Saturday 16/08/1986 - Division 4 - National Championship - River Witham - Fry's AA

Although I had been involved with Bathampton AA as Team Manager for some big matches including National Championships, this was to be my first National actually fishing rather than reserving myself.

I had been fishing both the Bristol Commercial House and AT Winter Leagues with Fry's AA. The Fry's club decided to join the National Federation of Anglers solely to fish the National Angling Championships. This would mean starting from the bottom, in division 4. I was selected to fish. I didn't realise at the time what a traumatic event it would prove to be.

We hadn’t practiced nor elicited any local help. I was told the river Witham was similar to the Huntspill, so that's OK then as all of us fished the river regularly.

The team comprised of those listed right.

The plan was to meet at the Fry’s bottom car park on Friday at 12 - midnight. John and Mike Angell were to drive a transit with the tackle in and the rest of us would travel in a mini bus driven by Gordon Bracey. We all expected where possible to travel by motorway when we found ourselves on the A46 heading towards Stroud we wondered where we were going only to be informed by Gordon that he intended to follow the Fosseway to Lincoln as he doesn’t drive on motorways!! Blimey what a journey it turned out to be. It wasn't long before Gordon lost the A46 in Cheltenham, so a nice drive around the town centre! No one slept as we were all busy talking tactics but mostly keeping an eye on Gordon. We arrived at 07:30 just in time for the 08:00 draw. My body now relised I hadn’t slept for 24 hours.

Got myself a program and found that 76 teams of 12 would be fishing 912 anglers. Typical numbers for a national back then.

Our Team Captain handed me peg C69. I had no idea where this was and to this day not sure, but think it was somewhere on the famous Kirkstead Bend. So off I go and find coach C covering the appropriate peg numbers. I was hoping to sit next to someone on the coach that had some knowledge, local or otherwise. The angler I found myself sat next to didn't have a clue either and hadn’t heard of the Huntspill so guessed he knew less than me. All loaded and names checked off when the coach driver - flat cap and about 80 years old was asking us for directions and as no one could help it looked as if I was the most knowledgeable at least I knew where the Huntspill was! After some advice from another coach driver who directed him to a bungalow in the far distance where he was advised he could get a cuppa (very flat landscape similar to the Somerset levels). We were soon driving alongside the River Witham. The driver came to a stop by the bungalow I wasn't sure he should have driven along the bank and should have dropped us off at the end of the main road instead. The Bungalow was selling drinks so I joined the driver and got a black coffee - God it was so welcome. I then went in search of my peg, which luckily was right in front of the Bungalow – I’m thinking thanks driver – but would it be a long walk back to the road?

The banks of the river were very dry and crumbly, so getting my seat box down I fell over with all the contents of my Ken Collin’s tackle box being strewn over the bank. I also spilled the near full cup of coffee. Just as I was sorting myself out the search steward arrived to check for any hidden fish with the contents of my box on full display he didn't bother much. He did look up the landing net handle for Eels.

I decided I needed coffee so went and got another. I now only had time to set up the pole to fish at about fours sections over the marginal weed and a GB feeder rod to fish as far as I could – it was twice as wide as the Huntspill – but did seem a lot like it.

I sat waiting the very few minutes for the all in and fell asleep falling of my box! I had missed the all in as anglers around me were already fishing. With my performance so far I suspect neighbouring anglers were thinking what a plonker. I started on the feeder and to say the fishing was slow during the first hour I hadn’t had a bite nor had anyone I could see – very much like the Huntspill then. My eyes were beginning to close again when I saw the tip move slightly and stuck into a bootlace Eel. This woke me up and had four more bootlaces. I had been loose feeding white maggot over the margin weed and decided I was awake enough to try the pole with triple white on the hook. First try I had an 8 oz Eel followed by a smaller one. Then a two fish a small Roach and a Perch. The match then ended which left me thinking the five hours passed quickly – did I sleep some more I wondered.

Being at the end of the section it took a while to weigh in my 880 grams (1 lb 15 oz) which beat both sides. Fishing similar to the Huntspill at the time. The driver obviously wanted another cuppa so drove back along the bank to pick us up which left no one with much of a walk. We arrived back at Headquarters where the driver got a round of applause and a few tips. I think he was winding us up about not knowing where he was going.

I’m not sure how many points I or the team had but we did get promoted to division 3 earning a place on the River Severn the following year.

Paul Stanton won the match with 17 lb 3 oz of Bream on Whitehouse Bend.

The London top outfit Trev’s came out top team.

I remember Mike Angell taking over driving the bus from Gordon and drove us back on the motorway, but not before we had some fish and chips just outside the Headquarters. I slept all the way back as did the rest of the team.

RIP matey Gentleman Gordon Bracey.