
It is surprising how tough the crust really is. It is easy to say, "Tear a piece off". Personally I find this extremely difficult to do, particularly when my fingers are half frozen. At the best of times I invariably have to use both hands to secure a piece of suitable size and I waste more that I use. Far better to carry a small penknife and cut any size you want.
Some anglers find difficulty in getting the crust to stay on the hook. There are several reasons for this. It my be insecurely impaled on the hook, the hook may be too small, or the wrong "grade" of crust has been chosen in relation to the stream or distance cast.
Usually the trouble is a combination of two or more of these.
For hook size up to No12, use with light float tackle, a tiny fragment on the point of the hook is adequate, but for leger tackle and larger hooks to size 6, cubes up to about half an inch should be hooked in such a manner so that the crust lies in the cradle of the bend with two holding points, namely, the shank and the barb. The point of the hook should protrude slightly to ensure quick penetration on the strike.
Anglers who use larger hooks for carp, barbel and chub usually know what they are doing and a two-inch cube of crust is by no means too large for these fish.
Sometimes the current is too strong for ordinary crust fishing. In this case the use of two or more layers will solve the problem; I like to use three.
The first two are impaled in the centre of the crust, worked round the bend of the hook and slid up the line to leave the hook clear for a third cube. This is affixed in the way described previously and the first two are then pulled down onto the shank.
All three are then firmly squeezed together between thumb and forefinger, thus making a very attractive chub or barbel bait, which will stay on for a very long time. If hooked correctly the centre layer of crust takes a considerable time to become saturated and retains its toughness indefinitely.
These tiered baits are also very useful for long-trotting, casting long-distance and surface-fishing for carp or rudd, where added weight is required to reach the desired spot.
When speaking of bread baits too many anglers think that any old loaf will do. It will not. No two bakeries turn out bread of the same texture or degree of outer colouring.
From the anglers point of view these items are important and one must be just as selective as one would be over the choice of a single maggot for hookbait. Through many years of experimenting with breadbaits I have come to the conclusion that for angling purposes the steam-processed loaf is far superior in every way to all other types of bread.

[Stour Otter]

Editorial from ANGLER'S ANNUAL, 1970. Price: Seven Shillings and Sixpence.

Summer or Winter Chub? by Tag Barnes

I DISLIKE being asked 'Do you prefer to catch chub in summer or winter?'. . . If the answer is based on past angling lore, and without giving the matter much thought, then the immediate reply is to plumb for the cold months when the chub's fighting qualities are supposed to be at their best.
It has often been said that during the summer months chub tend to 'come in like wet sacks'. The origin of such a remark almost certainly arose from the fly fisherman who accidentally hooked a small shoal chub while fishing for trout at a time when the latter is not at its fighting best; or when the angler realized it was a chub he had hooked, the fish was unceremoniously hauled out without being given any chance to show its pace.
The fighting power of summer chub is dependent on several factors, the main one being the kind of spring we have just had and, secondly, the type of water in which they are pursued.
A settled spring, when spawning gets away to a flying start, has a tremendous influence in deciding the fitness of the chub on June 16. Reasonably clement weather in April and May provides the chub not only with a better equipped larder of aquatic creatures on which to recover and fatten after spawning, but also an abundance of small fry -- a staple diet during these two important months.
If you really want to test the mettle of a summer chub then there are two ways you should go about it. First you need to ignore the larger rivers and make your way to a small overgrown chub-holding tributary or the upper reaches of a parent river.
Here, in the usually clear water, amid a tangle of rush, lilies and other aquatic vegetation you will often find chub of tremendous proportions. Taking the utmost care in approach you may see your chub lying in a clear run between the rush beds, or, if the light is right, you may spot the dim outline of a bulky fish lazing beneath the edge of a weed patch.
Should you be able to handle a fly rod, take along some big bushy flies on size eight hooks secured to a leader with a 7lb or 8lb point, and make sure your rod is stiff enough to stop those headlong charges of the fish for shelter.
Such battles are never prolonged. The whole heart-stopping action is usually over in a couple of minutes at the most. Much of the fight will take place in a space confined by weed of some sort or other, seldom more than two or three yards in area and often much less.
In direct contrast there is the other side of the coin -- fishing for chub in winter. With the weeds all gone and the banks iron hard with frost it is as if you were fishing for a completely different species.
Your tackle must be stout enough to stop the headlong plunges of the fish for shelter to right or left, upstream or down. Your brain, hand and eye must work rapidly as one, all the time beating by split-second timing each frantic rush the fish makes.
I have many times had the glowing satisfaction of slipping the net under a lusty chub beaten in such conditions. I have also stared disbelievingly at a hookless, 7lb line hung limp from the rod end.
If you want to catch a specimen chub then, unless you know the whereabouts of a big one, you must search for some sort of 'chub shelter'. It may be a tumble of submerged roots, a tangle of willow branches dipping into the water or a raft of debris formed by some obstruction in the river.
Your tackle, except for a minimum of weight, will be basically the same as you need to catch your summer chub. Only your bait size may need to be different for if the water temperature is just above freezing point your fish might well refuse a large offering but be prepared to accept a small morsel of cheese, bread-paste, flake or crust, or the tail-end of a lob fished on a size 12 hook.
You may have to pay the waiting game, but at the same time your concentration must never be allowed to waver, for the bite is not likely to be the full-blooded pull you might expect from a hungry summer fish, but just a gentle dither of the rod tip.
Whether you choose to fish for chub in summer or winter, however there is one thing of which you can be sure; should you hook a specimen then you will have a fight on your hands to remember, and, like me, you will never be able to decide at what time of season you prefer to fish for them.