Urban Grayling Fishing

 A decent frost was on the car when I awoke but that was not a concern for my quarry today, nor was the three recent storms which had flooded all the fields and made the rivers I crossed en route look like they were going to break their banks. Just under two hours later I am at a river running clear and perfect doing what chalk streams do best, it's almost like witchcraft how they handle the rains so well.

We have had storms Dudley, Eunice and Franklin so now I was hoping for Storm Grayling.

Naturally I set up in the windiest spot as it just started to rain, mind you it seems it's always windy now, it felt bitter but I just couldn't wait knowing that any grayling would be my first for a couple of years. I set up my little 4no4 stick, the same float I seem to use for everything lately (well it works) and run the float through the fast swim, it goes under first cast, I strike and..... a tiny trout is swung to hand.

Just as I was thinking it could be one of those days if the small stuff are on the feed the float goes under second run through and this time I strike into the unmistakable, the bend in the rod was crisp and solid and I could see a long lean grayling twisting and turning in the fast current thumping my rod tip as it went, it was a good one too and not the tiny grayling that usually kicks things off, a dark fish under some dark trees on a dark day. What a bright start.

I had to rove soon after to get out of the wind and fish somewhere more comfortable, the plan was to pick a few fish from each glide as you rarely stay in one swim here. I next stopped at a spot where the first of many bicycles were in the river, mind you there was also a cd rack, a microwave and a shopping trolly. I called this the Numbnut Swim as It clearly had seen some lunacy, it was true urban fishing though and I did manage a couple of grayling amongst all the dumb discarded metal.

With the rain now easing I settled where I could sit on my stool on the mud, a crease swim which was completely slack on the inside. The first handful of feed was attacked on the surface and it didn't take long to catch several grayling here, I even caught some in the still water and it's a strange fight when there's no current that's for sure, not a patch on fishing the fast water but it was interesting to see them twist and turn in front of me.

The grayling were all a decent stamp but naturally a trout got into the act going all RAF on me twice, doing it's crazy runs and getting some decent height on one occasion, the rains had stopped and a patch of blue sky appeared for the only time today, just as the brownie left the water flying through the air, it's spray strafing the river's surface like tracer fire in the sun.

Stopping for lunch soon turns into a fish spotting exercise as I continue to feed the couple of remaining grayling that were only taking just below the surface, decent ones too. Having worked out that they were eating more than I was I tried once more but couldn't get them even with the float set super shallow and my shot slid up. They were seeing the float and the unnatural looking bait below it, they were wise.

As I was in a comfortable spot off came the float and all the shot, placed atop my rucksack for later. With just a no6 for weight I got as close as I dare to the water's edge without falling in and flicked my freelined maggot out among my feed. It did take a few attempts but finally the awesome sight of the largest grayling gliding up in the water to approach my bait was there. The result was more wonderful twists and turns in the clear water and another nice lady in the net.

The float went back on as I carried on my roving and I had to revisit a swim where I had a 5lb trout a few years ago,  once again though it was grayling that were spinning in the shallow water just below the surface taking the feed. I should have stayed freelining or put on a matchstick as I remember doing that in this spot with some success last time. When they are feeding that shallow a float isn't the best option but I stuck at it and had just one grayling and a trout. I left the others there having had a good feed, they won that one and fair play to them.

I kept the float on as I wanted to try one last spot, almost the perfect looking swim with a nice crease, it was getting near the stage of packing up even though I had only fished three hours. The wind once more was bitter and I had had my fill but this swim was just too tempting.

This was the perfect run for once last flurry of action, as before it was a bite a chuck and then minnow moved in as is the way in all the spots it seems, I caught in every swim and this was no exception with a mix of grayling off all sizes that were super fun in the current.

I thought I'd pack up at 30 grayling as it's a nice round number but I lost a hook courtesy of a flipping trout in the net - not a 'flipping trout' but a trout that was flipping, I quite like them in a way, so 25 grayling wasn't a bad number to finish on with a decent average size and a few nicely over a pound, I only lost 6 or 7 and I'll take that ratio any day. Both dace and the elusive roach were absent today, half a dozen trout made for some variety and those minnows kept me on the move.

I took a slow drive home way before it got dark, rolling back past many building sites and down duel carriageways covered in litter. My cd playing and Mark Lanegan singing, "Oh the river rise and it's a mile high" as I crossed a muddy looking Thames and flooded meadows that looked like lakes.

Well the old chalk streams can cope and 'Storm Grayling' was in full force.

Just found out Mark Lanegan died the day I was on this trip. RIP Mark Lanegan -Legend

A Lovely Barbel on Valentine's Day

 I arrived at the river at 1pm just in time for the first of the forecast showers to hit me full in the face, had the rain had come half an hour earlier I probably would have stayed at home. I passed another angler setting up and exclaimed "Mad dogs go out in the midday rain" which bought a chuckle of agreement as he too was hoping that the squally showers forecast would be more miss than hit.

The river was up following last nights rain and was churning through the middle so I picked a spot with a nearside slack knowing the fish come right in when there's colour in the water. It's a spot usually good for a few chub and roach so I set up a stick and run it under the rod tip holding back in the slack which was far from slow but still a slack compared to the main flow.

First bite was met with solid resistance and not the roach I had expected first up, it also became evident after a few more lunges that is wasn't a chub either. With my rod tip touching the water on several occasions I tried desperately to keep the fish in the nearside slack water knowing that any downstream run would end in tears. There's only so much pressure you can exert on 3lb bottom but try it I did even if it was more coaxing that bullying.

A flash of the tail in the murky water seemed to show some large carp like scales but another spin revealed the forked tail of a barbel and a good one at that. How easily it could have taken off and snapped me at any stage especially when I got it near the surface, but on the second time of asking I took a punt with a risky net lunge and I guided it in when it was far from beaten. This negated a good five minutes of fight and was worth the risk, he says in hindsight of course.

The fish was still full of beans on the mat and had to be held down to unhook my size 18 barbless from a corner of it's barbule, the most iffy looking hook hold if ever I saw one. As I felt the power of the fish I knew it was a very fortunate first fish of the day and at 9lb 4oz the biggest barbel I'd had from this swim.

I took a while to rest the barbel in the margins almost in the spot where I hooked it, probably longer than needed but I had all the time in the world. It burped a couple of sets of bubbles and swam off strong as I prepared for the next set of rain. 

It was the perfect time dig out the waterproofs to hunker down and have a warm coffee, I peered out and could see the white flank of a magpie illuminated by a small patch of sun behind a rather purple looking cloud. This cloud was spraying me with sideways rain despite being half a mile away.

I continued to fish close in as the rain turned to drizzle but wet enough to keep me looking like a waterproof camo version of Clint Eastwood, my roll up poncho comes in so handy on days like these. 

If anything I could have done with a shorter rod as I was having to swing the float pendulum style not for distance but to fish closer in, I then shipped the rod back like a pole and held the middle of the rod to trot close in. I could have sat further back on the path but I liked the shelter and intimacy of being low at the water's edge. Besides it was jolly good fun striking into fish this way with barely a foot of line out, it was so direct, so close in and so much fun especially hitting into a good chub.

After another chub I gradually worked the float deeper and tried the crease further out, even standing for a while, partly to stretch my legs but also to try to dry my rear which was now damp, sideways rain gets everywhere it seems. 

Here it was all gudgeon, they were like little sharks and it was one after the other, lifting them out without needing to reel as if the rod was a whip. My hands got colder after each one was unhooked, an ability gudgeon seem to have on winter days like no other fish it seems.

I went back to the slower water hoping for some roach to really cap the day off nicely but it was another couple of chub that got in on the act. Each time they tore off midstream towards the opposite bank despite being hooked tight to nearside rushes . The way the line cut through the water each time was majestic even if the tree roots opposite meant giving a bit of stick was needed. One of the chub had loads of blackspot around the head and on some of the fins.

Another chub got in the snags when I got a bit sloppy so I changed to some hooks to nylon I wanted to try that were tied to 4lb, handy if I hit another barbel and I could give the chub more stick I thought. However even with the extra colour in the water bites dried up and what bites I had were bumped. I wasn't happy with the slightly larger and heavier gauge hook so went back to my Kamazan B510's which are a true size 18, I do get big fish in on them so maybe it's best to stick to what I'm comfortable using. It is amazing what a slight difference to the hook or line makes.

Sure enough changing back to the tried and tested resulted in much more bites, it was a joy to be fishing directly under the rod tip with so much control, sometimes holding back, sometimes letting it go and often both, no two trots were the same and it was bliss. A few nice dace showed in the faster water which was now receding a touch, the last of which had the rough sandpaper scales getting ready for breeding. Then I finally got my roach, three in three casts and like the other day they were absolute perfection.

The sun was now out as I was getting a wonderful mix of fish but I cast an eye to the bank of cloud that was closing in, deciding to get rid of my bait to avoid getting caught in a last minute downburst and having to go all 'Clint' again. The heavy feeding actually slowed the fishing down but I did get rid of the last maggots which were from the previous trip too so had done a sterling job. I packed up as a kingfisher flew down the channel, it's halcyon blue lit up against a sea of different colours offered by the evening sky.

It had been a great afternoon, all I needed was to get back to the car before that rain came back.

A Blank Then Roach Redemption

 I tempted fate last time with my super blank avoiding perch so it was almost a given that I would achieve the notorious nothing this time, on the first of two trips this week, however it left me feeling flat and deflated like no other blank has done before.

The reason being I headed off to the upper Colne having only caught a couple of fish last time following a pollution a few years ago, I've tried each year a couple of times since and only caught five fish when fifty used to be the order of the day. Reports of restocking and recollections of how good it used to be left me full of optimism that I would catch a few more fish and there would be signs of recovery. To cut a long story short there wasn't and although I bumped off a couple of fish I really expected more bites given the warm weather. 

To make things worse the river looked half the size it was, it was dirty and without the extra rain from a day ago would have been back to the sorry trickle it looks when viewed from the car. You know when you drive over a river and say to yourself " I really should give that a go again" Well I gave it a good go, had a good rove of a mile or so but the fishing was hard and I was up against it. Even my waders gained a massive crack in them, the resulting pain of a thorn was digging in my big toe as if to remind me of my folly of fishing here.  At least I didn't get into the dirty water and get a boot full as well I suppose.

The only highlight of the day was watching a massive rat go back and forth opposite me no doubt delighted by man's neglect, this made me reflect of the irony of the council spending thousands to make a fancy footpath by the dirty river. As I walked past the workers portaloo I wondered if that would go straight into the river like the sewage works does sometimes, ratty would love that I thought.

I lost a couple of fish there today but it felt like I had lost a river.

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 Having spent the day in between moping around remembering how good things used to be I next went to another local river, a healthier one, one where anything would do, so I popped out for a couple of hours just to get any fish with my glass back to half full.

I picked a sheltered spot where I would get a few bites even though I usually struggle a bit here, it's one of those swims where any given day the flow could be going in any direction and the fish are often transient or holed up out of sight, who knows as it's one of those rare spots where you cannot see bottom.

As I set up a small mouse accompanied me, it was quite bold so much to the extent that I had to shoo it away from my bag as my afternoon choccy treat was not going to end up nibbled, turns out it wasn't keen on maggots unlike the robin which never misses that opportunity. Meanwhile a woodpecker was hammering away at the tree opposite, when you watch them close up like that it almost gives you a headache in sympathy. I however was eager to fish and hammer away I did at the shoal of minnow and chublets in the main flow eager for a proper fish but content to be fishing a healthy river.

With my single maggot a magnet for all things small (except for the mouse) I tried away from the tiddlers out of necessity, desperate for something to put a bend in the rod and sure enough by holding it tight to the rushes in a boily eddy, the float went under and a crisp strike was met with crisp resistance (that mouse would have loved crisps I thought) and I was rewarded with a fine roach.

A long lean chub of around 3lb soon followed as both the woodpecker and mouse had disappeared leaving me to concentrate on keeping the float on course in the boils, it seemed like there was only one spot where a bite was possible and getting the float there at the mercy of the current was half the fun. I was actually trotting up the river in the eddy. 

Once again my perseverance was rewarded with another cracking roach as a red kite came in low above, I looked out for the little mouse as I returned the roach and got stuck into my chocolate break accompanied by lukewarm coffee, 'that'll do' I thought.

Mr Mouse was gone but half a dozen more roach followed almost identical to each other and pretty much perfect, the stamp of roach was superb and every one was a netter, bites were few but the reward was there as more roach and even a decent perch got in on the act. It was almost time to pack up but there was time for one more roach, same size as all the others but I think this one had 'ate all the pies' as the saying goes.

Finally a chub showed me who was boss and in the fading light I packed up in time as heavy drizzle accompanied my drive home, which was perfect timing. I had found a new spot within a swim I had fished many times and I had found the redfins. 

It was Roach redemption.