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.

A Trip up the Avon & Severn (Fishing Therapy)

 We get away finally, for three days on the farm, it had been a hard year now any fishing would do. En route to our acommodation we stopped off at the Warks Avon and I decided to fish the wides by the car park. Feeling a bit achy and under the weather it was once again simple fishing, mostly just wetting a line, having a picnic for a few hours before booking in, that sort of thing.

Expecting it to be windy I set up a waggler and fished on the drop hoping not to be plagued by bleak and whilst a few showed it wasn't too bad, Instead it was mostly perch from the off with the odd netter plus some half decent roach. The wind didn't turn up either as we were sheltered by the hill and a cloudy but dry day was welcome compared to the heatwave here the previous year. Bubbles appeared every now and then and I finally spotted the culprit when donning the polaroids during a sunny spell as a nice tench dashed through the weeds. My glasses also revealed the amount of weed on the bottom and it was no wonder I couldn't get to a clear spot to entice any tincas, it was nice to see them though. I had three hours fishing for 25 fish (mostly perch), having coffee and a nice packed lunch with the wife before we headed off to our abode for the evening.

Day 2

A short journey to the Severn on the first full day saw more windy weather therefore it had to be the right bank so I chose Coomby's Farm at Highley, here I set up in the shallows for a few dace and one small chub around a pound. Despite feeling a bit wobbly on my feet the need to explore made me move down to just below the Borle Brook to a spot where I have had several 2 pound roach and many barbel in the past. Today saw yet more dace, in fact I couldn't even get a roach or perch which meant that sole chub was the only fish that wasn't a dace or bleak.

I didn't mind too much, the scenery was stunning as ever but there were no steam trains* and no cheeky sheep but it was pretty damn good to be here. besides I'm till waiting for this huge tree to end up in the river

It was nice to get down the Severn again following a great trip last winter although I feel I didn't fish it that well and could have chose more oxygenated water, also I should have fished eves or mornings like everyone says but I just wanted to fish, and that was it, fish I did and the dace obliged, it was a joy to run a float through so fast getting around 40 silver darts, some nice ones too. The weed was absent once again and there was algae on the gravels, this however was not a good sign.

Day 3

This was one of those days, I was low on maggots but was kindly given some left over freebies by our b&b host who is also an angler and generous to boot, trouble was these maggots had seen better days and were a congealed sweaty mess by the time I loaded the car. Not to worry I thought as I'll pop into a local tackle shop on the way to get fresh bait. I get there after taking a wrong turn only to find it only opens on Saturdays. Ok plan C was to go to the Morrisons we passed earlier, get some maize flour and do a recovery job on those sweaty reds. You have got to love the countryside as this Morrisons was tiny and it's world food isle solely consisted of pasta and rice, I decided to finally go to the river and make do with what I have got.

We finally get to Eckington Bridge on the Avon after what seemed an age, this was much lower down than I had previously fished on the river so I hoped there could be a zander, good chub or perch but knew anything but bleak would be a good session. I loaded my bib with my old but relatively clean maggots and put the gloopy freebies on my unhooking mat, the big dollop of maggots stuck together but the gentle slope meant they would trickle down into the spare bait tub and meet a bit of turmeric powder, this at least would make them useable. My missus joked that she will never cook with mince again and I commented about how funny it would be if an out of control dog came bounding in and tried to scoff the lot, they stunk the place out for sure and nothing came near us.

The fish even stayed away apart from those pesky bleak, they had to turn up didn't they? I then finally had a small bream, the excitement short lived as it soon turned into a much larger pike much to my disdain but to the amusement of the missus, cue action shot of a bending rod. 

The pike let go, then grabbed again before letting go once more, the result was a dead bream and a dead swim, everything was going wrong today.

The next spot upstream saw yet more bleak before I settled on a final spot, I didn't have enough bait to fish through bleak having only salvaged a few of the sticky ones so I was relieved to be trotting somewhere where I wasn't getting any bites at all if that makes sense. It was mighty deep mind, a good twelve feet close in under the rod tip, trotting any further out would have needed a slider. A couple of small perch here seemed like a minor victory.

A few better perch turned up along with some nice roach, for a while it was going great but the bleak soon showed, fishing right in the margins against the rushes negated this a little, dropping my stick float in vertically so the bait fell to the bottom quickly, I also figured the fish would be close in due to all the paddleboarders going by, even a wild swimmer came up the river despite the no swimming signs by the car park, she looked at me then turned around, a heavy shower or two then quietened things down on the recreational boating front.

Holding the float back just as the bait hit bottom below the rod tip worked a treat in the deep water, I ended up with 37 fish (not counting bleak of course) mostly an even split of roach and perch with a couple of dace and a pretty good perch towards the end.

Off to Tewkesbury we went for a glass of Merlot and a meal, the fishing wasn't great but was still enjoyable, the scenery was green and lush and the mini break was much needed, I felt recharged by this fishing therapy and would have fished somewhere on the way home were it not for wall to wall heavy rain. We got lucky with the weather on the days we were down there so didn't mind this as we headed back home, I started the first few trips feeling a bit weak and achy like I had caught something from all those hospital trips but finished totally recharged, fishing therapy worked.

* So my missus got chatting to a lady who said the Severn Valley Railway were having trouble getting coal from somewhere that ends in 'Stan' the end result being the steam trains weren't running except at weekends, a shame I say, hearing that beast roar won't kill the planet nor will it do any harm long term.

 

Finally Fishing a River Again

 I had missed the start of the river season by at least a month, visiting Dad in hospital had taken it's toll and I just needed the wet a line and wander down a river, any river. Feeling out of shape both physically and mentally I wanted to find peace and quiet and be comfortable, so I chose the upper Ouzel with maggots that had been in the fridge for a few weeks, finally I got to use them.

Now a river couldn't get more 'upper' than this as the little river Ouzel starts barely a few hundred yards upstream in a spring in the foothills below Whipsnade Zoo, it then fords a road and trickles away very slow and full of weed. It's narrow enough that the local wallaby escapees from the zoo could hop it no problem and is usually the pace of a sloth, a sloth awarded slowest at the sloth olympics, the most coveted of all sloth prizes. Therefore I knew after clocking a few fish in some holes that pinging out a maggot freelining would be the best bet, hopefully for a few fish and a bit of fun for a while. It was old school fishing and I couldn't wait to stretch my legs on a sunny day.

I freelined a size 18 with a no8 to sink the bait on 3lb line, it was that simple, the rest was stalking, crouching and watching fish movement and their interaction with my feed. The trout pictured is one of two rainbows I spotted, the first having given me a right old fight before shedding the hook whilst I was after perch. Before that I had some rudd down the bottom of the small stretch and some little chub up the other end, wandering up and down like a kid, my bait wafting slowly through the depths each time. In between I pursued the perch which were surprisingly cagey, managing a few which really punched for their size and showed their colours. 

With nothing fixed on the line everything is so crisp and direct and the fish feel much larger than they really are, another fun aspect is that you can try to select which fish you catch and among the perch was what I thought was a lone roach, which I finally tempted as it dashed around between the stripeys. A hybrid no doubt and I think it's roach/chub judging by the size of the mouth.

I bypassed a clearing in the weeds each time that had four jack pike sitting there like a mini flotilla of warships, even though they were small it was quite an impressive sight, this could also explain the absence of roach in the river in the vicinity both upstream and below.

Finally I had an encounter with the other rainbow trout, the larger one, a long lean looking fish, I just couldn't resist having a go at this fish. Funny thing is it totally rejected my turmeric/curry flavoured maggots earlier having taken the first one then rejecting all that followed, it was as if it was turning it's nose up at a flavouring I had concocted over years of fishing, a blend of spices so fine and so tuned yet this trout was like a Frenchman who had not got a vintage wine but was offered prosecco from Tesco's. How weird I thought, a trout with discerning taste? 

You learn something new every day when fishing but I wasn't expecting to be schooled by a trout on maggots. I had to find out if taste matters to...well trout, so I ditched my spicy mix, cleaned the bait apron and put fresh maggots in, when I say fresh they were anything but so I gave them a spray of liquid Scopex, a recent addition to the flavour armoury. The result was amazing as the turmeric adverse trout was mopping up the new Scopex ones without a care. Different species like different flavours but so do individual fish it would seem.

It wasn't long before the surface erupted with rainbow colours. I tried valiantly to keep it in the small clear area but that wasn't going to happen with my gear, luckily the fish went above the dense weeds and not through them when on it's runs, had it been a tench or chub it would have been a different story. It was all splashing and chaos but all I could think was how good it felt to get a real bend in the rod, for the first time in ages, It was not my quarry when leaving the house to go fishing today but it was so welcome. Rainbow trout are such a pretty fish but ugly at the same time, they would do well in poorly lit discos I concluded.

I slipped my femme fatale back guestimating somewhere between 2-3lb, I had the whole river to myself as not many choose to fish it as they understandably prefer the tench and trout pools and whilst I only caught a dozen fish it was a lot of fun for a couple of hours. I finished off on the adjacent pond and only caught one perch before the first heavy shower made me hunker down even though the sun was out. More dark purple clouds were about to block the sun big time forcing me to pack up before getting drenched but as soon as I had, the sun was back out. 

With more heavy showers looming I had no regrets on packing up but the only rainbows I saw today were from the river.