A Hot Morning on The Thames

 With temperatures pushing 30c on the cards today and even hotter weather to come I figured a morning in the shade would do, somewhere I could stay for a while in a spot with not much walking. Cue Father Thames.

Like a few days ago I'm disappointed by the flow, or rather lack of it. Who pulled out the plug?  I expected a little more water in a larger river. We need rain badly if the Thames is this low and clear so early in the season.

I set up a waggler to fish on the drop, not my favourite method but needs must. I then watch my feed fall through the clear water next to it without a bite for an hour.

I move swims, rinse and repeat. This is dire, not helped by seeing my third cormorant and a pair of rowers telling me I'll get a seal where I was. Oh the famous Thames seals, they have got further upriver than this stretch feasting as they go.

Then a shoal of small perch attack the tiny fry in the shallows at my feet almost hitting my toes. I was glad to be sitting in the water and happier still to finaly see some fish. I still couldn't get a bite though but at least knew fish were about.

In the third spot(so much for not moving) I cast under a bush on the near side dead shallow, thinking a small perch is better than a blank, when the waggler goes under and a decent roach of all things glides to me in the clear water, all silver and red shining vividly in the sunlit shallows, it was ever so welcome.

I release the roach and naturally setlle in this spot,  keeping an eye on a massive bumble bee the size of a Chinook, I exaggerate of course as you dont get helicopters this big. I usher the behemoth to flowers new, buzzing away it went, as I cast my float again, this time with an optimism which made me forget the previous two hours.

However no more bites followed, it was evident how intrusive the retrive of my waggler was in the clear water, it stood out like a sore thumb, one stung by a bee no doubt.

On goes a 2xno4 stick despite the minimal flow and chop from the boats, an upstream wind helped and I was grateful for the that as the breeze blowing up the river tempered the heat very well.

Then some dace showed and they were all a good size, suddenly my despondent morning was full of joy.

It was hard work but rewarding, I was managing to get a steady flow of bites now, with some too quick to hit and the odd fish twisting off due to the lack of current. I watched the sun gradually come round the large tree that was my shade, like a solar eclipse, I was now getting the odd decent perch and roach as it's rays hit my neck.

The fishing was enjoyable and it was time to soak up the scenery, forcing myself to take a needed break despite getting bites, making sure I kept feeding as didn't want to lose the shoal.

I was watching boats go by and was ushering away the odd swan. The shoals of fry that had sought the sanctuary from maurauding perch at my feet, had stayed there all day, these were too small to identify but it looked like a fair mix of species, if you can make them out, who knew they would go camera shy when you lean over them like a heron.

The bites stop when a boat moored alongside me but it was a good time to go with the heat rising. The second dog of the day entered the water scattering little fish once more to the safety of my feet, ushered in by it's owner without a care, although I did get an apology. The old hairy thing looked knackered in the heat and so did the dog.

I packed up after lunch timing it well as 'Mad Bird Lady' deposited two loaves in for the birds, she had been feeding them further up for a good hour, whilst wearing a face mask. She was followed closely by 'Rotund Swimming Lady' who was about to enter my swim without a care. I was wondering why almost all open water river swimmers are obese women and knew there was a seal based joke in there somewhere, but I was now too hot to bother.

Knowing that it would fish much better with more colour and flow I was bouyed by what I caught, despite the problems that those blubbery interlopers cause. The seals aren't much help either.

The M25 was it's usual barrel of fun on the way home, I felt sorry for the stranded motorhome stuck bang in the middle of the six lane section. As a result the queue of traffic saw more red X's than a bad act on a talent show.

It was still a nice morning out and I'm glad I went as it didn't feel super hot, I didn't catch a lot (20 fish) but knew it could have been much worse. 

I went from thinking the place was gone to the dogs to well....Giving it the seal of approval. 

First Barbel of The Season

 My feet were wet from morning dew as I made my way through the long grass to my local stream. Upon reaching the water's edge a murder of crows flew back and forth from the treetops, a cacophony of noise that would last a good hour. It was hardly the dawn chorus as I'd missed that courtesy of one of those hot sleepless nights but was happy to get a decent spot mid morning.

I was less enamoured with the river level with gravels visible and not much flow. On went a dibber float and banded pellet, my 'go to' choice in these conditions. Pingin' it upstream into a dark hole beneath a tree saw the inevitable succesion of small chub before the first barbel graced the net. It was tiny but I didn't care, the first one is always worth a photo regardless of size.

I then had a chub that showered my mat with eggs, which left me with a weird feeling. I've seen fish breeding before in June but never had this happen. I was contemplating whether this occurance was an argument for or against keeping the close season, it does show breeding fish can be affected by angling but also shows they dont always adhere to the dates we have anyway. The fish was pristine and swam off strong, maybe these were old eggs from breeding previously, discarded today as the fish didn't look heavy, who knows?

I continued to fish given there were no signs of fish actively breeding and fortunately it was an isolated event, with the next few chub also looking perfect.

The swim then goes dead with brightening skies revealing nothing was left in my little swim so it was time to move.

I dropped in below an old chap who had music playing on his little radio. Ok it was quiet but I could just hear it, I get it if you're quietly listening to the big match or the test cricket but music? I hummed 'People are Strange' by The Doors, it wasn't on the radio but felt it should have been.

This next spot also sees me casting upstream to cover and I'm rewarded with a slighly better barbel, super fun with trees either side and one above me making things awkward.

By now thoughts were turning to lunch when I felt a wobble on the net with the next chub. Sure enough it was the traditional cross threaded net moment which is always nuts. I was using my Dad's old net so it seemed only right that an old bit of twig went in to secure it,  like we used to fix on the hook with luncheon meat back in the day.

With the net solid(ish) a few more chub and barbel followed, don't worry I could have jumped in if needed it was so shallow, but it held firm as I did I with the fish, which were all fighting fit and raring to go.

It was a nice morning's fishing but I won't return unless we get some rain. I went home to work out if it was the net or handle which cross threaded only to find out they both screwed in fine with other nets/handles, unable to deduce the fault. If that's not an accident waiting to happen(again) I'm not sure what is. 

I must learn to stop being so frugal and get new gear instead of using Dad's battered hand me downs, or should I? 

Like I said people are strange.

Signs Of Recovery On The River Gade

 My plan to go after the rush hour almost backfired fatally, when upon leaving a set of lights as the first car I see a high speed police chase heading straight towards me. I must admit the sight of a blacked out Audi almost losing it at stupid speeds, kicking up a mix of dust and rubber, swerving towards me on the wrong side of the road really shook me up. I would have been a gonner with a head on collision like that at that speed, so much for a quiet drive to the fishing I thought as I calmed down at the next set of lights.

Making it to the little River Gade in one piece felt good, it is a river that will always fill me with fond memories, learning to fish here as a lad with the greatest angler of all time - my dad, maybe he was looking down on me earlier, perhaps he was now, it seemed so right to start the river season here.

With named swims like The Pole Swim(It had a pole sticking out, still does!), Chub Alley(Had loads of chub) The Cattle Crossing(Go figure) it is a river steeped in history although these were names only a few knew. Come to think of it I think Dad and I may have made these up. I set up on the imaginatively named 'Concrete Section' due to the path to the old paper mill which is now sadly crumbling, now leading to the housing estate that replaced said mill many years ago.

I was delighted to see the streamer weed back to the levels it was as a lad. Many think its absence for a couple of decades was down to the Buncefield explosion in 2005 and subsequent contamination of the water course by both the fuel depot going up in flames and the chemicals used to douse it. This seems to tally but its a sobering thought that this happened in an area that's over 2 miles from the Gade's water course.

I settled down to running a 2xno4 stick through picking up roach and dace from the off before a chap stopped for a chat. He seemed friendly enough but it was a tad disconcerting him standing on the path above me with a golf club in his hands. Anyone who plays golf on Croxley moor is guaranteed to lose their ball real quick. He moved on and I had a peaceful morning with plenty of fish.

I had some half decent roach and dace with the odd perch, nothing needing a net although a bend in the rod came courtesy of a silt laden hiking sock, a good 2lb I reckon, surely a new pb for hosiery. I followed that up with a jagged stone, then a cage feeder to show I was edging the float through well enough.

I tried a couple of spots that clearly had closed season activity, getting more roach and dace plus the odd tiny chublet which I never count, just as I was thinking how sad it was the gudgeon were gone as there used to be thousands here I suddenly get a couple, typical Gade ones, not big, not small, but so great to see.

I had my lunch, saw a kingfisher dash through, then chilled whilst watching the moorhen do its haphazard weed eating like an old ska rocker, the canada geese which are a bit of a pain then go back and forth with offspring of various stages. It needs a pair of mute swans to see these off, like the one with a neck the size of a french baguette, that nipped me on the backside to get at a bit of weed I was standing on as a kid, oh how dad laughed that day. I think it had a name like 'The big one' like I said we weren't  the most imaginative it seems.

I walked down to the bridge, a Somali woman was below with her toddler who took off up the path with gay abandon with mum calling forlornly. The second lure angler of the day passed me, a young English lad and we exchanged friendly banter in passing as anglers do. Asian chaps with lanyards obviously on their lunch break strolled back to work. Ladies rather easy on the eye in summer dresses were walking dogs or just walking, for some reason they were all blonde, ok it's a bit more urban down here now but it took me back, back to the 'good old days' as they say even if it has changed a lot.

What was better still was the sight of 4 glorious chub sitting on the shallows. Did I finish with some to cap the day off? Nope, they wouldn't even touch the loosefeed which is weird for chub. Perhaps cleaning themselves after spawning or skitty due to bright sun and breezy winds, who knows,I didn't care for they were great to see.

I packed up as Greensleeves played in the distance on an ice cream van to remind me once more of my urban surrounds. I hoped to beat the school run and police chases of course, ending up with 57 fish, 30 roach, 7 perch, 18 dace and 2 gudgeon. Nothing big to start the river season (unless you count that whopping sock) but I cared not.

Big were my hopes for this little river and bigger than big were my memories, rekindled by this lovely day in the June sun.

West Bay Mini Species Hunt Hijacked by Bass

I've planned a weekend break with the missus to celebrate our wedding anniversary so naturally I'm showing her a good time by taking her fishing with me. To be fair she actually loves sitting behind me reading, plus i get the bonus of a nice picnic lunch and action shots if I get a good bend in the rod although that never happens to me here at West Bay, It's a place I really enjoy but never do well at, but in my defence there are much easier docks and quays on the south coast.

A reccie the day before saw everyone blanking aside from the many families crabbing, their children filling their buckets with glee, also much to the delight of the herring gulls who would swoop down for a buffet upon release. More encouraging were the large shoals of tiny pouting visible in the clear water, I only knew they were pout due to the kids getting a few in their crab nets, that'll do me I thought - a few small pout, maybe a blenny or wrasse then off to the pub, if not I'll try for small mullet up the shallow end, either way it would be fun fishing on coarse gear as usual.

The rules here state 'Handlines or float fishing only' so typically almost everyone lobs out a lead or casts a lure, however float fishing suits me just fine. It would be none of the sea float malarkey though, you know the size of a cuban cigar with line like rope, nope I'm looking for bites off the little 'uns so its a bog standard avon float as seen if the first photo.

The rod was my usual five piece travel match and my old Okuma was loaded with 6lb line in case any decent mullet show, the bait was cheap old supermarket prawns, I also had bread but that's almost a non starter here due to those pesky gulls.

 I set up in a corner that usually produces the odd blenny and get plenty of bites but they are so small they are coming off the hook, I swap my size 10 wide gape for a 14 and manage to get a minnow sized pollack of all things before a succession of tiny pout. With the small fish target achieved I reverted back to the size 10 and moved to the main channel, here it was fun trotting along holding back in deeper water and good ten feet or so down.

I then joke with a crabber I pass after he was initially impressed with my tally of 6 fish that were I to eat these they would be smaller than the chips. I then had the urge to move on near some rocks after as the chap there had just packed up. "Of to catch some monsters?" the crabber quipped "Yeah right!" was my lighthearted response happy to settle for anything chunkier than take away potato produce. Little did I know what was to follow.

I get to the pier's and where the ebbing tide hits some rocks hoping for a wrasse or anything, by now it was quite shallow but I continued to feed each run, trotting through at around 4 feet deep. The cheap Sainsburys prawns I was feeding are so small they are like big maggots, because of this you get plenty in a pack so in a few went each cast, little and often as the saying goes.

I was enjoying running my avon along these rocks and was certainly taken by surprise when the float buries, I strike thinking it's a rock of course before the clutch screams  and the pure silver of a stunning bass not a wrasse flanks brightly in the spray, wow, I then ask the wife( I like to think calmly but..) to pass my trust Diawa Iso but for some reason she's extending it fully on the quay, not a good idea as it's best to extend it using gravity when fishing from a height, fortunately upon seeing our commotion another angler rushed to our aid. Here's an action shot of it at the crucial moment.

He was laying on his stomach over the edge. the handle just long enough to reach the water. I would have struggled on my own and my wife wouldn't have had the strength. yet here I am with a total stranger working as a team. Get in!

After thanking the other angler and having what seemed like the best bacon and egg roll over I continued to fish and I even saw a bass spin near the surface in the clear water for my feed, I expected a bite and sure enough the same thing happens again.

Then again although no3 was smaller and a bit knocked about with criss cross scars and a sore near it's tail, It was like it was a bycatch discard thrown back so no photo.

With the tide now almost fully out and the skies brightening a little the missus is off to the loo after I tell reassure her it's a good time to go and I wont get any more, so naturally no4 arrives to show how little I know, this time it was back to perfection with a really heavy set fish.

 

All the fish were returned unweighed and unmeasured but that's a 26" net so go figure. The place was super busy and I was getting quite an audience at times. People on the other side of the quay were talking to passers by whilst pointing at me doing the 'This big' gesture with their hands, I reckon they gave the bass a few extra inches but I didn't mind given I would have been happy with something akin to a thumb and finger measurement at the start of the day.

By now the tide had changed and so did my lovely trot. The flow had reversed and the wind had got up, blowing my loosefed prawns back at me despite my best throw, I did not reach for the catapult as I was almost out of them anyway, it was a good time to call it a day and my thoughts turned to that pint, a well earned one for sure.

We packed up and the skies started to brighten instantly and yes that beer tasted so good, as did the second, by the time we decided to head back to out accomodation small mullet the size of dace were sunning themselves lazily on the surface, not often you see these from a pub garden.

We left the mini mullet to their sunbathing and took the car back dropping it off then walking all the way back via the River Brit so we could both have a drink, polish off some fish and chips and watch the sun go down at the end of a wonderful day.

As for that mini species hunt, well it would be remiss of me not to show one of those monster pouting.

The last word goes as a doff of the hat to Martin, the chap from Wimborne who helped me with landing these fish, along with his energetic wife who seemed to be doing a running commentary. We all know it can be a grind if the angler next to you is hauling and you're not, so I was happy to watch him finally get a knock and bend into an eel of all things. He said he was an experienced angler when offering to help with the first fish, I put my trust in him and he didn't let me down, landing them all without hesitation, thanks mate.

Springing About on The Gravel Pit

 The bread experiment was going well with early tench and loads of carp on the small club pools so it was time to step up to a bigger water, I wasn't sure if it had warmed up enough but went all in nonetheless taking bread as my only bait willing to leave with my tail between my legs knowing I could always return with maggots next time.

The silvers fishing on my little gravel pit had been improving year on year, with the chance of a big tench or carp it is a place of mystery but I'd be happy with some decent roach fishing as no one tries for them here and they are pristine.

A few bits of mashed bread dissapeared into the green mysterious depths as I settled down into a deep corner which I had to myself, I lower my float amongst the cloud of white and even though bread can be instant I wasn't expecting what followed. The float went down so fast the rod tip hooped around before I could even think about striking, what a start I thought, knees starting to wobble as the clutch screamed, whatever it was it was very big as my 6lb line was peeling off towards the middle of the lake, the sheer speed, power and my lack of control indicated something wasn't right although the fish thankfully turned and It was now coming towards me, just as I was thinking the sunken tree to my left would be problematic the hook inexplicably pulls. I am 90% sure it was foul hooked and I know I did nothing wrong, which negated any pain of losing what I'm sure would have been a pb carp. I did that weird thing I'm sure most of us do in such circumstances - stare a bit dumbfounded at a bare hook just dangling in the wind, do a quick scan to make sure no one saw all the madness then perhaps an expletive is muttered, although I can't recall if this was under my breath or out loud. Either way the only sound in response was that of the waterfowl as the mallards seemed to do that quack they do that sounds like laughter, perhaps in this case it was.

I settle back down and next cast sees a small bream get nabbed by a pike almost mid air in front of me, I manage to lose that too as the esox let go but it sure was a hectic start to the day. A few nice roach, rudd and small bream followed the chaos to show the bread was working.

I return at the weekend with the wife after regaling her with tails of monster fish and peaceful surrounds only to find the pit rammed this time. We managed to find a sheltered spot where no other angler could be seen but we could sure hear them, with a guy in full on 'geezer' mode effing and jeffing around the other side, it always amazes me when people can talk all the time without actually saying anything and it's always the chap with the most annoying voice. Any fears that we would contract a home counties variant of Cockney from these fellas was negated by the bird song in the trees, muffling the chat and of course the float dip dip dipping as the bread was having a battle with the small stuff, my concentration now fully on turning bites into fish.

It was a chilled out day and I wasn't expecting any monsters with all the bankside noise when a seemingly better skimmer bream sees me reach for the net only to have one of those 'its a roach' moments we all love, wasn't even a hybrid, 1lb 9oz of pure roach perfection on a pit where I had never had one over 10oz before.

I was stoked by the roach, with only a couple smaller ones to follow we headed home for a nice wine in the garden, not many fish today but a win for the bread again. 

The following weekend saw me back on the old maggot, the bread was working no doubt and I had a loaf in the bag again however I wanted to amass a decent number of fish with 100 the target, I figured it would be easy despite it being cold from a frost the night before, really weird weather for mid May.

I try a different spot in a corner to myself, this time far from the madding crowds. Fishing close in under the rod tip with a pole float my first fish, a decent rudd is returned and hit immediately at my feet by another pike, thinking how this thing is going to mash me up each time I set up the other rod with 6lb line again, whack on a bunch of maggots and hit a nice half pound roach straight away, knowing I'm more geared if the pike shows. The pike smashes it as expected and a really powerful fish is on for quite a while. With the net fully extended and the pike up in the water I was just about to win the battle when it just lets go, it almost sat there looking at me, I swear we made eye contact, but the poor old roach was a gonner.

I return to the fishing with the lighter set up and am relived to not have anymore pike disturbance and settle down to getting quite a few fish, the pike interruption didn't even slow them down one bit, quality roach and rudd with many netters and a few small perch, there has to be bigger stripeys but these were the tiny type, it was a bite a chuck in three feet of water.

After forty or so fish my old friend reappears with a swirl on the surface then sits at my feet just looking at me again, even with the water coloured I could see the eyes just waiting, anticipating the next fish returning like I was it's waiter. This fish is going to be a problem for sure. I then realised my old battered roach was still at the edge, so I fished it out gently with the net and the pike just sat there all the time watching me just two feet away. On went a pike set up and the dead roach was hooked with a single hook behind the dorsal, I plopped it by my feet and sure enough I'm showered in spray and it's game on again, despite being such a powerful fish the odds this time were in my favour. Taking two mats in case of a rogue carp, comes in handy for double figure pike, the fish was quickly unhooked and deposited a few swims along.

I finished with 104 fish and could have gone on to get double that easily but settled with achieving my target by early afternoon. With a venue best roach and pike over the last two trips and loads of quality silvers it really was good fishing when some more illustrious pits and reserviors near here have been finicky.

I watched two young lads arrive on the other side of the pit and have their spod attacked by a pike under their feet and just had to laugh as they tried all sorts, I'm not sure there is a fish that entices such curiosity and energy as the pike in it's ambush. The water seemed to be filling up with other anglers but it was time for me to go.

In between the gravel pit fun I've pottered on the small ponds even managing a venue best for carp on a small club pool where they don't grow that big, on the bread of course.

I've had some very eventful trips, from t shirt and shorts to trousers and heavy hoodies and back again, cockney geezers and tons of that annoying fluff getting on the line and in your throat, mad pike and even madder weather, spring is springing about quite like it's never done before but what fun it's been

A Good Start to a New Adventure

 When tallying up last season's totals I was a tad disappointed to have only gone 27 times, I guess that's still once every two weeks but I knew I had been all work and no play for large chunks of the year. Could this new season be different? Perhaps a challenge was needed for motivation so I set myself a quest to get as many species as possible on bread, hopefully a few specimens, and moreover this will make me get out on days when home comforts would seek to temper the adventurous spirit.

Today was one such day. Having spent the week gardening in fairly sunny weather I was going on my day off no matter what, however today was cold, windy and overcast. I knew the night would be warmer with no frost due to the cloud cover and this would make everything mad for my bread, this I told myself, not really believing it, especially when I turned up at pond stuffed with rudd looking totally lifeless.

A quick dabble in my favourite spot saw my pole float getting owned by the wind and even round the corner the tow on the small pond was enough for a change to waggler, not my favourite method on bread but needs must. A few lillies were starting to show but the rest was open and susceptible to the gusts coming through the trees, at least I had the place to myself as I dropped into a third spot after an hour or two with no bites.

Naturally I had fed these spots with tiny bits of bread prior to setting up, using the map in my memory to negate fishing over new lily growth and hopefully beside enough cover to hold fish, although even the rudd hordes weren't showing. I sat on the unhooking mat (as I sure wasn't using it for fish) to get out the wind, but I do think I'll get too old for sitting like a kid on the floor, not yet though.

With my tub of bread one side and a freshly poured coffee the other, the float seemed to move as I was taking my first sip, typical I thought but it sure went under properly soon after. A fish was on and I didn't care one jot what it was, I had hoped for tench as bread is the best bait for them however this felt like a bream, then got a bit too solid and sure enough a tench came into view twisting and turning in the clear water below my feet, still all sluggish mind so it didn't trouble my light set up, but looked a decent fish.

At 5lb I was over the moon, even though I had to sit on my seat from now on like a normal angler would, my unhooking mat finally used for the right purpose and wet. I finished my coffee, poured myself another all happy with proceedings and watched the birds trying hard to add colour to the backdrop.

No more bites followed, I had lunch and moved out of the wind to the sheltered corner, in lieu of a slight hill where deer are often seen, it was just nice to be out of the bitter chill. When the sun is out this time out year it's like spring has truly sprung but a cloudy day like today reminds me of chub fishing weather, mind you the river season was only two weeks ago, so early days. It wasn't super cold but I think we've been spoiled of late and it was a hood up, big coat day.

There were more signs of fish in this corner with the odd rise and that familiar twitch of the bread as it fell through the layers each time. Not the mental rudd fest it will be in a few weeks but enough to keep me busy before I finally hooked one, a sorry looking thing that left me thinking there would be better examples to use should I tally the species up at the end of the season pictorially.

It was the end of the day for me though, I had the pond to myself for just two fish, but a good early tench is such a fillip. I packed up for the relative warmth of the car not realizing it was only 1.30pm but it was enough, a deer bolted behind me as I got up to leave, the white underside of its tail flicking like a piece of bread hammered by rudd, which is a scenario no doubt I'll be seeing a bit this season. 

The Final Road Trip

 With oil prices set to rise due to the Iran war plus net zero madness, not to mention my rent going up by £250 pm I wondered if this would be the last road trip I do....ever,  it's grim thinking that way and i'll be darned if it is however the last trip of this season it was almost certain to be. I drove past my local petrol station with a full tank knowing I would use most of it today as grayling were calling from afar.

A misty drive saw me arrive 10 am at a high river close to topping the banks but in true chalkstream tradition there was clear visibility down to four feet or so although that is about as deep as this stretch of urban river gets. 

Bombing through yet fishable, cloudy and fairly warm you feel like there should be no excuses for not having a good day, but there's always apprehension on visiting an old friend you hadn't seen for a couple of years. These were immediately allayed when the float dips first cast and my size 18 is devoid of the red maggot that previously dangled below the 6no4 float, far heavier than I usually fish here but lighter than most would use for the pace of the river today. Next cast sees the same dip and that familiar twist is on and a ten ounce grayling is in the net, usually the first fish is gudgeon sized so I was happy. Next cast a better one, slightly over a pound, happy days.

Then the trout showed up and boy did they show, I was suddenly seeing black shapes darting up for my bait and dropping down in the water further downstream over the clean gravels, where the stones sparkled in the current despite the dull skies, some of these spotty marauders were sitting almost under my rod tip oblivious to my highly visible skyline, they ghosted around weaving in the current like tail ends of ranunculus, grayling were there too but the trout were taking over as they so often do.

 They even started taking my bait off the surface and these were fresh maggots, not a caster in sight, no matter where I fed - Splash! Despite all this they were surprisingly hard to hook, which you wouldn't think given they are ...well... Trout. Most the time they were taking on the surface or just below and any bait falling lower was often looked at and rejected.

I got through to a few and despite being around 2lb the fight each time was insane, this time a low rod to stop those crazy jumps was applied and in the fast water rushing deep below my feet they kept powering away and didn't yield quick, I get barbel of a similar size in much quicker on the same gear, these fish were fit, strong, and nice looking too.

Thankfully enough grayling came with the trout before the first character stopped for a chat, telling me he had 8lb trout before whipping out the phone for a show and tell. I didn't mind and my curiosity peaked when he said he'd sent it to the Angling Times. I could see why they rejected it as the photo was awful however the fish was a beast, he then told me his garden backs on the river, the lucky so and so, before mentioning the river was in his garden the day before.

The grayling and trout seemed much larger than on previous visits when there would be lots of smaller samples, this time they were nearly all netters with some just swingable to hand. On one of these occasions whilst lifting out a borderline grayling another chap came by with the time old classic "I see blokes fishing here all the time and never see a fish" I do wonder if the locals look at rivers with different eyes to us anglers, emphasizing this point this was the next swim down. Here I had fed for a few minutes snapping away with my little camera instead of casting, as we know it's hard getting the same image on film of fish that we see in the flesh, once again they were topping for bait and I was trying to catch them in action, this was the best of many shots, yet it only captured a fraction of what I saw.

It was almost too easy at times, I hadn't seen this many trout before here in this strange spot where for some reason the water always looks greener than elsewhere, it was like a fish farm yet once again these fish were no mugs to bait that wasn't falling right, line diameter made no difference and I even went to a 2no4 float, now this is ridiculous but the fish were so shallow, my catch rate improved and fortunately the grayling interspersed the trout enough for it to be a good balance, when you get through to fish like this you don't mind one bit, just check out that dorsal.

I then continued further downstream, despite catching loads I needed to move just to find somewhere to pee, perhaps the biggest problem of urban fishing, that and parking and of course those undesirables, the first of which shuffled past me suspiciously at pace, seems you can't go anywhere noways with someone either off their nut or rattling.

Further down I ended up near a noisy school which seemed to have a liberal time schedule judging my the amount of kids who weren't attending it and near the river instead, fortunately I was on the other bank, away in my own world even if the idea of solitude was thwarted broken by screams and road noise. I had also been to the loo by now too which helped! 

Despite being more overgrown and a bit more remote regarding walkers the banks were impressively clean aside from the odd shopping trolley in the river where the kids play. It was a dark dreary day however the river was anything but, besides I was having fun trotting a 2no4 Stick float through this. Utter madness but effective.

I found a final spot where the broken light from overhanging trees meant no fish were visible, fishing the edge of a super fast eddy, managing somehow to hold back that tiny stick, trotting the boils for a healthy mix of the usual grayling and trout. It's much easier concentrating on running a 'good line and length' when there's no off putting shapes darting about on the surface, even if a few did come up, their speed at hitting the feed in such pacy water mightily impressive. 

A few more fish followed before I called it a a day quite early to beat the school coming out, thus avoiding the other classic line "He's caught a fish" which for some reason teenage girls always seem to scream at full volume.

It sounds weird packing up and i'll regret it if or when this river goes the way of others but I'd had my fill. I hadn't the energy to chase my pb of 61 grayling here knowing I could have done it today, stopping on 36 but they were almost all netters, but nothing over 2lb although a couple of gudgeon sized ones did show which is always good for the future. 

I guess too many trout (21) showed but they were good to see and a lot of fun even if I tried to avoid them as much as possible, later on as I got a bit lazy a few of the airborne variety took my tiny float for a spin and I wondered if 6 feet was a new pb for height. Probably not but it was hard not to see the funny side.

 It was a battle at times getting them through that current, some were absolute stunners like the last of the day which I held in the water. Much like those beautiful grayling earlier, there's nothing like the clear waters of the English chalk stream to highlight so vibrant colours on such a dull day.

A wonderful bit of fishing on a clean and reliable river, what a great way to end the season, would it be my last road trip? I hope not I thought as I bid farewell with memories and images of some lovely fish.

Now If only I knew a decent artist to do a nice picture.