I Can't Stay Still on The Moving River

 After all the rains I knew one of my local rivers wouldn't be too high and hoped it would be as high as possible, sounds weird with a lot of waters elsewhere in the country over their banks but these little rivers within the M25 seem to only fish well when they have some flow, for that they need a lot of rain to get moving properly, so I got myself moving to fish the little River Gade as the overnight rains eased midmorning.

The river was running well with little bit of colour but was still shallow as ever, with the average depth between 1-2 ft I set up a small dibber, not the usual float of choice for river fishing but these little things are fun with light line in shallow water.

One no1 shot was all that was needed where I set up but due to the wide tip of the float I could always change to a slightly heavier stick of needed, however these little floats ride the current fairly well, probably a bit pricy compared to a conventional stick but hey it's the Gade, if I snag anything I'll just wade in and retrieve it.

My first spot was in some woods above a fallen tree, anywhere where you can't quite see bottom can be ok so this natural dam made the water back up a little above it offering a small area which could hold fish. Less natural were the many plastic bottles and footballs caught up against it though.

I was into fish straight away which was good, first up was a nice dace which in all reality is the target species here, fishing only a foot deep under a fallen willow was really enjoyable, even more so when I hooked a decent chub, gone are the days when you would get half a dozen from each spot here, nowadays to get just one is a small victory, also when I say decent it was around a pound but it's all relative.

I then worked the float a little deeper each cast until getting to a good two feet before dragging bottom, holding back and picking up some half decent roach which made a change. Despite the colour in the water they had a nice blue sheen to their backs.

As the sun came out its reflection danced on the overhanging branches I was trying to avoid with my rod tip, I was also conscious of not falling in the mud, here's my set up, having a separate stool is so handy in these conditions.

After an hour it was time to move, bites dried up and the water started to clear a touch revealing areas of bottom and a lot of snags I avoided by holding back my little float, I had a good start with nice roach, dace and chub in a swim that's usually a few inches deep.

Next spot was another fallen tree jobby, instantly I was into dace and small chub and it looked like I could catch a fair few here as well, however it was one of those areas where you just feel uneasy, surrounded by bushes which were full of beer cans and the like. Next thing I know there's a youth right behind me mumbling something and looking at my gear, he and a girl sat on a stump in the bushes behind me despite it being wet. It was time to rove on once more.

Working my way upstream I chatted to some workers who were rebuilding the banks to try to stop dogs going in as their flea treatment kills all the aquatic life, Fipronil is it's name and it's wiping out stretches of rivers everywhere. I wished them luck in preventing dogs going into the water in the busiest park in Watford.

I also saw a few new EA signs, trouble is the print was so small you couldn't read them, this one was on the widest part of the river. I didn't fish here as I had to wade into the swim just to read what it said, it just stated that you need a rod licence, it should also have had a postscript 'By the way you have just ruined your swim lol'

Further upstream I find a lot of the river fenced off, regenerating the wetland area was the signage for this one, which makes you worry if that will come with a hide or visitor's centre. It was an area so wild and peaceful it seemed a perfect environment for nature but did have homeless people living in it last time so who knows what that the future holds. I stopped and had lunch opposite.

I then found a lovely spot to wet a line once more, a beautiful narrow glide that was between two sets of high rushes. Wading downstream to a spot where nobody knew I was there, it could have been a carrier for a grayling filled chalk stream somewhere in the middle of nowhere, were it not for the car park in the distance, or all the people on the path behind or the fact that there's no grayling in here, still I can imagine.

It was a cracking looking run with some lush green weed and full of scale perfect dace, by now the river's colour was clearing further and each fish looked massive as they spun and flashed down the bottom of the shallow swim, trying to keep the fish off the surface, a succession of long lean dace were bought up through the unusually fast current.

Typical Gade dace with no weight to them at all, although I swear the ones I got later had more of a belly, feasting themselves on my maggots no doubt, I hoped for a chub or even a roach in this small dace filled hole but only a couple of gudgeon provided the only variety before it became all minnow, which is always a sign to move on.

I walked up to the top of the stretch and retrieved a float from a swim, this got added to the spinner I found earlier, not that I'll ever use either but it's nice to tidy things up. That was it for the day, after packing up I decided to go the direct way back down to the car along the canal, here some of the boaters had made a right mess turning parts of the woods behind into a dumping ground, far too much for anyone to tidy up. The walk took me a whopping 35 minutes somehow along a canal that looked cold and lifeless, the river with all its fipronil coated dogs and weed smoking youth would have been more preferable. 

I seemed to do more walking than fishing at times but in three hours I had a decent return of 19 dace, 8 roach, a couple of chub, gudgeon and bleak. I kept on the move and the river for once was moving well too.

Perch Save The Day on The Avon

 The day didn't start too well upon finding a dead cat outside my house, was it an omen? Perhaps a portent of bad luck to come? Well it wasn't lucky for the cat nor the poor owner who I contacted via a local facebook page. With the unfortunate kitty collected I made a belated journey to the Warwickshire Avon mid morning as I still had to get out.

My plan was to fish the Warwickshire Avon near a town called Bidford, named due to the ancient custom of old biddies fording the river, this only happens this time of year on market days or when the road bridge has too much traffic. It turns out that zip up thermal slippers have really good purchase on slippery stones and gravel much like cleated soles on waders. That's why they wear them.

I went to a stretch I had only once fished before, driving down the most rutted lane I had ever been down. I was only able to go at walking pace picking a line that weaved around the larger looking ruts, cringing at every scrape of the front sill, shuddering at every grind of the exhaust and hoping those holes filled with water weren't of a depth akin to that scene in The Vicar of Dibley, the lane was behind a church after all. Unsurprisingly my little car was the only vehicle down this dead end lane all day.

It was back to what I call normal fishing after a summer of fishing bread for a whole host of species, it was back to trotting maggot under a stick. I did briefly try trotting pellet in a weir where access involved getting narrowly over a barbed wire fence, hoping not to get my new waders (or anything more valuable) caught up in the process, then climbing over lock gates, before navigating a narrow towpath. I got no bites fishing there but plenty of stings from the nettles.

So moving downstream to do some trotting maggot I was conscious of finding a relatively bleak free zone but failing in the first couple of spots as the silver hordes hammered the bait instantly. The river was lower and much clearer than I expected and many swims were unfishable due to the combination of rush growth and poorly maintained platforms that were either broken or rotted, so I settled on a slower spot that had no obvious bleak swirls and a safe place to sit.

Of course this swim had to be the windiest and it was downstream and across, the wind wasn't that cold or really that strong but enough for a slight ripple, worse thing however was it lined up every single leaf on my side of the bank, these seemed to be all willow leaves which come complete with a little hook on each one designed to catch any line that is mended in a downstream wind.

Despite the far from ideal wind I managed a few small fish to keep me occupied, an even mix of roach, perch and dace, with the odd bleak and chublet there to frustrate. The sun dipped in and out and when it went in things got quite bitter, the leaves catching the line seemed to be even more frustrating and after a while my thoughts turned to my car being the only one there, not to mention the two hour trip home.

As the afternoon wore on I was really close to packing up when I hit into a better fish, which I wasn't expecting, everything went solid and whilst I hadn't seen it I knew it was a perch, I could just tell, however it came off which was a shame as it felt rather decent. Like the week before I didn't get too down about losing a good fish, it gave me positive vibes that I had found a decent spot and confirmed that these Avon perch do like the margins.

Concentrating fully on the margin attack was one I should have tried earlier. Now the wind was my friend as by gently paying out some slack it did the job of laying my float perfectly behind a clump of weeds I had caught a few times on the bottom but couldn't quite see, in the map of the mind this was the place to get a bait trotting through. I imagined there being more large perch sitting in this ambush spot and that they hadn't all scarpered when I hooked the first one, my imagination and persistence was about to pay off.

So it happens again, something solid is on once more although this time I am ready, more stick is given even though my small hook and light line could yield, especially when it's run found a clump of weed. I flicked down the clip on polarioids (you know you are old when you wear these on your glasses but they are brilliant) and could see a good perch spinning and turning in the clear water a good six feet below. A wonderful sight only bettered by said fish sliding over the waiting landing net.

This fish was long, very narrow and didn't have any belly at all, as a result it was just under 2lb but would have been much, much more if stocky, I'm sure the lost one felt heavier but even so I was really happy with this fish. I just love the way perch pull on light gear and look so large in clear water.

I continued to fish close in, the bites I did get were typical of perch, with the float going under slightly looking like it was dragging bottom. Having watched perch feed many times it's a case of them taking a bait just as it just touches the deck, how the large ones suck in the maggot and hardly move a float that's dotted down to the tip is another question, but they do it so well.

Another perch followed with a really pronounced hump but was small in comparison at around a pound, what was noticeable was how many maggots this one spat out as I netted it, they sprayed everywhere though the mesh, showing this fish was feeding well for quite a while but I wasn't good enough to catch it, either that or it had been drawn into the swim recently and stuffed it's face, who knows? I guess it really did have the hump.

I had managed to salvage a decent day with a few better fish at the end, the car was still sitting there all lonesome down the lane and come to think of it I only saw two other people all day (on the opposite bank) The two meadows this side were all mine aside from the cackling of the odd pheasant and the chime of the kingfishers as they passed through.

The walk back signalled the approach of Autumn, the willows that hadn't dropped their leaves around my float all day were showing hints of yellow, seemingly more colour than they had earlier in the day. The hazy sun that tried desperately to negate the wind was shining low through the start of these Autumn hues, as I started my journey home.

South Coast Adventures Part 3 - The Docks

 After getting three mullet already I just had to have a dabble down the docks on the way home even if once again it was windy and not in a favourable direction. The sort of wind I would baulk at were I considering a day trip here, however all I wanted for today was to get a few small fish, if anything bigger turned up that would just be a bonus. More than anything I just hoped the docks would be alive with small fish and continue to be a great nursery for the future.

On arrival it was it's usual smelly self, the tang of sewage can often hit the nasal passages in certain areas here, some suggest it's boats being naughty with their disposal of waste whereas others think there is a hidden outlet pipe. Either way it may perversely do the fish a favour as you wouldn't want to eat something from here, although some do.

The spot I thought of  trying initially had a mullet angler out on the cage feeder who was not getting any bites so I figured I would best try the other end. So I set up in an area I call Dirty Corner - I am really selling this place aren't I? It's basically a little bay where the wind deposits all manner of rubbish most of which is from the working docks but also includes carrier bags and plastic bottles. 

Here I fed some bread as per usual and small fish hit it instantly, the wind was down and across so a heavy waggler was the order for today, it didn't take long before it was a bite a chuck, the bites were hard to hit but I still managed five small bass before a coffee break, some people find them a nuisance but I love the little things, like perch on steroids they are a lot of fun and I would try lighter but know I'd get owned if any of their bigger brethren showed up.

It was ever so much work in the chop so I moved further up slightly where I could sit on the bank, being lower negated the wind a touch and I was soon into a rhythm, feeding bread and casting into it as one would do with maggots, knocking out more bass until something felt a little different, I could see in the water it was a deeper looking fish and soon lifted out my first ever sea bream - a small gilt head. I was over the moon with this cracking little fish.

Happily catching more bass I was optimistic of drawing in a larger bass or even some mullet but was already content with the bream, to get a new species really topped the trip, little did I know that was just the start of the fun that the docks had to offer today. It wasn't long before another fish felt a bit different and sure enough I was into a mullet, although there was to be no clutch screaming on this one as you can imagine.

I kind of think I may be the first person to catch these little fish and my coarse approach with relatively light line, small hooks and regular feeding was really working well. It was hard to get through the bass but to get a few other species was awesome. 

I then decided to whack a cast out as far downwind as I could to try to get through the silver hordes of small fish. You know when things are going well when punts like that work so as I hit into something larger I couldn't get to my feet quick enough almost falling in in the process. There were a lot of rocks in play and I was certain it was a better bass, so much so that I commented on it being even stronger than mullet after it's fourth of fifth turn at taking line. I played it hard and it went hard until a mullet came into view, far larger than any I have had from these docks, so much for it being a bass but I would happily take that on a water where I've always somehow contrived to miss out on better mullet, my jinxed venue was beaten with a cracker.

What a great day I was having, there was still time for more small bass and even another little mullet similar to the first, my missus said she thought I would get three today as I had one and then two the previous days, that's not usually how it works and to be fair she knows all too well not to say anything like that out loud, however her prophecy came true even If I would never have had that optimism. Ok two of the mullet today were really tiny but that's even better, I came to get some small fish and that's a great sign for the future.

There was even time for another gilthead bream, once again on the bread, it left me wondering if all the sea species would take bread if there was enough of it going in as feed. Also these gilt heads are not supposed to be this far east so it does go to show nothing is impossible.

By now the sun was out and getting lower, it felt like a lovely evening even if it was still only late afternoon, a second mullet angler stopped by for a chat, also in The Mullet Club and a smashing bloke like the first, he helped I.D. the gilt heads for me which I later got confirmed online. Both of them thought I had done well over the three trips to catch what I had, even if I knew that already it was nice of them to say.

I also had a sand smelt on bread and tried prawn down against the dock wall for a wrasse at the end, falling short on that one as the wind got a bit colder and dark clouds loomed, you can't win them all but I still managed a blenny to take the total to five species for the day.

So that was that for the holiday, three trips in total all of which will live in the memory, even getting some really bad sausage and chips from what used to be a good chippy didn't dampen the spirits, nor did the rainy drive home as the skies opened and the weather turned foul. 

It had previously stayed dry, was quite warm and often sunny over the three days away, sure it was really windy but it blew a few fish my way. I may need to find a better chippy for next time but at least I know where the fish are.

South Coast Adventures Part 2 - The Harbour

 The next trip of the break was the windiest of a week where winds were the order of every day, but this was even more gusty. It didn't start great as arrival at a once free car park now required one of those parking apps downloaded, so after payment was made the missus and I were soon off on a half mile walk to where a natural harbour meets the sea.

She wanted to get her steps in but the trek over loose shingle in gales should really have counted double, the only good thing was the seemingly remoteness of it all, with the two of us being the only souls on a beautiful but blowy beach. 

Where this narrow entrance of the harbour met the sea we were met with a battle of tides and wind.

I really didn't expect much from this trip despite getting a few mullet from the other bank a few years ago. It seemed almost desolate and shelter from the wind was the main priority, yet at the same time it was beautiful, what looked like a shingle bank was actually millions of sea shells, all piled up on top of each other to form a beach, digging into them found more shells and the missus had fun looking for the better ones.

As for the fishing well we sat in a corner sheltered by a bank and I trotted a line and fed bread with persistence much like the trip before, once again there was nothing to show for a few hours so I went for a walk.

On returning I carried on relentlessly with no reward but then as the tide turned signs of life started to appear. Something small topped in front of me and then I could just make out the odd silver flash below. Naturally I tried for these fish no mater how small they were but it was in vain however there was a sense that something was about to happen.

Mullet! Once again my stock statement of the obvious was called out to the wife as a couple of swirls took some bread off the surface. The anticipation of baiting a fresh bit of bread and casting to the area is palpable, almost as much as the sight of that float ripping under, then that bend in the rod. It all happened instantly.

It is funny seeing the angles you get into playing a mullet sometimes, there isn't the control you have with a barbel or carp, one second it's splashing on your right the next it's on your left, then repeat this process for quite a few runs. Keep the hood up so as not to lose your hat in the wind and enjoy the ride is the best advice I can give.

I remember repeatedly saying "Strong fish" as I played what was an average sized mullet, or it played me, the clutch of my cheap old £20 reel whizzing away and the sound of the line gloriously singing in the wind

Getting close to netting I was conscious of losing this one but still had to bully it into the net as it clearly wasn't going to give up.

Finally it was banked and I was elated to get two in two trips.

Then I was in again, exactly the same process repeated itself five minutes later, swirls on the surface before my stick float got ripped under and battle commenced, the next one was more fun having got one already under the belt. If I thought two in two trips was good then two in ten minutes was even better. It was small but I didn't care one jot.

Then that was it, once again a small window of action but two from two was great, we stopped for lunch and I continued to feed the swim whilst feeding myself, ready to spring into action once more should they return but they didn't.

We watched as time and tide waited for no man, no more mullet waited around and the area got too fast and too shallow, there was time for the missus to find some more shells on the sea shore although there was no one around to sell them to in any tongue twisting scenario.  We had somehow managed to find some relative shelter from storm Agnes and I found some fish.

Before packing up a spitfire buzzed the beach, we were lucky enough to witness this every day on the holiday. One evening it was really being thrown about, banking, turning sharply and even looping the loop. There's something about seeing Spitfires over the south coast and it also reminded me of one of my drawings.

The engines were drowned out by the wind as the Spitfire made it's way home, it wasn't long before we were doing similar as we walked along the deserted beach back to the car after another fantastic fishing trip.

South Coast Adventures Part 1 - The River

 I hadn't been mullet fishing for a long time so a short break on the south coast was ideal to rekindle this love affair, or at least I hoped it would. Where better to spend a few hours with the wife than the tidal River Arun near Arundel. Ok it was a bit windy but with the weather forecast to get even more blowy I would happily take the sunshine and warm late September weather on offer today.

I had blanked on the one occasion here many years ago but it had the attraction of being en route to our holiday caravan, in lovely surroundings and is near a castle. One of the rules of any fishing is it's dead cool to be wetting a line with a castle in the background, of that there can be no debate. 

I had planned on arriving just as the tide was turning but the M25 as ever saw that it was to be an hour later. Running through meadows below the town the Arun is channeled via man made banks that are higher than the surrounding farmland, quite narrow and steep in places. As a result it has one of the faster tidal races in the country and what comes up sure goes down, so as I set up the river was already heading off to the sea with much more pace than the motorway we had navigated earlier

In what was slightly coloured, choppy water I noticed a couple of mullet in a spot where my net would extend down, thinking both practically and optimistically. I introduced some bread and set up with such eagerness as there's nothing like seeing your quarry straight away. I hoped to get instant takes which can happen leading to a rushed set up that you can't do quick enough, other times you don't get this and so it was that the two mullet disappeared out of view for good. Ah well.

The high banking got awkward as the tide flowed out further, naturally the wind got up but I persisted in feeding and trotting a line with a lack of metronomic precision that was tempered by my enthusiasm, which hadn't waned after two hours with no end product. Two bites in that time kept me honest, far too quick to hit and unlikely to be large mullet so it was time for a bite of my own, as me and the missus had lunch in wonderful surroundings.

I debated whether to stick or twist as mullet fishing can suddenly switch on as fish arrive depending on the tide and the feeding drawing fish in. I decided to twist on the basis we could always come back to this spot later so off we went went upstream looking for signs of fish.

Often mullet give their position away at low tide but I didn't see any, nor did I find anywhere decent looking to fish although one spot looked ok, but with steep banks and almost falling in trying to get down I thought the better of it as that wouldn't have been a good start to the trip. Walking back I sat on a grass bank just to rest the legs, I threw in some bread whilst the missus settled down to read her book once more. 

I plonked my gear on the bank but before I could get a swig of water from the flask a mullet appears out of nowhere. "There's one" says the wife at the same time I exclaimed "Mullet!" which was my regular one word statement in such situations. The fish in question was in full view right in front of us taking my freebies off the top.

In the rush to pick up the rod I only pinged off a float rubber somehow, I did notice earlier that the bankside flora was in places quite tough and robust but now was not the time to experience it to my detriment, not content with my avon float now hanging like the world's worse waggler I also pinged off some shot so knew there may be just one crack at this fish before gearing up to trot properly again.

In went my clumsy set up, ignoring it the best I could, focusing solely on watching the bread as the mullet was still feeding in around a foot of water below the rod tip, my bait drifted down through the fast water as the mullet slurped another freebie I had just thrown in, then it headed towards my piece of bread, a rather large chunk chosen for it's visibility.

Fishing doesn't get much better than this, that moment of the bait disappearing, but would it be a fresh air strike? Or the magic of solid resistance? The timing, the luck, the moment. It was all happening right there after three hours of nothing, this was it.

I struck and got that wonderful bend in the rod for sure as everything went solid as the mullet made a mockery of the current, I expected nothing less but even so was still surprised by the strength and stamina of the fish, it kind of gets me every time even though you know it's coming. At one stage I even had the net ready at to hand before deciding that was a bit premature, my rustiness in mullet fishing coming to the fore once more.

The mullet had time for several more splashes on the surface, probably a good dozen or so as my 6lb line and float rod battled both fish and current. I extended the net with a flick of the wrist but the wind took it so much the best I could do was to rest it in the water, ironically in the exact spot where I had hooked the fish minutes earlier. 

The fight went all the way to the end and the battle was finally won, after a couple of years tending to my dad in various hospitals, and before that all the Covid lockdowns, finally there was a mullet splashing into my landing net, a small victory. 

I expected today to be hard and I would have taken one fish over the entire holiday so to get one before checking in was a right fillip. It was a lovely fish too, perfect condition and quite chunky.

As is often the case there was a window of action and I was soon in again, this time with a new float on and everything all tuned and in perfect motion. I knew despite my streaky fortune earlier I was a much improved mullet angler compared to when I first fished here many years ago as a novice. However the fish, as they have a way of doing, turned the table once more to keep my ego in check.

Another mullet almost beaten

Almost ready for the net.

Then it's gone, the hook just pulls.

I knew I did nothing wrong this time, it happens sometimes with those hard plated filters on the lips, especially when fishing higher up as the tide was going further out, maybe the luck was used up with the previous fish who knows. Either way there was no swearing and no real disappointment, I was still in a good place, mind you it helped that this fish looked slightly smaller. 

Then another turned up feeding, I expected the almost guaranteed bite but the fish vanished as soon as it came showing the many sides of mullet fishing, the long periods of inactivity, the crazy instant action followed by the possibility of losing fish before the realization that nothing is ever guaranteed. 

Won one, lost one, missed out on one, it was kind of a nice balance between the angler and the angled.

I couldn't wait for the next trip and didn't need to, for it would be soon.

Midsummer Tenching With Bread

 After getting a couple of decent bream on the canal during the week I took what was left of my bread down to the tench pond, arriving just before 10am it felt like one of those mornings where I would just settle for one fish for I knew it would be weedy and low compared to the only other time I'd fished it this season, much earlier in the year. It didn't disappoint as it sure was a weedy midsummer sea of green, a tench paradise..

The holes between the weed were small but full of fish, I could spot everything from the usual hordes of rudd to the odd perch, even tiny pike could be seen and the water was so clear you could tell a roach from a rudd, small bream looked elegant with the sharp edges of their fins and the half dozen resident carp made do with a small hole out of the way in the middle. 

I had to work hard to see any tench but I noticed a few dark shapes passing through one spot so fed some bread there and set up around the corner. I had the whole pond to myself and couldn't wait to get started. I crept into position and sat on the unhooking mat. 

Bread can often be a very instant bait so as I lowered my pole float in with nothing on the line aside from a large lump I resisted the urge to strike at the little rudd that were picking bits off, I could see the bread being hammered as it sunk through the layers until it went just out of sight, within a couple of seconds the float has ripped under and it's a great start as a tench flashes in the clear water and tears into the weeds, my 4lb line holding firm and bringing both fish and the clump of weed to the net.

I wondered how long I could fish this little hole so had a break, poured a coffee and fed another spot around the corner. However I snuck back into position and instantly had another tench on, two in two casts was good going until a blaze of silt kicking, weed flicking action saw the fish and I part company as the hook came out. 

A win for the fish so the next one would be crucial to tip the balance, although it had now gone slow as expected. I didn't want the morning to finish on a lost fish so switched to punch as it can outwit the wary. The result was a small tench under a pound but confidence was restored.

Bread punch often out fishes flake as it's just so fluffy and soft yet sinks from the off, I double, sometimes triple punch 10mm discs and despite being very firm on the hook the point shows and it sinks quite fast, it worked for another good tench which once again went into the weed and became placid, like they do sometimes. Tench and weed came to the net and it was a beauty, a really chunky fish.

By now the local gnat population was having a feast on me, maybe sitting on the floor in a damp shady spot isn't the best idea but on such a bright day it seemed the right thing to do with the water so clear and the fish so close in. The sun moving round illuminated the spot I was fishing and I could see bread down there untouched on the bottom. It was time to move.

Around the corner the other swim I prepped was rudd central, no chance of fishing punch here, I fed some more bread and the surface erupted, even the perch seemed to be inquisitive of all the commotion. Although a tiny pike lay motionless just below the surface, all six inches of it unfussed by all the disturbance. 

Then a funny looking tench went by on the top, at first I thought it was a mirror carp, all long and lean with a pronounced lateral line and very light in colour. It seemed to dive down where the bread was fed so in went the bait. Mugging tench off the top isn't commonplace but it does show how instant this bait is as the float went under just as the fish swirled over the feed dispersing the rudd, it was a strange looking pale tench with a funny mouth too.

I sat on the grass bank for lunch and was once again joined by the insect life, I was thankful it didn't bite me like the gnats did.

I then managed a perch, I've caught many bass down the docks on bread but I think this was my first ever perch on bread.

As you can see from the photo I just use a click container, put either a slice or the corners of the slice I am using for hookbait in with a bit of water, squeeze and feed, it really is that simple, crusts n' all.

A few rudd and small bream followed and I could swear the fish were getting bigger from me feeding them, I think the sun was getting to me as even the jack pike was now ten inches long, swapping places with the smaller one just to confuse me. The next fish to take my bread wasn't that big but it sure was a pretty little thing.

I then lost another tench and thought that was it, once again the hook coming out with it only on briefly but there was still time for one more. Spotting some bubbles close to the weed the advantage of such a heavy bait as a golf ball sized bit of bread is that you can hit anything on a sixpence, my bait hit the spot and drifted down through the bubbles without much hassle from smaller fish, I almost knew it would go straight under and it did. Saving the best for last this last tinca was a stunner, a real work of art.

Five tench in a few hours, I didn't get snapped or feel like it likely was even though I was on 4lb line, although a couple of lost fish did keep me honest. A perch on bread, dragonflies using me as a perch and a whole pond to myself was the making for an eventful session. I packed up with the fish still feeding after comically trying to keep the last bit of stale crust on the hook, it dropped off leaving me out of bait which sometimes is a wonderful way to end, leaving you wanting more. 

By now two other anglers had just arrived and the pond was no longer my own playground. But what fun it was for the morning.

Twice The Fun

 I had got among the barbel of late, filling my boots with quite a few fish, the rivers after all were perfect with plenty of flow following all the wet weather. Last time out was a bit hit and hold, fishing a snaggy swim trotting with 6lb line, not really the sort of trotting I like doing, feeling a touch over gunned and whilst the barbel were a decent size they need filling out a bit, perhaps all the extra water is making them fitter.

Fast forward to today and after a whole night of rain I fancied a bit of lighter trotting on a stretch of river where the barbel aren't usually as prolific, hoping for a bit of a mix of species on maggot with the roach gear. I turned up just after 9am, everything was wet and gloriously green, certainly when compared to the yellow parched look of this time last year.

What a difference the rain makes, as what is usually a gin clear slow trot was zipping through wonderfully, I hoped as much and sure enough the first handful of feed was hit by small chub with the odd larger fish ghosting around below in water that wanted to go clear but was still carrying the previous night's run off. The river seemed so alive.

Running the float under the overhang was a dream and after the compulsory start of a few chublets I was into something decent. Despite starting shallow the first barbel was on and even the small ones pull on the lighter gear, there was so much more jeopardy and more involved getting them in than last time even if they were half the size.

The next couple of hours saw a mix of small chub and barbel, it was terrific fishing with my float rarely getting to the bottom of the swim, the average size was quite small but I didn't mind, it's all relative then a couple of nice roach showed and even a crazy little perch, living it up in the fast water. 

I stopped for coffee after a couple of hours and a whole heap of fish and said to myself  "This is the life" Everything was so green and fresh, the chub and barbel were going nuts. The birds were flitting from tree to tree, a dunnock took flight from the overhang startled by the next barbel on.

After yet another break to soak up the morning I switched to pellet as the sun came in and out. Stepping up slightly to 4lb line saw more fun with the barbel, once again crazy strength for their size pulling as hard as they were pulled, they could have took me to the roots of the tree but didn't each time. It was side strain, clutch screaming action in the narrow swim with the odd splash on the surface, different to the roach gear, less controlled, but giving them more stick, despite this it seemed to take just as long to get them in, it was a whole lot of fun.

The barbel were slightly better now, pushing a mighty.... wait for it.... 3-4lb but I still managed a couple of dace sized barbel trotting 6mm pellet, you kind of know your set up is tuned when you get them this small.

Similar with the roach, as I finished off with nice one, it's blood red fins matching the colour of the pellet that was it's downfall. 

I fancy a proper pellet session for the roach soon but today it was mostly about the small barbel and chub, a lot of the time my bait and line was picking up algae so I was glad there was some flow on today. I finished with 19 barbel which was the best I had done at this stretch of river and a similar number of chub. I could have pressed on for more but packed up just after lunch.

Even though the barbel were half the size of the previous trip they were twice the fun.

River Gade Cassiobury Park

 This little river seems to get smaller and smaller each year but still holds so many memories, with kids screaming in the park and dogs barking everywhere It seems crazy that some places here can feel away from it all in summer, overgrown and narrow and requiring a bit of wading through both water and undergrowth it is classic small stream fishing.

I started in a spot where it was hard enough bringing in the few dace and roach I hooked to kick things off so imagine the craziness of having a decent fish on. I was soon to find out as a nice chub was soon bending the rod as much as the overhanging trees would allow, with submerged branches to the left and right plus trees either side and above I played it with the rod almost pointing at the fish, waded back upstream to my poorly placed net and slipped it under a beautiful chub that somehow didn't snag me, any chub over 2lb is a monster in such confines. It was a perfect looking chub and the perfect start but I was very lucky there.

I moved downstream with a spring in my step as any good chub is a victory here now. In the next spot my peace and quiet was aided by the flooded meadow fresh with muddy waterlogged paths from recent rains, this meant a few walkers were thwarted from encroaching into my little oasis of calm, where I caught dace after dace, at times under the poncho again as the rains fell to quieten the noise from the main bit of park.

After having lunch here I braved the park which had loads of teenagers in high vis bibs being shouted at by their teacher to get under a tree as it was raining, I walked by in a t-shirt as it was hardly raining much right then, the world has changed I thought.

I always like a dabble in the weirs although I got some right weird looks fishing by this sign, it's a big no fishing sign but the small print is for the close season and it's made by the Angling Trust, I also saw one on the Avon, a good idea but maybe best if they take them down when the season starts to avoid confusion especially if joe public are too far away to read the small print.

I had visions of someone having a go at me for fishing even though I was perfectly legal so I made do with a few fish before moving on once more, weirpool fish always have great colours and this small chub was no exception.

On once more to another favourite glide of mine which looked devoid of fish until I threw some maggots in, seemingly out of nowhere came quite a few chub, snaffled them up so I jumped in upstream and waded down. I didn't catch any chub instead it was all roach and dace, I did wonder where those chub went and marvelled at their disappearing act, I was actually pleased not to catch any but to know they were there and were too wise as the sun lit up everything. It made the river look like the chalk stream it actually is, there wasn't many boats going down the canal today to colour things up that's for sure.

Finishing after a few hours with over 50 fish not counting those bleak and of course minnows, 36 dace, 6 roach, 6 chub, 4 gudgeon and a lone perch made for a decent bit of small stream fishing.