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What is your most scariest encounter whilst fishing???


Guest big tinca

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Guest big tinca

Hi all you budding anglers out there.

 

What is your most scariest encounter whilst you been fishing?

 

Mine is when I decided to go fish the river aire and whilst comfortably sitting on my box and enjoying the surroundings I heard a noise behind me,to my despair was a big mink sat there just starring at me!

 

It went after about twenty seconds though, thank god it was huge.....honest!

 

Whats yours!

 

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Happy Tenching.

 

Big Tinca.

bigtinca@hotmail.com

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Guest ALAN FAWCETT

With me being ever so slightly interested in parasychology & the likes i love reading stuff like this! biggrin.gif

 

Elton what was the one where one of the regulars stayed in the old hall/coach house and recorded the scream?? I'm sure it was on AN that i read about it ! confused.gif

 

Yes i've seen & heard some wierd sh*t while out fishing or ferreting/lamping but most of it you wouldn't believe! (in fact theres a regular on here who lives not far from a place called aqualate mere & i've seen some seriously wierd lights n heard some wierd sounds round there as well! eek.gif

 

Happy fishing all tongue.gif

 

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TROGG (Alan)

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Guest lee sot

About 10 years a go when i was in my early teens i was fishing on a slope at a reservoir when i slipped down the bank into the water,having about 25???? layers of clothing on made it very hard to swim as it was about 10 foot deep. I just made it to the bank coughing and spluttering but my wellies had filled up with water and sank to the bottom.I still dont know which was scarier , falling in or having to walk 2 miles home wet with nothing on my feet.TIGHT LINES

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Guest Richard Harvey

about 5 years back whilst fishing late in the evening into darkness storking chub and pike with lures on the great ouse near milton keynes with my son who was then about 13 , we aproached a small reed bed about 10 feet long by about 5 feet wide, we was just about to cast along the front of it when we heard a fairly loud long but deep growl, we looked at each other and we was back to the carpark before we knew it!!

it had spooked us whatever it was,at that time there was a lot in the press about "The Beast of Milton Kenyes" = many people spotting a large black cat, puma whatever crossing farm land, streets and estates etc. and that was fresh in our minds.

We laughed at it a few days later saying that it might of been a badger,dog or even methane gas being pushed out as we walked there! (gas from reed bed ,not us !!)

or even a hidden barbel angler cursin coz we had dissturbed him?!

these are all things that add to the angling experience and that you remember for ever,also they make some great fishing storeys that are usually best told face to face!

Tight lines,Richard.

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Guest Big Nick

When I was 15 I used to go fishing with a mate, who every Saturday would borrow his dads car. The only problem was his dad played golf on Saturdays and we had to get the car back for lunchtime. This necessitated a very early start; around 2 am in the morning.

 

On one of these early morning trips to the Severn we were driving down a country lane when someone jumped out in front of the car waving some form of lamp, signalling us to stop. Being two very un-brave teenagers we decided the best thing to do was not to stop, as it was probably some nutter who was going to get us! So we drove at him, to which he swiftly jumped aside. On the way home later we discovered at the spot where the nutter had tried to attack us a car embedded in a brick wall.

 

The nutter was obviously someone who had crashed his car and needed some assistance!

 

 

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Big Nick

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Guest doc_tench

I took the wife night fishing last year.

Now that was scary!!! biggrin.gif:

 

Must dash got to do the washing up!

Just comming dear!!!!!!!! frown.gif

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Guest Grubby_Fisherman

The following events take place in Chichester, Sussex.

 

This made me remember a strange night during early July 99. Dale (my fishing buddy)and me had decided on a Saturday night session in a swim known as number four (for reasons that are obvious). This is the only swim large enough for a bivvy on the north end of the lake. Most other swims are barely large enough for a Noddy and his seat box (only joking lads, no offence meant to you tiddler bashers).

 

In order to be sociable, we decided to double up for the night. Now as previously stated, the swims are not exactly huge by any means. This particular swim, lies some ten feet below the track around the lake and is reached by a series of steps. In order for both of us to fish from it, Dale drew the long straw and had his Brolly set up in the swim with both sets of our rods and I pitched up on the steps. I had my bed chair legs fully extended on the bottom end and fully in at the head end. It must have looked most precarious to the onlooker, but was in fact quite comfortable if I kept still. My Brolly was somehow wedged in behind me, against the hand railings that lead down to the swim. On this occasion we could only use 2 rods each. Mind you, that was the rule for that time of year, but when have you known a Good Carper to stick to all the rules?

 

With both sets of rods out we settled back for a bit of a reminisce. We laughed the early hours of darkness away with a few cups of tea thrown in. The action was very slow, non-existent to be precise. Up to date we had caught a fair number of the lakes population. In fact, I don’t think we had suffered a blank session between us since the start. With thoughts of all things carpy, it was time for some shut eye.

 

Now, I don’t know about you, but on some nights I have trouble sleeping and on some I sleep like a baby. It was to one of those nights where you just can’t seem to drop off. What didn’t help was the fact that Dale kept moaning on. It seemed that I had only just managed to doze of when Dale started nudging me. 'What’s up mate? You in?' I asked politely. Or was it, 'What the %$*' you want at this time of night?' as I hadn’t heard a buzzer. 'Something keeps scratching behind my Brolly,' he moaned. 'It’s only the rats or a bloody hedgehog. Go back to sleep.' When I said rats, I mean RATS. You should see the ones on that complex. They must be mutants because they are as big as cats. 'No it sounds bigger than a rat.'

 

For the next half an hour I laid awake, listening for any out of the ordinary sounds and tried to keep a good sense of humour. I told him of a few weird tales that had been printed in 'Carpworld' just to cheer him up. We also recounted a tale of a swim called 'The Back Point', on the CDAS complex, across the road. That swim has produced the most nightmares to anglers than any I have ever heard of. Only the brave at heart fish there. At last, with sore eyes and no weird noises to keep me awake, I finally dozed off again. It seemed that only minutes had passed and Dale was waking me up.

 

'It’s doing it again. It’s a sort of snuffling noise,' he kept saying. 'For Christ’s’ sake, you are imagining things,' I tried to tell him. I had still heard nothing. It seemed that every time he woke me up, what ever it was that was making the noise stopped. I was getting a bit **** off to say the least. Can’t stand grown men afraid of the dark and their own shadows.

 

I must have woken up several times during the night for one reason or another, and every time I found Dale awake. He looked terrible, what with little or no sleep and the fact that he looked as though he had seen a ghost. By now first light was just around the corner so I turned over and dozed off once again. The time must have been approaching sixish when I felt something brush the back of my head. I never woke up at that point, I just rolled over and faced out from the Brolly. Then something wet pushed at my forehead. I woke up and saw two eyes, literally six inches from mine. It was a fox and it frightened the living daylights out of me. My heart must have missed several beats.

 

'DALE,' I yelled. He leapt out of his skin. 'What?' came a bleary reply. Poor sod had probably just managed to get to sleep. Sitting at the top of the steps, looking down on us, was the fox. It had obviously been sniffing out the trout pellets we had. Mine were in a bucket, directly below my head, under the bed chair. It stood up and with one last look trotted off down the bank. Now we knew what had been keeping Dale awake all night.

 

'Good job that never happened last night,' I said, 'I wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink I laughed.' Dale looked thoroughly cheesed off, but what really upset him was the fact that I immediately turned over and went straight back to sleep. Although we never caught any fish that session, it’s one that I often remember and have a laugh about. Fishing is not always about catching fish. That may sound strange but it’s true.

 

That was not the last time that the fox was to show itself. I could recount another tale of the time that it actually ran under Dales’ bed and went under the back of his Brolly, but that’s another place and time.

 

Grubby Fisherman

 

biggrin.gifbiggrin.gif

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Guest phonebush

SCARIEST??

Odd word, scariest. I have had several different kinds of scary events occur whilst fishing.

Animal events are always scary.

Two bear incidents: one grayling; one salmon. In the US wilderness when allowed I always carry a side arm, don't need a third time.

 

Also, it was a pretty scary event when I went to the UK blustering about my superior US fishing skills only to have my bluff called and a session on the Thames with all eyes on me (gulp). British crow pie & whiskey is tasty so it didn't turn out too badly.

 

But perhaps the scariest of all was once, when assisting stranded boaters I inadvertly ended up with a ladies swimming suit top amongst my fishing kit. Later to be found by Precious, my MS. I still believe my fishing companion "planted it", that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

 

Phone

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