When I was a lad, it always seemed of the utmost importance that I should try to keep up with the latest trends. My so-called-mates of the time used to wear the latest training shoes, their trousers were always drainpipes (this was the early eighties), white socks were the only way to go and so on. I tried to follow suit, but something told me that I’d never persuade my parents that I simply MUST have those expensive £80 NIKE trainers because “all the other guys wear them”. And so I was always laughed at for wearing, in their eyes, shoes with a lower status of label. I wouldn’t go as far as say I was bullied about it, but looking back it definitely affected me.
And the same went for my fishing tackle.

I’ve fished since I was 7 years old. I grew up catching small fish from my parent’s back garden where it backed onto the Grand Union Canal. I learnt my trade on the usual small-stuff – and could only dream of catching bigger fish. The occasional bream was something to talk about for days after. And the sight of a big carp cruising around on the surface was, well, simply mind blowing for a small lad like me. I never hoped for one moment I might catch one.

What I lacked in quality tackle and finesse, I made up for in sheer enthusiasm.


A few years on and into my teenage years, and a few of the guys I knocked about with “discovered” fishing. And of course, they had to have the latest gear. I remember drooling over their carbon rods, Mitchell 300’s and eventually original Shimano Baitrunner reels (the latest thing!). Plus the obligatory rod pods, bivvies and huge landing nets.

And again, I was left feeling inferior. I could only afford fibreglass rods. My reels were cheap – probably Silstar or similar, and I made do with cheap-bin rod rests that bent in two if you tried to push them into anything like hard ground.

So when they went off to fish “the big lakes”, I was never invited along. I made do with the back garden, the gudgeon, the bream, and my enthusiasm.


When I finally reached the age where I did have money to burn, I naturally rushed out and bought all those things I really thought I wanted. The baitrunners, the carbon rods, the bivvy and so on.

And for a while it was all fairly good, but sitting behind that matched pair of matt-black rods with their matched-pair of modern Mitchell 300’s (handles accurately positioned so as to match), on matt-black buzzer bars, staring at static monkey-climbers, waiting for my Optonics to indicate the take that invariably never came, I got bored. Very bored.

Of course I caught the odd fish, but my enthusiasm had almost gone completely. I needed a change.

I watched Chris Yates on A Passion For Angling. And I fell in love with the romance of old tackle – cane rods, vintage reels and so on.

I could think of nothing else. I lusted after old rods with names like Avocet, Wizard, Lucky Strike, Mark IV. Reels like Altex, Aerial, Ambidex. I craved them all, but I could never afford most of them – and anyway, the good ones were in the hands of collectors, and rarely would anything half-decent fall near my meagre funds. And that creeping inferiority complex started to get the better of me again.


Now I have kids of my own. My little boy sits in front of the TV and watches the adverts for the latest toys. Continually he will say “I want that. And that. And that”. He’s only just started school and soon it will be “I need that, because so-and-so has got one”. And of course, like any decent parent I will have the difficult balance of buying him the things he needs, the things he wants, and not the things he thinks he wants just because some kid down the road has one. Full circle.


Recently though, I’ve started to realise that perhaps what’s really important in fishing, and in life, is just trying to enjoy what you have. In the last couple of years I’ve had some wonderful days out fishing with friends, and it’s those memories I cherish much more that any particular item of tackle I was using at the time. What is important is that when I go fishing, I go where I want to, when I want to, and with who I want to. And when I stop fishing (when I want to) I can honestly say I had a very good time, whether I caught anything or not.

I finally realise that it isn’t my methods that needed a change, or indeed my tackle. It’s my attitude.

I look in the angling press at those big-name anglers who seem to catch week in and week out. They’ll happily tell you what tackle they used, what methods, what bait, what time. Look behind the story though and you’ll see they spent many hundreds of hours on the bank to catch that fish. They often use that tackle simply because they’ve been sponsored by the tackle makers and are paid to use this tackle, whether it’s any good or not. Very often (or so it seems to me) they are either single or divorced. Maybe they have a job where they are literally paid to fish, just so long as they file an article with a few magazines here and there, or provide feedback on tackle they help to develop. Recently I read of one such angler who fishes in the region of 150 nights per year! I’d be lucky to get a tenth of that.

What I’m trying to say here is that these anglers – and I’ve nothing against any of them, in fact I wish them well – are very much in the minority. Like the vast majority, I have a normal job to hold down, a marriage, a young family, and limited time to fish. I realise I’m never going to be a big-name angler, I’m unlikely to break a record for largest fish of any particular species (and if I do, it’ll be purely down to luck), but you know what? For the first time, I think I just don’t care any more.

I’ll never be “Chris Yates” with his all-things-vintage approach, and while I still hugely admire Chris, I realise that what sets him apart is not his use of vintage tackle, but his attitude of being just that little bit different to everybody else on the bank. And from reading his books, I realise that he doesn’t take himself seriously, and for the most part simply goes out to enjoy himself.

No, I’m going to be me. Just me. I will use whatever tackle I wish to fish with on the day, be it a Shimano or a Seldex, an Armalite or an Avocet. It doesn’t matter, so long as it adds to the overall pleasure I get from my angling day. What I will choose more carefully, is the time, the place, and the company. And when after a day’s fishing I put the tackle back into the car and drive away, if I can look back and say to myself “that was nice, I enjoyed that”, then I will have found the karma I have been looking for.

And hopefully if and when they read this article in the future, perhaps my children will understand that life is about what you make of it, not what labels you wear. Choose your friends wisely, and hold your memories dear. And above all, just have fun.

Glenn Smith

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