Those of us of a certain age can probably look back and recall when a friend or colleague uttered a memorable phrase or saying that stuck like glue somewhere in the inner recesses of our minds and influenced the choices we made in later life. For me it was Bill. He was my ‘ganger’ on the building site in Staines where I was working as a labourer in my summer holidays to fund a hedonistic student lifestyle while I was pretending to be studying politics at Sussex University. Bill was a tough but thoughtful character and we were chatting one lunch break about future hopes and dreams. Sadly, he had concluded that, at his time of life, he was unlikely to see many of his plans realised and told me sternly – “listen son, make sure that when you get to my age you never look back on your life and say ‘if only’.” And that has been my excuse for making the most of what time I’m allotted on this earth and for seeking fishing adventures when and where I can. We are, after all, a long time dead and as my 70th year approached it felt appropriate to mark the occasion in some style.

Granted there was the inevitable big party in April with more than 100 of my favourite people at my favourite Reading venue – an old Dole Office that we converted into a thriving arts centre in my time as a local councillor and Chair of the Council’s Leisure Committee. These friends and family came from such diverse parts of my life, and from all over the country, that I was a bit worried how they might all meld together. So we came up the idea of letting them ‘self identify’ by wearing specially made party stickers in the following categories: Politics, Fishing, Community, Family, Sex & Drugs and Wordle. (Yes, I’m hopelessly addicted to word games). Good food, a great band and plenty of alcohol did the rest and I’m told a good time was had by all. It was lovely to see everyone again, including a number of former girlfriends who all seemed to have recovered from the experience!

But a party is just one night and 70 years needed marking with some memorable fishing experiences, both here in the U.K. and further afield. Luckily I’m good friends with fishing guide and author Dave Lewis and the excellent team at Spoilt for Choice Travel (SFC) who specialise in taking anglers to some fabulous destinations. After much research and discussion with fishing buddies who were up for joining me on these escapades, two trips were planned. The first to Madagascar in June after GTs, yellowfin tuna, sailfish and multiple other bluewater species. The second would be in November to Trinidad after tarpon. A fish with which I had had only the briefest of encounters, catching a single 60 pounder on a trip to Cuba some ten years before. My companions in Africa were to be Andy Cowley, the respected specialist angler who I first met mahseer fishing in India in 1996 and Mark Edwards, a very successful all-rounder with whom I’ve shared many an adventure to far off and fish-filled places such as Brazil, Columbia, India and Bhutan. Andy couldn’t make the Trinidad dates as he was already committed to returning to Guyana but Mark and I would be accompanied by Dave Lewis and four others in the group he was hosting for SFC.

Mexico Bound

Now these fishing trips come with a caveat. I’m blessed in having a very understanding wife who tolerates both my travels and my obsessions. However, not unreasonably Natalie felt that my Big Birthday celebrations should include her at some point so we made plans for a trip to somewhere warm in February which is her least favourite month to be in England. She knows me well enough not suggest places where fishing was completely off the agenda although I’m perfectly happy to rein it in for a few days before the urge becomes too much. Now although I’m certainly no more than a poor to average fly angler, caused probably by my aversion to trout – ‘the most stupid fish that swims” – I do enjoy wading the tropical saltwater flats in search of bonefish, which happily coincides with Natalie’s love of sea, sun, sand and snorkelling. As a result my ears prick up when fishing friends mention venues that would suit both Natalie and myself. The vast majority of foreign destinations where my friends and I have chased our fishing dreams are not places for the non-fisher seeking a modicum of comfort. But not so the southern tip of Mexico. Which is how my birthday year began in Xcalak, a tiny fishing village on the Mesoamerican barrier reef just a few miles from the border with Belize.

Sin Duda Villas is an amazing collection of apartments run by Lesley and Dave, a delightful Canadian couple, in this eclectic community of locals and blow-ins from around the world who are living a remote and somewhat idyllic existence, almost completely off-grid. I say almost, as the electricity comes from the sun and the water from the sky, but there is still weak internet coverage and the tarmac road nearly makes it as far as the village. Thereafter it’s a challenging 5 mile drive along a well-rutted beach road to the accommodation. This was not so much a fishing holiday as a vacation for Natalie and I with fishing an added extra. Just up the road are a couple of fly fishing lodges with skiffs and guides to take clients into the lagoons and flats that surround the vast expanse of water that is Chetumal Bay.

What is special about Xcalak, apart from its beauty and remoteness, is that all the accommodation is literally a few steps from the beach and a few steps more takes you into azure blue water inside a coral reef with bonefish occasionally cruising past your feet. All of this makes DIY saltwater flyfishing a realistic prospect without incurring the expense of hiring a guide or a boat. That is, of course, if you are a halfway competent fly angler which I’m clearly not. I can put out a fly line a reasonable distance but sadly not always with the finesse or accuracy necessary to fool a spooky bonefish or permit in skinny water. In the end I accepted that my early morning forays along the beach front were unlikely to produce much more than the one tiny bonefish and a couple indeterminate, micro reef species that had already fallen for my clumsily presented flies. I bit the bullet, apologised to my wallet, and booked a day on a skiff with a guide.

We motored off from the village and through the Canal de Zaragoza, a man made cut though from the ocean into the lagoon, and I was not surprised to find that we weren’t the only boat there. Thanks in part to the American flyfishing outfit Yellow Dog, Xcalak has become something of a ‘go to’ destination and as a consequence the plentiful shoals of bones were now quick to spook off the boat. One cast at best was all you got at them before they drifted away and I usually needed three. I did get a couple of modest bonefish in some slightly deeper water and would have caught more if I had thought to get out and wade. Anyway, my guide suggested we try the ocean front not far from where we were staying for the last couple of hours as some good fish had been seen there recently. However, after 30 minutes scanning the water we decided to give up on the floppy rod and head out to the rocky bommies on the reef edge to give my light popping rod a work out. First cast into a nice canyon and the water exploded as a pack of jacks homed in on my small Halco Roosta popper. This was more like it and shortly afterwards I was hoisting a feisty fish aboard which the guide took home for tea. He wasn’t so lucky with the final fish of the day which was considerably bigger and eventually rubbed me off on the reef edge.

I really enjoyed Xcalak and Sin Duda Villas. It’s one of the few places where a keen angler and their non-fishing partner can enjoy an affordable tropical holiday. Providing of course you go easy on the margaritas!

Cotswold Capers

Not all of my fishing friends have the inclination to spend their hard earned cash travelling to far off places in search of bent rods and screaming reels so I was keen to also celebrate my big birthday year in home waters. For me, late springtime in England is a fabulous time of year. The countryside comes to life and the fish have woken up and are usually keen to oblige. Best of all it’s prime time for tench and crucians, my two favourite stillwater species. The problem was how to find a fishery that could accommodate 30 anglers, in groups of up to six at a time, over a week in May. As luck would have it I stumbled across the perfect place in the Cotswold Water Park just 45 minutes from my home in Reading. Netherwood Lakes is owned by Tim Marks, who I knew from the old days of the National Association of Specialist Anglers, and Russell Griffiths who was developing the smaller pond as a bespoke crucian venue and who had invited me down for a visit and some advice. With two lakes, an onsite cabin, electric supply and running water, secure parking, a nearby pub and a Chinese takeaway that delivers, this place ticked all the boxes and more. Best of all it had only been lightly fished in recent years following restocking and refurbishment and held good numbers of sizeable tench, roach and carp in the main lake and tench, roach and crucians in the smaller pool.

With the water booked and the invites mailed out all I had to do was wait for the replies. The fishing was to be my treat but guests were encouraged to bring me some bait and a bit of grub to throw on the BBQ. I was going to be there all week cooking breakfasts, socialising and hopefully catching plenty of fish. So a constant supply of food and fresh bait was clearly going to be helpful. In no time at all the responses came in and the spreadsheet soon filled up as 29 of the mad keen anglers that I’m fortunate to have as fishing friends booked their slots in what we hoped would be a fish-filled week of fun. And so it turned with near perfect weather and some lovely sport for all who came. Carp to mid-twenties were caught stalking and off the top, particularly by the irrepressible Andy Cowley and Matt Webb. Keith Horsley from Nottingham Piscatorials, a man who has helped me to some of the greatest barbel fishing of my life, had the best of the tench fishing with nine fish to over six pounds on the float in the first morning. My travelling companions, Keith Elliot, Mark Edwards, Adrian Palmer and Dave Lewis swapped their game rods for coarse tackle and had some lovely tench and crucians. My own fishing was very enjoyable with 26 tench for the week along with a few nuisance carp which put an alarming bend in my Drennan tench float rod but nonetheless eventually ended up safely in the landing net.

With two Campervans, a BBQ stove and a cabin kitchen on site catering was pretty straightforward and nobody wanted for much. I really enjoyed spending this time with my fishing mates, so much so that we are planning to do it all again in 2025!

Madagascar Madness

Anyone who has travelled with Spoilt for Choice won’t have failed to notice the rave reviews for the fishing in the Mitsio Archipelago off the North West of Madagascar. Anglers were coming back with tales of 70 different species being landed in a week from this beautiful blue water destination. The Mitsio Lodge is operated by the French outfitters Tropical Fishing which was set up by the well known international angler Alain Soulet. These guys are serious about their sport which gave me the confidence to know that we would be in good hands. So much so that even though I had missed out on securing places for Mark, Andy and myself on a Dave Lewis escorted trip we were quite happy to book independently via SFC and join in with whoever else happened to be at the lodge.

As it happened we were fortunate enough to secure the boat with the ‘best’ skipper. Commando (possibly his real name) was chunk of a man with an uncanny knack of knowing where the fish are, who did everything at top speed. Being on his boat meant plenty of action but his short temper and abrupt manner led to a couple of altercations which fortunately were soon forgotten. A typical day started with a communal breakfast in the open lounge looking out across the bay before heading for the boats at around 8am. The first job was to track down the fast moving schools of bonito to get a supply of bait. This involved long casting with small metal twisters and plenty of bent rods so long as we could get within range. A jumbo sized bonito was then put out the back on the heavy rod while we went jigging for whatever we could find on the marks.

The slow pitched jigging style recommended for Mitsio was new to all of us as it involved light, flexible but strong 7.5ft rods and fast retrieve overhead reels with plenty of drag to keep the creatures out of the rocks. The action was the complete opposite of the more usual, and far more exhausting, speed jigging that I had done before. The lures are a wider profile and are designed to flutter downwards to entice a bite after a long sweeping ‘pitch’ upwards. Virtually all bites come on the drop and it is a seductive and subtler way of fishing that is kinder on the shoulders for gentlemen of my advanced age.

However, Commando had other ideas and was constantly telling us to work the lures faster. At times he was right and they wanted it bounced furiously in the bottom few metres of water but sometimes he wasn’t and the light, downwards flutter produced the goods. At the end of the day we all caught plenty with triple hook-ups from fun sized GTs in the 5 to 20lbs range and a host of other species including grouper, snapper, jobfish, sierra mackerel, red emperor, golden trevally, kingfish and many others. The GTs were all returned but a good few of the other species went back to either the lodge or the local village to be eaten. Madagascar may be a poor country with a hungry population but the good people of Mitsio didn’t want for their protein.

In between the jigging we would troll belly strips and lures looking for sailfish and tuna and very rarely would we fail to get a hit or two. Keeping the leaping sailies on the hook was inevitably a challenge and I had three jump off before finally landing my first one of around 40lbs. Andy and Mark fared a little better and both enjoyed some spectacular action.

The best was saved for the last day which saw us slowly heading back to Nosy Be on the mainland, fishing as we went. Dave Lewis had kindly lent me a heavy Shimano boat rod capable of landing any sailfish that swims and even modest sized marlin which are always a possibility out there. We teamed that up with an Avet multiplier and 100lbs braid and it did the job admirably with any grouper, sailfish or tuna that took a liking to the livebaits. That was until I found myself connected to 450lbs of angry blue marlin which promptly headed for the horizon. Without a proper harness and big game reel it was impossible to make any real headway on the fish and the battle lasted far longer than was good for any of us. We all took turns on the rod over the course of a long and painful four and a half hour fight. The only way I could recover line was to walk backwards across the boat and then wind furiously as the reel simply wasn’t up to job. After about two hours I actually got the bloody thing within 30 metres of the boat before it decided to leap out of the water head for Africa once again. This gave us some spectacular pictures but also the realisation that much more pain was to come. When us three Brits were but broken shells of men and the handle thread was stripped from the now disintegrating reel, Commando took over for shift and even he needed the help of the crewman Lucien to keep the rod from being dragged into the water. On the four hour mark it was clear something was wrong with the marlin as she had stopped running and was ‘pin-wheeling’ under the boat. We were done for and the fish was not going to make it. Eventually we handlined her aboard for a photograph and a promise that she would be given to the local villagers that night. It was a bitter sweet moment as we all hated to be responsible for killing such a beautiful creature, even if the food was much needed.

I can’t speak too highly of Mitsio as a destination or the service provided by Tropical Fishing. As you’d expect from the French the food was excellent and the individual sea front bungalows provided comfortable accommodation in a stunning setting. The fishing is superb and wonderfully varied and it must be one of the few places left on the planet where you can go a whole week in fish-filled waters without seeing either another sport fishing boat or a commercial fishing vessel. My only criticism is the lack of tackle suitable for landing sizeable marlin and I’m hoping in future there’s at least one outfit provided on the boat capable of doing the job if required.

Barbel Bonanza

Back in 1980 I bought my first house on the banks of the Kennet in Reading so I could catch barbel from the bottom of my garden. Time has moved on and for well documented reasons the Kennet is not the river it once was. Although there are still some huge fish to be caught they are not present in sufficient numbers for an impatient angler like myself. Consequently these days I get my annual barbel fix in short bursts with two day trips to the Wye and the Trent and the occasional visit to the Hampshire Avon. It’s fair to say that the Avon, to some extent, has gone the way of the Kennet with fewer but much larger fish. However, I was fortunate enough this season to gain access to a new stretch with healthy numbers of barbel of all sizes. Rather than spending all day roving the banks for possibly one bite I could actually pick a spot and feed a swim with realistic possibility of seeing the rod crash round three or four times in the course of the session. And that’s exactly what happened and it was wonderful. I had nothing over 8lbs but it was like going back in time and gave me hope for the future of this lovely river.

The Wye was the Wye and my favourite spots were full of chub but if you could get through them there were some nice barbel to be caught. One day my friend Sean and I actually gave up fishing when we had got to 200lbs of float caught chub as there was just no way the barbel were ever going to find our baits. On another occasion I managed, through careful feeding, to concentrate the chub on the inside line and get a shoal of barbel settled on a spot three quarters of the way across the river. Nine of these torpedoes, from two to nine pounds, succumbed to my favourite low water tactic of a single 10mm banded pellet on a long hooklink behind a Kamasan black cap feeder with plenty of loose feed catapulted over the top.

My love affair with the Trent is now three years old and still going strong. Several trips were made to this Midlands Mecca for barbel and none disappointed. Some of these swims are so prolific that they can be shared with a mate with one trotting through while the other keeps up a constant stream of loose feed which will eventually see the barbel rising up in the water to intercept the free offerings. Catching double figure barbel on the float, three foot deep in eight foot of water next to a socking great snag tree, is exhilarating to say the least. It requires specialist tackle and quick and brutal reactions to keep the beasts out of branches. By far the most effective way is to immediately walk (or run) backwards the moment the barbel is hooked, knocking it off balance and dragging it away from danger before it can get up a head of steam and crash dive back into the snags. It’s not a game for the faint-hearted but my goodness is it fun!

The Trent was particularly kind to me this year with a float caught PB of 10.10 and an overall best barbel of 13.02 in catches of up to 15 fish in a daylight session. I realise that this is small beer compared to what some of the locals achieve but I’m delighted with barbel fishing of this quality. Until I started fishing the Trent I never believed I would ever again catch barbel in any numbers and, three years on, I continue to be amazed by the quality of sport this river has to offer.

Other Diversions

I consider myself fortunate to still be able to work and make a contribution to the things that matter to me in my 70s. Whether it be lobbying decision makers on behalf of my favourite sport for the Angling Trust, helping run my local Reading & District Angling Association (RDAA) or my duties as a trustee for a children’s charity in my old parliamentary constituency – I find all of it worthwhile and fulfilling. To be honest I can’t ever see myself hanging up the boots and stopping entirely. Day time TV holds no appeal and golf even less so. These days I try and organise my diary to coincide with the best fishing conditions and get the other work done when the weather is less promising. I’m usually fishing two days a week, sometimes more, but I’m far from being a full time angler and I’m pretty sure I’d never want to become one. If a passion was to become a chore the fun would pretty soon evaporate.

As autumn and winter approaches my attention turns to other river species. In particular the roach, perch, chub and grayling of the southern rivers. In the summer months I target perch on small livebaits in the Thames but this year has been disappointing with just the one three pounder coming to my boat. Once winter arrives I switch to the Kennet and Kennet & Avon canal with lobworms as the preferred bait. So far only a few modest fish have come my way but there’s still plenty of time to put that right.

Two of my three trips to the Test saw me guiding other anglers to some nice fish on behalf of both the Angling Trust and RDAA. We found plenty of roach and grayling in between the inevitable nuisance trout and for a brief moment I thought I was attached to that roach of a lifetime, which, in my case, would be a river specimen of over 3lbs. I had already put one of the Angling Trust auction winners in a prime roach swim and he was doing fine with fish up to 1.06 which was his new PB. I took the rod for a couple of casts to show him how to slow the float down a little more. Inevitably the red top disappeared from view and I felt the thump, thump of a heavy fish. Time stood still for a minute as I edged her up the swim but that first swirl beneath the surface revealed the brownish flanks of a hybrid rather than the silver of a true roach. Still, at 3.08 it was a fine, if mildly disappointing capture.

Luckily the Avon was much kinder to me when it came to roach and I had two fabulous float caught hauls on casters and bread punch. No two pounders but plenty of beautiful pound plus redfins. It really is a pleasure to see the roach stocks reviving in the river following the ground breaking work of the late Budgie Price and Trevor Harrop who have just been rightly recognised in the New Year’s Honours List.

Talking of honours, it was also pleasing to receive the news that Reading & District AA had been awarded the title of Angling Club of the Year in the national awards organised by the Angling Times. None of us involved in running angling clubs do it for awards but it is gratifying when the hard work is recognised and my friend and colleague, Del Shackleford, the RDAA Fisheries Officer, and his team, deserve particular praise for driving the club forward with some innovative and successful initiatives.

On the political front there was the General Election back July which delivered the long expected change in government. We had a new team of ministers to get to know in Westminster and have worked hard to ensure that angling remains a significant stakeholder in the corridors of power. It has been important to keep up the pressure on the sewage issue, particularly given the assurances that Steve Reed and the Labour front bench made on the matter during the election campaign. We worked with our partners in River Action and Fish Legal on the March for Clean Water in November which saw 15,000 take to the streets of London to remind the politicians that we are fed up with seeing our rivers used as dumping grounds by a failing water industry.

And finally, the arrival of winter definitely meant that it was time for chub. Unfortunately we had two early floods which knocked out the Thames for weeks. I managed a few modest specimens to 4.5lbs from both the main river and a favourite tributary but no sign of the bigger beasts as yet. My friends did better with chub to over 7lbs so I’ve got some catching up to do before March 14 calls time on proceedings. The Avon was similarly challenging but it did at least give my first five pounder of the winter.

Tarpon in Trinidad

My final piece of birthday fishing extravagance involved a planned reacquaintance with those ‘silver kings’ of the Caribbean. As I’d only ever caught one tarpon before I wanted to experience again the electrifying thrill of that first explosive run and leap of this most powerful and impressive sporting fish. The Trinidad fishery in the mouth of the mighty Orinoco Delta has the reputation of being one of most productive tarpon venues anywhere. Ridiculous numbers of fish had been recorded in the past including 91 fish in a day to the two boats operated by the Monsta Tarpon outfit. At the right time of year anglers were told to expect 20 fish days with specimens from 15 to 150lbs with virtually all the tarpon falling to free-lined livebaits on circle hooks. This is a particularly effective method and a well timed strike sees the majority of the fish remaining hooked despite fights lasting up to an hour.

Unfortunately the fish had switched off for our visit and the numbers were the lowest experienced for a long time. Personally I wasn’t all that bothered as we were averaging half a dozen fish to each boat every day which means the six of of us had a tarpon or two every time we went out. I had six in total in five days from 15 to 80lbs including one on lure which tested my tackle to the limit. If that was a poor week I’d like to be there when it really kicks off!

And so as 2024 comes to an end another fishing year is done and more wonderful memories are made. I guess the good news for us anglers, as opposed to those addicted to other sports, is that we can indulge our passion well into our twilight years. Now I don’t suppose I’ll be battling marlin or tarpon when I’m 80 but am determined to keep adding to my bucket list for as long as I’m physically able. It’s certainly been a great year and whilst I won’t be able to replicate it in 2025 I’ve got plenty of fishing lined up and I know I’m going to love almost every minute of it.

What ever you’ve got planned for 2025 I wish you all tight lines and singing reels.

Happy New Year

Martin