From Circus To Solitude (Somewhere Over the Rainbow)

 It was safe to say it went all wrong, I rarely go on a Sunday but woke up wanting a rather ambitious early go for the old tench on a pool in the shadow of Whipsnade Zoo. The pond recently had stockings of silver bream and before that crucians, however they often seem to disappear into it's weedy, gin clear waters never to be seen again, so I wondered if they would be a suitable back up for a late March tench sortie that was likely to end up fruitless given it was colder, but they whet the appetite nonetheless. However deep down I thought rudd and roach would have to do, as I set off with a broad church of quarry even if I wasn't hugely optimistic of catching anything with it turning colder.

The trouble was I hadn't envisaged a work party being on and the lake being closed, this was totally my fault for not checking first so it was off to plan B which was a nearby stretch of the canal, the same cut I couldn't get on the previous week. Despite it still being quite early in the morning the parking was full again and the cut was already busy, deflated I wondered what plan C could possible be, as I drove back wasting hard earned petrol. I just didn't fancy crossing town to get to the other club ponds so decided on the canal near my house having gone full circle, I'd park by the moor and walk across, simple.

Enter the clowns! For the circus was on again, my heart sunk although with all the people about it wouldn't be dull that's for sure, so I went for the juggler and decided I'll give it a go. Trouble was the flippin' parking again, people were queuing at the entrance already, cars were on grass verges churning up the mud or turning round looking for spaces in an area that's usually quiet, the last time I saw a big top that popular Sam Fox was wearing it. 

Dejected and defeated for the third time I gave up went home for a warm drink and a sulk.

A few days later I knew I'd get on the pond although I didn't expect to be the only one there the contrast to the weekend was stark but welcome. On arrival I took a slow walk around looking into the crystal clear water at the lush clumps of starwort searching for signs of fish and not seeing a single thing. Then I got to the deep end and saw around ten good tench, just under the surface as if they were sunning themselves, it was cold, cloudy and overcast, sometimes you just can't work fish out.

Naturally I set up near these tench hoping they would get their heads down but they didn't electing to stay on the surface all day under their imaginary sun, I even tried a tiny pole float set dead shallow hoping one would have a sniff but they just drifted by as and when. There weren't any rudd or roach either but I was just happy to be out even if I was blanking. I still had the place to myself and tried another spot whilst watching a swan build it's nest on one of the islands.

I was still without a bite when I noticed a cormorant land in the spot where I was previously, so I took a punt on the shallow end thinking more weed equals more cover in the effort to muster a blank avoiding rudd. What was usually a nuisance fish was now a target so when the float dipped and a tiny piece of gold flipped it's way to my cold hands all thoughts of blanking were set aside and I saluted the clever little fish for evading those cormorants.

With my float still set shallow the next cast the float dips once more, I expect another tiny rudd but all hell breaks lose on the surface. I should know by now to expect the unexpected as the only guarantee with fishing is that it will always take you by surprise. Usually a bend in the rod here is accompanied by something green, either a large perch or a decent tench, but this was silver and there was a few seconds of me wondering what on earth it could be. I then slipped the net under a tatty rogue rainbow trout.

Now the trout lake is next door and those trout guys pay a decent penny to fish it and the club know which lake to put their stock in, so I rested the fish in the net whilst I phoned the club just to clarify where to release the trout, the silver imposter that had managed to travel across a causeway much to the surprise of the fishery manager, who thanked me for my honesty. However I'll have to tell him when I see him that that the trout managed to get out of my net and returned to the tench pool whilst I was on the phone to him. You can't keep an escapee trout from escaping I suppose and next Christmas when I'm watching The Great Escape (It's a tradition isn't it?)  I'll imagine this slippery silver bar clearing that barbed wire whilst Steve McQueen lies tangled below.

I caught a fair few rudd afterwards, got through to a couple of decent roach and every now and then that rainbow would drift back through, I briefly entertained the thought of catching it again as you never know as they are a crazy fish, but I kept the bait deep this time, I was now trying to avoid the rudd and that trout, just like my aborted trips a few days before I had gone full circle.

It was much colder and by 4pm and was quite bitter as a strengthening breeze picked up over the pond, so it was time to pack up. I was to be the only angler on there which was a reward for the aborted trip at the weekend and with only the occasional car to be heard going down the lane it was so peaceful, the main noises were that of the shrill cry of the kite as it circled all day and the disgruntled grumble of the mallard who's kip on the middle of the causeway was interrupted by my walks.

It felt like my pond for the day as I walked round it one last time, although the swans made clear who's water it was when a couple of canada geese made the brief mistake of landing, so I left them to it as the red kite watched the action from above and the tench had finally gone from the surface, maybe due to the bird activity or perhaps even they got too cold in the end. 

The mischievous trout could be seen again dashing about in the shallows swirling on the top when I returned to pick up my gear and head home, this time after a nice day's fishing. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel after a bad trip even if it's somewhere over the rainbow.

The March 2022 Heatwave

 I had to get out in this weather and so did everyone else judging by the club's match pool this week, my only prerequisite was a nice sunny spot on a day like today, so after making sure there wasn't a match on (yes it was that busy) I made my way round to the only area where there were a few swims available, naturally the furthest from the car park and a good 30 second walk at that!

I set up a pole float and fished single maggot under the rod tip sitting behind the platform like I usually do, the only problem was I was wearing my thermal trousers thinking the shade could be chilly and how hot could March possibly be? Well ten minutes in I was in a T-shirt even if my legs were cooking.

I concluded March can be very warm indeed.

The weather was good and so was the fishing even if it wasn't hectic but that's a good thing sometimes, I love this time of year on maggot as the small roach don't tend to be as problematic and I was soon tallying up a healthy mix of fish including a nice perch.

Then the carp started to show, not big but good fun on .12 bottom and a size 18 and welcome given that very few were coming out to those who were actually targeting them. I stopped for lunch and took time to observe all the different methods and tactics on show by the others on this lazy spring day.

Opposite me was Wooly Hat guy who was in the only shady spot and looked quite wrapped up with his hoodie on, a stark contrast to Floppy Hat guy who was in shorts two swims along in the sun, both of them finally had the only fish I saw them catch whilst I tucked into my grub, decent carp that were bought in a lot quicker than I got my perch in. The two either side of me were hidden by bushes but were still fishless, the right hand guy seemed to casting his lead everywhere and the chap to the left spent more time sorting his gear out than he did fishing, it was a relaxed atmosphere.

It was a lazy day alright and what was remarkable was how quiet everyone was, how peaceful it all is I thought, I know it's not always like this but credit must go to anglers sometimes, there's not many places where 30 people can be in close vicinity yet it's as quiet as a library, except for libraries of course, some say they as they are as quiet as fishing ponds on a spring day, well almost.

The main bit of noise was coming from a couple of coots who were up to no good with one being chased into the woods after diving under the water for a good twenty metres to elude her mate, before porpoising out of the water onto the bank quite impressively, It was safe to say she wasn't interested, we've all been there I thought as I looked at the male coot whilst his lady friend did her best impression of a pheasant pottering about in the undergrowth behind me.

An hour's fishing after lunch saw more roach some of which graced the landing net, long and lean and not the pristine fat fish the rivers were producing a few weeks back that seem a world away now, skimmer bream, perch and another carp showed up which was the archetypal pastie in appearance and I managed to lose one a bit bigger that looked like a nice common, oh well never mind. 

I finished off with a nice mirror that led me a merry dance for it's size and was a good fish to finish on. Just as I was packing up a really big fat toad swam around the front of my platform, like a lazy swimmer floating along doing the odd kick with it's legs it summed up the day nicely. I took my own lazy walk back to the car as slow as the toad swam, as it sure felt good to be out in a T-shirt this time of year.

Just a shame about those thermal trousers!

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A day later and I have to get out again, this time to the canal but the cut I wanted to fish had a match on so plan B meant going once more to the club ponds, however I would bypass the busy match pool for the quiet tench one round the back this time for a change. Once again the match pool was busy with everyone after the carp but I was pleased to see the tench pool was all mine on arrival.

It wasn't too early for tench as I saw a chap get one yesterday whilst I was walking back (sshh don't tell anyone) even so I didn't fancy my chances. I only had maggots as was planning on the canal today and this pond was full of small rudd, thousands of them and it could be suicidal so I set up a stick with a bulk shot in an effort get the bait down through them.

To my surprise it worked but not for tench, funny enough it was nearly all perch save for a few bream, roach and the inevitable rudd but not too many of those, I managed to get through them to get what I thought could be the most perch I'd had for this pond as I usually only get a handful due to the rudd, after working out that this perch quest would be the ideal target for today and anything else would be a bonus I went for those stripeys.

The weird thing is how much stronger the fish are on this clear natural pond compared to the muddy carp pool next door (aside from the carp), even a half pound bream went well and the perch I thought were tench although there was to be no tincas today and no real rod benders, however it was just as enjoyable as the carp pool the day before, perhaps even more so. That's fishing for you, it is what you make it and every day has it's own qualities.

During the three hours I fished the mind started to wander in between achieving my perch goal and imagining giant tench, a chap turned up opposite with a massive barrow of gear and the pond was suddenly no longer my own, not that it ever was mind, although when he started speaking on speaker phone I did think how the whole concept of these quiet fishing days could be rendered moot by the actions of one angler, thankfully he remained off the blower for the next hour or so. He had nothing in the time I was there so I felt vindicated in trying for those perch and whatever came along in between.

I then looked at the rushes in the margins and I could have sworn they had grown in the time I was there, it was eerie looking down into the clear water at their stems whilst they stood out proud, give it a few weeks of this weather and they'll be taller than me I reckon.

Lunch saw me take a break and look in the woods for deer in the spots I had seen them before. It never seems right looking away from the water and so it was the copse behind me looked devoid of life today, I knew though that was not the case as the freshest of colours was adorning every tree and bush and as if on cue a brimstone butterfly flew through a gap in the spring greenery, a yellow rivaling that of the sun, flitting through the spring air like it owned it, right then in that moment it did.

A few more perch followed after my break, enough for me to beat my previous record tally for this pond surely, although viewing my records (on getting home) showed I had beaten it hours ago, little things like this make the fishing fun if there's no big fish showing, I was quite pleased to have got through the rudd to another species that's usually hard. I ended with 31 perch and around 20 rudd, bream and roach, maybe I'll lose the plot and try for the rudd record next time if I'm feeling really mad.

I walked back once again to the car at the end of another short fishing trip, a few more welcome hours in the sun, just like the toad the day before but with a flutter of the brimstone in my step, it had been two pretty average days catch wise but spring had caught me and smashed me in the face with a whole heap of sunshine as if to say there's more to come.

Knowing the British weather it will be snowing in a week or so but make no mistake spring is here, for a few weeks at least, so I will always remember how balmy it was in the March heatwave of '22. 

Now where did I put my thermals just in case?

The Perfect End to the River Season

 Where do you go after you've had a red letter day including a 2lb roach? I suppose the answer is anywhere so I went to the same river but further upstream, where it is not fished as much, where it is very narrow and where, at this time of year it's usually pretty hard.

So it was, despite arriving late morning I was the first car there. I walked along the empty banks looking for signs of fish but saw nothing in the first few swims. Before I could set up I was instantly joined by a guest. I got as close as I could before he flew off. 

I failed to notice his friend sitting on the stump below, I had a good chuckle and dug the camera out of my top pocket once more and repeated the process, not bad for a cheap camera with no zoom.

These were the robins that wrote the wonderful guest article It's My River so it was like meeting two old buddies. They soon returned as I set up next to a rather clear looking river that looked a bit too open and lifeless aside from my hardy feathered friends.

Indeed I failed to get a bite in a number of swims, swims that were roved and trotted to the best of my abilities even if my head was saying all the fish have moved to the adjacent backwater. On came the polaroids and I walked the whole stretch and saw nothing in the clear water but bottom. It was too warm a winter's day to be blanking so I made the choice to switch venues. Back at the car park two anglers were arriving, one of whom had blanked the last two times here. I drove off in the opposite direction thinking I made the right choice.

Off I went further upstream to a free stretch of the same river, the same stretch I ended up on the last day of the previous season when everywhere else was too busy, you know when a river is tiny when you can touch the far bank with your rod, I suppose it's a stream if you can jump across it, but once again it was all mine for the afternoon and I didn't mind that one bit.

The difference here was incredible, despite being a public water I could see fish in most spots, nothing huge but small chub were sitting there in full view, I said out loud "I ain't blanking 'ere" eloquent as ever and proceeded in knocking out a dace sized chub each run through. I stopped for a late lunch and contemplated the contrast between the two stretches, whether the fishing club had cut too many trees back on the private stretch, whilst I stared at some of the litter in the rushes on this free one. There's always a trade off between venues I concluded.

It was nearly all small chub after lunch, once again nothing big enough to warrant the use of the landing net but some put a lively bend in the rod, a surprise rudd put in an appearance but flipped back into the water whilst I was marveling at it's blood red fins and a couple of tiny roach interrupted what was nearly all cheeky chevins.

I needed to stretch my legs after sitting on my net bag on the mud, so downstream I roved, in and out of the water, up and down the banks and over railings and back, this to me is how I grew up fishing and I love it still. I didn't catch much but found some peace away from the road to soak up the day, I could almost feel the onset of spring, only catching a few more small chub but it was fun. In one spot I stopped and just fed a small shoal in the shallows watching them, darting about in a foot of water, cagey due to my presence but feeding well. I didn't bother to wet a line to these chub of the future and wandered back upstream.

Back to waters 'deep' I spotted another shoal of fish spooked by my skyline but in a run that had a bit more mystery offered by some darker water, I had made it a goal to be more stealthy but it seemed to be going out the window right then, mind you there's only so much you can do in a spot that's two feet deep and barely twice as wide. I sat once more on the net bag and run the float along what was the perfect crease. I say perfect but my rod tip was hitting overhanging branches, there was a dirty great snag that claimed my first hook and I knew any fish on would be hit and hold. Each cast had to be accurate to inches but It was what small stream fishing is all about, this swim was fast, boily and an accident waiting to happen - It was a dream to run a float through.

My little float (yep that 4no4 again) hit the sweet spot each time and more chub followed, the net was even used at last on a couple of 12oz fish which were pretty hectic on my light gear as they were never more than a few feet from a snag in all directions. Then a couple of quality roach showed up, they seem to be following me around this winter, the largest of which went like a chub going for both the tree and the nearside snags like It was in it's prime, it was beautiful.

The cracking roach really made the day and the small chub kept me busy until the tight confines of the swim resulted in a mess as I pinged off a snag only to ping into a tree and then ping free into a good old tangle. I packed up with the fish still feeding leaving an element of the unknown to rekindle the desire for a repeat visit, perhaps on the last day of next season, who knows? I caught nothing over 10oz all day and finished the day with a respectable total of 30 fish (not counting the chublets) I was covered in mud and my rear was soaked through from sitting on the muddy ground. I hadn't even noticed as I was in my own little world down by the river.

I drove home sitting awkwardly on my folded up coat to save my car seat and I felt tired and hungry. It was no red letter day but it just felt like the perfect end to the river season..

2lb Roach Caps a Redfin Red Letter Day

The last day in February and it was one of those days.....

When I arrived at the river at 1pm I was happy to see my favourite chub swim empty but less than enamoured to see the trees on the far bank cut back quite hard. Undaunted I set up my lucky 4no4 stick which was starting to lose some of it's paint and was coming away at the stem, it was in need of a super glue bodge for the second time but at least I knew I wouldn't lose it in a tree today. It looked like It wasn't going to see any fish either as I remained biteless despite trying hard for an hour, although minnows don't count as I had plenty of them under what was left of the tree the chub used to like.

The chap below was getting chub on the feeder but he had more cover and I could just picture all the fish being there and only coming up to my shallow spot every now and then with the water pretty clear, he told me all his chub were down the bottom of the swim as I bade my farewell and wandered further downstream, any fish would do now I thought and I had designs on a nice dace or two.

I was delighted to see a good swim empty, one which usually has a really good mix of dace, chub and roach yet isn't as heavily fished as some of the others, I had wanted to get in here all winter and if I can't catch something here I wont anywhere I thought. After all this swim had no tree choppery and the weather was perfect, it was really warm and overcast although the ever increasing rain was a concern. I sat crossed legs on the deck, pinged my float against the rushes with a flick to get everything in line and after a series of lightning quick bites a fish was on and it was a nice roach.

I've been catching a few of these of late and they are really filling out nicely and are in tip top condition both to look at and physically, little did I know that 6-8oz roach would be the smallest of the day. Next cast I was slipping the net under a really plump fish.

It soon dawned on me that this could be one of those days as roach after roach graced the net, the bites were super fast and some were missed but when connection was met it was with that jag jag glide and the tell tale spin on the surface, as each roach cut through the current in the middle with ease.

Just when I thought all these roach were identikit perfection I caught this one with a big slice right through the anal fin, perhaps a cormorant strike unless it's the new ornamental fantail roach variety. It's certainly a recognisable fish for future reference.

Every now and then the far bank current would almost stop and other times it would surge through all boily just to keep me honest, but the roach were having it regardless as long as the float was close to the rushes. By now I was also getting them down the bottom of the swim but the ones under the rod tip were the most fun, holding back as soon as the float hit the water and trying to hit the quick dips when the float is released getting those 'on the drop' biters.

Lo and behold I actually had a chub get in on the action which gave me a few moments as I thought naturally is was a big roach, two pound chub do go like two pound roach and it won't be the first or last time I'm deceived and slightly disappointed when that that big gob comes into view. You can't love rivers and not love chub though and would never have believed it could be the only 'non roach' of the day.

Despite usually having plenty of dace and chub in the swim it was still all roach (not a bad problem to have) and they were all gorgeous fish so it was time to experiment with new photo angles where you can really see the 'bull' shoulders roach get when they fill out.

The rain was now coming down steady but I sat there with no brolly and even the poncho stayed in the bag, I was getting wet and I didn't care. It had been a great a couple of hours with over 20 roach which were around two to the pound when another angler came by for a chat. I explained that it was a roach a chuck and expected it to go dead as it does when you claim such things but two more identical fish followed as he watched.

Then I hit into a good fish. Sitting low down to the water I only noticed it was a large roach when I bought it to the surface, I then couldn't get my net under it quick enough and my friend standing above me must have wondered why the hell I was rabbiting on about small chub going like roach when he could see it turn in the clear water. From where I was I had no such viewpoint and it's one of the few big roach I have had that hasn't spun on the surface, safe to say even though it was all roach today it was still a surprise and a really welcome one at that.

I lifted out a deep but not very fat fish and it's always hard to gauge their weights, we weighed it and after the net was later deducted (It was heavier today due to the rain) I settled at 2lb 4oz

It really capped a magical winter's day, it seems there are days each winter when each species just take it in turns to dominate and I was lucky it was a roach day today. I can imagine all those 10oz fish getting to be low 'ones' next winter and pushing 'two' a year after. If they can avoid those cormorants of course.

I carried on fishing just to get rid of the last of the bait, on went a size 20 as my last hooklength got damaged with the large roach somehow, I had no 18's left as I forgot to tie any before today's trip using an old one all day and weirdly enough lost more fish on the 20s.

They still carried on feeding like there was no tomorrow (have they been watching the news too?) and it was once again more cracking roach even if they did seem small now after the 2lb'er. There was no way I was taking them for granted though and they were all lovely fish. A kite soared over really low and the evening bird song that was deafening stopped almost instantly but the roach just carried on.

My legs were now numb after sitting on the deck for a couple of hours in the rain, I wonder how long I can keep fishing like this but it keeps you nimble I suppose (he says, all aching joints the day after) I ended up crouching, playing the last few fish just to enjoy that side strain as I can't help but love being close to the water, then watching each roach swim off in the clear margins as they return to the darker waters.

I ended with 42 fish 41 of which were roach, not bad for 4 hours in the rain (spot the mistake on my bankside tally record, one fish less than I thought)

Now I remember I must go tie some hooks.