Hit the road Jake: Sign of the times

Hit the road Jake: Zeichen der Zeit | Hammer Tackle

16 days of adventure were experienced before the Opel was loaded one last time with a mountain of wet and smelly equipment and soon transported us towards home along country roads, cycle paths and gravel roads with a shockingly empty tank.

Of course the wet tent was dried, all shoes were cleaned thoroughly and all laundry was washed. Well, during the week after returning home. Of course, it would also be absolutely justified to assume that the urgently needed fishing break has now been taken, without which the burning flame of passion would slowly suffocate like a wood fire in the completely closed fireplace. Well, dear reader, you probably guessed it. Without humor and sarcasm, wouldn't life be gray and dreary like a rainy November day?

Be that as it may, the first night after arriving home was spent (unsuccessfully of course) by the water. The cozy feeling of a warm room and soft blankets was too strange when you had previously spent half a month sleeping in a small tent, curled up in a damp sleeping bag, kept awake by gusts of wind tugging at the tent.

A few days passed, but little by little the feeling of everyday life returned. In the morning the alarm goes off, a coffee makes the remaining tiredness disappear and the second gives you the energy for the day.

In the meantime, nature also showed itself in its spring aptitude: magnificently blooming bushes and flowers in all colors, chirping birds with their cheerful melodies and lush green meadows, inviting timeless walks. Tall wheat fields blow gracefully in the wind, the yellow of the rapeseed fields captivates the gaze of the thoughtful hiker and sunlight falling through the light green leaves paints everything in a gold-green veil.

Inspired by this splendor, I couldn't help but make the most of every free minute of the day. A strong energy flowed through me every morning and made it difficult for me to rest.

In keeping with my active everyday life and for an upcoming project in the summer, I began to explore an urban water system. At first light I walked through deserted parks, enjoyed the birds singing and fished small canals and rivers. I was hoping for musty, rustic mirrors.

In order to be as mobile as possible, I radically minimized the fishing equipment. This meant I could quickly explore large urban areas on my racing bike and also had the option of using the train for longer distances.

In fact, I quickly achieved success. Choddys, canned corn and a keen eye was the recipe for success. However, I noticed that the population was mainly made up of smaller carp. Not exactly what appeals to me. Be that as it may, in order to have fun, they don't always have to be wild and untouched.

At the same time I started feeding a large quarry lake for the coming full moon. Although I had never fished here before, the timing was perfect for a first. The wind was constantly blowing from the west into a large bay and a flat area 5 meters deep seemed predestined to me. I used the feeding tube to distribute around two kilos of boilies every day, scattering them over a large area. All the factors that I incorporated into my little plan played perfectly into my hands and so I became more nervous every day. When the last time I was feeding a big fish rolled not far from where I was sitting, it was clear to me: This could be really good!

With mixed feelings, I set up the brolly in the evening light, put the rods together and tied fresh rigs. I feel strange, the strong wind is hitting my bones and my stomach is grumbling. Sure, it was a long, tiring day. In the morning I had already ridden 50 kilometers on my racing bike, after which Moritz and I sat in front of the laptop all day, summing up and discussing the road trip. So it's no wonder that I don't feel particularly fresh. But that wasn't it: the piled up clouds look incredibly oppressive. Formations like I've never seen before, with strange bluish colors. At the same time as this unnatural weather situation here in Germany, temperatures of over 30 degrees are being measured on the edge of the Arctic. Thoughts race through my head, a slight panic arises in me and my mood almost seems to change.

Even now, as I write this blog, very depressing feelings arise within me when I think about that evening. It is careless to assume that our normality will remain forever. For me, the signs of the times point in a completely different direction. The bubble in which we move is noticeably shrinking. That full moon evening made me feel this particularly. I'm becoming increasingly saddened by the arrogance with which we humans move through current events and it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to face life with the lightness that I actually want to embody and live. Please remain sensitive to the signs of the times and don't forget that carp fishing is just a part of life. Even if it is sometimes the gateway to a world in which you can find answers to essential questions. But before I get lost in thought, let's go back to that evening under the bright full moon.

I quickly cast out the rods, both equipped with large wafters, then cook myself some much-needed refreshment. I'm feeling better at the moment and sitting on the lounger I can finally take a deep breath. But just seconds later, a bite alarm screams.

The fish is heavy on the rod and moves along unimpressed. He swims inexorably further and further to the right, tears the line from the reel and is suddenly stuck. That can't be true now! I can clearly feel the cord rubbing against branches and weeds. My knees wobble and I curse loudly to myself. But little by little I manage to pump my opponents back out of the jungle. Just as I feel him come free, my rod snaps back. I reel in as if paralyzed, the leader is torn to pieces.

To summarize the events of the night. By the following midday I got eight more bites, of which I was only able to land four fish. The ones I caught didn't fight nearly as hard and all but one were smaller mirrorers.

All the fish I lost ruthlessly ripped line from my reel, felt heavy and tore up my leaders. Even though I used really robust materials. The session was like an absolute nightmare. I packed up the next lunch in a bad mood, my nerves were on edge. Looking back, I have mixed feelings about that night. Of course it's great that the nine-bite plan worked so well. But I don't want to imagine what was on the hook. Well, this bankruptcy has to be swallowed and once the water is a little warmer, it's time to take a look beneath the surface. I am excited…

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