Making a PVC spoon lure you don't mind losing

This is an interesting project using some old spoon lure making techniques with some mondern materials and a little skill with a knife from Les Dyer. He also has great slideshow below of carving a large fish reproduction with some more interesting techniques. Happy boxing day

Tank Test Tuesday Love Bait Spoons

I have to be honest, I have a bit of thing for spoons they are one of those baits that kind of drive pike a little mad. These little pike look-alike spoons from Love Baits of Poland not only look great they have a twisting jerky motion in the water that almost begs to be bitten.

Check out their cranks baits as well, they have some great designs and a definite
style of their own. Website Love Bait

The Oldest Trout Parr

Image Above: Trout Parr Casting Spoon, experimenting with colours

Sometimes I avoid things and build them up until when I finally get round to them it is all a bit fraught. So I finally sat down with a trout parr, lure blank and began experimenting with colour and pattern. Working free hand without stencils is like riding a bike with your hands tied behind your back, you can do it but when it goes wrong it goes very wrong although the thrill is quite cool. I still have a way to go with this lure even though I have been messing around with its shape for over a year, it isn't perfect but it is starting to look like the thing I imagined. 

An Ordinary Thursday

Image Above: New colours.

I had a very mixed day. I finally got my new E-Shop up and running and my first new customer followed shortly after. I spent the morning finishing some new Hybrid Casting Spoons that I had sprayed up in a fire tiger pattern with a stripe of UV reactive green. The UV reactive paint shifts light form the ultra violet range into the visible spectrum thus making it appear brighter in water where UV light penetrates a little deeper than the red end of the spectrum.  As an opening offer on my shop I have put half a dozen up at an introductory price of £9.95.

The rest of the day was a bit full on epoxy coating pine wobblers, sanding down balsa blanks ready for priming, priming some casting spoons, pouring a new silicone mould, coating floats with Nitrocellulose and then a trip to the post office and the Tackle shop. While buying some fishing weights I was introduced to a wholesaler who gave me a bit of insider knowledge, luckily I had a balsa wobbler in my pocket from a fishing trip earlier in the week to show him.

I finished the day photographing the casting spoons above and testing a lure in the bath I had carved from some short scraps of balsa. Best of all I got a couple of pictures from Scotland of a little girl who has just caught her first fish and on my lures.

Tomorrow is going to be a much harder day; I am looking after my youngest sons.

Image Above Right: Balsa Lure carved from Scraps
Image Below: Bea and her First Fish.

A little bit of Pike Action

Five of Jacks

Image Above: Mist on the water, Pennington Flash

The sun was low enough to burst through the bankside foliage and cut in amongst the mist that had risen overnight. I padded along excited to be at a new water and a little in awe of the surroundings having spent too long fishing in an inner city park. The lake or “flash” as it is known sits in a hollow rather than a valley and owes its existence at least partially to mining subsidence. This is flood land and there is a dampness about the place that reaches far beyond the banks. In the distance I traced the low arch of a Pennine ridge that seemed familiar but the name escaped me. The landscape was still in that process of naturalisation, its industrial past had been softened with spoil heaps weekly shrouded in scrub and sun bleached grasses. The lake is something special as all large bodies of water are, we can build roads, pave earth and manicure landscapes but a lake will always have something unyielding in its nature.

I set up quickly and made my first cast with a wobbler which slid through the air trailing a thread that settled out like gossamer as the slap of wood on the water broke the silence. The water was not deep and the lure tugged at weed snatching stems, I watched mesmerised as it rolled into view its rear end flicking like a spark of life. I worked the banks casting from gaps in the thicket of shrubs that lined this part of the lake. The weed was becoming a problem; I held my rod high making the wobbler run at a shallower depth but it wasn’t the easiest way to fish. I moved again and hitched on one of my hybrid casting spoons in the knowledge that if I kept a steady pace it would run just below the surface out of the weed. The lure ate up the distance between access points leaving little out of reach. In the clear water I could watch it react to every jerk and nod of the rod as it swam and flickered almost with a searching action, when the rod was still it settled back into a side to side roll, spooning its way over the weed.

Just off a reed bed, my first pike stopped the lure in its tracks and then set off for cover, I wound as fast as I could hoping to prevent a scramble through the reeds to retrieve them. In the end the fish came in parallel to the bank with his head buried in a mop of weed almost as if he was having a bad hair day. At about three pounds it was a good start to the day and having only a single treble to remove meant he was back in the water without too much messing about. Unfortunately I had run out of bank as fishing is only permitted on certain stretches of the shore and I wasn’t keen on casting in amongst the carp fishermen I had passed. I headed back to the car to drive over to the far side of the lake.

The sun had stirred up a breeze that chaffed through the reeds and pushed the surface of the water up into wavelets. This was obviously the windward side of the lake a green film of algae clung to the margins but beyond this it was almost clear water. I took another jack in the first few casts unhooking it in the water and before moving along the bank.

A little later and far out in the lake I felt a tug on the lure and then nothing, I cast again but misjudged the angle required and ended up far from the mark. The next cast was a little better and I found the tug again which had come from a seven pounder. I had hopes for something bigger maybe into doubles but seven pound was nice and heading in the right direction.

I took another two pike over the next hour, not of any size but it didn’t matter I was catching fish on a lure I had designed and produced myself, maybe the testing is over. 

Image Below: Jack pike on a Hybrid Casting Spoon.

A Leak In The Lake

Image Above: Some new hybrid spoon lure colours

I left the lake shortly after the workmen arrived. They had come to fix a hole; a hole that had opened up twenty years earlier and dropped the water level by four feet. Only last week I spoke to a fellow angler about the leak in the lake and he said, “They (the council) would never get round to fixing it, especially in a recession.”  

It hadn’t been a great a morning. Only yesterday on a day tip to Wales I had been stood on an almost perfect beach staring out over the breakers and thinking about bass. This morning it was back to the puddle at least I had hooked a pike although I lost it. By way of compensation I snagged a lure I had lost a few weeks back. Pedro (see prev. posts) a small spoon lure was returned to me all be it missing and eye and the varnish I had hastily applied. 

 I trudged home wondering whether the lake would miraculously refill before my next visit and if the island would return to being a true island instead a patch of raised ground surrounded by mud.  

At home it was back to coating lures and more photography for my website which seems to have been under construction for far too long.

Image Below: Nefyn Beach, North Wales

Package

It still seems like there is so much to do.  I spent the day on the train travelling to Yorkshire and back which gave me a chance to sit down with a pen and paper and work on some lure ideas before they go out of my head.I have just finished the package design for the casting spoons and I put some together this evening to send off.  So a deep breath, before the next challenges a website and proper online shop.

p.s. I ran the bath and gave my new lure (prev. Post) a small test, it is looking good but I think it will be Friday before a pike gets to have a go at it. 

A little bit of airbrushing

So I am a little bit further along with my fishing lures, hopefully they will be for sale this year.

Old Ghosts

Image Above: Jack Pike caught on a homemade spoon lure.

  The lake was smaller than I remembered, like so much of my childhood world it had shrunk in my absence. There was one other angler perched on a tackle box with his rod on a rest while he smoked. I moved to the far end of the lake partly to put some distance between the splash of my fishing lures and his float but also to explore the small reed beds that fringed this narrow arm of water.  I cast a lure into the dull mudded water and begin the puppet show, retrieving the lure with jerks, twitches and straight runs that make the best of its unnatural wobble. Overhead gulls followed its progress swooping close to the water for a full inspection. 

I have come to catch a fish which for me is something different than going fishing, but there are other reasons. I have one fishing rod, a bait caster reel, scissors, a mat for unhooking, forceps, a camera with a broken screen, a mobile phone that has been partially gnawed by mice and four homemade spoon lures. I tell myself I am just fishing light, keeping mobile and agile. The lake sits in the rude green of a city centre park, the foot traffic is manly dog walkers and commuters but when the morning rush is over the benches fill with drunks and the skeletal faces of heroin addicts. Even the dogs grow meaner as jack russells give way to mastiffs and leads to chains and studded collars.

I work the banks and the reed beds, my lure flies almost effortlessly on long casts and if I side swing it bounces like skimmed stone whiffling out into the surface.  Close in there is a boil of water as the long flash of pike rolls in the depths. It has missed the lure, I cast again and again but the pike has given up or moved on.  I take my cue and make my way around to where lake widens fanning out casts to cover as much water as possible. When the near bank is exhausted I make my way through a shallow spit of mud onto what should be an island.

I fished here once as a kid with a friend and some other lads, the sons of a friend of his mother’s. They were older than us, teenagers that new things and smoked when they could lift cigarettes from their parents unguarded packets. Circumstances threw us in together and we set up here on the island to fish amongst the mud and old crisp packets in warmth of a summer evening. I don’t remember us catching much but my friend and the lads had other ideas. We got into some bullshit game of hide and seek, but it was about one thing only getting me away from my fishing tackle. When the game was over my tackle box was empty. Every last fishing float, weight and hook, things I had collected, things I had stared at for weeks in the glass cabinets of tackle shop until pocket money or Christmas money had liberated them.  They knew what they had done, my friend knew what they had done but they bullshitted their way out of it. It wasn’t the fishing tackle that hurt the most but being the one, that kid. I never saw much of that friend again, one of the lads I saw years later and it looked as if heroin had had the best of him. I suppose I learnt that stuff in tackle boxes doesn`t catch fish only the thing on the end of my line.   

Not much has changed here, the lampposts carry police warnings strapped to them and am I travelling light should history repeat itself.

I leave the island and return to the beginning, the reed beds and this time the pike hits its target and I land a Jack that looks a little over three pounds. It’s perfect, each scale placed on its flanks with care and bound in flashes of colour that melt away as rolls in the weak sunlight.  

The lure works and I pack up.

Image Below: Warning Signs

I am getting there

Image above: Handmade spoon lures, cast in Polyurethane, through wired and weighted, covered with textured foil, airbrushed and just awaiting a coat or two of Epoxy.

  This is it, the first day of producing fishing lures that will hopefully end up for sale.  I have spent the last three weeks preparing and making enough mistakes to have probably learnt something. If I had known how hard it was going to be and how much I would have to learn I am not entirely sure I would have started down this route. That said it has been fun so far, hopefully if I can sell them I may avoid getting a proper job and spend every Monday morning at the water’s edge and the rest of the week making lures.