Spend time by the water and there are questions you hear again and again from chatty dog-walkers. “Had any luck?” That’s a classic. “No,” I want to scream, “I’ve caught some bass, but luck had stuff-all to do with it. Skill, experience, dedication, a willingness to get out of bed in the middle of the night, being blown inside out and soaked to the skin, they all played a part. But not luck, that’s for lotteries.” “Are you fishing?” Amazing how often that one crops up. “Not at all, this is a scientific experiment. My line’s in the sea and I’m holding a long piece of carbon fibre. If there’s an electrical storm I want to see if this lightning conductor can turn me into a Goretex covered crisp in waders.” Of course I’d never say such a thing. When someone’s trying to be friendly I just smile and mumble a few words about the weather. But there’s one question I can’t let go unchallenged. “How can you have the patience for fishing?” Because bass fishing doesn’t take patience for crying out loud. Exercising a dog takes patience. You throw the tennis ball, your furry friend brings it back, you throw it again. It’s the same day after day. Rover’s not going to pick up a racket and hit a cross-beach topspin forehand, or make a letter T with his paws and demand a video review of your bowling action. He likes no frills running and retrieving, he’d be upset if you altered the game. But when you fish for bass, you have to be ready to go from a rolling maul to potting the pink to throwing the discus at the drop of a rain-sodden hat. Bass behaviour changes from day to day, even hour to hour. And as anglers we need to change our own behaviour as well.
