West Bay Mini Species Hunt Hijacked by Bass

I'm off having 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 it and I get the bonus of a picnic lunch and action shots If I get a bend in the rod although that never happens to me here at West Bay.
It's a place I love fishing but never do well at and in my defence there are much easier docks and quays on the South coast, my tally over a few trips has amounted to a lone wrasse, a handful of blennies, and a few small pouting.

A reccie the day before saw everyone blanking aside from the many kids crabbing who were filling their buckets much to the delight of the herring gulls that would swoop down for a buffet upon release. More encouraging were the huge shoals of small pouting, I only knew they were pout due to the kids picking a few up in their crab nets. That'll do me I thought - a few small pout, whittle out a shanny or two and off to the pub, if not I'll try for the mullet in the shallow end but these were also very small. Either way it will be fun fishing on coarse gear.

The rules here state 'Handlines or float fishing only' as the entrance is so narrow so naturally everyone lobs out a lead or casts a lure, but floatfishing suits me as it's all I do after all, none of that huge sea float malarkey either, you know the size of a cuban cigar, nope I'm looking for bites of the little 'uns so it's a bog standard avon float, so cue scenic float pic..

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 a manage to get a minnow sized pollack of all things before a succession of tiny pout, 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!

I get to the pier's and where the ebbing tide hits some rocks hoping for a wrasse, by now it was quite shallow but I continued to feed each run through around 4 feet deep. These cheap Sainsburys prawns 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 trotting along these rocks and taken by surprise when the float buries, I strike thinking it's a rock before the clutch screams  and the pure silver of a stunning bass not a wrasse flanks brightly in the spray,  I ask the wife 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 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 28" net so go figure. The place was super busy and I was getting quite an audience.People on the other side of the quay were talking to passers-by pointing at me doing the 'This big' gesture with their hands, I reckon they gave the bass a few extra inches, but it felt great given I would have been happy with something akin to a thumb and finger measurement at the start of the trip.

 A doff of the hat also to Martin from Wimborne for landing these fish for me, It's always a grind when the person next to you is hauling and your 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 my first fish, I put my trust in him and he didn't let me down, landing them all without hesitation, thanks mate. 

By now the tide had changed and so did my lovely trot, the flow reversed and the wind got in our faces, my cheap old prawns were falling short but I was almost out of them anyway, thoughts now turned to that pint, after one last look out to sea.

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 sunbatching 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, eat 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.

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 I was now pumping it carefully 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, 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 'wtf' 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.

Walking in a Weedy Wonderland

 My Reading and District club has an exchange scheme so I thought I'd try it out. I was eager to revisit the little River Blackwater near Camberley as it was a river I had visited one winter when doing my 100 rivers challenge, I thought at the time it was really healthy and did well then, so what would it be like in summer? I booked online using the Clubmate app and it worked wonderfully, no picking up keys or going out of the way, all digital all direct, I was ready to go.....and I did!

I had heard folk say it is weedy in summer, well they weren't kidding...

I was however undeterred, I grew up fishing rivers like this, the Gade, the upper Colne, besides weed is great, it's summer, find holes and find fish you will, as Yoda would say, were he an angler, which I'm sure he is given he rocks camo daily.

I set up in a nice spot, when I say nice it was the first swim I could get in without feeling the wrath of the canopy above, note to self - bring a shorter rod than 13ft next time. I jumped in, waded across, looked at the clear water, the weed, the clean gravels, then thanked whatever deity created this, as I trotted down under the trees, alongside some streamer weed towards a raft, it was small river fishing heaven. I had my dibber on once more, taking 1 no1 plus a no6 and it buried each run through, with small chub, gudgeon, plus decent roach and perch which looked and fought well above their actual size, it was bliss, all whilst joggers did their fun run opposite.

By the time the chubby ones had been lapped by the energetic ones I had amassed a decent tally of fish, all returned to the gravels where I watched them, the gudgeon would blend in as if they had an invisibility cloak, the roach and chub would bolt and the perch would hit the bottom eager to get as low as possible, despite their bright green colours and striking red fins they were hard to spot, see if you can spot the perch in this shot.

Did you get it? here's a closer look.

Rockin' camo like Yoda they are!

Back to the fishing I wondered down then back up, stopping for a coffee on some of the benches taking it slow, I saw a couple of lads with their bikes who were fishing and keeping things clean, we exchanged catch reports, a couple of gudgeon was their tally, I responded likewise not revealing I was on quite a few fish by now, it never sounds great, besides gudgeon are cool, a sign of a heathy river, this was my ninth.

Then I saw younger kids, there's no way they'd be fishing a river near where I live that age, fair play. Much like the families walking by saying hello and asking about kingfishers (yes I had to say we see them all the time) it was pleasant surroundings. I wasn't sure about those oak trees however, never seen so many on a river and in the first swim acorns rained down like artillery as the gunfire sounded from the army ranges, but more of that later.

Exploring up towards the free stretch I passed more water than I fished but dipping into each accessible hole yielded fish the way only a healthy river can do. In one such tight swim a few feet long I managed a battle where my 3lb line was tested and a good chub was landed, the day was complete.

More fish followed as I worked my way up however progress was thwarted by a footbridge which was closed, I cursed those trolls like billy goat gruff and more so the morons who had left a mess by the last bench above it, quite why a young courting couple chose that area to make out I do not know although I do hope the young lady in question gets taken to better places in the future.

Returning out of sight of the amorous litter loving couple I hit apon a nearside run and a stunning scale perfect chub of a pound and another roach showing similar perfection, however...

I get a crack on the head that hits hard, now my head is used to it, being a baldy I crack it all the time on cupboards, shelves etc but this left me thinking had I not worn a hat I'd have a bit of a mark there, I rubbed my head before looking down at the acorn that splashed into the water thinking I should stop being a softy. Fishing on, the wind blows once more and another nut hits my nut leaving me shouting out OWWW! Ok it's not funny now! I've left swims for a variety of reasons in the past - Yobbos, high tides, pesky birdlife, fast women. Ok maybe not the last one but this was daft, I gathered up a few of the culprits, rock hard and the size of gobstoppers.

I still had to laugh, getting beaten by the mighty English Oak isn't the worst outcome after all. The last spot saw a tangle with it once more this time at the rod tip, where I broke off, retrieving my little dibber float, avoiding a tree tangle, saluting the mighty oak, cursing not having a smaller rod, but at the same time lauding a fine river.

I finished with 42 roach, 23 perch, 6 dace, 9 chub and 10 gudgeon, A fine trip on the River Blackwater and one that whets the appetite for a return.

Cured By The Avon and English Hospitality

 A day trip

Arriving back at the Avon with the wife for a day trip I was eager to try the spot where I viewed a few fish last time but didn't wet a line, a nondescript swim although I say that with a whole heap of complacency as every spot on this river looks the same - Gorgeous!

The low levels showed gravels and of course lush weed beds which is a stark contrast to the ever muddying Severn, with this clear water came fish, in clear view, from small chub to dace and roach, plus the odd larger chub of course. I fed some pellets and instantly they were hit, I knew I would catch.

On went a dibber more akin to a carp puddle but ever so good on rivers, even with it taking just one no1 shot plus a dust dropper I was able to ping it to the far bank albeit only just. This resulted in some good chub sport instantly with a couple around a pound or two.

Then the roach came, typical pellet fare, none of the small ones, lovely redfins, in the clear water looking much larger than they were but still a decent size.

Naturally a pike showed, this is compulsory on the Avon even in low water on bright sunny days, in the weedy swim I lost the battle but fortunately the pike didn't return although I did expect a hit with the next few roach.

The roach with the odd chub kept me busy for the next few hours, ending with a good 10-12lb of fish, not bad for a drought hit summer, when the roach are this quality you can't really knock it.

Under the Weather

I return once more to the Warks Avon on holiday with the missus, picking the windiest couple of days for a mini break and also one where I had a bloody cold, can't believe it - two years without getting ill then getting a real stinker in the middle of summer - Stress eh, there's only one cure for that and it is of course fishing, or coarse fishing, or any fishing, let's wet a line.

Trying a different area the first trip was pretty much a non event, I had hoped for some good perch at Bidford but instead had to make do with silvers before getting bleaked out, naturally a pike showed once again but in the world's most awkward spot there was only going to be one winner , what with all the weed and a dodgy platform, the latter leaving a sour taste as there was so few swims due to poor maintenance yet the opposite bank had plenty.

I was happy to call it a short day, arrive at the farm, catch up with our hosts and hit a country pub, we found one that was 16th century and used in the Archers, with all the nostalgia on the walls and hanging from the beams, a good glass of wine and a home made hearty pie filling a hole, I was feeling better by the minute.

The second day's adventure further down at Eckington saw more comfortable fishing, I was happy to sit on the bank dangling my legs like a child and lower a stick into the margins, all the time watching the water sports opposite from open water swimmers (who always for some reason seem to be rotund ladies of a certain age) to folks inflating boats. The odd canal barge came by and despite all the activity it was a lovely few hours fishing.

The wind once again got a bit silly but I still managed to winkle out loads of perch, roach,dace and chublets before the bleak became a problem once more, quite a few rudd showed too which was a bonus.

The afternoon saw us pack up and head to Tewkesbury for the traditional look round the shops for the wife and of course hit Wetherspoons for me, with the garden looking over the Avon. Here we sat in the evening sun and chatted to a couple of locals who shared our views on the state of the country. But having spent the two day break counting flags, drinking in ancient pubs and wetting a line deep in the English countryside, with country folk and country ways it was no surprise that my cold was well and truly beaten - Fishing therapy!

An Unexpected Roach Day on the Avon

 I'm off to the Warks Avon, not expecting much, with low levels and a warm sunny afternoon forecast, I envisaged a handful of fish being a decent result but a day trip was needed and I was up for the challenge.

The trip didn't start too well as on arrival the car park entry was blocked by a fallen tree, not what you wanted to see after a two hour drive, fortunately there was a free car park next door so I unloaded the gear from my car in this otherwise empty car park and made my way under the tree to the Avon just below Stratford.

I was surprised to see two cars by the river, turned out they had come in pairs so one was able to lift the offending branch to allow passage for the vehicles, I had no such luxury on my own however the extra walk wasn't a long one. A brief chat to these anglers trotting maggot was helpful as I viewed blade bleak causing a nuisance. This vindicated my decision to bring only pellet, the water was low and clear as I knew it would be and I figured whittling out a few roach and chub would suffice in such low levels, my expectations were very very low.

Some decent spots were taken but I was really surprised and happy to see the weir empty, this was the only water with any pace, I settled on the point, looked downstream as a kingfisher flew across, the long journey and the car parking problems were instantly gone from all thoughts.

On went a 2 no 4 stick, with a robin red banded to an 18, I figured any fish would be feeding on the drop today. A few years back I struggled here in similar conditions so was pleased with instant bites, mostly chublets and a few bump-offs from fish far too small to stay on, then I hit into the first decent netter roach, with it's vibrant dark clear water colours.

Naturally a pike soon turned up, as an even better roach went 'solid' in the jaws of the esox, there was little chance of landing a pike in this spot which was all flow, so a bite-off down the bottom of the swim after a brief tussle was perhaps the only viable outcome.

The roach came and went in spurts in a way that signaled the pike was still around and the better ones were brought to the net in a hurry half expecting the inevitable, however the pike didn't ambush again, which I didn't mind one bit but it did slow the catch rate a lot.

A dabble in the weir itself bought better action although It did mean a heavier float, trundling through the foam, roach after roach interspersed with the odd chub to a pound made for a great morning's fishing in the shade of the trees, as the sun was starting to emerge. Aside from the odd small chub with their big gobs, pellet always picks out the larger fish, even a few big dace showed up but it was mostly identikit roach perfection,

I could have stayed but a foray downstream to explore beckoned, so I left the noise of the weir for the eerie yet welcome silence of the meadow, not before falling flat on my backside on the island, whilst following a couple also leaving who were above the weir, the drawback of trainers and shorts as opposed to the grip of waders coming to the fore.

Falling whilst roving is a skill, one must always be conscious of the rod and net and adjust accordingly forsaking any health and safety for the manky old rod you've had for years. Swearing mildly usually can help alleviate some embarrassment of looking a wally if in view of others. If said rod, net and rest of gear is intact and ready to fish, have a laugh and strut like a cat who has twisted mid air to land on it's feet. It's also a bonus if you are not going to A&E, so thank your feline ninja skills for negating such comedy clumsiness with aplomb. At least tell yourself that.

I dusted myself off just in time for an unexpected cloudburst that left me hunkering under a unhooking mat that was fresh with 'scent of roach' which I can confirm will not be a best seller in the perfume departments this Christmas. I knew if I dug the poncho out it would stop and sure enough it lasted only a minute but was enough to make me take each descent to a swim more careful than before given my form for today. Then the sun came out properly and it got mighty warm again pushing 30c, the forecast shorts and trainers weather for sure, at last. The rain was enough to make things slippy but the huge cracks in the soil were evidence of a much drier period of weather, we all know as the summer of  '25 has been a dry one thus far. Rain is badly needed and much more than the odd inconvenient shower.

Downstream many of the swims were now occupied although some of the others were just unsafe and neglected, some were an accident waiting to happen on what I call normal float gear, with lilies, fallen trees and rushes between river and and bank, naturally these spots looked the most fishy, in the ones I tried I fared not too well.

I returned back to the weir with not much to show for my rove other than a few chublets and a lost roach which looked lean but quite decent. The wander did give an opportunity to look at deep margins which were full of silvers and gravels which were devoid in the bright sun. A chap was in the weir now so I went back to the point, back to square one and not a bad one at that. I picked off more roach and small chub like before, looked to my left and the fella was dusting out an old cane rod to go on the float too, good luck if you are using maggots I thought as I landed another quality roach.  

The low levels of flow was such that another chap was bravely traversing the weir lip to get to the other side with just a net and rod, he looked far too old for such reckless adventure I thought, thinking of my own lack of surefootedness earlier, but fair play I thought, his reward was sitting on a stone of the weir and lowering his bait into the flow under some trees which I must admit looked sooo good.  His quiver tip bent over and I watched intrigued as he went for the net eager to see his catch whilst at the same time hoping he doesn't fall in, as I probably would. The net then gets slipped under a a very decent looking.......eel of all things! he paused to look at the fish for a few seconds, I'm not sure if it was in awe, confusion or despondency although I do suspect the latter.

Meanwhile in roachland a swirl on the surface near the last redfin signaled time to call it a day as mr pike was back with a near miss.

I finished with 32 beautiful roach, all netters, 15 countable chub not including the tiny ones, plus 3 big dace all on 6mm pellet, an easy 15-18lb of fish on a day I thought I would struggle for bits, the roach didn't half pull in what current there was too and I could have caught many more. On the way back I stopped at one of the unfishable spots as I thought I saw a huge roach, I fed some pellets and chub ghosted into view, proper chub so perhaps it was one of these I saw? I was tempted to set up again to find out but I was tired and the swim would make any chub a clear favourite, so I left it with the appetite whetted further for next time.

The fallen tree was now propped up out the way on the way out as I walked past to my little car, which was still all lonesome in the car park round the corner, I left a donation in the box and tucked into my car meat that was sitting in the cool bag in the boot, seasoned to perfection. Time for me to have a good feed as the roach certainly have been today. It had been a good trip to the Avon.