It's Been A While

 Eight weeks to be precise or close to two months was the duration of my absence from fishing, a month spent catching the train to central London each day to visit my dad in hospital and the rest of the time looking after him following his operation, now I had a window of opportunity with the caring passed on to my sister for a couple of weeks. I had only one place to go first and that was the river I crossed on a daily basis during the height of summer, even though I was on a tube train each time it didn't stop me marvelling at the greenery of the little River Gade below nor did it temper my desire to fish it once more, so this trip is dedicated to all those who really want to go fishing but for whatever reason can't.

I had walked down to the river a couple of times in the last month when finding myself early for the train, you can't keep an angler from water even when they aren't angling, it rekindled memories of getting the train here to fish back in the day when we were car less and carefree. Even during the height of the drought the river looked pretty decent so I was itching to fish the Gade and today I did.

It seemed summer had passed me by with recent rains and the fresh feel of the morning as I got to a coloured river knowing that more heavy storms were forecast at midday. Swapping the yellow dusty drought in central London for a lush damp green of the 'countryside' a few weeks later was like being in another world even if I was still within the M25. However by the time I had set up the river had dropped unnaturally as if the plug had been pulled and I knew full well all the water was going down the canal, whether that was down to neglect of not closing the lock or by design I had to chuckle, the irony of picking a day when the river had less flow than during the drought didn't dampen my enthusiasm.

I knew I would get dace as I set up where I always do below some shallows and even though I was hardly trying and my little stick float was not dotted down as it should be the bites were thick and fast as a few small to medium sized silver darts glistened in the morning sun.

In between I had a few roach and perch, the first stripey pricked it's fins up as I quickly removed my size 18 and I just held it there in my hand, there was no time to take a photo (it wasn't a big perch by any means) but there was time to stare, two, three, maybe four seconds was all that was needed to marvel, everything was perfection as the sun hit this little perch's flanks and shone through it's out stretched fins, the green of it's back was iridescent, the stripes almost jet black in contrast, it's red fins glowed orange and the dorsal spiked up as if to say "Don't mess with me" - It was a work of art. I thought how much you miss the simple things sometimes as I slipped the little sergeant back at my feet and watched it take off across the sunlit gravel to vanish in the gloomy water once more.

More dace, perch and roach followed although I lost quite a few maybe due to the surprisingly strong wind or more likely due to the unsurprisingly rusty angler, one decent roach needed the net after losing a similar sized one earlier trying to unhook it in the water, not huge by roach standards but "it'll do" as they say.

I roved downstream into quite a strong breeze keeping an eye on the increasing cloud levels and the ever darkening skies, sure enough the storms were on their way but I had to get down there, down to the bottom of the stretch. I wasn't heading for any super swim nor was there any wonder fish caught aside from a few more dace and roach here and there, plus the odd gudgeon and chublet (some of the dace were a much better stamp mind) No I just had to get down to the bottom to see my train. 

I had to look at the tube going by, the same ones I spent a month on going to hospital in London. Every time without fail I would look down at the little river but not this time, this time I would look up with my chin up. I wondered where the people were going on this tube train as it crossed the moor like I had, then I thought of all the nurses I got to know in the hospital, the cooks, the cleaners and indeed some of the patients who's bravery and optimism were inspiring. I sat there in solitude and packed up, reflecting on what my dad's health would be like and whether reading this blog would rekindle his desire to go fishing again, then you wonder what the future holds for you and how much a drag is it getting older, then you finally realize you're just thinking too much and it's much simpler to just count how much you caught today. 

I was a fine three hours fishing that's for sure and it was good to see the river showing signs of recovery even if like the rest of us it will never be in the prime it once was. It is still a nice place to spend a few enjoyable hours, there is after all much worse places you could be.

Two Trips To The Warwickshire Avon

My first trip of the week was to the Warks Avon above Bidford but given there were only two swims on the weir I wasn't surprised to see them both taken so I set up downstream on a low clear river, but one that offered more water than my perilously low rivers closer to home.

The clear water bought the small stuff out and I was struggling to get through tiny dace and bleak and had a sorry tally of countable fish by the time I stopped for a late lunch. An hour later I noticed one of the weir anglers going which was surprisingly early, I caught him in time to ask whether his early departure was down to a terrific day or a struggle, sadly it was the latter, half an hour later the other angler left, also beaten so I had the weir to myself. 

Even though I knew it would be hard there's always optimism isn't there? Although the small swirls on the surface among the froth indicated maggot would be suicidal, so I went on pellet straight away, the water was certainly clear enough even if following a couple of anglers so quickly wasn't ideal.

Suffice to say I struggled despite giving the pellet a good hard go, a few roach barely big enough to take my 6mm offering were followed by one good chub at around 3lb which put a good old bend in the rod. I'll take that I thought. Even though I put a shift in on the pellet I could only tempt a few more roach and ended up with 7 in total on a day saved by that lone chub.

At the weekend I am back out with the missus who wanted a piece of the green Warwickshire countryside as did everyone else as we made our way through a picnic site where it seemed everyone was blowing up a cheap inflatable of some sort. It was hot and sunny although crossing a bridge in the village I spotted a large barbel in the clear water which put a spring in my step.

We found a spot with shade and I was under no illusion that anything would do today, it was basically a picnic with the fishing included at a venue chosen in no small part for the toilets for 'er outdoors. The bonus of having the missus in tow is I get cool photos of an angler just wiling away a few hours, there was worse places we could be for sure.

The river was really clear in the sun and I could see down a good 8 feet, I scanned the bottom for anything large and even put down a handful of pellets in case a tench or barbel ghosted in but I saw nothing but small roach near the surface and even they were letting my maggots fall through, barely mouthing the odd one here and there.

I was having fun getting a few fish where it deepened when I heard "Is that a fish?" the wife eagerly pointing out to me with a raised voice, I scanned the bottom only to be disappointed by what I saw. It was a fish alright and a fine barbel too, much like the one I saw from the bridge, sadly it was belly up drifting down the river on the surface, it looked dead although I did try casting to it with the idea of foulhooking it and righting it in my net where the fish could be nursed back to health, however my light waggler fell short and maybe it was just as well as it was probably already gone and with so many Joe public about putting a dead fish back into the water wouldn't have looked good.

It dampened things a touch as it had been an enjoyable day, I had a few perch and it was quite an achievement to get 29 of them plus a handful of roach and dace given that everyone and everything came floating down the river as the afternoon wore on. 

We stopped off at the chippy and sampled the chaos of the picnic area once more before heading back on a hot drive home.

Last Minute Improvisation Tricks A 2lb Roach

I had all but packed up, my makeshift float removed and my mat was drying on the fence behind me, it had been a good day, the roach were on the pellet today and I had 31 alternating between stick float and matchstick as the water was so low and clear, all netters but nothing over a pound. Stretching my legs after sitting on the floor close to the water's edge all day I had a sip of water, picked up some of what was left of my pellets and fed the swim one last time, standing right at the edge like Captain Skyline* peering in just to see what was down there, just to observe. Then she came into view and took one right under my nose. Typical I thought.

*Captain Skyline is of course the worlds worst superhero but how that big roach was readily feeding in front of me in full view shows how much it must have been picking at my feed all day.

I had seen this roach fleetingly drift in and out of the swim amongst it's smaller (but by no means small) kith and kin and could I get it to take? Not a chance as it was quick to reject anything I had to offer, so now she was there doing the usual big roach thing of taking one pellet on the drop knowing full well I wasn't fishing. I fed another pinch of feed and it took another pellet. Even though I had been trying for this fish all day I couldn't resist a little longer could I? 

I could muster another ten minutes fishing that's for sure.

After a couple of attempts I finally caught the end of my line which had been flapping about and tied a size 20 hook on, with no shot and no float I tried to flick out my banded pellet into what was a troublesome wind for such fine tackle, even my matchstick was ditched for this one last hurrah. Naturally the first attempt saw my freelined offering land closer to me than the target fish, when it did land in the right area nothing happened, this roach would only come up if there was multiple offerings to choose from and had no doubt clocked me trying to hide by some rushes as I didn't have my camo hat on.*

*Camo hats make you invisible, everyone knows that.

Now it is hard to catch a fish feeding a few inches from the surface that will only take one pellet at a time and only when it's accompanied closely by others, so there was a few nervy moments as I timed my feed to hit the water at the same time as my freelined bait. I couldn't tell if my pellet was being taken so several thin air strikes got the pulse racing and ten minutes soon turned into twenty. 

I then had the idea of trying a red pellet on the hook and I could instantly see the difference as I watched the little red dot drop down through the gin clear water, why didn't I think of this sooner I thought as next cast the roach seemed to head for it high in the water before turning away. I could see the red of it's eyes and it's scales seemed to sparkle in the sun at this moment, anticipation was now at an all time high even if I have had this scenario before and knew full well the roach was still favourite to elude me.

A bit of cloud cover came over and the next plop in saw that familiar shape drift up so effortlessly towards my bait once more, it must have been around ten inches from the surface. It's lips seemed to pinch at my pellet so I struck. I'm not sure if I said it out loud or in my head but the phrases "Got it" and "It's on" instinctively filled my mind as it spun on the top instantly, it was a magical moment. The roach was on although it was just sitting there on the surface seemingly doing nothing, they do this sometimes and I knew my size 20 to 2lb line would be no match for a big roach's turn of speed, I expected a run and it didn't disappoint, twice, I just let it go before bringing it back each time and over the net. Get in!

The roach went 2lb 3oz and I had a feeling I have been acquainted with this fish before and sure enough after checking the photos at home it was the same fish I had late last February on maggot which is this blog post for March - 2lb Roach Caps Redfin Red Letter Day

I have a feeling that there are less big fish than we think in some waters and they are often repeat captures, this one was caught in a different area from the last time round an ounce lighter. I walked most the stretch today with the old polaroids on and this was the only big roach I saw all day in the clear water. I think I need to look back at some old photos as I'm sure repeats are there with other roach. To get this fish twice in the calendar year is pretty special.

Hey it's only just turned July, so three times in year would be pushing it right? Seriously though I could well go three years before the next big roach, perhaps longer, some folk go a whole lifetime. I won't be taking this fish for granted, so here's to the ol' Red Eye and lets not forget that red pellet.

Edit - These were some of the roach that, before the 'two' came along were the highlight of the day, all pristine netters with the smallest around 8oz, once again the pellet provided the sort of fishing hemp does, I could have easily doubled the 31 that I had, were it not for quite a few coming off,  a few barbel turning up and constant changing between matchstick,float and freelining, trying to trick that wily old one.

A fantastic day.

Another Low Clear River

 Although I had a cracking day at the weekend getting barbel and chub I was mindful of how low the rivers have been for this time of year so the next trip was a stretch of the River Ivel which is run by a consortium of clubs, which had more depth and I hoped would have more flow. 

I parked in the Dan Albone car park, named after the character in The Godfather Part II* and made my way across to the river, which also looked low and clear. I and many others can only hope for some prolonged rainfall in the next few weeks.

*I'm only joking of course Dan Albone was an inventor of the first light tractor and I could have done with one of his inventions to get through the long yellowing grass in places. 

Before I even got started I saw two paddleboarders come down, then a few moments later got chatting to a disgruntled angler who had them crash noisily through his swim, he argued that we have to abide by many rules and also have to to pay for the privilege yet others don't, I could totally see his point.

I set up under a tree opposite yet more new flats and managed a sole dace before the first of many minnow were drawn in, I could see them everywhere dancing about in the shallows, even mid stream rising like demons for my maggots, If  there's one thing minnow like it's low clear water, this one had a fantastic fire red underbelly.

The river here is seriously weedy which I don't mind and I caught a few silvers in various holes some of which looked totally gorgeous. Lush ranunculus swaying in what current there was, a reminder of the days when the river produced barbel over 20lb before otters were introduced.

I saw no barbel today as they are very rare now, perhaps endangered would be the right word and most the chub I saw were small, when a decent one came into view it quickly ghosted out just as quick, they were very cagey in the bright low conditions so I had to make do with roach and dace.

I worked my way upstream which is never as fun as working down is it? I had planned on fishing up by a weir but there was a lady in the water throwing her dog a ball, it was so shallow and I couldn't blame her for cooling off although I did walk back down lamenting that folks can paddle, canoe and the like but there's a no wading rule for anglers. I had waders on as they are ideal for steep banks, long grass and nettles but sure make the legs hot on days like this, shame I couldn't get in and cool off like that lady.

Finishing off just after lunch I took the walk back to the car at a slow sedate summer pace and sat under a tree by the car park just to chill before the drive home, reflecting on my modest total of 16 dace 5 roach and 2 small chub, not counting tiny chub and dace, once again it was enjoyable but there were elements of disappointment. I do worry where small rivers are heading on days like this, sure they are heading downstream going with the flow, sadly that flow seems to diminish each summer, getting more urban and it carries with it an ever increasing number of people enjoying the river as a playground. 

Is there room for all of us? More importantly is there room for the fish to thrive?

An Eventful Morning On The River

 As I slipped the net under the first good chub of the river season I wasn't expecting to make such a schoolboy error - CRACK! Suddenly my net handle was hinged half way down the last section, fibreglass all split, I had only tried to lift out the fish from too far down the handle, what an idiot I thought, as I finally gripped the spreader like I should have. Today could be interesting I concluded and it was.

Before that I had got up early after having little or no sleep, it was the last hot night with night time temps still in the 20's and heaven knows how hot the bedroom was, however first light ripped through the open window as if to say...Go fishing Rob, go get a decent swim handsome dude* and so it was I got down the river around 6am, even if the usual spots were taken on this first Saturday I was still happy to get a good spot, so it was mission accomplished in that respect. 

*Ok I added the handsome dude bit, writer's privilege 😀

I plopped my gear down by a deep glide and set up the usual stick float to trot pellet although this time on 6lb line as I didn't want to lose the first good chub or barbel, I gave a quick try just above in the shallows to see what's there first and for half an hour as it was all chub, mostly around the 10oz mark but I had already caught more than the struggle of the 16th.

Then came my handle splitting moment, I had to take a quick photo of the 'net buster' it's a nice fish but hardly a monster.

I worked out with the next fish that as long as I didn't extend fully I was able to use the net without any risk of it snapping, which was just as well as the first barbel of the season came soon after. Like all the chub it was long and lean and will benefit from the feed it will get from us anglers. Small but perfect the first barbel of a season is always special.

With the shallows now dead I went back to the deeper spot for the day, sitting low to the waters edge as per usual. Here I went back to 4lb line as I just don't enjoy trotting 6lb line for chub, it also gives me more chance of roach and as the first roach came first cast it felt like the right decision all round. It wasn't long before a few more chub showed with their quick bites and every fish was hooked perfect in the top lip.  Another barbel got in on the act and if the first was small and perfect this one took it to another level.

More chub followed along with another pocket sized barbel showing good recruitment from a few years back, I hope this year will be as good although by now with the sun up higher it was clear how low the river was and how more rain is needed already. I had little time to contemplate these worries as a slightly better barbel went hard and I was conscious of my dodgy handle, sitting low to the water's edge really helped as did my new technique of netting the fish negating any further snap mishap.

The only snapping that happened was a quick shot of the fish then one of the hook I removed along with my own, both my line and my size 18 dwarfed by whose ever gear this barbel previously beat. It's worth noting that a pinched down barb is still a barb and didn't come out freely, I squeezed the barb further before taking this photo to avoid any mishap with some else's hook on a day when I had form for breaking stuff.

It soon got cloudy and started to rain but after the last two days (and nights) of unbearable heat I was happy to just sit in this fresh precipitation in my t-shirt, there wasn't enough rain to raise the water levels just enough to cool everything down nicely including myself.

Then a magpie came drifting down the river, it was a strange sight seeing it gulping for air. I thought about netting it as it struggled but realized my handle would snap if fully extended. Maybe if it was a kingfisher or robin I would have tried, but I left it thinking the shallows at the end of the swim would see it find the safety of a gravel beach. Within two more metres it was motionless, it was dead, even though it was a magpie I though about that nursery rhyme and this one was definitely 'One for sorrow'

As I bid Mr Magpie farewell - that's nature for you, and continued to fish more long lean chub followed although I was trying hard for a good roach to complete the day, that I only had two redfins in total showed they either weren't there or the tried and trusted wasn't working today, it was for the chub though as I ended with 34, along with 9 barbel it was a fine day or should I say morning as I packed up soon after midday, with one last perfect looking chub.

Nothing huge was caught but I cared not, for it was good to get a day like this under your belt early season. I will need to dig out my old metal net handle for the next trip wherever that may be as I know I won't break that with bout of dopeyness. Also with the water low I am hoping for more rain already which isn't a good sign in mid June so here's hoping for a wet July, so that the rivers as well as the fish can fill out a little.

June 16th Lulle Brook/River Thames Cookham

 I fancied somewhere different to kick off the river season so went to the closest stretch of the Thames to my home, a spot that used to be brilliant back in the day, but that was over twenty years ago and things have changed a lot in that time. 

What hadn't changed were the surroundings, set on a quiet island where the Thames splits into many channels, the Lulle Brook must be one of the shortest rivers in the country, a narrow streamy channel that leaves the Thames above Cookham Lock before rejoining just below. In turn this small channel had an even smaller run off which was full of cascades, turns and riffles. It looked streamy and dreamy and I hoped it was still the great breeding ground for fish in the close season just passed.

However what was a nightmare was the minnow which seemed to be everywhere, it's one thing battling with overhanging trees to swing a float gently in, it's another to see it zoom under each time with minnow hammering my maggots in every run and hole. Also evident was that there was a lot of off season fishing going on as I passed several old fires, as a result I couldn't see any fish unlike the 'good old days'. I had to make do with the present day so the first small chub was greeted with a mini celebration of discrimination for it was not a minnow - at last.

My first fish was barely countable, more chublet than chub as I made my way down the meadow in my waders, the long grass seeming to make the morning heat feel hotter on a day where it was forecast to push 30c, sweat was already making my eyes sting and I was conscious of drinking regularly, even if the sip of water turned to a guzzle each time.

I sat down to rest the legs after walking back up having tried spots where memories were fond and the fishing was once good, wondering just what the real temperature was in swims where you are surrounded by nettles but in full sun. I settled down in a swim I had originally bypassed only stopping here because it had shade, I almost saluted the tree responsible as I took off my sweat drenched cap. As a bonus I finally got a resemblance of a bend in the rod as a few small chub obliged, feeling much larger in the fast swim, certainly larger than minnow. Suddenly the 16th was here at last, sitting comfortably, fishing a back eddy, my float travelling upstream and regular bites, the fish weren't big but for a little while at least it was good fun.

It didn't take long for the minnow to return after half a dozen chub so I took my turn to have lunch. I chatted briefly to a passing fly angler who told me of a large carp he had seen, no doubt the target of the occupants of bivvy on the main channel. Then the last bit of welcome shade left the tree, a cue for me to move on beaten by the ever hungry minnow once more, back Into the meadow that was full of insects. I can't recall ever seeing so many damsel and dragonflies and the peace was only shattered on occasions by the shrill squawk of the parakeets that have made the Thames their home.

 I roved on one last time to the bottom of the stretch down to the main weir which was surprisingly empty although to be fair it is usually hard fishing, it was also pretty low.  Losing a rare Thames trout a few winters back was the closest I have even been to getting anything big here and so it was I was expecting the usual hordes of bleak. However I was pleased to whittle out a few dace instead as my float traveled around the noisy white water. It was a nice spot to finish on and although I may not return for a while as the fishing was pretty poor I found the morning enjoyable, apart from that heat of course and those pesky minnows.

As I began my walk back I looked around at the path where I once was and there was a big old fox, head turned looking back at me, it's red back and bushy tail illuminated in the sun to an almost golden yellow, blending into the long grass which seemed to shimmer in the heat. 

The fox and I paused for that brief moment. I think it was time for both of us to find a cold drink.

Tales From The 100 - No 74 The River Brue

 This is part of a series of short stories recollecting some of my trips around the country fishing 100 rivers, some were good, some brilliant and some just bonkers, there was always something going on. So when things are quiet I'll cast the mind back in no particular order and remember a few of these adventures.

I had got my day ticket in advance and was eager to explore this new river whilst on holiday in Somerset so upon parking in a church car park I was surprised to be greeted with a closed farm gate, with several anglers further down the other side of it, naturally being an Olympic athlete (yeah right) I navigated said gate with surprising aplomb, only to see the footpath went the other way back though the church cemetery and over a nice footbridge to the river from where I had parked.

We've all done it I thought, well seasoned river anglers have at least - gone to a new place and either parked somewhere daft or walked somewhere daft before learning a newer more direct route. My best must be a farm gate on the Lugg where I prized the thing open before taking great effort to make sure I closed it (thinking this isn't fished much) before realizing I could have walked around it and the newer gate was further in. The cows at the time looked unimpressed.

Undaunted this time on the Brue I made my way further down from the car park not just because the other anglers may have thought I was a gate climbing poacher but also to seek more streamier glides than the slow water near the car park.

With a pint of maggots in my bib and my trusty stick shotted down to it's tip, I caught a few fish here and there before stumbling on a deep hole where the river went through a narrow gap before entering a deep pool, I believe it was called something like The Frying Pan due to it's shape and here I had many roach and dace, nothing big but good fun.

I was still eager to explore and whilst getting many fish in the 'Pan' I was keen on something bigger so downstream beckoned. I soon encountered a rush of water I could hear below from what was a surprisingly high bank for such a small river, so I looked for a way down. Sliding on my rear like the world's worst Olympic athlete (more my style) taking taking care to avoid a plant that looked like a Triffid I eventually found a piece of paradise.

The water was gushing through another narrow channel before entering slightly slower water, perfect for dropping my stick float in and letting the current do the rest. Knowing I had got down surprisingly stealthily I started at the head of the swim and was into a fish a chuck. It didn't take long before I got the bend I wanted from the first of many decent chub.

The chub were going to 3lb  but were perfect in every way, dace and roach were plentiful in between before the first trout showed up, a beautiful fish, similar size to the chub and I was getting all the variety I needed.

This continued for a few hours, my little run at the bottom of the step bank was full of fish, I could hear walkers passing almost overhead but couldn't see them, nor could they see me, for I was tucked away in my little gully getting a bite a chuck, it was small river fishing at it's best.

After a while bites slowed, they had to really so I tried the glide above wading slowly upstream even if it meant a short run of the float back to back to where I was positioned, reeling in as my float traveled downstream towards me. I hoped for the odd bonus fish fishing this way but once again chub were on it and it was at this point It dawned on me this was an exceptional river, the chub were not big but at around 1lb with a foot of line out under the rod tip were a heap of fun, naturally another trout turned up going all airborne like they do, I was almost catching fish at my feet.

I had heard the Brue was a good river and I think it was 'sock on' with some recent rains but even so it was a cracking day's fishing.  My tally showed 142 fish in around 4 hours, 50 roach, 60 dace, 3 trout and a whopping 29 chub that needed landing although standing in the water I was able to scoop out many to hand. I didn't count the chublets many of which were dace sized.

I packed up as I had to go to meet the missus and the in-laws who were waiting for me in Wetherspoons for dinner back at Burnham near our holiday digs..... I was a bit late.... I can't think why.