A Year of Repeat Catches

This year for me was notable for repeat captures and although they are not uncommon I did feel these three fish have a story to tell, there's got to be something to learn from them, there has to be otherwise what's the point in logging catches, however I'm still left with more questions than answers.

1. The Roach

The back end February/early March saw the perfect conditions for trotting a small river, it was a day when the roach took over a chub swim and they were crackers, all netters and naturally one was bigger than the rest. Nothing fancy just an enjoyable day trotting single maggot under a stick float, this eventually did the job for a 2lb 4oz roach.

Midsummer was a complete contrast, the river was low and clear and I could see everything, I had already had a nice day catching a few chub and barbel on float, it was only at the end I decided to view what was still in the clear waters below, peering over the edge of some rushes like an idiot, my gear all but packed up. Cue a big roach feeding on the pellets I threw in as I watched. With a rekindled excitement, on once more went the hook, one I had only just removed, so with no float and just the weight of the pellet I chanced my luck. Ten minutes passed before I got it to take and it was the same fish at 2lb 3oz

This fish was caught in two different swims a little way apart, first time on maggot the second time on pellet, both up in the water. I had seen it feed this way a few times and it would only take one offering per cast and would feed surprisingly shallow. I am as guilty as anyone of wanting to run a float through over depth in winter, it just feels right doesn't it? But increasingly I am finding myself benefiting from fishing shallower and it sure pays to vary depths even in cold weather. In winter it was hooked around 12 inches off the bottom and in summer it was probably the same distance from the surface.

I knew that both times the roach had been feeding all along but I just wasn't good enough to get it before I did, adding the caveat of the many 10oz roach I had to get through first does not detract from the larger fish being much wiser than the others. In summer I could see this all first hand, how it mouthed the bait, or more often turned away from it and how it only fed when there was loosefeed in very close proximity. It's modus operandi seemed to be feeding mid water, most folk leger here so maybe that's why. It also knew which bait wasn't falling naturally enough so much so that I eventually tripped it up freelining a Robin Red (for visibility) whilst feeding a couple of darker pellets. Watching a 2lb roach take your bait after tweaking things to adjust to it's nuances - now that is both fun and rewarding.

What does it mean that this fish was doing all this whilst I was standing over it in full view like Captain Skyline? I have no doubt it knew I was there so was either worked into a feeding frenzy earlier whilst I was catching a mix of other fish on float, or it knew on a heavily fished water that people would always be there and that a bait under a float is a danger sign. It was finicky but not spooked, it was clever yet daft, carefree enough to tolerate my presence.

Either way it was welcome both times and I only realized it was the same fish upon getting home and looking at the pics. What struck me most was not only was it clearly the same fish but it was absolutely identical to how it was 6 months prior. Small river roach usually have a few battle scars so I was pleased to see this fish had no additional marks at all, a credit to the other anglers who have caught it in between or maybe that's a sign that the old fish hasn't been out much at all. How often do these fish come out? Some anglers go a lifetime without getting one whereas sometimes you can get the same fish twice, that's fishing for you. 

2. The Bream

During the spring when the weather warmed up I roved down the canal with a loaf of bread, the voice in my head saying "Keep It Simple Stupid". I did just that in April and May and it worked with a few big chub, some lovely roach, a cracking bonus carp and quite a few bream, one of which had a massive slice along the back. What caused it? Answers on a postcard - Boat prop, over ambitious cormorant, feisty Heron, Kingfisher on steroids or someone who got a speargun for Christmas? I always conclude that anything is possible on The Grand Union Canal.

The bream battled like a tiger as canal bream can do although I did wonder what it was at first with large white slash on it's back showing instantly as the fish bent awkwardly in the water. I was conscious of this wound and keeping it scar side up once in the net, The flesh on show kind of reminded me of raw tuna and when I slipped it back the fish almost seemed articulated, I wasn't confident of it's survival so a month later I was delighted to be reacquainted with the same fish looking a bit battle scarred but with that slice starting to heal.

Both times it was caught with bread on the drop in exactly the same spot, the very first cast a month apart. There is a difference the second time with the colour, could be breeding colours in the first but I feel April was too early, so it could be stress or it could be down to the water colour changing. Or perhaps it was just sunnier the first time and the camera is playing tricks.

One thing for sure is this bream likes this spot and sure likes bread. The main focal point has to be that wound and the healing the bream shows, that open raw sushi slice is now fused although it will always be an identifiable mark. I really wanted to catch it again another month later but other things got in the way, so rest assured if I do catch it again I will chronicle it's healing rate once more. 

I also like to think it's the only named bream on the canal - Scar

3. The Chub

Now this one was funny, repeats can happen in the same day usually a few hours apart but not usually minutes. You hear tales of how an angler would slip a fish back and then his mate would catch it but these are rare. The fact is I have never had a chub on this river in a few attempts so to get the same fish twice either side of lunch was quite comical, both times on trotted single maggot.

There's a bit of silt above the gill on the top pic but I had a hunch it was an identical size when caught the second time, I was still surprised to see it was the same fish when getting home, the photo's not only reveal this but the file data also gave the perfect time between the catches at just 29 minutes

I remember thinking how the fish did exactly the same fight each time, kiting across the river before I got it back towards me, but the nearside had a branch strewn undercut and both times the fish stopped just short of this snagfest, there's nothing worse than a chub getting under a rod tip snag and this one had the power to beat my gear but thankfully didn't both times. What stopped it? Perhaps a huge pike or even a catfish as this small river runs into the Thames around the corner, who knows but on both occasions this fish didn't do the obvious.

What conclusions can we draw from repeat captures, I think the main one is they are far more common than we realize, the three fish above all have tell tale identification marks so are easy to spot. How many times do we get the same scale perfect roach or dace within a session, or within two trips when revisiting the same water? How many times is a 100lb haul of barbel featuring a few of the fish twice? Even though fish like barbel often look alike you can sometimes tell as after a while you start to get fish that are a little lethargic later in the day, in such circumstances it may be a cue to pack up or give the swim a good rest rather than chase a number. Carp with their distinctive marks would be easier to log, we know many specimen carp anglers do just this, which leads to them naming the fish, (much better names than Scar of course) which makes sense, I know some anglers frown upon that but it's just a bit of fun with some knowledge thrown in as a byproduct. That's seems like win win to me.

The knowledge gained is still always a bit sketchy, some fish seem to prefer certain baits and areas whereas others are quite nomadic (during breeding time everything is nomadic of course), whether that is based on species or individual fish is variable although I do know fish like roach move around quite a bit, my local canal bream on the other hand seem quite dependable in certain areas whereas the ones on the next pound will be rovers. Territorial fish like perch and pike have their ambush points, how many pike can be in a one hotspot after all compared to shoal fish, pike anglers must get many repeats judging by the amount of  hits we get from a 'nuisance' pike when fishing for silvers. I'd love to know how common repeat catches are for pike.

As for chub lets face it they can up sticks as soon as their sticks move, they do like a snag after all, just tell that to the one I caught twice as it seems to have missed the memo.

Repeats? 2022 does have a three twos after all. 

The Floods Fish Fantastic

 I must admit I love it when the rivers are high so as soon as the rains stopped at lunchtime I was out to spend a few hours fishing, following taking my niece to the local hospital. I've been on more hospital trips than I have fishing this year, even so the fishing has been excellent and today would turn out to be no exception.

 The river was high and possibly still rising when I got there, a stark contrast to the sorry trickle of summer, where was all this rain back then?  I made my way past a feisty cow that had some serious horns, making sure I closed the gate behind me and looked at the water going through, it was just touching the top of the platforms, the river looked swirly and angry - She looked perfect.

I set up the usual stick this time to 3,2lb mainline and 3lb bottom, the lighter line helping me navigate those boils and swirls even if I could have used a heavier float. It worked though and it wasn't long before the first good roach showed, running the float upstream in a slack eddy under the rod tip, it was a nice start and I hoped more would follow.

More roach did follow, who says you need a dropping river? Although I was lucky as the extra water had a touch of clarity which was surprising. The river did indeed rise further and was soon three inches above the platform I was sitting behind, watching the water appear gradually between the gaps in the wood was mesmerizing. 

The higher levels made the roach move further out into the main flow, perhaps the nearside eddy was now too turbulent, either way it made for a cracking spell of fishing and boy did these roach pull in the current.

Then a dark cloud parked itself overhead and unleashed it's worst, it was a good time to hunker down under the poncho and have a bite to eat, luckily the rain didn't last long and after a run of gudgeon I was soon into more pristine roach.

I paused for a cast to net a good football but refrained from rescuing the three tennis balls that came down, If I had fallen in for a tennis ball it would serve me right, not to mention make a racket.

Concentrating on the fishing again rather than bad tennis themed puns I was once more into a few more good roach and gudgeon, before a clonking dace showed up, much like the one last week this one was packing on weight for the winter and was perfection.

It then started to brighten up and a surprise barbel showed in a swim noted for chub, which were absent today. The fight was a bit crazy in the fast water with all the rubbish coming down, I was also conscious of the alder trees opposite that were submerged but my little size 18 Kamazan B510 just held ( I had to bend it back into shape after) to land a beautiful barbel.

It went a bit dead after so I went off for a walk to warm up a bit as the bright skies bought a drop in temperature and a sharp feel to the afternoon as the sun got lower to the horizon. It felt like a beautiful late evening even though it was not even 4 o'clock. 

I pitched up at another spot for the last hour where the river was flooding the meadow opposite, the water boiled through flickering in the low sun and seemed to slow at the bottom of the swim somehow, defying logic like water does sometimes. It didn't take my little float long to reach this spot and sure enough every time it got there it went under. 

It was a dream to fish, my float was dotted down to the last millimetre and even though it was hard to see at times, it trotted down the river like a dream and was held back with ease, the line lay and the bites were just spot on every time, the rod had a good bend as each roach went solid in the flow, before each roach jagged and glided upstream with the rod low, how the sun reflected of them on the surface before the net was slid underneath, it was all just perfect. 

Even a couple of chub finally got in the act as the light faded, bringing the rushes into play and testing my bent into shape hook, which it passed - A tip if you are lazy like me and bend a hook back bend it slightly further than it's original curve, for some reason it's usually just as strong.

Just as I was about to pack up a couple of kingfishers zoomed by, they had been going up and down all day, I'm pretty sure it wasn't just me who had a fantastic afternoon's fishing.

A Slow Start on The Stort

 I was up for some more small stream fishing but after parking up and walking down the upper reaches of the Stort I was really surprised to see it even shallower and narrower than the only time I had fished it previously, a few years back when it became number 103 on the river's fished list. Nonetheless I was eager to try it again. I walked along looking for some depth (and some signs of fish) before settling on a spot I did well at last time below a bridge.

It was so slow I set up a pole float taking 2 no6 and fed a couple of times each cast just to get a trickle of feed going as my float went through at a pedestrian pace (if the walker in question was the world's slowest) bites also took an age to come but when they did I got a few dace and perch before stopping for coffee as faster walkers went by across the bridge, mostly mums with prams.

It's not often you can say you were fishing below a castle so on emerging from my fern gully I took a photo of this fortification, don't get too excited folks It's seen better days and also It's fair to say we've all seen better castles.

I soldiered on (see what I did there) upstream whittling out a half pound chub in a foot of water before going above a weir where it deepened, here the water was slower than slow, I've seen ponds move faster so I made do with picking up a few more half decent perch as a fox went by oblivious to my presence in the gardens opposite. Here's the overgrown gardens minus the fox which roamed around behind the trees just out of shot, naturally.

I probably stayed too long in this spot but it was a good place to relax but I was now on the move walking past another car park that was half the price of the one my motor was in, typical. I passed by large chunks of river that were too overgrown or choked with rushes before finding a clearing in the middle of nowhere. A heron flew off as did a kingfisher, which are usually signs that you are going to catch and catch I did, first a few more small chub.

Then some mightily impressive dace, right tonkers.

The mix of small chub, good dace and perch were interrupted by three small trout which are always fun although I wouldn't be surprised knowing my form lately if it was the same fish each time.

Despite the slow start I ended up catching one a chuck, standing in the woods fishing like a kid and thoroughly enjoyable it was too, yet the place is hardly fished. I didn't mind having it all to myself that's for sure and will return when there's some flow on one day.

I Break My Chub Duck Comically on The Bourne

 The tiny River Bourne is usually reliable for a few fish but I rarely get anything big although the caveat is I only go every other year and usually when the weather is awful and the river is in flood, the last time the mud was frozen solid whereas this time it was the first frost of the year albeit a mild one. The Bourne beckoned, a place where I go largely for the peace and the solitude of one of the largest areas inside the m25 not to be built on - Chertsey Meads, Imagine my dismay however when I park up to find large mounds of earth with diggers going back and forth and the vast expansive view blocked by a building site.

I ask a returning dog walker whether the river is accessible and what they are doing and she says they are laying pipes to prevent flooding, so that means houses coming soon then I thought. I grumpily got the gear and made my way through the site to the river, the workmen halting their progress for my right of way. The digger driver turns off his engine and asks me where I am fishing and then If there's any chub in there, turns out he's another angler oblivious that he's working a stones throw from a river, (I wonder if he'll bring his fishing gear to work next time) I didn't tell him I have yet to get a chub here although he did inform me that he's laying a fuel pipeline to the Airport, much better info than the dog lady gave me and much more reassuring. The pipe looks a bit like some of the pole set ups you see match anglers use nowadays although I think you could reach the far bank of the nearby Thames with this kit.

I set up in the trees as the morning sun flickered through them and lit up the water, the reflections of which danced on the bark of the branches either side of me, I fished with one hand shielding my eyes from the sun and just swung the float gently out getting a bite a chuck from the off in a spot under two feet deep, mostly bleak but a few roach, dace and a bonus perch came out of the brown water, water that had enough clarity for a pike to launch a failed attack on the next fish. The swirl of the jack pike broke the sunlit calm of the surface and scattered the pond skaters of which there were thousands in all directions, this swim was too tight to be playing a pike, even a small one so this was my cue to wander downstream.

En route I chatted to a couple of anglers, the first one a novice who was struggling, I told him there's plenty of fish in here which seemed to lift his confidence, then I chatted to another rover like myself who told me he had a nice chub last season which boosted mine, it's always good to know there's fish still to be caught on these rivers regardless of which end of the angling spectrum you are coming from and what you are targeting. I've never had a chub from here, lost one once but they are rare and sadly suffer from poaching so it's good to know there's still a few about.

I look for a few spots here and there not able to reach the river on several attempts due to the lush undergrowth, when I do get close enough I see some spots are just full of junk that's been dumped others full of wood and it's a while before I wet a line again. I often look for deer on the far bank but have to make do with long tailed tits today, plus a startled heron that wasn't expecting me to come foraging through the nettles ruining his fishing. Once again the sun lit everything up like a torch, it was a glorious day to be out fishing.

I settle on a decent run grateful that my waders have enabled me to once more get through some serious greenery, no wonder I usually fish this river in the dead of winter I thought as I gently picked each burr that was stuck to my arms and even my bait bib, but none on the landing net which makes a change as they are always a sod to get off. I didn't mind as if it's hard for me to get through in October that means it's impassable all summer and the fish are pretty safe in these spots when breeding. After an initial run of bleak I was through to some more roach and dace in my new spot so I dug out the stool and had a sit down.

I was just thinking of stopping for lunch when I finally hooked something better, naturally I thought it was another snag until it shook it's head and tore around the tight confines on the swim, I bullied it in best I could and slipped the net under my first Bourne chub, not huge at around 3lb but it's all relative and I was delighted.

I fed the swim whilst I fed myself, eager to get back in there but knowing I was so hungry having burnt off loads of calories on the walk down, a pheasant almost landed in front of me before disappearing into the undergrowth. I soon had my float sailing down the swim once more riding the current and holding it back to avoid snags on the bottom that I had subconsciously mapped, like all anglers do, picking up a few more dace in the process.

I knew where there's one chub there may be more but didn't really expect another one however I was soon in again, a similar sized fish to the previous one and going well once more, it even seemed to head for exactly the same spots the first one did. However my delight at finding a pocket of chub was tempered when I noticed it was the very same fish.

The black spot above the gills on the 'first' chub is a bit of silt but every other mark is identical as you can see, I wondered what the time frame between catching this fish both times was, I knew it was short so on checking the data on the camera found out it was just 29 minutes, It's a funny old game sometimes, no chub in around 20 previous hours of fishing on this river before getting the same fish either side of scoffing my lunch, I had to laugh.

I tried for a different chub but the swim went dead, my pocket of chub could be just one lone fish that's eluded the poachers who knows, but there will be a few more loners out there. It was time for one last rove so I ventured to the bottom of the stretch, the final swim saw me perching precariously on a bank of nettles conscious not to fall through to the water below, I was the first person to fish this spot all season and once more it was a proper bit of wild river fishing to finish with. I was rewarded with some larger dace and a few roach and perch and of course countless more bleak as I rid myself of the remaining maggots. I then sat in the sun trap of the second meadow and packed up, poured the last of the coffee from my flask which tasted awful and watched the next aircraft go by, drowning out the constant hiss from the pylons for a passing moment.

It had been a cracking day, I got a good walk in and had some good fish, counting that chub twice of course, joking aside I'd go here just for a few dace, apart from the airliners going over this place is always so peaceful, you see the odd dog walker but they are sometimes a good mile away, little dots in the distance. Instead you find yourself, this is what fishing is about. I always make a point of pausing as I walk back to the car and take a last look over my shoulder across Chertsey Meads. 

Sometimes it's good to look back at where you have been and not always where you are going.

Some Great Roach on the Canal

"Now that's proper fishing" Said the old boy as I stopped to chat after telling him I was freelining lumps of bread under a pole float with no weight. I argued that he was the one 'proper fishing' if there was such a thing and that I was normally doing what he does but I did get his point, there is something primeval about watching your bread sink through the layers before cocking the float and hopefully going under. Well it worked where I started half an hour before with a decent roach and then a nice dark 4lb bream which made a good start to the morning.

This is a summer tactic I use on the canal but I will soon be fishing as he does so I bade him farewell and headed upstream, sometimes I think I may be the only person who roves a canal except for lure anglers but hey ho thinking outside the box sometimes works if you're not in it. (random thought of the day) The next spot saw many bites but I was sure they were small roach, chublets and bleak and all I had to show was one more roach. Then a few boats going through made things hard and stirred the bottom as the flow went back and forth but it's a canal and that's what you get sometimes.

I then stopped at another spot where I saw a few small chub and had a go for them for bit of fun but they soon vanished, although I was happy to get another decent roach and then a nice bream of around 3lbs close in. I got the seat out to settle in this spot and rest the legs and after battling with the wind a bit with my light set up the float zipped under and I thought I had one of the chub on, It certainly wasn't a bream as it had too much power, but a flash of red and silver showed it was a good roach. It looked huge in the water, not 2lb huge but big nonetheless and boy did it pull, I've never had a roach go like this on the canal, hybrids yes but this was all roach and a really long fish too. I netted it after it tried to get under my feet chub style and it felt heavier than it looked, it weighed in at 1lb 4oz, a lovely roach for the canal and a new spot discovered.

I soon needed a toilet break (it's hard to go opposite a block of flats) so I went on a walk up to swim usually good for chub which had me hoping for more fish but this pound was so low, it looked almost tidal with gravel beaches showing on both banks, so this endeavour was fruitless.  I then made my way back to the roach spot only to find a boat in the process mooring up there, seriously I did think for a moment of saying " I say you don't mind mooring further down, this is a jolly good spot for fishing", I must admit I silently cursed instead, if only I had not spent five minutes trying opposite the pub on the way back I thought. 

I ploughed on along the canal eager to try where I started before going home, on the way there was a big old cruise barge, one of the wide long ones trying to do a three point turn, in a tight spot where I've seen a few run aground.

I knew I had a few minutes before the turning barge came back up as the big ones usually carve some silt up but I still found time to chat to the old boy, I was glad he was still there and we talked about what we caught like anglers do, we both had a good day but being a canny match angler he wanted to know where I caught all the bream and the roach, fair play to him. We soon said our farewells (I do wonder how he got on in the match) and I carried on full circle to where I started. One last cast before waking home, one last fish I hoped for today.

In went the last bit of mashed bread from my tupperware container, then the float followed with a bit of bread that was well past it's best squeezed rather hard on my size 12, my last slice of bread was getting stale, pieces of which are shed easily from the hook, as proved by my previous casts. Then the cruise barge came chugging back, the lady on the back was talking about theatre trying to remember the name of an actor as the boat slowed in front of me, I would have chipped in if I could have helped but my knowledge was found wanting, mind you I was well aware that my float was doing a slow theatrical slide under the water, then she did the "That's a big fish" comment as I played a bream like I did at the start of the day, it wasn't big but 3lb bream do look a size to be fair, especially to boaters, I netted it almost under the boat which had now moored just below me, slipped it back, gave the lady a friendly bit of chat, refrained from doing a Midsummer Night's Bream joke, washed the slime from the net and that was the day, a good one at that. 

I don't get many when I fish this way but usually get quality fish, it's a fun way to attack the canal without getting bleaked out in summer although I'll soon be scratching for bits like the match angler I chatted to come the cold weather, although he said he liked bleak - I won't go that far, next time I'll probably be trying to avoid them.

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Next time was a few days later as I had to get rid of the maggots I had bought for the river trip a couple of weeks back, I decided to go to the spot where I caught the nice roach hoping that boat wasn't still there. I knew that there were plenty more fish there judging by the amount of movement my bread was getting last time, a morning spent in one spot getting a few roach and bream on wag n' mag would do this time.

The difference a few days make, the boat was gone along with many others and the area now seemed open, gone too were my shorts and t-shirt replaced by trousers and a hoodie for the first time in ages, the hood was up too as the wind was in my face, even with my Autumn attire dug out of the wardrobe I still felt cold, what's more I had just one tiny roach to show for half an hour's fishing (where's pesky bleak bites to warm you up when you need them). A glance to my left saw a big cormorant emerge with a neck like an an old cob swan, it was a no brainer to move to where there was more cover for both me and the fish, the warm glow of a new found spot replaced by the cold reminder that no two days are ever the same.

In my next spot I instantly started catching perch, roach and of course bleak with the latter causing many a missed bite but I minded not as I was tucked out of the wind and getting a few fish, the roach were quality and included another cracker around the pound mark, once again a fantastic fish for the canal and like the other one it pulled with some power with a solid thud each time it spun on the surface, they are packing some weight on for winter yet seem to be all muscle.

More netter roach and a few perch followed although they seemed small in comparison, then the canal did what canals do sometimes and went from a bite a chuck to nothing, then going all bleak before another rush of roach before going dead again. I am certain this is due to fish moving in and out, (having viewed their transient nature on several occasions when the water is clear) keeping them feeding in certain spots where the bottom is silty and shallow can be quite hard, add to the mix cormorants, boat traffic and the changing direction of the flow, this can mean canal fishing is often a test but a rewarding one when you get things right.

A chop graced the surface just as I was thinking a pole float would work and I started to feel cold again as the wind whipped up further. I packed up at noon as my leftover maggots went in to fatten up the rest of the many roach that had eluded me. Two different days on the canal and two cracking roach made a for a good finale to my two week break, now it's back to looking after Dad although I can tell him some new tales from the bank which lets face it is always a good thing to chat about.

A Few Barbel Lift the Mood

 When going fishing on a weekend I usually take my radio and listen to the football but there was none on so instead I listened to many a glowing tribute to The Queen and some cracking anecdotes from people who have met her as I made my way to the river. 

En route I passed a parked police car with it's blues flashing trying to apprehend two cygnets on a busy road,  I know you could get moved on for loitering but not swanning around. I imagined the Queen would have been entertained at the thought of two of her swans occupying the local constabulary, it did raise a smile as I slowly drove past.

It had been a while since I had trotted pellet and I wondered if the fish would be on it still as the sound of children in the playing field could be heard in the distance, kicking a ball about carefree to what's going on in the world and who could blame them. Everywhere seemed a sea of green once more, it actually seemed greener than I can ever remember although I wondered if my eyes have become accustomed to yellow..

The kids soon stopped playing and it was wonderfully quiet, almost eerie, this is my excuse for setting up a pole float that took one no6 plus the weight of a 6mm pellet, bizarre I know but I just felt there would be something earth shatteringly noisy about even the smallest stick float breaking the silence as it hit the surface, feathering it as I may. I reasoned this pole float would fool that big roach that seems to follow me from swim to swim even though deep down I knew it most likely wouldn't. 

Naturally my pole float was getting owned by the current and no it didn't fool any roach early doors but a barbel got in on the act and was more than welcome. I'm not sure if it was embarrassed by being caught on a pole float but it did the most mighty of poops on my mat. Now we are used to fish doing this on occasion, even in the hand sometimes (usually the odd dace or gudgeon) a fish will leave a silty little present to be washed off. However this was the mother load, I used the net to wipe it from the mat but stupidly flicked a remaining bit with my finger, I smelt it and blimey, "What had this fish been eating" I thought, It was putrid. This barbel had an Anus Horribilis.

It didn't take long to realize the folly of my pole float as the wind got up a little so I changed to a wire stemmed stick as I could cast closer to the dark water on the far side, I had not the skill today to avoid the rushes every time it was pinged tight under the overhang, but had the luck that when I did snag up the float came gently free, one of those days that compensates for the ones where you seem to snag everything going.

My new set up earned me a tiny barbel that was almost to strong to hold and it was noticeable how strong the fish were compared to summer now that there was fresh water in the river, another decent barbel followed which was a clutch screamer, the fish were in cracking condition.

All the bites were super fast and I also managed a few chub and couple of dace which was nice, as for the roach, well they were there but were really sharp today, too sharp and I eventually caught a glimpse of my big old friend that had appeared, feeding only on the drop as per usual, as a result on came the pole float once more, pure folly I know.

The big old roach didn't really want to know only taking the odd pellet in the clear water and I kind of didn't want to catch it again have twice already achieved this feat this year. Ok I did want to but don't mind that I didn't if that makes sense, that roach won today and won with ease getting a free meal in the process.

Instead a bigger barbel drifted in near as they often do if you sit well back, when this happens when fishing you kind of go motionless even though you knew your were stealthily still before, I swear at times we hold our breath without realizing it. I couldn't resist gently lowering in my float in front and watched my pellet drop as far as I could, then the barbel puffed out it's mouth and I could see all four barbules outstretched like a hand, towards where my pellet had dropped about six inches from the bottom, it had to be my bait so I struck not waiting for the float to move and the barbel to eject the bait. It was on and did that heavy plodding fight that larger barbel seem to do, seeming almost lethargic in comparison to the smaller fish, it wasn't massive but was easily the biggest I saw in the swim today.

The morning sauntered in to afternoon so quickly although how much of that was taken up by changing floats or having a coffee I do not know but it was now a lazy approach to the day, I sheltered from the odd shower hoping any remaining barbel doo doo would get washed from my mat. I had one last go for the big roach as futile as I knew it was but I was happy to get a few good chunky ones in the end.

I pottered off slowly having got my fill, the birds were fluttering between the trees, rabbits scurried quickly in the distance upon hearing my footsteps, it sure beat spending time in hospitals and like the trip before this fishing trip was a sensory overload of the most welcome variety.

It's Been A While

 Eight weeks to be precise or close to two months was the duration of my absence from fishing, a month spent catching the train to central London each day to visit my dad in hospital and the rest of the time looking after him following his operation, now I had a window of opportunity with the caring passed on to my sister for a couple of weeks. I had only one place to go first and that was the river I crossed on a daily basis during the height of summer, even though I was on a tube train each time it didn't stop me marvelling at the greenery of the little River Gade below nor did it temper my desire to fish it once more, so this trip is dedicated to all those who really want to go fishing but for whatever reason can't.

I had walked down to the river a couple of times in the last month when finding myself early for the train, you can't keep an angler from water even when they aren't angling, it rekindled memories of getting the train here to fish back in the day when we were car less and carefree. Even during the height of the drought the river looked pretty decent so I was itching to fish the Gade and today I did.

It seemed summer had passed me by with recent rains and the fresh feel of the morning as I got to a coloured river knowing that more heavy storms were forecast at midday. Swapping the yellow dusty drought in central London for a lush damp green of the 'countryside' a few weeks later was like being in another world even if I was still within the M25. However by the time I had set up the river had dropped unnaturally as if the plug had been pulled and I knew full well all the water was going down the canal, whether that was down to neglect of not closing the lock or by design I had to chuckle, the irony of picking a day when the river had less flow than during the drought didn't dampen my enthusiasm.

I knew I would get dace as I set up where I always do below some shallows and even though I was hardly trying and my little stick float was not dotted down as it should be the bites were thick and fast as a few small to medium sized silver darts glistened in the morning sun.

In between I had a few roach and perch, the first stripey pricked it's fins up as I quickly removed my size 18 and I just held it there in my hand, there was no time to take a photo (it wasn't a big perch by any means) but there was time to stare, two, three, maybe four seconds was all that was needed to marvel, everything was perfection as the sun hit this little perch's flanks and shone through it's out stretched fins, the green of it's back was iridescent, the stripes almost jet black in contrast, it's red fins glowed orange and the dorsal spiked up as if to say "Don't mess with me" - It was a work of art. I thought how much you miss the simple things sometimes as I slipped the little sergeant back at my feet and watched it take off across the sunlit gravel to vanish in the gloomy water once more.

More dace, perch and roach followed although I lost quite a few maybe due to the surprisingly strong wind or more likely due to the unsurprisingly rusty angler, one decent roach needed the net after losing a similar sized one earlier trying to unhook it in the water, not huge by roach standards but "it'll do" as they say.

I roved downstream into quite a strong breeze keeping an eye on the increasing cloud levels and the ever darkening skies, sure enough the storms were on their way but I had to get down there, down to the bottom of the stretch. I wasn't heading for any super swim nor was there any wonder fish caught aside from a few more dace and roach here and there, plus the odd gudgeon and chublet (some of the dace were a much better stamp mind) No I just had to get down to the bottom to see my train. 

I had to look at the tube going by, the same ones I spent a month on going to hospital in London. Every time without fail I would look down at the little river but not this time, this time I would look up with my chin up. I wondered where the people were going on this tube train as it crossed the moor like I had, then I thought of all the nurses I got to know in the hospital, the cooks, the cleaners and indeed some of the patients who's bravery and optimism were inspiring. I sat there in solitude and packed up, reflecting on what my dad's health would be like and whether reading this blog would rekindle his desire to go fishing again, then you wonder what the future holds for you and how much a drag is it getting older, then you finally realize you're just thinking too much and it's much simpler to just count how much you caught today. 

I was a fine three hours fishing that's for sure and it was good to see the river showing signs of recovery even if like the rest of us it will never be in the prime it once was. It is still a nice place to spend a few enjoyable hours, there is after all much worse places you could be.

Two Trips To The Warwickshire Avon

My first trip of the week was to the Warks Avon above Bidford but given there were only two swims on the weir I wasn't surprised to see them both taken so I set up downstream on a low clear river, but one that offered more water than my perilously low rivers closer to home.

The clear water bought the small stuff out and I was struggling to get through tiny dace and bleak and had a sorry tally of countable fish by the time I stopped for a late lunch. An hour later I noticed one of the weir anglers going which was surprisingly early, I caught him in time to ask whether his early departure was down to a terrific day or a struggle, sadly it was the latter, half an hour later the other angler left, also beaten so I had the weir to myself. 

Even though I knew it would be hard there's always optimism isn't there? Although the small swirls on the surface among the froth indicated maggot would be suicidal, so I went on pellet straight away, the water was certainly clear enough even if following a couple of anglers so quickly wasn't ideal.

Suffice to say I struggled despite giving the pellet a good hard go, a few roach barely big enough to take my 6mm offering were followed by one good chub at around 3lb which put a good old bend in the rod. I'll take that I thought. Even though I put a shift in on the pellet I could only tempt a few more roach and ended up with 7 in total on a day saved by that lone chub.

At the weekend I am back out with the missus who wanted a piece of the green Warwickshire countryside as did everyone else as we made our way through a picnic site where it seemed everyone was blowing up a cheap inflatable of some sort. It was hot and sunny although crossing a bridge in the village I spotted a large barbel in the clear water which put a spring in my step.

We found a spot with shade and I was under no illusion that anything would do today, it was basically a picnic with the fishing included at a venue chosen in no small part for the toilets for 'er outdoors. The bonus of having the missus in tow is I get cool photos of an angler just wiling away a few hours, there was worse places we could be for sure.

The river was really clear in the sun and I could see down a good 8 feet, I scanned the bottom for anything large and even put down a handful of pellets in case a tench or barbel ghosted in but I saw nothing but small roach near the surface and even they were letting my maggots fall through, barely mouthing the odd one here and there.

I was having fun getting a few fish where it deepened when I heard "Is that a fish?" the wife eagerly pointing out to me with a raised voice, I scanned the bottom only to be disappointed by what I saw. It was a fish alright and a fine barbel too, much like the one I saw from the bridge, sadly it was belly up drifting down the river on the surface, it looked dead although I did try casting to it with the idea of foulhooking it and righting it in my net where the fish could be nursed back to health, however my light waggler fell short and maybe it was just as well as it was probably already gone and with so many Joe public about putting a dead fish back into the water wouldn't have looked good.

It dampened things a touch as it had been an enjoyable day, I had a few perch and it was quite an achievement to get 29 of them plus a handful of roach and dace given that everyone and everything came floating down the river as the afternoon wore on. 

We stopped off at the chippy and sampled the chaos of the picnic area once more before heading back on a hot drive home.

Last Minute Improvisation Tricks A 2lb Roach

I had all but packed up, my makeshift float removed and my mat was drying on the fence behind me, it had been a good day, the roach were on the pellet today and I had 31 alternating between stick float and matchstick as the water was so low and clear, all netters but nothing over a pound. Stretching my legs after sitting on the floor close to the water's edge all day I had a sip of water, picked up some of what was left of my pellets and fed the swim one last time, standing right at the edge like Captain Skyline* peering in just to see what was down there, just to observe. Then she came into view and took one right under my nose. Typical I thought.

*Captain Skyline is of course the worlds worst superhero but how that big roach was readily feeding in front of me in full view shows how much it must have been picking at my feed all day.

I had seen this roach fleetingly drift in and out of the swim amongst it's smaller (but by no means small) kith and kin and could I get it to take? Not a chance as it was quick to reject anything I had to offer, so now she was there doing the usual big roach thing of taking one pellet on the drop knowing full well I wasn't fishing. I fed another pinch of feed and it took another pellet. Even though I had been trying for this fish all day I couldn't resist a little longer could I? 

I could muster another ten minutes fishing that's for sure.

After a couple of attempts I finally caught the end of my line which had been flapping about and tied a size 20 hook on, with no shot and no float I tried to flick out my banded pellet into what was a troublesome wind for such fine tackle, even my matchstick was ditched for this one last hurrah. Naturally the first attempt saw my freelined offering land closer to me than the target fish, when it did land in the right area nothing happened, this roach would only come up if there was multiple offerings to choose from and had no doubt clocked me trying to hide by some rushes as I didn't have my camo hat on.*

*Camo hats make you invisible, everyone knows that.

Now it is hard to catch a fish feeding a few inches from the surface that will only take one pellet at a time and only when it's accompanied closely by others, so there was a few nervy moments as I timed my feed to hit the water at the same time as my freelined bait. I couldn't tell if my pellet was being taken so several thin air strikes got the pulse racing and ten minutes soon turned into twenty. 

I then had the idea of trying a red pellet on the hook and I could instantly see the difference as I watched the little red dot drop down through the gin clear water, why didn't I think of this sooner I thought as next cast the roach seemed to head for it high in the water before turning away. I could see the red of it's eyes and it's scales seemed to sparkle in the sun at this moment, anticipation was now at an all time high even if I have had this scenario before and knew full well the roach was still favourite to elude me.

A bit of cloud cover came over and the next plop in saw that familiar shape drift up so effortlessly towards my bait once more, it must have been around ten inches from the surface. It's lips seemed to pinch at my pellet so I struck. I'm not sure if I said it out loud or in my head but the phrases "Got it" and "It's on" instinctively filled my mind as it spun on the top instantly, it was a magical moment. The roach was on although it was just sitting there on the surface seemingly doing nothing, they do this sometimes and I knew my size 20 to 2lb line would be no match for a big roach's turn of speed, I expected a run and it didn't disappoint, twice, I just let it go before bringing it back each time and over the net. Get in!

The roach went 2lb 3oz and I had a feeling I have been acquainted with this fish before and sure enough after checking the photos at home it was the same fish I had late last February on maggot which is this blog post for March - 2lb Roach Caps Redfin Red Letter Day

I have a feeling that there are less big fish than we think in some waters and they are often repeat captures, this one was caught in a different area from the last time round an ounce lighter. I walked most the stretch today with the old polaroids on and this was the only big roach I saw all day in the clear water. I think I need to look back at some old photos as I'm sure repeats are there with other roach. To get this fish twice in the calendar year is pretty special.

Hey it's only just turned July, so three times in year would be pushing it right? Seriously though I could well go three years before the next big roach, perhaps longer, some folk go a whole lifetime. I won't be taking this fish for granted, so here's to the ol' Red Eye and lets not forget that red pellet.

Edit - These were some of the roach that, before the 'two' came along were the highlight of the day, all pristine netters with the smallest around 8oz, once again the pellet provided the sort of fishing hemp does, I could have easily doubled the 31 that I had, were it not for quite a few coming off,  a few barbel turning up and constant changing between matchstick,float and freelining, trying to trick that wily old one.

A fantastic day.

Another Low Clear River

 Although I had a cracking day at the weekend getting barbel and chub I was mindful of how low the rivers have been for this time of year so the next trip was a stretch of the River Ivel which is run by a consortium of clubs, which had more depth and I hoped would have more flow. 

I parked in the Dan Albone car park, named after the character in The Godfather Part II* and made my way across to the river, which also looked low and clear. I and many others can only hope for some prolonged rainfall in the next few weeks.

*I'm only joking of course Dan Albone was an inventor of the first light tractor and I could have done with one of his inventions to get through the long yellowing grass in places. 

Before I even got started I saw two paddleboarders come down, then a few moments later got chatting to a disgruntled angler who had them crash noisily through his swim, he argued that we have to abide by many rules and also have to to pay for the privilege yet others don't, I could totally see his point.

I set up under a tree opposite yet more new flats and managed a sole dace before the first of many minnow were drawn in, I could see them everywhere dancing about in the shallows, even mid stream rising like demons for my maggots, If  there's one thing minnow like it's low clear water, this one had a fantastic fire red underbelly.

The river here is seriously weedy which I don't mind and I caught a few silvers in various holes some of which looked totally gorgeous. Lush ranunculus swaying in what current there was, a reminder of the days when the river produced barbel over 20lb before otters were introduced.

I saw no barbel today as they are very rare now, perhaps endangered would be the right word and most the chub I saw were small, when a decent one came into view it quickly ghosted out just as quick, they were very cagey in the bright low conditions so I had to make do with roach and dace.

I worked my way upstream which is never as fun as working down is it? I had planned on fishing up by a weir but there was a lady in the water throwing her dog a ball, it was so shallow and I couldn't blame her for cooling off although I did walk back down lamenting that folks can paddle, canoe and the like but there's a no wading rule for anglers. I had waders on as they are ideal for steep banks, long grass and nettles but sure make the legs hot on days like this, shame I couldn't get in and cool off like that lady.

Finishing off just after lunch I took the walk back to the car at a slow sedate summer pace and sat under a tree by the car park just to chill before the drive home, reflecting on my modest total of 16 dace 5 roach and 2 small chub, not counting tiny chub and dace, once again it was enjoyable but there were elements of disappointment. I do worry where small rivers are heading on days like this, sure they are heading downstream going with the flow, sadly that flow seems to diminish each summer, getting more urban and it carries with it an ever increasing number of people enjoying the river as a playground. 

Is there room for all of us? More importantly is there room for the fish to thrive?

An Eventful Morning On The River

 As I slipped the net under the first good chub of the river season I wasn't expecting to make such a schoolboy error - CRACK! Suddenly my net handle was hinged half way down the last section, fibreglass all split, I had only tried to lift out the fish from too far down the handle, what an idiot I thought, as I finally gripped the spreader like I should have. Today could be interesting I concluded and it was.

Before that I had got up early after having little or no sleep, it was the last hot night with night time temps still in the 20's and heaven knows how hot the bedroom was, however first light ripped through the open window as if to say...Go fishing Rob, go get a decent swim handsome dude* and so it was I got down the river around 6am, even if the usual spots were taken on this first Saturday I was still happy to get a good spot, so it was mission accomplished in that respect. 

*Ok I added the handsome dude bit, writer's privilege 😀

I plopped my gear down by a deep glide and set up the usual stick float to trot pellet although this time on 6lb line as I didn't want to lose the first good chub or barbel, I gave a quick try just above in the shallows to see what's there first and for half an hour as it was all chub, mostly around the 10oz mark but I had already caught more than the struggle of the 16th.

Then came my handle splitting moment, I had to take a quick photo of the 'net buster' it's a nice fish but hardly a monster.

I worked out with the next fish that as long as I didn't extend fully I was able to use the net without any risk of it snapping, which was just as well as the first barbel of the season came soon after. Like all the chub it was long and lean and will benefit from the feed it will get from us anglers. Small but perfect the first barbel of a season is always special.

With the shallows now dead I went back to the deeper spot for the day, sitting low to the waters edge as per usual. Here I went back to 4lb line as I just don't enjoy trotting 6lb line for chub, it also gives me more chance of roach and as the first roach came first cast it felt like the right decision all round. It wasn't long before a few more chub showed with their quick bites and every fish was hooked perfect in the top lip.  Another barbel got in on the act and if the first was small and perfect this one took it to another level.

More chub followed along with another pocket sized barbel showing good recruitment from a few years back, I hope this year will be as good although by now with the sun up higher it was clear how low the river was and how more rain is needed already. I had little time to contemplate these worries as a slightly better barbel went hard and I was conscious of my dodgy handle, sitting low to the water's edge really helped as did my new technique of netting the fish negating any further snap mishap.

The only snapping that happened was a quick shot of the fish then one of the hook I removed along with my own, both my line and my size 18 dwarfed by whose ever gear this barbel previously beat. It's worth noting that a pinched down barb is still a barb and didn't come out freely, I squeezed the barb further before taking this photo to avoid any mishap with some else's hook on a day when I had form for breaking stuff.

It soon got cloudy and started to rain but after the last two days (and nights) of unbearable heat I was happy to just sit in this fresh precipitation in my t-shirt, there wasn't enough rain to raise the water levels just enough to cool everything down nicely including myself.

Then a magpie came drifting down the river, it was a strange sight seeing it gulping for air. I thought about netting it as it struggled but realized my handle would snap if fully extended. Maybe if it was a kingfisher or robin I would have tried, but I left it thinking the shallows at the end of the swim would see it find the safety of a gravel beach. Within two more metres it was motionless, it was dead, even though it was a magpie I though about that nursery rhyme and this one was definitely 'One for sorrow'

As I bid Mr Magpie farewell - that's nature for you, and continued to fish more long lean chub followed although I was trying hard for a good roach to complete the day, that I only had two redfins in total showed they either weren't there or the tried and trusted wasn't working today, it was for the chub though as I ended with 34, along with 9 barbel it was a fine day or should I say morning as I packed up soon after midday, with one last perfect looking chub.

Nothing huge was caught but I cared not, for it was good to get a day like this under your belt early season. I will need to dig out my old metal net handle for the next trip wherever that may be as I know I won't break that with bout of dopeyness. Also with the water low I am hoping for more rain already which isn't a good sign in mid June so here's hoping for a wet July, so that the rivers as well as the fish can fill out a little.