It's carp-life, Tim - but not as we know it

Forget 'travelling light'. Technophile carper Sean Alder wouldn't leave home without a van-load of boys' toys.

Truly, we live in an age of wonder: an age in which I can - as now - sit back, under the protective canopy of the lodge, beside this glorious French lake. Watching the rain. Scanning the Internet for a new pod (having forgotten that my preferred venue's swims are fashioned largely from impenetrable concrete). Typing up these idle musings. Reading an e-book. Listening to an MP3 album, or maybe even watching a little TV. All from my smartphone. And all whilst awaiting that first hint of interest from a French 40. (Or, dare I even think it: 50.)

Later, should I wish, I could pluck a 'cold one' from the bivvy fridge, and fire up the portable DVD player - laying back on my bed chair (let's face it, these days they're easily as comfortable as any 'King-size' back home), to enjoy the movie of my choice, whilst anticipating that first hint of carpy interest - occasionally pausing the film, to check my email (did I win that eBay auction? did that newsletter go to press on time? has that client's payment reached my bank account?)...

Given all this, it's clear: technology has suffused our sport, as it has every other walk of life. But is this a good thing?

Home comforts

Well, it may not be the purist's idea of angling - but, in my view, home comforts such as these contribute to my overall carping enjoyment. And to a fabulously relaxing break - throughout which I can be confident that my RX receiver will alert me to the subtlest drop back, should my attention wane. Wherever I happen to be.

Of course one could argue that this level of techno-sophistication has a downside. The fact that I'd be aware of a run (almost) anywhere can encourage less scrupulous anglers to succumb to temptation - to make for the bar, whilst their unattended rods continue 'angling'. Unfortunately, bad angling happens - regardless of the available technologies and tools.

And let's face it: buzzers and sounders are a mainstay of the modern carp scene: Chris Yates aside, carp anglers the world over view them as essential: an invaluable aid to their fishing, developed to make our lives easier. And enabling us to fish more effectively.

Cocooned

We accept without question much that innovation brings - from the latest thermal boots, to five-seasons weatherproof suits - which ensure we're able to "get amongst 'em", and remain comfortable, in the most inclement conditions.

Bedded down under the protective arms of our rapid-erect bivvies - warmed, in all probability, by a propane burner or electric heater, and cocooned in a downy five-seasons bag (mine's so effective, I've never - ever - zipped it up, even as the lake freezes around me) one can't help but reflect upon the hardier souls of yesteryear, reclining on flimsy sun loungers under 50" brollies. Were they better anglers, just because they were cold? Probably not: few believe such advances give us an unfair advantage. But raise the question of - for example - bait boats, and you'll see a far more pronounced polarization of opinion.

Are they a top angling aid - or the devil's work? Either way, they help put more fish on the bank. When I arrive at a lake after dark, I feel far more confident boating my baits to the far margins - taking full advantage of the Stealth's onboard navigation lights and reverse gear - than lobbing a PVA bag into the darkness, and hoping for the best.

Fair enough, you say; perfectly reasonable. But what if I use the boat's onboard echo sounder to find my spots, rather than leading around in the time-honoured manner? Mm. that's a little trickier.

Does sonar (and now GPS too) 'de-skill' the experience? Indeed, is the act of accurate casting a key part of the angler's art - without which our captures are not truly complete?

Well... maybe. But, that being the case, conventional boats too are 'cheating' - enabling us to drop our baits in the catch zone, even if it's 300m off (way further than anyone can realistically hope to cast).

What, after all, is the difference between rowing a boat, and steering a remote? (The answer to that one's easy: I can do the latter; not - I've regularly proved - the former!)

Then again, one could contend that, if we're regularly placing baits in inaccessible spots - areas in which the carp feel secure - they'll soon wise up. And location, bait, rigs and presentation will once more prove the cornerstones of success.
So, perhaps it's not actually deskilling our sport - rather, it's transforming it.

Ultimately, carp angling is a sport to be enjoyed on our own terms. Yet this ostensibly solitary pursuit is fiercely competitive. We gauge our success in terms of other people's results: they're catching, we aren't - where are we going wrong?

She's catching more because she has a boat. He has an echo. And so on. It shouldn't be this way. But, alas, it is.

Advantages

The web affords us numerous heretofore unavailable advantages. I used it to secure the superb holiday that I'm enjoying, as I write.

I used it to research the going swims, baits and approaches. To check the week's weather forecast - temperature, wind direction, pressure - and even moon phases. To confirm my travel arrangements (am I getting the most competitive rates - is the ferry sailing, and on time).

I ordered my bait online - courtesy of those top chaps at the Bait Company, with whom - largely - I communicate by email.

I also bought every single item of terminal tackle - leads hooks, hook links, and even gas canisters - online. (Yes, I'd rather support my 'local' tackle shop - but it's 20 miles away, and it's never open when I'm in the area.)

And you know what: my syndicate and club waters are on line too. By way of Multimap, Google, MapQuest and the rest, which enable me to map every weed bed, bar and bay.

More: I can log-in to numerous carp forums to gain valuable edges - leveraging others' experience to decide upon the right approach to each water. Indeed, I can do it from here, right now - on a pocket sized smart phone that cost me nothing (thanks to a free annual upgrade).

Marvellous. But you know what? Despite all these numerous advantages, there's still a fair chance I'll catch: nothing. Because, you see, the fish don't realise how clued-up I am, technically speaking. If they did, they would not - I am sure - continue behaving in that characteristically contrary way.

Alas, carp don't get old and fat through being stupid. The only time they'll pay us a visit is if we put the right bait and rig in the right place at the right time. And, even then, they might give us the proverbial two fins - simply decide not to feed by reason of. well, just being plain bloody awkward really.

Gruelling

Of course, one could argue that I shouldn't waste my time staring at a PDA - I should be watching the water, around the clock. It's a fair cop. Doubtless the hardcore pro's who do this - and move swims at the drop of a hat - will usually (and deservedly) catch more. But you know what: I'm on holiday! I don't want to work too hard.

The 'social' is just as important (well, almost) as bagging that 40.

In reality, as an enthusiastic carper, I consider every weekend a holiday. And the form those 'holidays' take changes with my mood: sometimes I'm Mr Keen - eagle-eyed and ready to switch swims at a single 'bosh'. Other times - usually after a gruelling week - I just want to chill. And I bet, if they're honest, that's how the majority of readers feel.

Technology can be a means to that end. But it's by no means a panacea. In fact, it carries its own challenges. Bait boats that develop minds of their own, for example - racing towards distant snags at ramming speed, despite our best efforts to rein them in by remote.

Then there's my personal favourite: receivers that alert me to everyone's runs but my own (by dint of a shared frequency with anglers in the next ten swims).

And of course it is a foregone conclusion that any and all batteries will die when you need them most. (This particularly applies to electric outboards, when you're staring at a gathering storm from the wrong side of an 'inland sea'.)

So, though helpful, technology is by no means a piscatorial silver bullet.

Sophisticated

Proof of the pudding: I was, in the end, outfished every which way by 'the competition' during my break. But I derived no less enjoyment for that fact. I had the forty pound plus mirror I came for. (I know beyond doubt what it weighed because my scales are digital - meaning no demented dancing needles.)

And, thanks to the excellent photographic skills of a new bankside buddy - combined with the preview options afforded by my relatively low cost, yet incredibly sophisticated digital camera - I was able to ensure the trophy shots too were spot-on.

Moreover, thanks to my techno-toys, I was able to maintain a 'good home', whilst languishing on the bank - talking to and messaging my nearest and dearest, sharing pics, and even making the odd video call (though be warned: this is not always the best idea, following a few shave-free days in the wild).

The same tools enabled me to wind up my blanking, Blighty-bound buddies - regaling them with tall tales of broad carp - of battles fought and won. (Schadenfreude - it's a wonderful thing.)

All well and good, you say, but is it fishing? Well, I think so. It's not for everyone. Indeed, it's not an approach I'd adopt all the time. But now and again, a gloriously idle long session - surrounded by such labour-saving 21st century trappings - is just the thing to recharge the batteries.

Which, for most of us, is what it's all about.

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