In a very personal and honest piece, Leigh Harrison discusses what can be the very difficult subject of men’s mental health – and on how angling has helped him cope with the pressures and strains of life under stress in a not so happy period of his life.
Hopefully, this will highlight the many issues men suffer and help others to consider being more open if they are struggling with things in life, and seeking help when they need to.
Has Fishing Helped To Save My Life?
This title might appear a tad melodramatic, and I’ve thought long and hard about what I’m about to write, and the fact that you all will read this. It isn’t an easy thing to do, however the few times I’ve written blogs I’ve always done so honestly. This might be the most honest blog I have ever written.
The last three to four years have easily been the worst of my life.
Unfortunately, I’ve been going through the divorce from hell, something that I never thought would ever have been possible. Put on top of that Russia’s second terrible attack on Ukraine in eight years, which affects my friends and family so intensely (my children are half Ukrainian, and I’ve been involved in the Ukrainian community for 20 years), then this all adds up to not experiencing a particularly joyous period in my life at the moment.
Divorce has rocked me like nothing else I’ve ever experienced before. It makes you question absolutely everything: Are you a good person? How can something so beautiful go so horribly wrong? Can I, or will I ever feel the same again; plus another thousand and one questions that whirl around in your head, hour after hour, day after day, month after month.
It shatters your confidence completely and leaves an incessant heavy dark cloud just over your shoulders that is always there, even on the odd few occasions you might forget about it, and you’re able to enjoy yourself. There’s definitely a sense of grieving that I have never felt so deeply before, even in the passing of close family members.
War also brings on a ton of different emotions, that unless you’ve ever experienced them first hand, it’s virtually impossible to convey all those feelings coherently.
The sense of outrage and injustice; then having to deal with the loss of not just acquaintances you knew, but really close friends, or maybe family members as well. It’s almost intolerable.
Of course, it affects everyone differently. It can harden you up to scenes that you thought would never happen, or you were never likely to see; or that you thought that you could ever cope with. In some instances, you can become inhuman and would wish to do or carry out things you would never ever contemplate in normal real life. It never ceases to amaze me how the human mind and body can actually tolerate so many changes in such a short period of time, and possibly get used to them as well?
However, there is nearly always a price to pay, and this was brought home to me last summer, when at the end of June, I was on one of the most picturesque and prolific stretches of the River Trent. I was with a friend who was really, and quite rightly, excited about the beautiful day that lay ahead of us, potentially catching big barbel and getting him a personal best.
I love taking people out fishing, and I really get a buzz in helping people have some of the best days of their lives, but unfortunately, there was just something about last year’s start to the season that I couldn’t get enthused about whatsoever. Anyone who knows me knows that just isn’t me at all. I never miss an opportunity to go fishing, and I’m always enthusiastic in doing so. Things just weren’t right.
I put my friend in a great swim, and normally, I’d go upstream of him, so I could keep an eye on what he was doing and give him any advice or encouragement. That morning all I wanted to do was curl up in my soft cradle unhooking mat and be dead to the world, and that’s precisely what I did at the top of the bank right behind my mate. That might seem normal if I’d had a lack of sleep, or was hungover from a jolly night before, but this wasn’t the case. This was my body and mind telling me enough was enough. You’ve been doing too much and hiding the strain that you’ve been under, and doing what nearly all men do, masking it!
It was Des Taylor who highlighted this to me so well, and brought it home in just a few simple words. “You cannot look after others if you don’t look after yourself first!”
Every so often, it’s the simplicity of a few words that can actually be the lightbulb moment in all the hullabaloos of everyday life or a hectic lifestyle. I won’t go into the detail of what I’d been doing for nearly six months previously that had got me to this pathetic state on the riverbank, but it involved months of volunteer work trying to help a people and a country I feel deeply passionate for. I do not doubt that the strains on my personal life had taken their toll and played a massive part as well.
I have learned throughout the years to listen to my body. However, I hadn’t paid enough attention to how the mental strain can affect the body as well. This was a massive wake-up call, and it is thanks to Des, and many others that cared enough, who tried to make sure that I was OK and not overdoing things. It’s their help that has inspired me to write this article and maybe touch on a subject that we, as men, find so difficult to talk about.
I’m no expert on this at all, but I struggle with the idea that this is just a societal construct that inhibits men from talking about this subject. I think it’s intrinsically and naturally part of many of us, as men, not to be so in touch with our emotions and to try to tough it out. It might not be the right way to deal with it, but there has to be a more biological-based reason why we act like we do. I’ve got some of the greatest mates a bloke could ever wish for, yet I haven’t gone into overly precise details about everything, or how I’m feeling all the time because that’s not how I’m built. Everyone has their problems and tribulations, and I would rather not sound like a broken record all the time whinging and moaning about my lot in life. Maybe it’s a generational thing? I don’t know.
The people who know me well would say that I’m normally a sociable person who loves a chat and a drink, and who can be the life and soul of any occasion. Enthusiastic, passionate, comedic and motivated to do almost anything. It’s also true that I’m totally comfortable in my own company. I suppose it’s a bit like fishing? I love going on the banks with my mates and friends. However, I’m equally happy being on my own and having the whole river to myself.
I can truthfully say that over the last three years there’s been countless days when I couldn’t even face getting out of bed at anytime during the day, and would rather not have woken up. I haven’t wanted to converse with or see anyone, it’s been that bad.
To many of my friends this will come as a shock, to some others maybe not? No-one needs to tell me that just isn’t right, I know it’s not.
So how do I go from an almost collapsed body and totally drained mind on the banks of the River Trent last summer, and sometimes not wanting to face the world at all, to “Has my sport/hobby helped stop me from giving up on life?”
As a person who doesn’t believe in fate or pre-ordained destinies, it is with some irony that I write that going fishing is in my family’s DNA and history. My Great Uncle from my Father’s side of my family was a sixth generation trawler-man out of Brixham in Devon. As there were very few young males born into our family at the time, and the fact that my Great Uncle Cyril and my Great Aunt Grace couldn’t have any children, I was treated as a son by them as soon as I was born. I spent my first eleven summers on the trawlers catching fish and learning how to run a boat and a business. The first fish I ever caught was a mackerel from off Berry Head near Brixham, and I could virtually run a boat almost on my own by the age of eleven.
I was the chosen one to take on the family business and continue our family’s tradition, but unfortunately the horrendous sell out of our fishing industry to the EEC by Edward Heath put paid to that. By 1983, both trawlers had had to be sold because of quotas and a criminal scrappage scheme. There’s no doubt in my mind that this quickly and ultimately contributed to the deaths of both my Great Uncle and Aunt soon afterwards, and it’s something for which I will never ever forgive the people involved and the institutions that brought about these tragic events. However, this is what ignited my passion for the sport I now pursue, and I have absolutely no doubts about this whatsoever. I was always going to be a fisherman or an angler, and my fascination as to what is going on underneath any piece of water is testament to that. I’m sure many of you feel the same?
I grew up on the west side of Birmingham, so my fishing was restricted to the local canals, pools, and park lakes of this area, which gave me a basic grounding in how to set rigs up and catch and handle fish. Getting up at before 3 am to walk a mile and a half, in the dark through woodland and fields to get to Swan Pool in West Bromwich, would give me kittens nowadays as a parent myself. My Mom driving down to the pool to bring my Sunday dinner on the bank, the gravy piping hot in a small hot flask to keep it warm, so I didn’t go hungry. Those were the days!
I was then lucky enough that one of my Grandad’s longest serving employees, Keith Owen, took me under his wing and started taking me to such exotic and far-flung places as the River Severn and the River Teme. Also, to proper estate lakes like the ones at Clive of India’s home at Walcott Hall, close to the Welsh border in deepest Shropshire, where you could catch beautiful tench and enormous bream.
This was absolute heaven for a young kid like me growing up in inner-city Birmingham, and it was on the River Teme where I really cut my teeth, learned my river craft and my real love for fishing and nature took hold. Keith was such a humble and kind man. He taught me so much in those summers; catching my first barbel, on the float as well, which will stay with me forever. A beautiful glide that narrowed up at the far end of the swim in about four feet of water culminated in a beautiful 5lb fish, on trotted casters. The fight for a twelve year old was unparalleled, and I’ll never forget that sheer joy as I netted it myself, but there was someone even happier than me, Keith.
He taught me about the different bird species. The different flora and fauna. When to change baits, not just during a session, but during a season as well. It was him that taught me the use of elderberries, blackcurrants, and blackberries in August and September before I went back to school. It’s something that I’m a great exponent and proponent of now and having had some of my most memorable experiences catching fish on a blackberry. Many others have also benefited when fishing with me by becoming members of the blackberry club, some having their personal bests on them.
I learned how to trot and control a float, my absolute favourite form of fishing, as well as feeder and lead fishing.
How to always take a knotted rope with you on a river, no matter how good the weather forecast or conditions were. What fantastic advice which has helped me get to swims I’d never have been able to get to otherwise, as well as saving me from possibly meeting a sticky end on more than one occasion.
Absolutely invaluable lessons, and I still use his actual knotted rope from all those years ago today. I’d never ever part with it.
Watching kingfishers fly up and down the river, thinking lampreys as thick as my arm were eels, and me running out of the river leaving a trail of excrement behind me as I realised what they really were with my bare legs in the water!
Catching virtually every river species there is out of that glorious, near perfect river.
The bream were super golden, the tench an emerald green, the chub so immaculate, and the barbel like miniature kiting submarines.
Oh, how I loved that river. I went back to reminisce five years ago, to all the places I used to fish; Tenbury Wells, Eastham Bridge, Lindridge, Eardiston, Knightwick, Broadwas, Cotheridge, I could go on, but I’m heartbroken just typing these names. I was devastated by what I saw, and the lack of what I wanted to see when I went back. I’m absolutely gutted that it’s nowhere near where it used to be or where it should be in fishing terms. A national disgrace really, like so many of our rivers at the moment.
Unfortunately, though, childhood summers don’t last forever, and I also knew that with my thirst for even more knowledge that I had to join an established club with a junior section.
In Birmingham, there was an obvious answer right on my doorstep, Starlets A.S. juniors were a no-brainer of a choice really. Meetings every Friday evening with fishing on a Sunday somewhere and sometimes on a Saturday too. The added bonus of the access to the legends of the main Starlets match squad, who would impart their knowledge and skills, it was just a brilliant place to learn and improve.
Lifelong friendships were forged, for which I’m extremely grateful for nowadays.
I match fished for many years, into my mid-twenties, however after two years of shocking draws nearly put paid to me giving up on fishing altogether; I decided that pleasure fishing was the way forward as I could pick swims where I knew fish were and would normally have a great day’s sport, which is what I’d really missed.
Eight years of this was great, travelling when and where I wanted, catching either wonderful nets full of fish or individual specimens that many people would have been proud of.
Other priorities took over and travelling abroad so much with work, and my personal family life (getting married and having six children), slowly took a toll on my fishing, so much so that I didn’t actually go out on the bank again for nearly sixteen years! I now know that this can be a really common occurrence which many people can relate to, and I’m glad I still kept all of my tackle at the time.
Sitting here writing this now seems absolutely ludicrous that I didn’t wet a line for so long, but life can have a funny way of meandering, and this how it turned out to be until just over five years ago. It was one of those friendships forged during my time in the junior Starlets that came to the fore. I found out that I had missed our leader and mentor’s funeral, the one and only Ken Aske, who just about managed to keep us sometimes rowdy kids in check, along with his lovely wife Janice, all those years ago.
I felt terrible after hearing his funeral was the week before, and I searched around on Facebook and found loads of mates from those days, including a certain James Robbins. He called me back, as did so many of the people I contacted had, and we had a lovely long conversation. Even though we hadn’t spoken to each other for years, it was as if the last time we spoke was the day before. I suppose that’s just how proper friendships are, and it doesn’t matter how long you haven’t spoken with each other, it just carries on where you left off. We duly arranged to meet later that week, to take one of my sons fishing for the first time, and the rest is really history.
I have done so many things in the past five years that I never thought were possible, or I would ever get involved with. I still have to pinch myself, and I have learned so much from James and all the great anglers and legends I’ve been able to fish with, talk to, and glean knowledge from. Some have even been so kind as to entertain some of my notions on angling, and been very complementary in doing so, which is incredibly humbling. I’ve made some truly great friendships along the way.
Truth be told, I still feel a bit of a Noddy in such exulted company, I know I shouldn’t feel like that and that it’s not true, but there you go.
One of the happiest things I’ve achieved since I came back to fishing was catching my first double figure barbel five years ago, after losing a big double when I was seventeen. It hurt badly losing that fish and ending that thirty year itch, which had always niggled me in the back of my mind, was a high priority when I came back to angling. That all stemmed from hooking the leviathan on the Warwickshire Avon all that time ago, and losing it at the net after it had dragged me through weed beds galore for over half an hour. In some ways, I wished that I hadn’t got so close to getting it in, and it took a while to get over not doing so; or maybe I hadn’t until I landed the double I so craved for three decades later from less than a mile downstream of originally hooking that almost mythical fish.
Irony again, or the fate I don’t believe in?
I’ve had tens and tens of doubles since, currently standing with a personal best of 13lb 6ozs, modest in some barbel catching circles, I know.
However, I’m not just an out-and-out barbel angler and I get such enjoyment fishing for nearly all the other coarse fishing species, so I don’t dedicate the time others do to just catching these beautiful bars of gold. I also don’t do overnight sessions or fish in the dark, and that is because I like the comforts of a bed, a shower, and civilisation.
That match-man mentally will always influence my fishing, and I believe that in certain situations it’s an asset, however I have definitely changed my style since coming back to the sport. Bigger fish do take a higher priority, and the way that I catch them has as well.
Over the last two seasons I’ve increasingly loved catching big barbel on the float, so much so that I’ve helped develop a float rod, the Cadence CR10 14ft #4 Match Rod, to be able to do just that. One that can cope with doubles in particularly fast-paced, snaggy, stretches of water. A world away from the first rod I helped put my input into and field tested, which is for silvers, the Cadence CR10 14ft #0 Match Rod. However, I’ve actually had barbel up to 9lb out on that, which I class as one of the best achievements I’ve ever done in angling.
That it was captured on film as well was an unbelievable blessing, and probably one of the main reasons I actually got it in on such light gear. That filming experience taught me to have even more patience than I normally do, and to always believe you have a chance of getting a large fish in, regardless of what the odds are. Every day is a school day in angling.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this year’s start of the river fishing season, unlike last year, and I have some clear plans on taking some great friends out and helping them have some unforgettable memories. I have my ambitions as well, targeting large barbel on the float. The dream is beating my personal best and topping 14lb trotting a blackberry burns brightly. I’ve had many doubles on the float already this season, but that elusive 14lber still eludes me. We can all dream, can’t we? Where would we be if we could not?
What I shall enjoy the most though is just getting out into the beautiful Nottinghamshire countryside, and wherever else this next season takes me, and trying to enjoy everything I can, especially with my kids.
Taking my youngest out, my beautiful daughter Anastasia, onto the river again will also be a highlight. She loves her Dad, I know this because she tells me all the time with no prompting whatsoever, and she loves her fishing and the outdoors. She’s an absolute angel on the riverbank, and I honestly can’t wait to take her out again.
She’s caught some lovely fish, including barbel to 8lb and chub to over 5lb, and last season she caught her first barbel on the float. Needless to say, she was ecstatic. However, I think it was myself that was even more pleased for her. Those memories of my angling mentor Keith came flooding back.
I love teaching her on how to get closer to nature, standing in the river (which I always try to do in the summer and autumn months), and showing her the river craft that I was taught as a kid by so many people that gives me a renewed sense of purpose and joy. I suppose it’s a legacy thing, and I know I have to learn to take more out of these situations and enjoy them even more so than I have done in the past.
I’ve taken friends out, who don’t normally go fishing, and they’ve said that I’m a fundamentally different person on the river bank. They’ve also understood and appreciated why I love what I do and exactly why I do it, and they really appreciate their annual day out on the river. My garden has the same effect on me in allowing me to process life’s events and take a more relaxed view over time. Catching fish, or pruning and dead heading flowers, are very relaxing or “chilled” as the youngsters of today would say.
After my episode on the river bank last year, I did listen and try to take stock. I tried to rest a lot more and get back into doing things because I really wanted to do them, not just because it was expected of me, or because I felt obligated. I got my mojo back a bit, so to speak, and enjoyed a really successful season catching more barbel on the float than I have ever done in the past.
Also making a YouTube video with Cadence, and doing some magazine features which my kids will keep forever and will be around for a long time, well after I’m gone from this world.
My children are my obvious priority and motivation, as is my continuation in helping my adopted country and the people from there. Also, keeping my great friendships healthy and ongoing in the future is essential, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful for.
I have no doubt that I shall still possibly have some very difficult days ahead, and that’s just the nature of the beast of the situation I currently find myself in.
However, there’s no doubt in my mind that angling has helped massively in keeping me at some sort of ease with myself and in giving me great opportunities to look forward to.
I suppose writing this article has also been very therapeutic for me, in actually acknowledging that there was, and there still possibly might be an issue.
However, the major reason I wanted to write this piece was to highlight to anyone reading this that there are loads of us who put on a brave face or mask, trying to tough it out and trying to be strong. We might be the most well put together, happy-go-lucky, go to person you know, but deep down we could be really struggling as well. I’m not qualified enough to give any answers or solutions in how to combat this, but I’m sure it’s just as big a deal in recognising that there’s an issue than there is in trying to solve it as well. I’m also very sure that there are millions of us feeling pretty similar for many various reasons.
Trying to find solace and comfort in anything positive or something you enjoy can only be good in my eyes. If that’s trotting a blackberry on a beautiful stretch of river in pursuit of a double figure barbel, then so be it, and that’s what I’m going to do with my little girl for all of this summer. Taking joy where I can, even in the smallest of things, and trying not to concentrate so much on the negative problems that are going on around us.
There’s no doubt in my mind, that along with other contributory interests, fishing has played a major part in keeping me sane, and possibly keeping me alive.
I hope it does the same for many of you who might have had similar issues as well or have been struggling a bit?
There is always light at the end of the tunnel, as I have found out more recently in helping someone else out which involved a medical operation. It’s still a bit too early to talk or write about this fully currently, however at some point in the future I will do so.
I believe there is something many of us could possibly consider doing in the future, and it has certainly been a massively positive experience for me, which has been life changing as well.
That determined motivation has also brought more vigour and enthusiasm to my fishing, both before and after the event, so much so that I will fish a lot more matches on the Trent after some recent successes. Who knows, I might just fluke a qualification for a River Fest final in the coming years! Wouldn’t that be something!?
May I wish you all a continued fabulous season on the rivers, catching beautiful barbel, chub, roach, dace, bream, tench, perch, grayling and whatever else the rest of the year brings.
Hopefully in beautiful, picturesque settings, and for many years and decades in the future.
