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.
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..
