Ghosts of the shallow water.pdf

Silently and hypnotizing gurgles a small creek beneath my feet. Monotonous but still 

variable the sound of the ripple tingles my senses paired with the distinctive vision of 

the wave‘s motion. Some kind of magic such a flowing river can be. There comes an 

abrubt reed which is sucked beneath a narrow point under the bridge, quickly accelerates 

just to slow down shortly after and leaving my field of view. Any regular 

humanoid creature wouldn‘t pay any attention to such a flowing brew. Passing by 

on their bicycles not thinking about the possibility of this being a good spot to catch 

some fish. But the devil is a hooker and I‘m one of his best clients. 

This is nothing new...

So I‘m sitting here with my amigos Martin and Dominik starring at this brown and 

green soup which billows in front of me and I‘m having serious doubts if there is really 

something to get here. However dark tongues tell about this irrigation canal to hold 

almost everything possible to catch. From barbel and chub to monstrous roach. Even 

carp should be here. Since I‘ve been fishing almost only at stillwaters and got inspired 

by the muses from time to time, I was ready to take this opportunity. Thanks to the two 

club members I was able to try out the fun for a day before deciding to maybe take a 

season ticket for 2013. So today was the day and it was just me and my feeder rod. Armed 

with a couple of maggots, 10mm Source boilies and some grain of maize I form up in 

front at these new floods. Right at the first spot we had chosen I was able to catch a big

chub. I was certainly surprised about how fast I got the first fish out of the 

water. Muahaha. That‘s right! What a start. The rumors about the richness 

in fish of this inconspicuous creek seem to be true. After the row in this 

maybe 60cm deep water was over, so was the appetite of our scaled fellows 

and we decided to change out spot. So we put all our junk into the car and 

moved on to the next one.

Again we sat close to a tight part of the canal which interrupts the monotonous course of the river in 

irregular intervals, such as bridges, embankments and steps do, giving a lot of good opportunities to catch 

some fish. Unfortunately it didn‘t start of as well as before and I had to pull something out of my bag of 

tricks again to get my desired bite. Those maggots took the piss out of me. So I quickly converted my feeder 

rod, the cage got exchanged for a 45g lead, two grain of maize and again a 10mm Source marble pulled 

onto a primitive miniature rig throwing close to the end of the curling waters. Additionally I threw in 

some corn of maize and boilies into the current just to keep waiting. Simply following my inner senses. 

Slowly the sun is crawling towards the horizon as suddenly the rod tip bends like a loony opossum and sings 

the song of the bite from hell. A tough fight in the shallow and tight waters follows the beauty in my 

landing net. The first juvenile barbel. Finally! Everything done right. For the next two hours we were 

able to catch some more semi adult torpedos. This is what made my decision easy and I was sure to buy a 

season ticket for the next year. It was over... I was rivetted...

Winter was coming and I was dying for 2013 to be here. To have the licence 

ready waiting for me was worth a lot when returning from my trip to Costa 

Rica to -15°C in Vienna at the end of January. I should be able to fish there way 

earlier than on my regular puddles covered with layers of ice. February was 

dictated by ongoing iciness, snow, sub-zero temperatures and the yearly circus of 

fairs. But there was only on thing on my mind: The creek. This flowing water 

with all its hidden treasures. I‘m gonna score there. So we hit March and I was 

highly motivated sitting in the snow and seriously believing that this is going to be 

a child‘s play. Since I caught a couple of chub and barbel without and previous 

knowledge in autumn. Well .. it was no child‘s play indeed and after the first 8 

hours of bearing with the bone-chilling cold and starring aimlessly at the feeder 

tip above the 4°C cold water I realized that the wonders I was hoping for were 

no more than illusions. Damn! What was I expecting Of course .. going there and 

catch something. What else. Otherwise I could have stayed at home and decapitate 

some random virtual undead creatures. Well it just means I need to bleed just as on 

my regular waters. I got used to it. 2 weeks later I was sitting at the canal with 

Martin and Dominik again and the three of us agreed that we were far away 

from wild orgies of bites. Tricking mother nature is not as easy as it may sound.

In the meantime the ice was melting on my well-known nightmares where I 

was not able to catch anything too. Reality was oppressive - but this sharpens 

your mind. At least I tried to convince myself that this is true. You have to 

make it through these dark holes of despair somehow. In the mid of April 

things got going on my favorite bush pond and so I put the canal aside. When 

the time is right you have to stick to a spot. For sure it won‘t be like that 

forever. My fortunate way led me from the urban jungle to my gravel pit and 

then I hit the summer slump. I‘m serious. There is a summer slump here. Meaning 

I had to evade if want to get some fish. So it took the next opportunity to make 

myself on the way to the canal.

Due to the suffocating heat I chose a spot where some bushes were hanging above the water and sat myself 

in the shadow of a huge pile of rocksized stones. Unfortunately I miscalculated the position of the sun and 

had to leave after only one hour as the temperature became unbearable. Blistering heat, not a slight 

breeze, these huge rocks behind me and the dirt dropping of my chin. No point in setting up the umbrella 

as the temperature below reaches 300°C in a minute melting your nut-sized brain. I‘ve had enough. I‘m such 

an idiot but what am I going to do now I‘m doomed to vaporize with the yellow plague up in the sky. I have 

two options. Either I go home or look a for spot with a more promising climatic environment. I choose the 

second option. After all I‘m well prepared when it comes to bait. Maggots, red wigglers, miniature marbles; 

grain of maize, groundbait - all your canal fisher heart can imagine. Surprisingly fast I found a good 

spot close to an bottleneck with the perfect shadow and some deeper water. Some trees were hanging right 

above the surface of the water giving a perfect spot. I‘ve got to score here.

But after 3 hours without bites using my whole range of bait I realized that 

nothing has to be like they tell in those smart books. It can‘t be true. Was it just a 

coincidence last year Pure luck My ass! I don‘t want to drown in the downward 

spiral so I started to rummage rather aimlessly through my bag. There has to 

be something useful. And there it is. This small fat chubber float has actually 

just been then with no purpose. Actually it was worth a try. Nothing to catch on 

the ground so maybe there is a couple of carps and other foul fellows somewhere 

in the middle water not giving a damn about the trumpery below. But how am I 

gonna do this using my feeder rod Since I‘m the world champion of improvisation 

I used the chubber instead of the running cage, a stopper knot put together with 

a feeder gum, a oval lead onto the leader and there we go with the small red 

wiggler ready for a first attempt. This is gonna work somehow. I tell you. If you 

keep your reel open and control the float´s speed with your finger, there is no 

need for a centerpin reel. The feeder tip was for sure not the best choice for such 

occasions but if you don‘t try you‘ll never know. The float is moving slowly with the 

current towards the shady area. It will be right there. I feel it...

The moment the red tip leaves the sunny part it disappears and my fishing stick is bent. Can you believe 

The light feeder rod is fully twisted and the brake is buzzing heavily while I get fully excited and euphoric 

about the drill. My enemy rush towards me just below the branches and I‘m busy with the loose line. He 

passes by upriver trying to evade. Oh boy what the hell is going on here Again my rod is bent and the 

crackling brake makes my blood run cold. A big wave, water explosions and line flows off beyond good 

and evil. All this happening in a water not even 80cm deep. It‘s showtime! Though I‘m already concerned 

about losing the fish facing this unexpected power. It couldn‘t be a roach or a chub. A fat barbel or carp. 

Anything beyond is imagination.

After a couple of anxious minutes I was able to pull out my first 

channel yellow and put him on the mat. How great is that 

A small and compact mirror who has shown his strength in 

battle. A red wiggler in middle water. Muahahha. Naturally 

I don‘t need to point out that I kept on going with this strategy.

Of course it couldn‘t go on like that instantly as the fight for sure drove some other 

victims away. About an hour later I sent my chubber float going deep again and 

caught the next volcano mirror. Another fight by hook or by crook which I was 

able to win again. Two carps in one hour. All you have to do is to understand this 

new system. These guys think differently.

All learning from other rivers, creeks and still waters were useless here. It is just 

the good old try and error method that works. Those underwater rats are shy and 

devious as they learned to live in these shallow and mostly blurry brew and hide 

very well. This day has proven to me again that even the smallest water can hold 

its treasures. Fully satisfied I made myself on the way back at dusk knowing that 

there can be a lot more waiting for me. Down there in the canals dark mud.

The rest of the summer I spent mostly working at 

my girlfriend‘s construction site helping her setting 

up her own business. The rare free weekends I used 

to stay at my gravel pit to simply set my soul free. 

Autumn was approaching and the desire for my 

idyllic canal grew more and more. At all costs I 

wanted to pilot something nice into my landing net. 

I knew the chances are there. And this time I was 

prepared for all possibilities. Improvisation might 

be cool but it‘s not always the best solution.

Weather was back to normal so it was fine to sit wherever I want without having to fear the 

sun and not being burnt alive. With the reputed knowledge about the cautiousness of my fishy 

chaps I was extra silent and not doing the same mistake again. Which mistake it was The last 

times I was fishing to the ground I always moved close to the bank to feed from there 2 meters 

into the water setting up my rig right in front. Well .. supposedly my steps so close to the bank 

flushed all potential clients away. Due to the low water depth I wouldn‘t be surprised. So I‘m 

not going to the same mistake again. I sat in the bridge‘s shadow throwing 20m downstream. I 

used the slingshot to get the fodder right there not scaring away those timid creatures. To 

prevent provoking a lot of action of small fish just below the surface I abstain from using live 

bait and took three 10mm Source boilies. Not to mention without a feeder rod. After two hours 

of throwing marbles into the water things started to get interesting again. It appeared from 

nowhere and it was clear as a mountain lake that I found the first victim of my treacherous 

trap. I want to again stress the fact that these fish in this shallow and tight canal develop 

unexpected powers beyond imagination. I caught a lot of fish in many different waters but 

what is actually happening here you would not believe unless you experienced it yourself. Even 

I wasn‘t expecting anything close to this. The advantage I‘m having in this situation is the fact 

that I can move along and not fully max out the distance.

What a wonderful golden carp was right there in front of me. YES! I couldn‘t believe it myself 

what I was able to catch in this slow and tight canal. The colorful flock of my new groupies was 

cheering while I was taking a couple of pictures using the self-timer to finally release the scaly 

submarine back to the waters. Hehehe. Slowly I begin to understand. Ease and trickiness paired with 

the will and courage to change seem to be a feasible recipe. Two hours later the mill was spinning 

again and the next fishy trunk was caught. Not as big as the first one but having in mind the 

circumstances it was still a highlight. It keeps being amazing what these unimposing waters can hold. 

It doesn‘t need to be the biggest carp on earth that gives you the spirit of fishing. This is about more 

than that. It is about the real feeling and experiencing the origin of angling. It is about thinking, 

trying things out and failing. To learn and be flexible to be successful. This is how I finished my 

first canal season and I‘m already looking forward going there again looking for more treasures 

the creek is holding. When the next chapter from the ghosts of the shallow water will be written ...

Ghosts of the shallow water.pdf

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