A Hot Morning on The Thames

 With temperatures pushing 30c on the cards today and even hotter weather to come I figured a morning in the shade would do, somewhere I could stay for a while in a spot with not much walking. Cue Father Thames.

Like a few days ago I'm disappointed by the flow, or rather lack of it. Who pulled out the plug?  I expected a little more water in a larger river. We need rain badly if the Thames is this low and clear so early in the season.

I set up a waggler to fish on the drop, not my favourite method but needs must. I then watch my feed fall through the clear water next to it without a bite for an hour.

I move swims, rinse and repeat. This is dire, not helped by seeing my third cormorant and a pair of rowers telling me I'll get a seal where I was. Oh the famous Thames seals, they have got further upriver than this stretch feasting as they go.

Then a shoal of small perch attack the tiny fry in the shallows at my feet almost hitting my toes. I was glad to be sitting in the water and happier still to finaly see some fish. I still couldn't get a bite though but at least knew fish were about.

In the third spot(so much for not moving) I cast under a bush on the near side dead shallow, thinking a small perch is better than a blank, when the waggler goes under and a decent roach of all things glides to me in the clear water, all silver and red shining vividly in the sunlit shallows, it was ever so welcome.

I release the roach and naturally setlle in this spot,  keeping an eye on a massive bumble bee the size of a Chinook, I exaggerate of course as you dont get helicopters this big. I usher the behemoth to flowers new, buzzing away it went, as I cast my float again, this time with an optimism which made me forget the previous two hours.

However no more bites followed, it was evident how intrusive the retrive of my waggler was in the clear water, it stood out like a sore thumb, one stung by a bee no doubt.

On goes a 2xno4 stick despite the minimal flow and chop from the boats, an upstream wind helped and I was grateful for the that as the breeze blowing up the river tempered the heat very well and held the float back well at a time when my efforts were waining.

Then some dace showed and they were all a good size, suddenly my despondent morning was full of joy.

It was hard work but rewarding, I was managing to get a steady flow of bites now, with some too quick to hit and the odd fish twisting off due to the lack of current. I watched the sun gradually come round the large tree that was my shade, like a solar eclipse, I was now getting the odd decent perch and roach as it's rays hit my neck.

The fishing was enjoyable and it was time to soak up the scenery, forcing myself to take a much needed break despite getting bites, making sure I kept feeding as didn't want to lose the shoal.

I was watching boats go by including a freindly angler no doubt going to try his luck in the weir, we exchanged freindly waves which was nice and I hope he had a decent day.

Meanwhile bank on the bank I was ushering away the odd swan and mallards. I looked down at my boots clearly visible in the clear water, here the shoals of fry that had sought the sanctuary from maurauding perch at my feet, had stayed there all day, these were too small to identify but it looked like a fair mix of species, that's if you can make them out. Who knew they would go camera shy when you lean over them like a heron.

The bites stop when a boat moored alongside me but it was a good time to go with the heat rising. The second dog of the day entered the water scattering little fish once more to the safety of my feet, ushered in by it's owner without a care, although I did get an apology. The old hairy thing looked knackered in the heat and so did the dog.

I packed up after lunch timing it well as 'Mad Bird Lady' deposited two loaves in for the birds, she had been feeding them further up for a good hour, tempting in whole armada of invading canada geese, all whilst wearing a face mask. She was followed closely by 'Rotund Swimming Lady' who was about to enter my swim without a care. I was wondering why almost all open water river swimmers are obese women, I knew there was a seal based joke in there somewhere, but I was now too hot to bother.

Knowing that it would fish much better with more colour and flow I was bouyed by what I caught, despite the problems that those blubbery interlopers cause. The seals aren't much help either.

The M25 was it's usual barrel of fun on the way home, I felt sorry for the stranded motorhome stuck bang in the middle of the six lane section. As a result the queue of traffic saw more red X's than a bad act on a talent show.

It was still a nice morning out and I'm glad I went as it didn't feel super hot, I didn't catch a lot (20 fish) losing a few and blanking for ages but knew it could have been much, much worse. 

I went from thinking the place was gone to the dogs to well....Giving it the seal of approval. 

First Barbel of The Season

 My feet were wet from morning dew as I made my way through the long grass to my local stream. Upon reaching the water's edge a murder of crows flew back and forth from the treetops, a cacophony of noise that would last a good hour. It was hardly the dawn chorus as I'd missed that courtesy of one of those hot sleepless nights but was happy to get a decent spot mid morning.

I was less enamoured with the river level with gravels visible and not much flow. On went a dibber float and banded pellet, my 'go to' choice in these conditions. Pingin' it upstream into a dark hole beneath a tree saw the inevitable succesion of small chub before the first barbel graced the net. It was tiny but I didn't care, the first one is always worth a photo regardless of size.

I then had a chub that showered my mat with eggs, which left me with a weird feeling. I've seen fish breeding before in June but never had this happen. I was contemplating whether this occurance was an argument for or against keeping the close season, it does show breeding fish can be affected by angling but also shows they dont always adhere to the dates we have anyway. The fish was pristine and swam off strong, maybe these were old eggs from breeding previously, discarded today as the fish didn't look heavy, who knows?

I continued to fish given there were no signs of fish actively breeding and fortunately it was an isolated event, with the next few chub also looking perfect.

The swim then goes dead with brightening skies revealing nothing was left in my little swim so it was time to move.

I dropped in below an old chap who had music playing on his little radio. Ok it was quiet but I could just hear it, I get it if you're quietly listening to the big match or the test cricket but music? I hummed 'People are Strange' by The Doors, it wasn't on the radio but felt it should have been.

This next spot also sees me casting upstream to cover and I'm rewarded with a slighly better barbel, super fun with trees either side and one above me making things awkward.

By now thoughts were turning to lunch when I felt a wobble on the net with the next chub. Sure enough it was the traditional cross threaded net moment which is always nuts. I was using my Dad's old net so it seemed only right that an old bit of twig went in to secure it,  like we used to fix on the hook with luncheon meat back in the day.

With the net solid(ish) a few more chub and barbel followed, don't worry I could have jumped in if needed it was so shallow, but it held firm as I did I with the fish, which were all fighting fit and raring to go.

It was a nice morning's fishing but I won't return unless we get some rain. I went home to work out if it was the net or handle which cross threaded only to find out they both screwed in fine with other nets/handles, unable to deduce the fault. If that's not an accident waiting to happen(again) I'm not sure what is. 

I must learn to stop being so frugal and get new gear instead of using Dad's battered hand me downs, or should I? 

Like I said people are strange.

Signs Of Recovery On The River Gade

 My plan to go after the rush hour almost backfired fatally, when upon leaving a set of lights as the first car I see a high speed police chase heading straight towards me. I must admit the sight of a blacked out Audi almost losing it at stupid speeds, kicking up a mix of dust and rubber, swerving towards me on the wrong side of the road really shook me up. I would have been a gonner with a head on collision like that at that speed, so much for a quiet drive to the fishing I thought as I calmed down at the next set of lights.

Making it to the little River Gade in one piece felt good, it is a river that will always fill me with fond memories, learning to fish here as a lad with the greatest angler of all time - my dad, maybe he was looking down on me earlier, perhaps he was now, it seemed so right to start the river season here.

With named swims like The Pole Swim(It had a pole sticking out, still does!), Chub Alley(Had loads of chub) The Cattle Crossing(Go figure) it is a river steeped in history although these were names only a few knew. Come to think of it I think Dad and I may have made these up. I set up on the imaginatively named 'Concrete Section' due to the path to the old paper mill which is now sadly crumbling, now leading to the housing estate that replaced said mill many years ago.

I was delighted to see the streamer weed back to the levels it was as a lad. Many think its absence for a couple of decades was down to the Buncefield explosion in 2005 and subsequent contamination of the water course by both the fuel depot going up in flames and the chemicals used to douse it. This seems to tally but its a sobering thought that this happened in an area that's over 2 miles from the Gade's water course.

I settled down to running a 2xno4 stick through picking up roach and dace from the off before a chap stopped for a chat. He seemed friendly enough but it was a tad disconcerting him standing on the path above me with a golf club in his hands. Anyone who plays golf on Croxley moor is guaranteed to lose their ball real quick. He moved on and I had a peaceful morning with plenty of fish.

I had some half decent roach and dace with the odd perch, nothing needing a net although a bend in the rod came courtesy of a silt laden hiking sock, a good 2lb I reckon, surely a new pb for hosiery. I followed that up with a jagged stone, then a cage feeder to show I was edging the float through well enough.

I tried a couple of spots that clearly had closed season activity, getting more roach and dace plus the odd tiny chublet which I never count, just as I was thinking how sad it was the gudgeon were gone as there used to be thousands here I suddenly get a couple, typical Gade ones, not big, not small, but so great to see.

I had my lunch, saw a kingfisher dash through, then chilled whilst watching the moorhen do its haphazard weed eating like an old ska rocker, the canada geese which are a bit of a pain then go back and forth with offspring of various stages. It needs a pair of mute swans to see these off, like the one with a neck the size of a french baguette, that nipped me on the backside to get at a bit of weed I was standing on as a kid, oh how dad laughed that day. I think it had a name like 'The big one' like I said we weren't  the most imaginative it seems.

I walked down to the bridge, a Somali woman was below with her toddler who took off up the path with gay abandon with mum calling forlornly. The second lure angler of the day passed me, a young English lad and we exchanged friendly banter in passing as anglers do. Asian chaps with lanyards obviously on their lunch break strolled back to work. Ladies rather easy on the eye in summer dresses were walking dogs or just walking, for some reason they were all blonde, ok it's a bit more urban down here now but it took me back, back to the 'good old days' as they say even if it has changed a lot.

What was better still was the sight of 4 glorious chub sitting on the shallows. Did I finish with some to cap the day off? Nope, they wouldn't even touch the loosefeed which is weird for chub. Perhaps cleaning themselves after spawning or skitty due to bright sun and breezy winds, who knows,I didn't care for they were great to see.

I packed up as Greensleeves played in the distance on an ice cream van to remind me once more of my urban surrounds. I hoped to beat the school run and police chases of course, ending up with 57 fish, 30 roach, 7 perch, 18 dace and 2 gudgeon. Nothing big to start the river season (unless you count that whopping sock) but I cared not.

Big were my hopes for this little river and bigger than big were my memories, rekindled by this lovely day in the June sun.

West Bay Mini Species Hunt Hijacked by Bass

I've planned a weekend break with the missus to celebrate our wedding anniversary so naturally I'm showing her a good time by taking her fishing with me. To be fair she actually loves sitting behind me reading, plus i get the bonus of a nice picnic lunch and action shots if I get a good bend in the rod although that never happens to me here at West Bay, It's a place I really enjoy but never do well at, but in my defence there are much easier docks and quays on the south coast.

A reccie the day before saw everyone blanking aside from the many families crabbing, their children filling their buckets with glee, also much to the delight of the herring gulls who would swoop down for a buffet upon release. More encouraging were the large shoals of tiny pouting visible in the clear water, I only knew they were pout due to the kids getting a few in their crab nets, that'll do me I thought - a few small pout, maybe a blenny or wrasse then off to the pub, if not I'll try for small mullet up the shallow end, either way it would be fun fishing on coarse gear as usual.

The rules here state 'Handlines or float fishing only' so typically almost everyone lobs out a lead or casts a lure, however float fishing suits me just fine. It would be none of the sea float malarkey though, you know the size of a cuban cigar with line like rope, nope I'm looking for bites off the little 'uns so its a bog standard avon float as seen if the first photo.

The rod was my usual five piece travel match and my old Okuma was loaded with 6lb line in case any decent mullet show, the bait was cheap old supermarket prawns, I also had bread but that's almost a non starter here due to those pesky gulls.

 I set up in a corner that usually produces the odd blenny and get plenty of bites but they are so small they are coming off the hook, I swap my size 10 wide gape for a 14 and manage to get a minnow sized pollack of all things before a succession of tiny pout. With the small fish target achieved I reverted back to the size 10 and moved to the main channel, here it was fun trotting along holding back in deeper water and good ten feet or so down.

I then joke with a crabber I pass after he was initially impressed with my tally of 6 fish that were I to eat these they would be smaller than the chips. I then had the urge to move on near some rocks after as the chap there had just packed up. "Of to catch some monsters?" the crabber quipped "Yeah right!" was my lighthearted response happy to settle for anything chunkier than take away potato produce. Little did I know what was to follow.

I get to the pier's and where the ebbing tide hits some rocks hoping for a wrasse or anything, by now it was quite shallow but I continued to feed each run, trotting through at around 4 feet deep. The cheap Sainsburys prawns I was feeding are so small they are like big maggots, because of this you get plenty in a pack so in a few went each cast, little and often as the saying goes.

I was enjoying running my avon along these rocks and was certainly taken by surprise when the float buries, I strike thinking it's a rock of course before the clutch screams  and the pure silver of a stunning bass not a wrasse flanks brightly in the spray, wow, I then ask the wife( I like to think calmly but..) to pass my trust Diawa Iso but for some reason she's extending it fully on the quay, not a good idea as it's best to extend it using gravity when fishing from a height, fortunately upon seeing our commotion another angler rushed to our aid. Here's an action shot of it at the crucial moment.

He was laying on his stomach over the edge. the handle just long enough to reach the water. I would have struggled on my own and my wife wouldn't have had the strength. yet here I am with a total stranger working as a team. Get in!

After thanking the other angler and having what seemed like the best bacon and egg roll over I continued to fish and I even saw a bass spin near the surface in the clear water for my feed, I expected a bite and sure enough the same thing happens again.

Then again although no3 was smaller and a bit knocked about with criss cross scars and a sore near it's tail, It was like it was a bycatch discard thrown back so no photo.

With the tide now almost fully out and the skies brightening a little the missus is off to the loo after I tell reassure her it's a good time to go and I wont get any more, so naturally no4 arrives to show how little I know, this time it was back to perfection with a really heavy set fish.

 

All the fish were returned unweighed and unmeasured but that's a 26" net so go figure. The place was super busy and I was getting quite an audience at times. People on the other side of the quay were talking to passers by whilst pointing at me doing the 'This big' gesture with their hands, I reckon they gave the bass a few extra inches but I didn't mind given I would have been happy with something akin to a thumb and finger measurement at the start of the day.

By now the tide had changed and so did my lovely trot. The flow had reversed and the wind had got up, blowing my loosefed prawns back at me despite my best throw, I did not reach for the catapult as I was almost out of them anyway, it was a good time to call it a day and my thoughts turned to that pint, a well earned one for sure.

We packed up and the skies started to brighten instantly and yes that beer tasted so good, as did the second, by the time we decided to head back to out accomodation small mullet the size of dace were sunning themselves lazily on the surface, not often you see these from a pub garden.

We left the mini mullet to their sunbathing and took the car back dropping it off then walking all the way back via the River Brit so we could both have a drink, polish off some fish and chips and watch the sun go down at the end of a wonderful day.

As for that mini species hunt, well it would be remiss of me not to show one of those monster pouting.

The last word goes as a doff of the hat to Martin, the chap from Wimborne who helped me with landing these fish, along with his energetic wife who seemed to be doing a running commentary. We all know it can be a grind if the angler next to you is hauling and you're not, so I was happy to watch him finally get a knock and bend into an eel of all things. He said he was an experienced angler when offering to help with the first fish, I put my trust in him and he didn't let me down, landing them all without hesitation, thanks mate.