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.

June 16th Lulle Brook/River Thames Cookham

 I fancied somewhere different to kick off the river season so went to the closest stretch of the Thames to my home, a spot that used to be brilliant back in the day, but that was over twenty years ago and things have changed a lot in that time. 

What hadn't changed were the surroundings, set on a quiet island where the Thames splits into many channels, the Lulle Brook must be one of the shortest rivers in the country, a narrow streamy channel that leaves the Thames above Cookham Lock before rejoining just below. In turn this small channel had an even smaller run off which was full of cascades, turns and riffles. It looked streamy and dreamy and I hoped it was still the great breeding ground for fish in the close season just passed.

However what was a nightmare was the minnow which seemed to be everywhere, it's one thing battling with overhanging trees to swing a float gently in, it's another to see it zoom under each time with minnow hammering my maggots in every run and hole. Also evident was that there was a lot of off season fishing going on as I passed several old fires, as a result I couldn't see any fish unlike the 'good old days'. I had to make do with the present day so the first small chub was greeted with a mini celebration of discrimination for it was not a minnow - at last.

My first fish was barely countable, more chublet than chub as I made my way down the meadow in my waders, the long grass seeming to make the morning heat feel hotter on a day where it was forecast to push 30c, sweat was already making my eyes sting and I was conscious of drinking regularly, even if the sip of water turned to a guzzle each time.

I sat down to rest the legs after walking back up having tried spots where memories were fond and the fishing was once good, wondering just what the real temperature was in swims where you are surrounded by nettles but in full sun. I settled down in a swim I had originally bypassed only stopping here because it had shade, I almost saluted the tree responsible as I took off my sweat drenched cap. As a bonus I finally got a resemblance of a bend in the rod as a few small chub obliged, feeling much larger in the fast swim, certainly larger than minnow. Suddenly the 16th was here at last, sitting comfortably, fishing a back eddy, my float travelling upstream and regular bites, the fish weren't big but for a little while at least it was good fun.

It didn't take long for the minnow to return after half a dozen chub so I took my turn to have lunch. I chatted briefly to a passing fly angler who told me of a large carp he had seen, no doubt the target of the occupants of bivvy on the main channel. Then the last bit of welcome shade left the tree, a cue for me to move on beaten by the ever hungry minnow once more, back Into the meadow that was full of insects. I can't recall ever seeing so many damsel and dragonflies and the peace was only shattered on occasions by the shrill squawk of the parakeets that have made the Thames their home.

 I roved on one last time to the bottom of the stretch down to the main weir which was surprisingly empty although to be fair it is usually hard fishing, it was also pretty low.  Losing a rare Thames trout a few winters back was the closest I have even been to getting anything big here and so it was I was expecting the usual hordes of bleak. However I was pleased to whittle out a few dace instead as my float traveled around the noisy white water. It was a nice spot to finish on and although I may not return for a while as the fishing was pretty poor I found the morning enjoyable, apart from that heat of course and those pesky minnows.

As I began my walk back I looked around at the path where I once was and there was a big old fox, head turned looking back at me, it's red back and bushy tail illuminated in the sun to an almost golden yellow, blending into the long grass which seemed to shimmer in the heat. 

The fox and I paused for that brief moment. I think it was time for both of us to find a cold drink.

Tales From The 100 - No 74 The River Brue

 This is part of a series of short stories recollecting some of my trips around the country fishing 100 rivers, some were good, some brilliant and some just bonkers, there was always something going on. So when things are quiet I'll cast the mind back in no particular order and remember a few of these adventures.

I had got my day ticket in advance and was eager to explore this new river whilst on holiday in Somerset so upon parking in a church car park I was surprised to be greeted with a closed farm gate, with several anglers further down the other side of it, naturally being an Olympic athlete (yeah right) I navigated said gate with surprising aplomb, only to see the footpath went the other way back though the church cemetery and over a nice footbridge to the river from where I had parked.

We've all done it I thought, well seasoned river anglers have at least - gone to a new place and either parked somewhere daft or walked somewhere daft before learning a newer more direct route. My best must be a farm gate on the Lugg where I prized the thing open before taking great effort to make sure I closed it (thinking this isn't fished much) before realizing I could have walked around it and the newer gate was further in. The cows at the time looked unimpressed.

Undaunted this time on the Brue I made my way further down from the car park not just because the other anglers may have thought I was a gate climbing poacher but also to seek more streamier glides than the slow water near the car park.

With a pint of maggots in my bib and my trusty stick shotted down to it's tip, I caught a few fish here and there before stumbling on a deep hole where the river went through a narrow gap before entering a deep pool, I believe it was called something like The Frying Pan due to it's shape and here I had many roach and dace, nothing big but good fun.

I was still eager to explore and whilst getting many fish in the 'Pan' I was keen on something bigger so downstream beckoned. I soon encountered a rush of water I could hear below from what was a surprisingly high bank for such a small river, so I looked for a way down. Sliding on my rear like the world's worst Olympic athlete (more my style) taking taking care to avoid a plant that looked like a Triffid I eventually found a piece of paradise.

The water was gushing through another narrow channel before entering slightly slower water, perfect for dropping my stick float in and letting the current do the rest. Knowing I had got down surprisingly stealthily I started at the head of the swim and was into a fish a chuck. It didn't take long before I got the bend I wanted from the first of many decent chub.

The chub were going to 3lb  but were perfect in every way, dace and roach were plentiful in between before the first trout showed up, a beautiful fish, similar size to the chub and I was getting all the variety I needed.

This continued for a few hours, my little run at the bottom of the step bank was full of fish, I could hear walkers passing almost overhead but couldn't see them, nor could they see me, for I was tucked away in my little gully getting a bite a chuck, it was small river fishing at it's best.

After a while bites slowed, they had to really so I tried the glide above wading slowly upstream even if it meant a short run of the float back to back to where I was positioned, reeling in as my float traveled downstream towards me. I hoped for the odd bonus fish fishing this way but once again chub were on it and it was at this point It dawned on me this was an exceptional river, the chub were not big but at around 1lb with a foot of line out under the rod tip were a heap of fun, naturally another trout turned up going all airborne like they do, I was almost catching fish at my feet.

I had heard the Brue was a good river and I think it was 'sock on' with some recent rains but even so it was a cracking day's fishing.  My tally showed 142 fish in around 4 hours, 50 roach, 60 dace, 3 trout and a whopping 29 chub that needed landing although standing in the water I was able to scoop out many to hand. I didn't count the chublets many of which were dace sized.

I packed up as I had to go to meet the missus and the in-laws who were waiting for me in Wetherspoons for dinner back at Burnham near our holiday digs..... I was a bit late.... I can't think why.