The Perfect End to the River Season

 Where do you go after you've had a red letter day including a 2lb roach? I suppose the answer is anywhere so I went to the same river but further upstream, where it is not fished as much, where it is very narrow and where, at this time of year it's usually pretty hard.

So it was, despite arriving late morning I was the first car there. I walked along the empty banks looking for signs of fish but saw nothing in the first few swims. Before I could set up I was instantly joined by a guest. I got as close as I could before he flew off. 

I failed to notice his friend sitting on the stump below, I had a good chuckle and dug the camera out of my top pocket once more and repeated the process, not bad for a cheap camera with no zoom.

These were the robins that wrote the wonderful guest article It's My River so it was like meeting two old buddies. They soon returned as I set up next to a rather clear looking river that looked a bit too open and lifeless aside from my hardy feathered friends.

Indeed I failed to get a bite in a number of swims, swims that were roved and trotted to the best of my abilities even if my head was saying all the fish have moved to the adjacent backwater. On came the polaroids and I walked the whole stretch and saw nothing in the clear water but bottom. It was too warm a winter's day to be blanking so I made the choice to switch venues. Back at the car park two anglers were arriving, one of whom had blanked the last two times here. I drove off in the opposite direction thinking I made the right choice.

Off I went further upstream to a free stretch of the same river, the same stretch I ended up on the last day of the previous season when everywhere else was too busy, you know when a river is tiny when you can touch the far bank with your rod, I suppose it's a stream if you can jump across it, but once again it was all mine for the afternoon and I didn't mind that one bit.

The difference here was incredible, despite being a public water I could see fish in most spots, nothing huge but small chub were sitting there in full view, I said out loud "I ain't blanking 'ere" eloquent as ever and proceeded in knocking out a dace sized chub each run through. I stopped for a late lunch and contemplated the contrast between the two stretches, whether the fishing club had cut too many trees back on the private stretch, whilst I stared at some of the litter in the rushes on this free one. There's always a trade off between venues I concluded.

It was nearly all small chub after lunch, once again nothing big enough to warrant the use of the landing net but some put a lively bend in the rod, a surprise rudd put in an appearance but flipped back into the water whilst I was marveling at it's blood red fins and a couple of tiny roach interrupted what was nearly all cheeky chevins.

I needed to stretch my legs after sitting on my net bag on the mud, so downstream I roved, in and out of the water, up and down the banks and over railings and back, this to me is how I grew up fishing and I love it still. I didn't catch much but found some peace away from the road to soak up the day, I could almost feel the onset of spring, only catching a few more small chub but it was fun. In one spot I stopped and just fed a small shoal in the shallows watching them, darting about in a foot of water, cagey due to my presence but feeding well. I didn't bother to wet a line to these chub of the future and wandered back upstream.

Back to waters 'deep' I spotted another shoal of fish spooked by my skyline but in a run that had a bit more mystery offered by some darker water, I had made it a goal to be more stealthy but it seemed to be going out the window right then, mind you there's only so much you can do in a spot that's two feet deep and barely twice as wide. I sat once more on the net bag and run the float along what was the perfect crease. I say perfect but my rod tip was hitting overhanging branches, there was a dirty great snag that claimed my first hook and I knew any fish on would be hit and hold. Each cast had to be accurate to inches but It was what small stream fishing is all about, this swim was fast, boily and an accident waiting to happen - It was a dream to run a float through.

My little float (yep that 4no4 again) hit the sweet spot each time and more chub followed, the net was even used at last on a couple of 12oz fish which were pretty hectic on my light gear as they were never more than a few feet from a snag in all directions. Then a couple of quality roach showed up, they seem to be following me around this winter, the largest of which went like a chub going for both the tree and the nearside snags like It was in it's prime, it was beautiful.

The cracking roach really made the day and the small chub kept me busy until the tight confines of the swim resulted in a mess as I pinged off a snag only to ping into a tree and then ping free into a good old tangle. I packed up with the fish still feeding leaving an element of the unknown to rekindle the desire for a repeat visit, perhaps on the last day of next season, who knows? I caught nothing over 10oz all day and finished the day with a respectable total of 30 fish (not counting the chublets) I was covered in mud and my rear was soaked through from sitting on the muddy ground. I hadn't even noticed as I was in my own little world down by the river.

I drove home sitting awkwardly on my folded up coat to save my car seat and I felt tired and hungry. It was no red letter day but it just felt like the perfect end to the river season..

2lb Roach Caps a Redfin Red Letter Day

The last day in February and it was one of those days.....

When I arrived at the river at 1pm I was happy to see my favourite chub swim empty but less than enamoured to see the trees on the far bank cut back quite hard. Undaunted I set up my lucky 4no4 stick which was starting to lose some of it's paint and was coming away at the stem, it was in need of a super glue bodge for the second time but at least I knew I wouldn't lose it in a tree today. It looked like It wasn't going to see any fish either as I remained biteless despite trying hard for an hour, although minnows don't count as I had plenty of them under what was left of the tree the chub used to like.

The chap below was getting chub on the feeder but he had more cover and I could just picture all the fish being there and only coming up to my shallow spot every now and then with the water pretty clear, he told me all his chub were down the bottom of the swim as I bade my farewell and wandered further downstream, any fish would do now I thought and I had designs on a nice dace or two.

I was delighted to see a good swim empty, one which usually has a really good mix of dace, chub and roach yet isn't as heavily fished as some of the others, I had wanted to get in here all winter and if I can't catch something here I wont anywhere I thought. After all this swim had no tree choppery and the weather was perfect, it was really warm and overcast although the ever increasing rain was a concern. I sat crossed legs on the deck, pinged my float against the rushes with a flick to get everything in line and after a series of lightning quick bites a fish was on and it was a nice roach.

I've been catching a few of these of late and they are really filling out nicely and are in tip top condition both to look at and physically, little did I know that 6-8oz roach would be the smallest of the day. Next cast I was slipping the net under a really plump fish.

It soon dawned on me that this could be one of those days as roach after roach graced the net, the bites were super fast and some were missed but when connection was met it was with that jag jag glide and the tell tale spin on the surface, as each roach cut through the current in the middle with ease.

Just when I thought all these roach were identikit perfection I caught this one with a big slice right through the anal fin, perhaps a cormorant strike unless it's the new ornamental fantail roach variety. It's certainly a recognisable fish for future reference.

Every now and then the far bank current would almost stop and other times it would surge through all boily just to keep me honest, but the roach were having it regardless as long as the float was close to the rushes. By now I was also getting them down the bottom of the swim but the ones under the rod tip were the most fun, holding back as soon as the float hit the water and trying to hit the quick dips when the float is released getting those 'on the drop' biters.

Lo and behold I actually had a chub get in on the action which gave me a few moments as I thought naturally is was a big roach, two pound chub do go like two pound roach and it won't be the first or last time I'm deceived and slightly disappointed when that that big gob comes into view. You can't love rivers and not love chub though and would never have believed it could be the only 'non roach' of the day.

Despite usually having plenty of dace and chub in the swim it was still all roach (not a bad problem to have) and they were all gorgeous fish so it was time to experiment with new photo angles where you can really see the 'bull' shoulders roach get when they fill out.

The rain was now coming down steady but I sat there with no brolly and even the poncho stayed in the bag, I was getting wet and I didn't care. It had been a great a couple of hours with over 20 roach which were around two to the pound when another angler came by for a chat. I explained that it was a roach a chuck and expected it to go dead as it does when you claim such things but two more identical fish followed as he watched.

Then I hit into a good fish. Sitting low down to the water I only noticed it was a large roach when I bought it to the surface, I then couldn't get my net under it quick enough and my friend standing above me must have wondered why the hell I was rabbiting on about small chub going like roach when he could see it turn in the clear water. From where I was I had no such viewpoint and it's one of the few big roach I have had that hasn't spun on the surface, safe to say even though it was all roach today it was still a surprise and a really welcome one at that.

I lifted out a deep but not very fat fish and it's always hard to gauge their weights, we weighed it and after the net was later deducted (It was heavier today due to the rain) I settled at 2lb 4oz

It really capped a magical winter's day, it seems there are days each winter when each species just take it in turns to dominate and I was lucky it was a roach day today. I can imagine all those 10oz fish getting to be low 'ones' next winter and pushing 'two' a year after. If they can avoid those cormorants of course.

I carried on fishing just to get rid of the last of the bait, on went a size 20 as my last hooklength got damaged with the large roach somehow, I had no 18's left as I forgot to tie any before today's trip using an old one all day and weirdly enough lost more fish on the 20s.

They still carried on feeding like there was no tomorrow (have they been watching the news too?) and it was once again more cracking roach even if they did seem small now after the 2lb'er. There was no way I was taking them for granted though and they were all lovely fish. A kite soared over really low and the evening bird song that was deafening stopped almost instantly but the roach just carried on.

My legs were now numb after sitting on the deck for a couple of hours in the rain, I wonder how long I can keep fishing like this but it keeps you nimble I suppose (he says, all aching joints the day after) I ended up crouching, playing the last few fish just to enjoy that side strain as I can't help but love being close to the water, then watching each roach swim off in the clear margins as they return to the darker waters.

I ended with 42 fish 41 of which were roach, not bad for 4 hours in the rain (spot the mistake on my bankside tally record, one fish less than I thought)

Now I remember I must go tie some hooks.

Urban Grayling Fishing

 A decent frost was on the car when I awoke but that was not a concern for my quarry today, nor was the three recent storms which had flooded all the fields and made the rivers I crossed en route look like they were going to break their banks. Just under two hours later I am at a river running clear and perfect doing what chalk streams do best, it's almost like witchcraft how they handle the rains so well.

We have had storms Dudley, Eunice and Franklin so now I was hoping for Storm Grayling.

Naturally I set up in the windiest spot as it just started to rain, mind you it seems it's always windy now, it felt bitter but I just couldn't wait knowing that any grayling would be my first for a couple of years. I set up my little 4no4 stick, the same float I seem to use for everything lately (well it works) and run the float through the fast swim, it goes under first cast, I strike and..... a tiny trout is swung to hand.

Just as I was thinking it could be one of those days if the small stuff are on the feed the float goes under second run through and this time I strike into the unmistakable, the bend in the rod was crisp and solid and I could see a long lean grayling twisting and turning in the fast current thumping my rod tip as it went, it was a good one too and not the tiny grayling that usually kicks things off, a dark fish under some dark trees on a dark day. What a bright start.

I had to rove soon after to get out of the wind and fish somewhere more comfortable, the plan was to pick a few fish from each glide as you rarely stay in one swim here. I next stopped at a spot where the first of many bicycles were in the river, mind you there was also a cd rack, a microwave and a shopping trolly. I called this the Numbnut Swim as It clearly had seen some lunacy, it was true urban fishing though and I did manage a couple of grayling amongst all the dumb discarded metal.

With the rain now easing I settled where I could sit on my stool on the mud, a crease swim which was completely slack on the inside. The first handful of feed was attacked on the surface and it didn't take long to catch several grayling here, I even caught some in the still water and it's a strange fight when there's no current that's for sure, not a patch on fishing the fast water but it was interesting to see them twist and turn in front of me.

The grayling were all a decent stamp but naturally a trout got into the act going all RAF on me twice, doing it's crazy runs and getting some decent height on one occasion, the rains had stopped and a patch of blue sky appeared for the only time today, just as the brownie left the water flying through the air, it's spray strafing the river's surface like tracer fire in the sun.

Stopping for lunch soon turns into a fish spotting exercise as I continue to feed the couple of remaining grayling that were only taking just below the surface, decent ones too. Having worked out that they were eating more than I was I tried once more but couldn't get them even with the float set super shallow and my shot slid up. They were seeing the float and the unnatural looking bait below it, they were wise.

As I was in a comfortable spot off came the float and all the shot, placed atop my rucksack for later. With just a no6 for weight I got as close as I dare to the water's edge without falling in and flicked my freelined maggot out among my feed. It did take a few attempts but finally the awesome sight of the largest grayling gliding up in the water to approach my bait was there. The result was more wonderful twists and turns in the clear water and another nice lady in the net.

The float went back on as I carried on my roving and I had to revisit a swim where I had a 5lb trout a few years ago,  once again though it was grayling that were spinning in the shallow water just below the surface taking the feed. I should have stayed freelining or put on a matchstick as I remember doing that in this spot with some success last time. When they are feeding that shallow a float isn't the best option but I stuck at it and had just one grayling and a trout. I left the others there having had a good feed, they won that one and fair play to them.

I kept the float on as I wanted to try one last spot, almost the perfect looking swim with a nice crease, it was getting near the stage of packing up even though I had only fished three hours. The wind once more was bitter and I had had my fill but this swim was just too tempting.

This was the perfect run for once last flurry of action, as before it was a bite a chuck and then minnow moved in as is the way in all the spots it seems, I caught in every swim and this was no exception with a mix of grayling off all sizes that were super fun in the current.

I thought I'd pack up at 30 grayling as it's a nice round number but I lost a hook courtesy of a flipping trout in the net - not a 'flipping trout' but a trout that was flipping, I quite like them in a way, so 25 grayling wasn't a bad number to finish on with a decent average size and a few nicely over a pound, I only lost 6 or 7 and I'll take that ratio any day. Both dace and the elusive roach were absent today, half a dozen trout made for some variety and those minnows kept me on the move.

I took a slow drive home way before it got dark, rolling back past many building sites and down duel carriageways covered in litter. My cd playing and Mark Lanegan singing, "Oh the river rise and it's a mile high" as I crossed a muddy looking Thames and flooded meadows that looked like lakes.

Well the old chalk streams can cope and 'Storm Grayling' was in full force.

Just found out Mark Lanegan died the day I was on this trip. RIP Mark Lanegan -Legend

A Lovely Barbel on Valentine's Day

 I arrived at the river at 1pm just in time for the first of the forecast showers to hit me full in the face, had the rain had come half an hour earlier I probably would have stayed at home. I passed another angler setting up and exclaimed "Mad dogs go out in the midday rain" which bought a chuckle of agreement as he too was hoping that the squally showers forecast would be more miss than hit.

The river was up following last nights rain and was churning through the middle so I picked a spot with a nearside slack knowing the fish come right in when there's colour in the water. It's a spot usually good for a few chub and roach so I set up a stick and run it under the rod tip holding back in the slack which was far from slow but still a slack compared to the main flow.

First bite was met with solid resistance and not the roach I had expected first up, it also became evident after a few more lunges that is wasn't a chub either. With my rod tip touching the water on several occasions I tried desperately to keep the fish in the nearside slack water knowing that any downstream run would end in tears. There's only so much pressure you can exert on 3lb bottom but try it I did even if it was more coaxing that bullying.

A flash of the tail in the murky water seemed to show some large carp like scales but another spin revealed the forked tail of a barbel and a good one at that. How easily it could have taken off and snapped me at any stage especially when I got it near the surface, but on the second time of asking I took a punt with a risky net lunge and I guided it in when it was far from beaten. This negated a good five minutes of fight and was worth the risk, he says in hindsight of course.

The fish was still full of beans on the mat and had to be held down to unhook my size 18 barbless from a corner of it's barbule, the most iffy looking hook hold if ever I saw one. As I felt the power of the fish I knew it was a very fortunate first fish of the day and at 9lb 4oz the biggest barbel I'd had from this swim.

I took a while to rest the barbel in the margins almost in the spot where I hooked it, probably longer than needed but I had all the time in the world. It burped a couple of sets of bubbles and swam off strong as I prepared for the next set of rain. 

It was the perfect time dig out the waterproofs to hunker down and have a warm coffee, I peered out and could see the white flank of a magpie illuminated by a small patch of sun behind a rather purple looking cloud. This cloud was spraying me with sideways rain despite being half a mile away.

I continued to fish close in as the rain turned to drizzle but wet enough to keep me looking like a waterproof camo version of Clint Eastwood, my roll up poncho comes in so handy on days like these. 

If anything I could have done with a shorter rod as I was having to swing the float pendulum style not for distance but to fish closer in, I then shipped the rod back like a pole and held the middle of the rod to trot close in. I could have sat further back on the path but I liked the shelter and intimacy of being low at the water's edge. Besides it was jolly good fun striking into fish this way with barely a foot of line out, it was so direct, so close in and so much fun especially hitting into a good chub.

After another chub I gradually worked the float deeper and tried the crease further out, even standing for a while, partly to stretch my legs but also to try to dry my rear which was now damp, sideways rain gets everywhere it seems. 

Here it was all gudgeon, they were like little sharks and it was one after the other, lifting them out without needing to reel as if the rod was a whip. My hands got colder after each one was unhooked, an ability gudgeon seem to have on winter days like no other fish it seems.

I went back to the slower water hoping for some roach to really cap the day off nicely but it was another couple of chub that got in on the act. Each time they tore off midstream towards the opposite bank despite being hooked tight to nearside rushes . The way the line cut through the water each time was majestic even if the tree roots opposite meant giving a bit of stick was needed. One of the chub had loads of blackspot around the head and on some of the fins.

Another chub got in the snags when I got a bit sloppy so I changed to some hooks to nylon I wanted to try that were tied to 4lb, handy if I hit another barbel and I could give the chub more stick I thought. However even with the extra colour in the water bites dried up and what bites I had were bumped. I wasn't happy with the slightly larger and heavier gauge hook so went back to my Kamazan B510's which are a true size 18, I do get big fish in on them so maybe it's best to stick to what I'm comfortable using. It is amazing what a slight difference to the hook or line makes.

Sure enough changing back to the tried and tested resulted in much more bites, it was a joy to be fishing directly under the rod tip with so much control, sometimes holding back, sometimes letting it go and often both, no two trots were the same and it was bliss. A few nice dace showed in the faster water which was now receding a touch, the last of which had the rough sandpaper scales getting ready for breeding. Then I finally got my roach, three in three casts and like the other day they were absolute perfection.

The sun was now out as I was getting a wonderful mix of fish but I cast an eye to the bank of cloud that was closing in, deciding to get rid of my bait to avoid getting caught in a last minute downburst and having to go all 'Clint' again. The heavy feeding actually slowed the fishing down but I did get rid of the last maggots which were from the previous trip too so had done a sterling job. I packed up as a kingfisher flew down the channel, it's halcyon blue lit up against a sea of different colours offered by the evening sky.

It had been a great afternoon, all I needed was to get back to the car before that rain came back.

A Blank Then Roach Redemption

 I tempted fate last time with my super blank avoiding perch so it was almost a given that I would achieve the notorious nothing this time, on the first of two trips this week, however it left me feeling flat and deflated like no other blank has done before.

The reason being I headed off to the upper Colne having only caught a couple of fish last time following a pollution a few years ago, I've tried each year a couple of times since and only caught five fish when fifty used to be the order of the day. Reports of restocking and recollections of how good it used to be left me full of optimism that I would catch a few more fish and there would be signs of recovery. To cut a long story short there wasn't and although I bumped off a couple of fish I really expected more bites given the warm weather. 

To make things worse the river looked half the size it was, it was dirty and without the extra rain from a day ago would have been back to the sorry trickle it looks when viewed from the car. You know when you drive over a river and say to yourself " I really should give that a go again" Well I gave it a good go, had a good rove of a mile or so but the fishing was hard and I was up against it. Even my waders gained a massive crack in them, the resulting pain of a thorn was digging in my big toe as if to remind me of my folly of fishing here.  At least I didn't get into the dirty water and get a boot full as well I suppose.

The only highlight of the day was watching a massive rat go back and forth opposite me no doubt delighted by man's neglect, this made me reflect of the irony of the council spending thousands to make a fancy footpath by the dirty river. As I walked past the workers portaloo I wondered if that would go straight into the river like the sewage works does sometimes, ratty would love that I thought.

I lost a couple of fish there today but it felt like I had lost a river.

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 Having spent the day in between moping around remembering how good things used to be I next went to another local river, a healthier one, one where anything would do, so I popped out for a couple of hours just to get any fish with my glass back to half full.

I picked a sheltered spot where I would get a few bites even though I usually struggle a bit here, it's one of those swims where any given day the flow could be going in any direction and the fish are often transient or holed up out of sight, who knows as it's one of those rare spots where you cannot see bottom.

As I set up a small mouse accompanied me, it was quite bold so much to the extent that I had to shoo it away from my bag as my afternoon choccy treat was not going to end up nibbled, turns out it wasn't keen on maggots unlike the robin which never misses that opportunity. Meanwhile a woodpecker was hammering away at the tree opposite, when you watch them close up like that it almost gives you a headache in sympathy. I however was eager to fish and hammer away I did at the shoal of minnow and chublets in the main flow eager for a proper fish but content to be fishing a healthy river.

With my single maggot a magnet for all things small (except for the mouse) I tried away from the tiddlers out of necessity, desperate for something to put a bend in the rod and sure enough by holding it tight to the rushes in a boily eddy, the float went under and a crisp strike was met with crisp resistance (that mouse would have loved crisps I thought) and I was rewarded with a fine roach.

A long lean chub of around 3lb soon followed as both the woodpecker and mouse had disappeared leaving me to concentrate on keeping the float on course in the boils, it seemed like there was only one spot where a bite was possible and getting the float there at the mercy of the current was half the fun. I was actually trotting up the river in the eddy. 

Once again my perseverance was rewarded with another cracking roach as a red kite came in low above, I looked out for the little mouse as I returned the roach and got stuck into my chocolate break accompanied by lukewarm coffee, 'that'll do' I thought.

Mr Mouse was gone but half a dozen more roach followed almost identical to each other and pretty much perfect, the stamp of roach was superb and every one was a netter, bites were few but the reward was there as more roach and even a decent perch got in on the act. It was almost time to pack up but there was time for one more roach, same size as all the others but I think this one had 'ate all the pies' as the saying goes.

Finally a chub showed me who was boss and in the fading light I packed up in time as heavy drizzle accompanied my drive home, which was perfect timing. I had found a new spot within a swim I had fished many times and I had found the redfins. 

It was Roach redemption.

Almost Trouble and Almost a Blank

Almost Trouble

I'm on the canal on the only day of the week where there wasn't a frost overnight, it was a balmy 2c when I got up and I figured optimistically that the fish would be mad for it, of course I was kidding myself but what's fishing without hope, the last time I fished here it was summer and having done well last winter I wanted more of the same.

As I walked down I passed spots I usually fished, not giving them a go partly as they were so filthy with litter everywhere, in one of my favourite swims the far bank was adorned with all sorts from mattresses to old chairs and burnt out fires from where someone homeless had been camping out, further down the cut there were bin bags dumped from boats, plus dog poo bags in trees and they say anglers leave litter.

The gloomy picture I am painting brightens somewhat when I reach the moor where volunteers clear up such mess, a doff of the hat to them, here I was to get down to some fishing. I knew there were fish here all shoaled up as I could see them in the clear water under a bridge. I threw some maggots in and the small roach, chublets and bleak seem to mouth them out of curiosity before letting them fall to the bottom a good couple of feet from where the shoal was stationed, up in the water almost close enough to fish out with a swipe of the landing net.

I set up opposite and cast across to the shoal and sure enough I started getting bites that seemed almost impossible not to hit, but miss I did every time, at least I had a picture of what was going on underneath the water though, slow dips of the float that left me asking how the hell I missed even though I knew I would. Eventually a victory in the form of a tiny roach was swung to hand. 

The canal started moving and I hit a chub which was too good for me and beat me up in a near side bit of wood, fortunately the canal stayed moving and I got in again and no mistake this time round even if the same snags came into play, second time lucky.

No boat came through despite the movement of the cut so maybe a lock opened up and a boat moored or perhaps one of the resident boats decided to move to the next cut like they do, either way the small window of opportunity of moving water didn't last long.

The wind was picking up and another small roach was hard earned as was a bleak whilst I was chatting to a friendly Irish chap, before trying deep for some perch for an hour or so which yielded diddly squat. I then went back shallow and managed to hook another chub, well over a pound I was surprised to see it tailed in by a rather decent pike, deep down I was thinking yeah that's too big for you Mrs Pike but I knew she well could go for it, she didn't which was just as well as the chub was in pretty good nick.

Seeing the Pike approach my landing net as I lowered it for the chub made me recall how I once caught a jack pike by getting it to follow a roach into my net, yes I tried the same this time round. However watching the pike bolt off when in front of the net was impressive, it was quite a large one for this stretch of the canal and had a mighty turn of speed. I have no doubt it was the reason for the small fish being so finicky.

Then the wind got a bit squally and bitter and things seemed to get a bit foreboding, so I decided to pack up and was just about to take a photo of the choppy canal for the blog, then I caught out of the corner of my eye two dodgy looking blokes approaching so I quickly tucked the camera away. 

These guys were doing an awful job of acting inconspicuously and after asking me what I had caught walked behind me really close before I turned and fronted up a bit without saying anything. Trying to make myself look large like a street fighting alley cat seemed to work although the dog walker appearing may have had something to do with it. They then seemed to loiter under the bridge having initially gone the opposite way. Naturally I found another route home despite having something long, sharp and pointy on standby just in case. Last thing I want to do is use it getting jumped on the way back from a day's fishing, my gear isn't worth much but it's worth a lot to me.

It kind of left me feeling a bit flat as I know my area is going downhill faster than Franz Klammer at Kitzbuhel, I was thinking that may be the last time I go down the canal for a while.

Almost a Blank

A few days later I'm back down the canal, as what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, saying that though I was at a nicer spot down the road parked up in a free car park, setting up at a winter hotspot where people feed the birds. It was cloudy like a few days ago but it felt really cold even though the temperature was supposed to be the same.

The fish didn't want to know, there was a diesel slick on the surface which is usually the kiss of death, ploughing through it was the constant activity of ducks, swans and geese. The only movement of my waggler was courtesey of the waterfowl either looking for a free meal or fighting each other with the annoying canada geese getting fiesty with the mallards, the swans were too busy seeing off younger birds which dared to land in their territory - always an impressive sight. An hour of this was enough for me to wander further down.

I went to the next cut known as the Totem Pole as it has er...a Totem pole on the opposite bank, It's not often you can say that when fishing. If ever the was a cue for one of my wise native american sayings it was that and as I walked past I thought "Wise man don't go down smelly diesel canal in flipping cold weather" I must admit it wasn't my finest effort. 

Here it was ever so still and felt slightly warmer, the perfect spot for lunch. A chap stopped for a chat and we talked about sturgeon of all things before he carried on his walk, not the prehistoric looking thing with the beady eyes, no we were talking about the fish. He also told me had to give up fishing due to failing eyesight which put the day into perspective for me. I then looked up at all the windows opposite at people in their warm homes and offices (you know you're in a nice area when there's no net curtains or blinds), despite doing a cracking job at blanking I wouldn't swap with them I thought. 

I only had an hour or so left of my free parking so tried back near the bridge to finish off, it was colder and windier here and I could sure feel it, but there seemed more cover for the fish. Then the float went under and I almost didn't believe it, then again and again, just like the other day they were impossible to hit, either small fry or fish mouthing a bait tasting of diesel and not liking it, who could blame them for that.

Before I could change to an even smaller hook the bites dried up, I thought about doing a dance round the totem for the chance of one more, just one. I rarely blank and don't like it although it is sobering when you do, I could have done better in the first spot but really gave it a good go by the bridge, maybe I should blame the diesel (I have mentioned it thrice) or the cold (likewise) as reasons. Some say making excuses is bad but those are some of the reasons for blanking and not to examine them would lead to the same scenario more often I reckon.

I still enjoyed the day as I rested my rod on a nearby wall and threw in my leftover maggots first from my pouch then from my tub, the float left in the water no doubt with the mightiest of bows in the line from the downstream breeze and flow. Even the rod bag came out as I had about ten minutes to get back to the car, the irony that the surface film of diesel seemed to have gone was not lost on me, however a blank's a blank so take it on the chin I thought. 

But then..

The float was gone, you know when you can sense it's not bottom, with all my bait gone I knew this was it, I expected my strike into the bowed line to result in thin air but lo and behold there was resistance as a small perch twisted and turned, in doing so revealing the water was a lot clearer than I thought. "Don't come off" I said out loud as commuters went by from the railway station oblivious to my own little fishing world of adventure.

At one stage I bizarrely thought about landing it but the perch stayed on. I couldn't have got closer to a blank than that, I had to see the funny side. Suddenly I felt warm, I felt bouyed, most of all I felt lucky and I was. There is no substitute for luck and this was a prime example.

The little wall on which I had previously laid my rod to pack up was the perfect rest for a quick self take with the camera. 

I had to really after all, it was a mighty, mighty perch.

First Trip In A Long Time - A Clonking Dace and Chub Galore

 The last time I wet a line was Early October last year, all work and no play made Rob a dull boy when it come to fishing of late, throw in a bout of Covid over Christmas and I was more than ready for a first trip out in ages. Even though I was still feeling tired post Covid I was raring to go and go I did.

It wasn't as warm as I had hoped as on arrival at the river mid morning it was only 3c and the remnants of the overnight frost was still crunchy underfoot, although not as bad as previous nights had been. Unlocking the padlocks and gates left me a bit breathless and I wondered how long I could fish, mustering all my efforts to get to a vacant swim and not a good one at that.

Steam lingered from my breath as there was no wind at all as I threaded my line and set up a small stick float half expecting to miss a rod ring or forget something it had been so long.I wasn't expecting to catch much here and was willing to play the long game knowing I had plenty of coffee, food and warm clothing even though my toes felt cold already.

The river was shallow and clear despite all the recent rains and my chosen spot only deepened down the bottom of the swim, the top was clear gravel devoid of any fish, holding back the float hard to edge down to the deeper hole was hard work and required me to stand, so much for a relaxing morning. Work at it I did and after half an hour I had just one small chub to show for my efforts.

Just as I was thinking of moving the float seemed to dip and an instinctive strike was met with a decent bit of resistance before a bar of silver could be seen flashing as I slowly worked it up the swim, it was a fine dace worth coming out for on it's own and my persistence was rewarded.

I didn't weigh it but it wasn't too far off a pound, the photo not really showing the belly of the fish, it was from an area that had provided me with some very big dace in the past although usually from the spot below where a chap was feeding pellets as if it was still summer.

I must have had three bites in two hours with the next fish quite a while after the dace, it was a nice roach and whilst I wasn't getting much they were quality, typical winter fishing especially after a series of cold nights.

By late morning I needed to sit down so ventured downstream having only caught three fish which was three fish better than pellet guy had in the good swim, I wasn't too worried about catching loads and was still bouyed by the fine dace as I sat down in a spot where fish could be seen ghosting through and in quite some numbers, they weren't large but it would keep me occupied trying to catch a few.

I watched as the transient shoal of fish drifted in and out of the area much like the birds that took turns occupying the tree opposite. It dawned on me the last time I fished, the trees were still in full leaf, now this willow looked all stringy and bare much like the hair of a nutty professor, it reminded me of Doc from Back to the Future for some reason.

Back to the present and a few small chub and roach kept me honest before the shoal drifted off for good downstream. I sat and had lunch and watched the bird show as everything seemed to be about, Blue, Great and Long Tailed Tits fluttered through the trees whilst larger corvids did their thing, a Woodpidgeon clumsily walked over a bush trying to get at berries, the bush I was previously fishing under and a Red Kite circled above, a Robin naturally showed up for some maggots, a skitty little thing that seemed to pester me from all angles for some freebies, a welcome harassment if ever there was one. I sat there entertained thinking how much I have missed all this.

After lunch I tried a spot now vacated that was usually pretty good but after no bites a closer look into the clear water revealed no fish to be seen at all, perhaps a reason for the large nomadic shoal downstream, so I moved on once more.

Finding a spot upstream that was usually good for chub I settled down hoping to whittle out one, maybe two knowing any decent chub would top the day nicely. I bumped a fish off first cast but it was so instant and so close in I convinced myself it was bottom. However it wasn't, as another bite followed next trot through which resulted in a proper bend in the rod, my persistence was rewarded.

More chub followed and they were feeding so well and if the hard morning was typical winter fishing then the afternoon was typical winter chub fishing, as if a switch is flicked. They were feeding shallow and I almost couldn't fish shallow enough, so much so that I changed to a pole float as no distance was needed to cast. The pole float worked perfectly and just as I was wondering why we don't all use them for small river trotting a lively chub proceeded in smashing said float to smithereens in the rushes, I had a wry smile as I reverted back to a 4no4 stick set as shallow as I dare.

It was once more all chub and trying deep yielded no bites at all, a chap came up from the next swim down saying how his mate had nothing in this swim all morning on luncheon meat, maybe they were up in the water or perhaps just come on to feed, although I wouldn't dismiss a chub's love of maggot as a reason as on some winter days they just cant get enough much like the Robin earlier.

I had enough by now and packed up well before dark, the day was still eerily quiet, the only noise the sound of water dripping from my net, a good sound if ever there was one. I had fished much longer and much harder than I anticipated but enjoyed it immensely.

How I have missed fishing.

Covid - Bad 

Fishing - Good