Springing About on The Gravel Pit

 The bread experiment was going well with early tench and loads of carp on the small club pools so it was time to step up to a bigger water, I wasn't sure if it had warmed up enough but went all in nonetheless taking bread as my only bait willing to leave with my tail between my legs knowing I could always return with maggots next time.

The silvers fishing on my little gravel pit had been improving year on year, with the chance of a big tench or carp it is a place of mystery but I'd be happy with some decent roach fishing as no one tries for them here and they are pristine.

A few bits of mashed bread dissapeared into the green mysterious depths as I settled down into a deep corner which I had to myself, I lower my float amongst the cloud of white and even though bread can be instant I wasn't expecting what followed. The float went down so fast the rod tip hooped around before I could even think about striking, what a start I thought, knees starting to wobble as the clutch screamed, whatever it was it was very big as my 6lb line was peeling off towards the middle of the lake, the sheer speed, power and my lack of control indicated something wasn't right although the fish thankfully turned and I was now pumping it carefully towards me, just as I was thinking the sunken tree to my left would be problematic the hook inexplicably pulls. I am 90% sure it was foul hooked, which negated any pain of losing what I'm sure would have been a pb carp. I did that weird thing I'm sure most of us do in such circumstances - stare a bit dumbfounded at a bare hook just dangling in the wind, do a quick scan to make sure no one saw all the madness then perhaps an 'wtf' is muttered, although I can't recall if this was under my breath or out loud. Either way the only sound in response was that of the waterfowl as the mallards seemed to do that quack they do that sounds like laughter, perhaps in this case it was.

I settle back down and next cast sees a small bream get nabbed by a pike almost mid air in front of me, I manage to lose that too as the esox let go but it sure was a hectic start to the day. A few nice roach, rudd and small bream followed the chaos to show the bread was working.

I return at the weekend with the wife after regaling her with tails of monster fish and peaceful surrounds only to find the pit rammed this time. We managed to find a sheltered spot where no other angler could be seen but we could sure hear them, with a guy in full on 'geezer' mode effing and jeffing around the other side, it always amazes me when people can talk all the time without actually saying anything and it's always the chap with the most annoying voice. Any fears that we would contract a home counties variant of Cockney from these fellas was negated by the bird song in the trees, muffling the chat and of course the float dip dip dipping as the bread was having a battle with the small stuff, my concentration now fully on turning bites into fish.

It was a chilled out day and I wasn't expecting any monsters with all the bankside noise when a seemingly better skimmer bream sees me reach for the net only to have one of those 'its a roach' moments we all love, wasn't even a hybrid, 1lb 9oz of pure roach perfection on a pit where I had never had one over 10oz before.

I was stoked by the roach, with only a couple smaller ones to follow we headed home for a nice wine in the garden, not many fish today but a win for the bread again. 

The following weekend saw me back on the old maggot, the bread was working no doubt and I had a loaf in the bag again however I wanted to amass a decent number of fish with 100 the target, I figured it would be easy despite it being cold from a frost the night before, really weird weather for mid May.

I try a different spot in a corner to myself, this time far from the madding crowds. Fishing close in under the rod tip with a pole float my first fish, a decent rudd is returned and hit immediately at my feet by another pike, thinking how this thing is going to mash me up each time I set up the other rod with 6lb line again, whack on a bunch of maggots and hit a nice half pound roach straight away, knowing I'm more geared if the pike shows. The pike smashes it as expected and a really powerful fish is on for quite a while. With the net fully extended and the pike up in the water I was just about to win the battle when it just lets go, it almost sat there looking at me, I swear we made eye contact, but the poor old roach was a gonner.

I return to the fishing with the lighter set up and am relived to not have anymore pike disturbance and settle down to getting quite a few fish, the pike interruption didn't even slow them down one bit, quality roach and rudd with many netters and a few small perch, there has to be bigger stripeys but these were the tiny type, it was a bite a chuck in three feet of water.

After forty or so fish my old friend reappears with a swirl on the surface then sits at my feet just looking at me again, even with the water coloured I could see the eyes just waiting, anticipating the next fish returning like I was it's waiter. This fish is going to be a problem for sure. I then realised my old battered roach was still at the edge, so I fished it out gently with the net and the pike just sat there all the time watching me just two feet away. On went a pike set up and the dead roach was hooked with a single hook behind the dorsal, I plopped it by my feet and sure enough I'm showered in spray and it's game on again, despite being such a powerful fish the odds this time were in my favour. Taking two mats in case of a rogue carp, comes in handy for double figure pike, the fish was quickly unhooked and deposited a few swims along.

I finished with 104 fish and could have gone on to get double that easily but settled with achieving my target by early afternoon. With a venue best roach and pike over the last two trips and loads of quality silvers it really was good fishing when some more illustrious pits and reserviors near here have been finicky.

I watched two young lads arrive on the other side of the pit and have their spod attacked by a pike under their feet and just had to laugh as they tried all sorts, I'm not sure there is a fish that entices such curiosity and energy as the pike in it's ambush. The water seemed to be filling up with other anglers but it was time for me to go.

In between the gravel pit fun I've pottered on the small ponds even managing a venue best for carp on a small club pool where they don't grow that big, on the bread of course.

I've had some very eventful trips, from t shirt and shorts to trousers and heavy hoodies and back again, cockney geezers and tons of that annoying fluff getting on the line and in your throat, mad pike and even madder weather, spring is springing about quite like it's never done before but what fun it's been

A Good Start to a New Adventure

 When tallying up last season's totals I was a tad disappointed to have only gone 27 times, I guess that's still once every two weeks but I knew I had been all work and no play for large chunks of the year. Could this new season be different? Perhaps a challenge was needed for motivation so I set myself a quest to get as many species as possible on bread, hopefully a few specimens, and moreover this will make me get out on days when home comforts would seek to temper the adventurous spirit.

Today was one such day. Having spent the week gardening in fairly sunny weather I was going on my day off no matter what, however today was cold, windy and overcast. I knew the night would be warmer with no frost due to the cloud cover and this would make everything mad for my bread, this I told myself, not really believing it, especially when I turned up at pond stuffed with rudd looking totally lifeless.

A quick dabble in my favourite spot saw my pole float getting owned by the wind and even round the corner the tow on the small pond was enough for a change to waggler, not my favourite method on bread but needs must. A few lillies were starting to show but the rest was open and susceptible to the gusts coming through the trees, at least I had the place to myself as I dropped into a third spot after an hour or two with no bites.

Naturally I had fed these spots with tiny bits of bread prior to setting up, using the map in my memory to negate fishing over new lily growth and hopefully beside enough cover to hold fish, although even the rudd hordes weren't showing. I sat on the unhooking mat (as I sure wasn't using it for fish) to get out the wind, but I do think I'll get too old for sitting like a kid on the floor, not yet though.

With my tub of bread one side and a freshly poured coffee the other, the float seemed to move as I was taking my first sip, typical I thought but it sure went under properly soon after. A fish was on and I didn't care one jot what it was, I had hoped for tench as bread is the best bait for them however this felt like a bream, then got a bit too solid and sure enough a tench came into view twisting and turning in the clear water below my feet, still all sluggish mind so it didn't trouble my light set up, but looked a decent fish.

At 5lb I was over the moon, even though I had to sit on my seat from now on like a normal angler would, my unhooking mat finally used for the right purpose and wet. I finished my coffee, poured myself another all happy with proceedings and watched the birds trying hard to add colour to the backdrop.

No more bites followed, I had lunch and moved out of the wind to the sheltered corner, in lieu of a slight hill where deer are often seen, it was just nice to be out of the bitter chill. When the sun is out this time out year it's like spring has truly sprung but a cloudy day like today reminds me of chub fishing weather, mind you the river season was only two weeks ago, so early days. It wasn't super cold but I think we've been spoiled of late and it was a hood up, big coat day.

There were more signs of fish in this corner with the odd rise and that familiar twitch of the bread as it fell through the layers each time. Not the mental rudd fest it will be in a few weeks but enough to keep me busy before I finally hooked one, a sorry looking thing that left me thinking there would be better examples to use should I tally the species up at the end of the season pictorially.

It was the end of the day for me though, I had the pond to myself for just two fish, but a good early tench is such a fillip. I packed up for the relative warmth of the car not realizing it was only 1.30pm but it was enough, a deer bolted behind me as I got up to leave, the white underside of its tail flicking like a piece of bread hammered by rudd, which is a scenario no doubt I'll be seeing a bit this season. 

The Final Road Trip

 With oil prices set to rise due to the Iran war plus net zero madness, not to mention my rent going up by £250 pm I wondered if this would be the last road trip I do....ever,  it's grim thinking that way and i'll be darned if it is however the last trip of this season it was almost certain to be. I drove past my local petrol station with a full tank knowing I would use most of it today as grayling were calling from afar.

A misty drive saw me arrive 10 am at a high river close to topping the banks but in true chalkstream tradition there was clear visibility down to four feet or so although that is about as deep as this stretch of urban river gets. 

Bombing through yet fishable, cloudy and fairly warm you feel like there should be no excuses for not having a good day, but there's always apprehension on visiting an old friend you hadn't seen for a couple of years. These were immediately allayed when the float dips first cast and my size 18 is devoid of the red maggot that previously dangled below the 6no4 float, far heavier than I usually fish here but lighter than most would use for the pace of the river today. Next cast sees the same dip and that familiar twist is on and a ten ounce grayling is in the net, usually the first fish is gudgeon sized so I was happy. Next cast a better one, slightly over a pound, happy days.

Then the trout showed up and boy did they show, I was suddenly seeing black shapes darting up for my bait and dropping down in the water further downstream over the clean gravels, where the stones sparkled in the current despite the dull skies, some of these spotty marauders were sitting almost under my rod tip oblivious to my highly visible skyline, they ghosted around weaving in the current like tail ends of ranunculus, grayling were there too but the trout were taking over as they so often do.

 They even started taking my bait off the surface and these were fresh maggots, not a caster in sight, no matter where I fed - Splash! Despite all this they were surprisingly hard to hook, which you wouldn't think given they are ...well... Trout. Most the time they were taking on the surface or just below and any bait falling lower was often looked at and rejected.

I got through to a few and despite being around 2lb the fight each time was insane, this time a low rod to stop those crazy jumps was applied and in the fast water rushing deep below my feet they kept powering away and didn't yield quick, I get barbel of a similar size in much quicker on the same gear, these fish were fit, strong, and nice looking too.

Thankfully enough grayling came with the trout before the first character stopped for a chat, telling me he had 8lb trout before whipping out the phone for a show and tell. I didn't mind and my curiosity peaked when he said he'd sent it to the Angling Times. I could see why they rejected it as the photo was awful however the fish was a beast, he then told me his garden backs on the river, the lucky so and so, before mentioning the river was in his garden the day before.

The grayling and trout seemed much larger than on previous visits when there would be lots of smaller samples, this time they were nearly all netters with some just swingable to hand. On one of these occasions whilst lifting out a borderline grayling another chap came by with the time old classic "I see blokes fishing here all the time and never see a fish" I do wonder if the locals look at rivers with different eyes to us anglers, emphasizing this point this was the next swim down. Here I had fed for a few minutes snapping away with my little camera instead of casting, as we know it's hard getting the same image on film of fish that we see in the flesh, once again they were topping for bait and I was trying to catch them in action, this was the best of many shots, yet it only captured a fraction of what I saw.

It was almost too easy at times, I hadn't seen this many trout before here in this strange spot where for some reason the water always looks greener than elsewhere, it was like a fish farm yet once again these fish were no mugs to bait that wasn't falling right, line diameter made no difference and I even went to a 2no4 float, now this is ridiculous but the fish were so shallow, my catch rate improved and fortunately the grayling interspersed the trout enough for it to be a good balance, when you get through to fish like this you don't mind one bit, just check out that dorsal.

I then continued further downstream, despite catching loads I needed to move just to find somewhere to pee, perhaps the biggest problem of urban fishing, that and parking and of course those undesirables, the first of which shuffled past me suspiciously at pace, seems you can't go anywhere noways with someone either off their nut or rattling.

Further down I ended up near a noisy school which seemed to have a liberal time schedule judging my the amount of kids who weren't attending it and near the river instead, fortunately I was on the other bank, away in my own world even if the idea of solitude was thwarted broken by screams and road noise. I had also been to the loo by now too which helped! 

Despite being more overgrown and a bit more remote regarding walkers the banks were impressively clean aside from the odd shopping trolley in the river where the kids play. It was a dark dreary day however the river was anything but, besides I was having fun trotting a 2no4 Stick float through this. Utter madness but effective.

I found a final spot where the broken light from overhanging trees meant no fish were visible, fishing the edge of a super fast eddy, managing somehow to hold back that tiny stick, trotting the boils for a healthy mix of the usual grayling and trout. It's much easier concentrating on running a 'good line and length' when there's no off putting shapes darting about on the surface, even if a few did come up, their speed at hitting the feed in such pacy water mightily impressive. 

A few more fish followed before I called it a a day quite early to beat the school coming out, thus avoiding the other classic line "He's caught a fish" which for some reason teenage girls always seem to scream at full volume.

It sounds weird packing up and i'll regret it if or when this river goes the way of others but I'd had my fill. I hadn't the energy to chase my pb of 61 grayling here knowing I could have done it today, stopping on 36 but they were almost all netters, but nothing over 2lb although a couple of gudgeon sized ones did show which is always good for the future. 

I guess too many trout (21) showed but they were good to see and a lot of fun even if I tried to avoid them as much as possible, later on as I got a bit lazy a few of the airborne variety took my tiny float for a spin and I wondered if 6 feet was a new pb for height. Probably not but it was hard not to see the funny side.

 It was a battle at times getting them through that current, some were absolute stunners like the last of the day which I held in the water. Much like those beautiful grayling earlier, there's nothing like the clear waters of the English chalk stream to highlight so vibrant colours on such a dull day.

A wonderful bit of fishing on a clean and reliable river, what a great way to end the season, would it be my last road trip? I hope not I thought as I bid farewell with memories and images of some lovely fish.

Now If only I knew a decent artist to do a nice picture.