BARRIE RICKARDS RIP


It was with a heavy heart that I heard the news this morning that Barrie Rickards, a true colossus amongst UK pike anglers, and more importantly, a good friend, had died.

Our American and Canadian friends will I hope forgive me if I mark the passing of a good friend and a man who has been an inspiration to many, many people in the UK. His writing in newspapers and magazines, and especially his books which became the standard works on lure fishing brought lure fishing to many. Our lure fishing business we ran in the UK from 1991-2004 owed much to his advice and insight.

Dr Barrie Rickards was a professor of paleobiology at Cambridge University and at the same time a man of the people. A man who never hesitated to give his advice or opinion. Honest, frank, and with a depth of knowledge of lure fishing for pike very few could hope to rival.

I first met him forty seven years ago on the banks of the Great Ouse Relief Channel at Denver Sluice in Norfolk, pike fishing (what else?). I stopped fishing and just sat behind him bombarding him with questions, as he reeled in pike after pike.

Later I was to see him pioneer the use of spinnerbaits in the UK amid widespread hilarity, wide-mesh pike-friendly landing nets, and many other innovations.

The word legendary is much used these days to describe the departed, and sometimes those who are still with us. Just occasionally, that description fits. This is one of those occasions.

I don’t cry much these days, but I did this morning.

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OK you want to hear what happened last night? To recap, I was fishing off our dock for a snapper for supper. Readers will know that our dock has been surrounded by baitfish for some days now, and it seems that the snappers are getting well fed as a result. Still, no harm in trying. Sitting on the end of the dock, beer in hand as the sun goes down is not a bad way to end the day.

So basically, no dice this evening. Until, that is, I threw my remaining half conch that I had been using for bait into the water. A large head appeared from under the dock, and inhaled the fist- sized lump of conch. It just sat there in perhaps four feet of gin clear water. It was a Giant Grouper (aka Jewfish) which Sue and I estimated at around forty pounds.

What follows next was not smart. It was not good fishing either.

After cursing that I had just thrown my remaining bait away, I remembered that my baited rod was still nodding away quietly in its rodrest. So I reeled in, and without a further thought, dropped the bait about two feet in front of our grouper’s nose. It edged slowly forward, and the hookbait just disappeared. I had of course tightened my clutch up and struck into this fish. There was an almighty surge as the fish did a lightning fast U turn and ran straight through the dock. My line parted.

So apart from the obvious what have we learnt? Well we have long suspected that large fish come round the dock at night. My last blog illustrates the point. But there have been many stories of night lines being wrecked, and of course, other tales of the one that got away. I had suspected large rays, or possibly sharks. It could be we now know the truth.

The previous day we had cleaned some ducks, and the bits and pieces all went in off the dock. That almost certainly drew in our grouper, four feet of water or not.

So today is a day of reflection, of what might have been, and in the case of Barrie Rickards, of what was.

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS

This is Chris, with the latest events at Steppingstones.
Imagine the scene. Sue and I as night falls, sitting by the windows of our office, which look out over our beach, intent on our laptop screens. It’s a dead still night with a bright full moon, the water is flat calm and very quiet. I hear a soft hiss, and I say to Sue “What was that?” She thinks it’s starting to rain. That hiss again. “That’s not rain” I say, and lean forward in my seat to look down. I see the most amazing sight. A white wave of thousands of tiny fish in mid air flying out of the water onto the beach. Behind them the water is boiling. “It’s the blue runners” I shout, leap up, run downstairs, grabbing my light rod as I go.
What a scene awaits me as I race out onto the beach. A carpet of fry, all identical lying all the way up the beach, with sheer mayhem in the foot deep shoreline. Hundreds of blue runners are tearing through the mass of fry provoking even more to jump out of the water in terror to escape the murderous jacks. So a quick cast with my tiny Swim Shad (colour does not matter in this game, these runners will hit anything that moves), and bang, straight away I’m in!
Now I’m not going to pretend this was an epic fight lasting half an hour. No, it was a stubborn struggle for a couple of minutes, line taken off my reel, careful to keep the fish away from the dock, and then in he comes. Maybe ¾ lb. OK not a monster, but real fun on light gear. So straight out again, three turns of the reel handle and bang! In again. Another mini fight of two or three minutes and another tough little blue runner comes in. Same size.
All the time this is happening I am being showered with fry, blue runners are flying in all directions and the calm sea is whipped to foam. But I know the deal. Don’t stop, keep casting. So I do and bang! Well, you get the idea. This goes on for about ten minutes with fish hitting my little shad as fast as I can get it into the water.
However, all good things come to an end, and just as quickly the shoal is gone and peace returns. I can see the same process being repeated further up the beach but to reach them would require a short wade through the high tide. This is not a good idea because the mass of dead and dying fry will have attracted sting rays in to clear up the mess, and sure enough a couple of rays appear, lurking. Wading in poor light with them around is not smart. I know from personal experience. But that’s another story. This one is not finished yet.
We are left with a carpet of tiny fish 2 inches long, dead on the beach. Sue says that looks exactly like the fish we used to eat in France in a dish called “friture” I say “What are we waiting for?” So we collect a bowl of these little fish, Sue rinses them to get rid of any sand, egg and flour, hot oil et voila- Friture!
A mound of these, served with slices of lemon, they were delicious. Heavenly. We were delighted. Free food, straight out of the sea. A genuine taste of the Mediterranean from five thousand miles away.
This type of attack happens from time to time. There is no way of predicting it, you just have to watch out for calm water and large amounts of fry in the area. Usually when the blue runners come in they attract other, bigger predators in also looking for a free meal. It’s a ten minute festival of fun. If it happens during the day, the shoal can be followed up and down the beach. It seems a pity that so many fish have to die, but I suppose its nature’s way of sharing its resources around. The blue runners get fed (ok so do we) but so also do the rays, the crabs, the birds, etc, so I guess everyone ends up satisfied.
A happy end to another day in Paradise.