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 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.
