My first trip of the week was to the Warks Avon above Bidford but given there were only two swims on the weir I wasn't surprised to see them both taken so I set up downstream on a low clear river, but one that offered more water than my perilously low rivers closer to home.
The clear water bought the small stuff out and I was struggling to get through tiny dace and bleak and had a sorry tally of countable fish by the time I stopped for a late lunch. An hour later I noticed one of the weir anglers going which was surprisingly early, I caught him in time to ask whether his early departure was down to a terrific day or a struggle, sadly it was the latter, half an hour later the other angler left, also beaten so I had the weir to myself.
Even though I knew it would be hard there's always optimism isn't there? Although the small swirls on the surface among the froth indicated maggot would be suicidal, so I went on pellet straight away, the water was certainly clear enough even if following a couple of anglers so quickly wasn't ideal.
Suffice to say I struggled despite giving the pellet a good hard go, a few roach barely big enough to take my 6mm offering were followed by one good chub at around 3lb which put a good old bend in the rod. I'll take that I thought. Even though I put a shift in on the pellet I could only tempt a few more roach and ended up with 7 in total on a day saved by that lone chub.
At the weekend I am back out with the missus who wanted a piece of the green Warwickshire countryside as did everyone else as we made our way through a picnic site where it seemed everyone was blowing up a cheap inflatable of some sort. It was hot and sunny although crossing a bridge in the village I spotted a large barbel in the clear water which put a spring in my step.
We found a spot with shade and I was under no illusion that anything would do today, it was basically a picnic with the fishing included at a venue chosen in no small part for the toilets for 'er outdoors. The bonus of having the missus in tow is I get cool photos of an angler just wiling away a few hours, there was worse places we could be for sure.
The river was really clear in the sun and I could see down a good 8 feet, I scanned the bottom for anything large and even put down a handful of pellets in case a tench or barbel ghosted in but I saw nothing but small roach near the surface and even they were letting my maggots fall through, barely mouthing the odd one here and there.
I was having fun getting a few fish where it deepened when I heard "Is that a fish?" the wife eagerly pointing out to me with a raised voice, I scanned the bottom only to be disappointed by what I saw. It was a fish alright and a fine barbel too, much like the one I saw from the bridge, sadly it was belly up drifting down the river on the surface, it looked dead although I did try casting to it with the idea of foulhooking it and righting it in my net where the fish could be nursed back to health, however my light waggler fell short and maybe it was just as well as it was probably already gone and with so many Joe public about putting a dead fish back into the water wouldn't have looked good.
It dampened things a touch as it had been an enjoyable day, I had a few perch and it was quite an achievement to get 29 of them plus a handful of roach and dace given that everyone and everything came floating down the river as the afternoon wore on.
We stopped off at the chippy and sampled the chaos of the picnic area once more before heading back on a hot drive home.
