Wild Winds & Fine Fishing

 My maggots had been sitting in the fridge saying "Use me" for the last couple of weeks, or rather sending a message in the form of a scent too strong to disguise with repeated doses of flavouring. So I racked my brain on where I could go that could be comfortable in this relentless wind we have had of late.

I decided on a pond, where I could sit in the corner tucked away and fish alongside a platform in a recently discovered perch spot hoping for a big stripey to start the year, failing that my usual remit of anything will do, would do.

Following the rains the pond and it's platforms were under water and my little pole float looked strange as it bobbed along in the chop next to a platform that had more water over it than some of the rivers did this summer.

I fed my old smelly, over spiced maggots at regular intervals but the float remained motionless aside from the aforementioned wind induced bob, after an hour of nothing doing I was the one that needed to move. It had been a cold night and I was in the shade getting colder as I wasn't as out of the wind as I thought I would be, so off I went to somewhere sunny to stretch my legs and warm the joints.

I moved round to the tench pond just for a bite from the hordes of hungry rudd as I was now well into the 'anything would do' stage, only to be greeted by a chap on the pole who was on a blank bemused by the lack of bites but pointing to a cormorant he saw as the main reason. As a result of this info I ventured to another corner and we both agreed to holler in jubilation should either of us get a fish no matter how small.

I tried two swims to no avail before doing a reccy of the pond throwing a few maggots here and there from my bait bib. Into the clear waters they went before slowly hitting the bottom untouched. 

Where were those fish?

On walking back I finally spotted some fry right under a platform in tight ball and sure enough my loosefed maggots started to dart about so off I went to get the gear as If I had spotted a pb carp or tench. I lowered my float set pretty shallow and it dashed away as a tiny silver looking rudd broke the blank. I called out to the pole angler who was so wrapped up in his woolly winter wear he couldn't hear a thing, I felt a bit daft yelling 'fish' with such a token offering so I just left it to the coffee break to have a chat.

An hour later he passed me on the way home after blanking and watched as my float dipped time and again with small rudd, seeing the funny side as I was too. I was also conscious of how it can pay to be mobile this time of year, something that suits my style of fishing anyway.

However it wasn't long before I was getting bored with these ruddlets with nothing else showing aside from one rogue roach, but the confidence of blank avoiding tiddlers cannot be underestimated, with this knowledge that they are feeding I ventured back into the wind to try for another hour where I started on the main pond.

With new found optimism and the water hopefully warmed up a little my float was back by the submerged platform with the tow taking it away into the direction of the wind, a tactic that worked well in this swim that last time I fished it also on a blustery day. The float went under almost instantly and I played something decent before the head of an F1 appeared and the hook somehow came out, I couldn't recast quick enough and sure enough the next one was soon in the net, a small F1 that was twice the weight of all those rudd combined.

Next bite was another similar sized fish but it felt more 'jagged' and a flash of green signaled my quarry was on, I could see it was a nice one as I struggled in the wind and spray to net it, my persistence was rewarded with a cracking perch, my quarry for the day.

Bites followed at a really good frequency although they were tiny dips and very hard to hit in the wind despite being under the rod tip, I also lost an unusual amount of fish, once again the combination of the wind and the shy bites leading to a bit of foul hooking I suspected, proved by the next small carp hooked near the tail that went up and down on the spot making the water boil like a weirpool.

The shy bites didn't stop me getting more F1's and carp nor did having to wade out onto the flooded platform right above where I was fishing, sloshing along in my wellies to land each one being careful not to over step the edge. I had hoped for another perch but when the carp were as pristine as they were today I didn't mind one bit. 

Getting around 30lb of fish in the last two hours after scratching all morning for tiny rudd made the day more memorable. A brief chat to another who struggled revealed the lake was fishing hard and a recent match was won with a similar weight so all in all the day turned out pretty well. I imagined me sitting there on my little stool fishing a match, catching loads but putting them straight back, although the more likely scenario would involve me looking equally ridiculous catching tiny rudd with a smile on my face like I was earlier in the day. I left with both the sun and that smile on my face for the drive home.

A few days later the wind was still howling and I got to a river in the afternoon thinking I was mad with the few others who had braved the elements in the sheltered swims nearer the bridge, I was dying to run a float through some pacy water, once again anything would do but a nice roach or chub would be more than welcome, or even a bream or barbel, but not tiny rudd this time please. I set up different float to usual, a 4 no4 float that somehow took 4 no1 instead, not sure how that works but the extra weight lessened the effect of what was the worst kind of wind, blowing downstream across, in the face and flipping cold. Throw in the bright sun and the high river this could be a test, bring it on I thought as it's better than being on a low river and at least it's not raining for a change.

It was awkward fishing as I needed to stand to get the feed out into that wind, not ideal in such a narrow swim but the water had enough colour to hide my haphazard attempts at finding water instead of bank with my loosefeed, as for the float well it hit the spot and I mended the line the best I could, holding back now and again which resulted in a plump roach early doors.

Then more fine roach followed, with quick bites in the boily water that were hard to see as the low sun flickered through the trees opposite, so much so that I had to take a no6 off to see the float, far from ideal but a compromise on presentation for visibility, It's no good getting bites if you can' t see them. The roach on this river aren't caught much and pull like chub in the fast current, rewarding me for sticking with a set up that was probably too light for the conditions.

Then a few small chub that pulled like big roach turned up just to confuse things but there was no doubt what the next fish was as it tested my roach gear to the limit, its always great catching barbel in winter even if they do own you for the first few seconds.

I'm glad I only fished for a few hours as it was knackering, packing up as the crepuscular light started to darken further, windswept with a headache but all this is negated when the mat and net are soaking wet from a good session. I talked to another by the bridge who had blanked which showed once again how fortunate I was although I played down what I had caught, not out of secrecy but as to not rub anyone's nose in it. 

Two good trips to kick off the year well after a long break, who knows when the next trip will be with work and all this flu going about so I'm glad I've got some great memories to fall back on already this year.

A Year of Repeat Catches

This year for me was notable for repeat captures and although they are not uncommon I did feel these three fish have a story to tell, there's got to be something to learn from them, there has to be otherwise what's the point in logging catches, however I'm still left with more questions than answers.

1. The Roach

The back end February/early March saw the perfect conditions for trotting a small river, it was a day when the roach took over a chub swim and they were crackers, all netters and naturally one was bigger than the rest. Nothing fancy just an enjoyable day trotting single maggot under a stick float, this eventually did the job for a 2lb 4oz roach.

Midsummer was a complete contrast, the river was low and clear and I could see everything, I had already had a nice day catching a few chub and barbel on float, it was only at the end I decided to view what was still in the clear waters below, peering over the edge of some rushes like an idiot, my gear all but packed up. Cue a big roach feeding on the pellets I threw in as I watched. With a rekindled excitement, on once more went the hook, one I had only just removed, so with no float and just the weight of the pellet I chanced my luck. Ten minutes passed before I got it to take and it was the same fish at 2lb 3oz

This fish was caught in two different swims a little way apart, first time on maggot the second time on pellet, both up in the water. I had seen it feed this way a few times and it would only take one offering per cast and would feed surprisingly shallow. I am as guilty as anyone of wanting to run a float through over depth in winter, it just feels right doesn't it? But increasingly I am finding myself benefiting from fishing shallower and it sure pays to vary depths even in cold weather. In winter it was hooked around 12 inches off the bottom and in summer it was probably the same distance from the surface.

I knew that both times the roach had been feeding all along but I just wasn't good enough to get it before I did, adding the caveat of the many 10oz roach I had to get through first does not detract from the larger fish being much wiser than the others. In summer I could see this all first hand, how it mouthed the bait, or more often turned away from it and how it only fed when there was loosefeed in very close proximity. It's modus operandi seemed to be feeding mid water, most folk leger here so maybe that's why. It also knew which bait wasn't falling naturally enough so much so that I eventually tripped it up freelining a Robin Red (for visibility) whilst feeding a couple of darker pellets. Watching a 2lb roach take your bait after tweaking things to adjust to it's nuances - now that is both fun and rewarding.

What does it mean that this fish was doing all this whilst I was standing over it in full view like Captain Skyline? I have no doubt it knew I was there so was either worked into a feeding frenzy earlier whilst I was catching a mix of other fish on float, or it knew on a heavily fished water that people would always be there and that a bait under a float is a danger sign. It was finicky but not spooked, it was clever yet daft, carefree enough to tolerate my presence.

Either way it was welcome both times and I only realized it was the same fish upon getting home and looking at the pics. What struck me most was not only was it clearly the same fish but it was absolutely identical to how it was 6 months prior. Small river roach usually have a few battle scars so I was pleased to see this fish had no additional marks at all, a credit to the other anglers who have caught it in between or maybe that's a sign that the old fish hasn't been out much at all. How often do these fish come out? Some anglers go a lifetime without getting one whereas sometimes you can get the same fish twice, that's fishing for you. 

2. The Bream

During the spring when the weather warmed up I roved down the canal with a loaf of bread, the voice in my head saying "Keep It Simple Stupid". I did just that in April and May and it worked with a few big chub, some lovely roach, a cracking bonus carp and quite a few bream, one of which had a massive slice along the back. What caused it? Answers on a postcard - Boat prop, over ambitious cormorant, feisty Heron, Kingfisher on steroids or someone who got a speargun for Christmas? I always conclude that anything is possible on The Grand Union Canal.

The bream battled like a tiger as canal bream can do although I did wonder what it was at first with large white slash on it's back showing instantly as the fish bent awkwardly in the water. I was conscious of this wound and keeping it scar side up once in the net, The flesh on show kind of reminded me of raw tuna and when I slipped it back the fish almost seemed articulated, I wasn't confident of it's survival so a month later I was delighted to be reacquainted with the same fish looking a bit battle scarred but with that slice starting to heal.

Both times it was caught with bread on the drop in exactly the same spot, the very first cast a month apart. There is a difference the second time with the colour, could be breeding colours in the first but I feel April was too early, so it could be stress or it could be down to the water colour changing. Or perhaps it was just sunnier the first time and the camera is playing tricks.

One thing for sure is this bream likes this spot and sure likes bread. The main focal point has to be that wound and the healing the bream shows, that open raw sushi slice is now fused although it will always be an identifiable mark. I really wanted to catch it again another month later but other things got in the way, so rest assured if I do catch it again I will chronicle it's healing rate once more. 

I also like to think it's the only named bream on the canal - Scar

3. The Chub

Now this one was funny, repeats can happen in the same day usually a few hours apart but not usually minutes. You hear tales of how an angler would slip a fish back and then his mate would catch it but these are rare. The fact is I have never had a chub on this river in a few attempts so to get the same fish twice either side of lunch was quite comical, both times on trotted single maggot.

There's a bit of silt above the gill on the top pic but I had a hunch it was an identical size when caught the second time, I was still surprised to see it was the same fish when getting home, the photo's not only reveal this but the file data also gave the perfect time between the catches at just 29 minutes

I remember thinking how the fish did exactly the same fight each time, kiting across the river before I got it back towards me, but the nearside had a branch strewn undercut and both times the fish stopped just short of this snagfest, there's nothing worse than a chub getting under a rod tip snag and this one had the power to beat my gear but thankfully didn't both times. What stopped it? Perhaps a huge pike or even a catfish as this small river runs into the Thames around the corner, who knows but on both occasions this fish didn't do the obvious.

What conclusions can we draw from repeat captures, I think the main one is they are far more common than we realize, the three fish above all have tell tale identification marks so are easy to spot. How many times do we get the same scale perfect roach or dace within a session, or within two trips when revisiting the same water? How many times is a 100lb haul of barbel featuring a few of the fish twice? Even though fish like barbel often look alike you can sometimes tell as after a while you start to get fish that are a little lethargic later in the day, in such circumstances it may be a cue to pack up or give the swim a good rest rather than chase a number. Carp with their distinctive marks would be easier to log, we know many specimen carp anglers do just this, which leads to them naming the fish, (much better names than Scar of course) which makes sense, I know some anglers frown upon that but it's just a bit of fun with some knowledge thrown in as a byproduct. That's seems like win win to me.

The knowledge gained is still always a bit sketchy, some fish seem to prefer certain baits and areas whereas others are quite nomadic (during breeding time everything is nomadic of course), whether that is based on species or individual fish is variable although I do know fish like roach move around quite a bit, my local canal bream on the other hand seem quite dependable in certain areas whereas the ones on the next pound will be rovers. Territorial fish like perch and pike have their ambush points, how many pike can be in a one hotspot after all compared to shoal fish, pike anglers must get many repeats judging by the amount of  hits we get from a 'nuisance' pike when fishing for silvers. I'd love to know how common repeat catches are for pike.

As for chub lets face it they can up sticks as soon as their sticks move, they do like a snag after all, just tell that to the one I caught twice as it seems to have missed the memo.

Repeats? 2022 does have a three twos after all. 

The Floods Fish Fantastic

 I must admit I love it when the rivers are high so as soon as the rains stopped at lunchtime I was out to spend a few hours fishing, following taking my niece to the local hospital. I've been on more hospital trips than I have fishing this year, even so the fishing has been excellent and today would turn out to be no exception.

 The river was high and possibly still rising when I got there, a stark contrast to the sorry trickle of summer, where was all this rain back then?  I made my way past a feisty cow that had some serious horns, making sure I closed the gate behind me and looked at the water going through, it was just touching the top of the platforms, the river looked swirly and angry - She looked perfect.

I set up the usual stick this time to 3,2lb mainline and 3lb bottom, the lighter line helping me navigate those boils and swirls even if I could have used a heavier float. It worked though and it wasn't long before the first good roach showed, running the float upstream in a slack eddy under the rod tip, it was a nice start and I hoped more would follow.

More roach did follow, who says you need a dropping river? Although I was lucky as the extra water had a touch of clarity which was surprising. The river did indeed rise further and was soon three inches above the platform I was sitting behind, watching the water appear gradually between the gaps in the wood was mesmerizing. 

The higher levels made the roach move further out into the main flow, perhaps the nearside eddy was now too turbulent, either way it made for a cracking spell of fishing and boy did these roach pull in the current.

Then a dark cloud parked itself overhead and unleashed it's worst, it was a good time to hunker down under the poncho and have a bite to eat, luckily the rain didn't last long and after a run of gudgeon I was soon into more pristine roach.

I paused for a cast to net a good football but refrained from rescuing the three tennis balls that came down, If I had fallen in for a tennis ball it would serve me right, not to mention make a racket.

Concentrating on the fishing again rather than bad tennis themed puns I was once more into a few more good roach and gudgeon, before a clonking dace showed up, much like the one last week this one was packing on weight for the winter and was perfection.

It then started to brighten up and a surprise barbel showed in a swim noted for chub, which were absent today. The fight was a bit crazy in the fast water with all the rubbish coming down, I was also conscious of the alder trees opposite that were submerged but my little size 18 Kamazan B510 just held ( I had to bend it back into shape after) to land a beautiful barbel.

It went a bit dead after so I went off for a walk to warm up a bit as the bright skies bought a drop in temperature and a sharp feel to the afternoon as the sun got lower to the horizon. It felt like a beautiful late evening even though it was not even 4 o'clock. 

I pitched up at another spot for the last hour where the river was flooding the meadow opposite, the water boiled through flickering in the low sun and seemed to slow at the bottom of the swim somehow, defying logic like water does sometimes. It didn't take my little float long to reach this spot and sure enough every time it got there it went under. 

It was a dream to fish, my float was dotted down to the last millimetre and even though it was hard to see at times, it trotted down the river like a dream and was held back with ease, the line lay and the bites were just spot on every time, the rod had a good bend as each roach went solid in the flow, before each roach jagged and glided upstream with the rod low, how the sun reflected of them on the surface before the net was slid underneath, it was all just perfect. 

Even a couple of chub finally got in the act as the light faded, bringing the rushes into play and testing my bent into shape hook, which it passed - A tip if you are lazy like me and bend a hook back bend it slightly further than it's original curve, for some reason it's usually just as strong.

Just as I was about to pack up a couple of kingfishers zoomed by, they had been going up and down all day, I'm pretty sure it wasn't just me who had a fantastic afternoon's fishing.

A Slow Start on The Stort

 I was up for some more small stream fishing but after parking up and walking down the upper reaches of the Stort I was really surprised to see it even shallower and narrower than the only time I had fished it previously, a few years back when it became number 103 on the river's fished list. Nonetheless I was eager to try it again. I walked along looking for some depth (and some signs of fish) before settling on a spot I did well at last time below a bridge.

It was so slow I set up a pole float taking 2 no6 and fed a couple of times each cast just to get a trickle of feed going as my float went through at a pedestrian pace (if the walker in question was the world's slowest) bites also took an age to come but when they did I got a few dace and perch before stopping for coffee as faster walkers went by across the bridge, mostly mums with prams.

It's not often you can say you were fishing below a castle so on emerging from my fern gully I took a photo of this fortification, don't get too excited folks It's seen better days and also It's fair to say we've all seen better castles.

I soldiered on (see what I did there) upstream whittling out a half pound chub in a foot of water before going above a weir where it deepened, here the water was slower than slow, I've seen ponds move faster so I made do with picking up a few more half decent perch as a fox went by oblivious to my presence in the gardens opposite. Here's the overgrown gardens minus the fox which roamed around behind the trees just out of shot, naturally.

I probably stayed too long in this spot but it was a good place to relax but I was now on the move walking past another car park that was half the price of the one my motor was in, typical. I passed by large chunks of river that were too overgrown or choked with rushes before finding a clearing in the middle of nowhere. A heron flew off as did a kingfisher, which are usually signs that you are going to catch and catch I did, first a few more small chub.

Then some mightily impressive dace, right tonkers.

The mix of small chub, good dace and perch were interrupted by three small trout which are always fun although I wouldn't be surprised knowing my form lately if it was the same fish each time.

Despite the slow start I ended up catching one a chuck, standing in the woods fishing like a kid and thoroughly enjoyable it was too, yet the place is hardly fished. I didn't mind having it all to myself that's for sure and will return when there's some flow on one day.

I Break My Chub Duck Comically on The Bourne

 The tiny River Bourne is usually reliable for a few fish but I rarely get anything big although the caveat is I only go every other year and usually when the weather is awful and the river is in flood, the last time the mud was frozen solid whereas this time it was the first frost of the year albeit a mild one. The Bourne beckoned, a place where I go largely for the peace and the solitude of one of the largest areas inside the m25 not to be built on - Chertsey Meads, Imagine my dismay however when I park up to find large mounds of earth with diggers going back and forth and the vast expansive view blocked by a building site.

I ask a returning dog walker whether the river is accessible and what they are doing and she says they are laying pipes to prevent flooding, so that means houses coming soon then I thought. I grumpily got the gear and made my way through the site to the river, the workmen halting their progress for my right of way. The digger driver turns off his engine and asks me where I am fishing and then If there's any chub in there, turns out he's another angler oblivious that he's working a stones throw from a river, (I wonder if he'll bring his fishing gear to work next time) I didn't tell him I have yet to get a chub here although he did inform me that he's laying a fuel pipeline to the Airport, much better info than the dog lady gave me and much more reassuring. The pipe looks a bit like some of the pole set ups you see match anglers use nowadays although I think you could reach the far bank of the nearby Thames with this kit.

I set up in the trees as the morning sun flickered through them and lit up the water, the reflections of which danced on the bark of the branches either side of me, I fished with one hand shielding my eyes from the sun and just swung the float gently out getting a bite a chuck from the off in a spot under two feet deep, mostly bleak but a few roach, dace and a bonus perch came out of the brown water, water that had enough clarity for a pike to launch a failed attack on the next fish. The swirl of the jack pike broke the sunlit calm of the surface and scattered the pond skaters of which there were thousands in all directions, this swim was too tight to be playing a pike, even a small one so this was my cue to wander downstream.

En route I chatted to a couple of anglers, the first one a novice who was struggling, I told him there's plenty of fish in here which seemed to lift his confidence, then I chatted to another rover like myself who told me he had a nice chub last season which boosted mine, it's always good to know there's fish still to be caught on these rivers regardless of which end of the angling spectrum you are coming from and what you are targeting. I've never had a chub from here, lost one once but they are rare and sadly suffer from poaching so it's good to know there's still a few about.

I look for a few spots here and there not able to reach the river on several attempts due to the lush undergrowth, when I do get close enough I see some spots are just full of junk that's been dumped others full of wood and it's a while before I wet a line again. I often look for deer on the far bank but have to make do with long tailed tits today, plus a startled heron that wasn't expecting me to come foraging through the nettles ruining his fishing. Once again the sun lit everything up like a torch, it was a glorious day to be out fishing.

I settle on a decent run grateful that my waders have enabled me to once more get through some serious greenery, no wonder I usually fish this river in the dead of winter I thought as I gently picked each burr that was stuck to my arms and even my bait bib, but none on the landing net which makes a change as they are always a sod to get off. I didn't mind as if it's hard for me to get through in October that means it's impassable all summer and the fish are pretty safe in these spots when breeding. After an initial run of bleak I was through to some more roach and dace in my new spot so I dug out the stool and had a sit down.

I was just thinking of stopping for lunch when I finally hooked something better, naturally I thought it was another snag until it shook it's head and tore around the tight confines on the swim, I bullied it in best I could and slipped the net under my first Bourne chub, not huge at around 3lb but it's all relative and I was delighted.

I fed the swim whilst I fed myself, eager to get back in there but knowing I was so hungry having burnt off loads of calories on the walk down, a pheasant almost landed in front of me before disappearing into the undergrowth. I soon had my float sailing down the swim once more riding the current and holding it back to avoid snags on the bottom that I had subconsciously mapped, like all anglers do, picking up a few more dace in the process.

I knew where there's one chub there may be more but didn't really expect another one however I was soon in again, a similar sized fish to the previous one and going well once more, it even seemed to head for exactly the same spots the first one did. However my delight at finding a pocket of chub was tempered when I noticed it was the very same fish.

The black spot above the gills on the 'first' chub is a bit of silt but every other mark is identical as you can see, I wondered what the time frame between catching this fish both times was, I knew it was short so on checking the data on the camera found out it was just 29 minutes, It's a funny old game sometimes, no chub in around 20 previous hours of fishing on this river before getting the same fish either side of scoffing my lunch, I had to laugh.

I tried for a different chub but the swim went dead, my pocket of chub could be just one lone fish that's eluded the poachers who knows, but there will be a few more loners out there. It was time for one last rove so I ventured to the bottom of the stretch, the final swim saw me perching precariously on a bank of nettles conscious not to fall through to the water below, I was the first person to fish this spot all season and once more it was a proper bit of wild river fishing to finish with. I was rewarded with some larger dace and a few roach and perch and of course countless more bleak as I rid myself of the remaining maggots. I then sat in the sun trap of the second meadow and packed up, poured the last of the coffee from my flask which tasted awful and watched the next aircraft go by, drowning out the constant hiss from the pylons for a passing moment.

It had been a cracking day, I got a good walk in and had some good fish, counting that chub twice of course, joking aside I'd go here just for a few dace, apart from the airliners going over this place is always so peaceful, you see the odd dog walker but they are sometimes a good mile away, little dots in the distance. Instead you find yourself, this is what fishing is about. I always make a point of pausing as I walk back to the car and take a last look over my shoulder across Chertsey Meads. 

Sometimes it's good to look back at where you have been and not always where you are going.

Some Great Roach on the Canal

"Now that's proper fishing" Said the old boy as I stopped to chat after telling him I was freelining lumps of bread under a pole float with no weight. I argued that he was the one 'proper fishing' if there was such a thing and that I was normally doing what he does but I did get his point, there is something primeval about watching your bread sink through the layers before cocking the float and hopefully going under. Well it worked where I started half an hour before with a decent roach and then a nice dark 4lb bream which made a good start to the morning.

This is a summer tactic I use on the canal but I will soon be fishing as he does so I bade him farewell and headed upstream, sometimes I think I may be the only person who roves a canal except for lure anglers but hey ho thinking outside the box sometimes works if you're not in it. (random thought of the day) The next spot saw many bites but I was sure they were small roach, chublets and bleak and all I had to show was one more roach. Then a few boats going through made things hard and stirred the bottom as the flow went back and forth but it's a canal and that's what you get sometimes.

I then stopped at another spot where I saw a few small chub and had a go for them for bit of fun but they soon vanished, although I was happy to get another decent roach and then a nice bream of around 3lbs close in. I got the seat out to settle in this spot and rest the legs and after battling with the wind a bit with my light set up the float zipped under and I thought I had one of the chub on, It certainly wasn't a bream as it had too much power, but a flash of red and silver showed it was a good roach. It looked huge in the water, not 2lb huge but big nonetheless and boy did it pull, I've never had a roach go like this on the canal, hybrids yes but this was all roach and a really long fish too. I netted it after it tried to get under my feet chub style and it felt heavier than it looked, it weighed in at 1lb 4oz, a lovely roach for the canal and a new spot discovered.

I soon needed a toilet break (it's hard to go opposite a block of flats) so I went on a walk up to swim usually good for chub which had me hoping for more fish but this pound was so low, it looked almost tidal with gravel beaches showing on both banks, so this endeavour was fruitless.  I then made my way back to the roach spot only to find a boat in the process mooring up there, seriously I did think for a moment of saying " I say you don't mind mooring further down, this is a jolly good spot for fishing", I must admit I silently cursed instead, if only I had not spent five minutes trying opposite the pub on the way back I thought. 

I ploughed on along the canal eager to try where I started before going home, on the way there was a big old cruise barge, one of the wide long ones trying to do a three point turn, in a tight spot where I've seen a few run aground.

I knew I had a few minutes before the turning barge came back up as the big ones usually carve some silt up but I still found time to chat to the old boy, I was glad he was still there and we talked about what we caught like anglers do, we both had a good day but being a canny match angler he wanted to know where I caught all the bream and the roach, fair play to him. We soon said our farewells (I do wonder how he got on in the match) and I carried on full circle to where I started. One last cast before waking home, one last fish I hoped for today.

In went the last bit of mashed bread from my tupperware container, then the float followed with a bit of bread that was well past it's best squeezed rather hard on my size 12, my last slice of bread was getting stale, pieces of which are shed easily from the hook, as proved by my previous casts. Then the cruise barge came chugging back, the lady on the back was talking about theatre trying to remember the name of an actor as the boat slowed in front of me, I would have chipped in if I could have helped but my knowledge was found wanting, mind you I was well aware that my float was doing a slow theatrical slide under the water, then she did the "That's a big fish" comment as I played a bream like I did at the start of the day, it wasn't big but 3lb bream do look a size to be fair, especially to boaters, I netted it almost under the boat which had now moored just below me, slipped it back, gave the lady a friendly bit of chat, refrained from doing a Midsummer Night's Bream joke, washed the slime from the net and that was the day, a good one at that. 

I don't get many when I fish this way but usually get quality fish, it's a fun way to attack the canal without getting bleaked out in summer although I'll soon be scratching for bits like the match angler I chatted to come the cold weather, although he said he liked bleak - I won't go that far, next time I'll probably be trying to avoid them.

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Next time was a few days later as I had to get rid of the maggots I had bought for the river trip a couple of weeks back, I decided to go to the spot where I caught the nice roach hoping that boat wasn't still there. I knew that there were plenty more fish there judging by the amount of movement my bread was getting last time, a morning spent in one spot getting a few roach and bream on wag n' mag would do this time.

The difference a few days make, the boat was gone along with many others and the area now seemed open, gone too were my shorts and t-shirt replaced by trousers and a hoodie for the first time in ages, the hood was up too as the wind was in my face, even with my Autumn attire dug out of the wardrobe I still felt cold, what's more I had just one tiny roach to show for half an hour's fishing (where's pesky bleak bites to warm you up when you need them). A glance to my left saw a big cormorant emerge with a neck like an an old cob swan, it was a no brainer to move to where there was more cover for both me and the fish, the warm glow of a new found spot replaced by the cold reminder that no two days are ever the same.

In my next spot I instantly started catching perch, roach and of course bleak with the latter causing many a missed bite but I minded not as I was tucked out of the wind and getting a few fish, the roach were quality and included another cracker around the pound mark, once again a fantastic fish for the canal and like the other one it pulled with some power with a solid thud each time it spun on the surface, they are packing some weight on for winter yet seem to be all muscle.

More netter roach and a few perch followed although they seemed small in comparison, then the canal did what canals do sometimes and went from a bite a chuck to nothing, then going all bleak before another rush of roach before going dead again. I am certain this is due to fish moving in and out, (having viewed their transient nature on several occasions when the water is clear) keeping them feeding in certain spots where the bottom is silty and shallow can be quite hard, add to the mix cormorants, boat traffic and the changing direction of the flow, this can mean canal fishing is often a test but a rewarding one when you get things right.

A chop graced the surface just as I was thinking a pole float would work and I started to feel cold again as the wind whipped up further. I packed up at noon as my leftover maggots went in to fatten up the rest of the many roach that had eluded me. Two different days on the canal and two cracking roach made a for a good finale to my two week break, now it's back to looking after Dad although I can tell him some new tales from the bank which lets face it is always a good thing to chat about.

A Few Barbel Lift the Mood

 When going fishing on a weekend I usually take my radio and listen to the football but there was none on so instead I listened to many a glowing tribute to The Queen and some cracking anecdotes from people who have met her as I made my way to the river. 

En route I passed a parked police car with it's blues flashing trying to apprehend two cygnets on a busy road,  I know you could get moved on for loitering but not swanning around. I imagined the Queen would have been entertained at the thought of two of her swans occupying the local constabulary, it did raise a smile as I slowly drove past.

It had been a while since I had trotted pellet and I wondered if the fish would be on it still as the sound of children in the playing field could be heard in the distance, kicking a ball about carefree to what's going on in the world and who could blame them. Everywhere seemed a sea of green once more, it actually seemed greener than I can ever remember although I wondered if my eyes have become accustomed to yellow..

The kids soon stopped playing and it was wonderfully quiet, almost eerie, this is my excuse for setting up a pole float that took one no6 plus the weight of a 6mm pellet, bizarre I know but I just felt there would be something earth shatteringly noisy about even the smallest stick float breaking the silence as it hit the surface, feathering it as I may. I reasoned this pole float would fool that big roach that seems to follow me from swim to swim even though deep down I knew it most likely wouldn't. 

Naturally my pole float was getting owned by the current and no it didn't fool any roach early doors but a barbel got in on the act and was more than welcome. I'm not sure if it was embarrassed by being caught on a pole float but it did the most mighty of poops on my mat. Now we are used to fish doing this on occasion, even in the hand sometimes (usually the odd dace or gudgeon) a fish will leave a silty little present to be washed off. However this was the mother load, I used the net to wipe it from the mat but stupidly flicked a remaining bit with my finger, I smelt it and blimey, "What had this fish been eating" I thought, It was putrid. This barbel had an Anus Horribilis.

It didn't take long to realize the folly of my pole float as the wind got up a little so I changed to a wire stemmed stick as I could cast closer to the dark water on the far side, I had not the skill today to avoid the rushes every time it was pinged tight under the overhang, but had the luck that when I did snag up the float came gently free, one of those days that compensates for the ones where you seem to snag everything going.

My new set up earned me a tiny barbel that was almost to strong to hold and it was noticeable how strong the fish were compared to summer now that there was fresh water in the river, another decent barbel followed which was a clutch screamer, the fish were in cracking condition.

All the bites were super fast and I also managed a few chub and couple of dace which was nice, as for the roach, well they were there but were really sharp today, too sharp and I eventually caught a glimpse of my big old friend that had appeared, feeding only on the drop as per usual, as a result on came the pole float once more, pure folly I know.

The big old roach didn't really want to know only taking the odd pellet in the clear water and I kind of didn't want to catch it again have twice already achieved this feat this year. Ok I did want to but don't mind that I didn't if that makes sense, that roach won today and won with ease getting a free meal in the process.

Instead a bigger barbel drifted in near as they often do if you sit well back, when this happens when fishing you kind of go motionless even though you knew your were stealthily still before, I swear at times we hold our breath without realizing it. I couldn't resist gently lowering in my float in front and watched my pellet drop as far as I could, then the barbel puffed out it's mouth and I could see all four barbules outstretched like a hand, towards where my pellet had dropped about six inches from the bottom, it had to be my bait so I struck not waiting for the float to move and the barbel to eject the bait. It was on and did that heavy plodding fight that larger barbel seem to do, seeming almost lethargic in comparison to the smaller fish, it wasn't massive but was easily the biggest I saw in the swim today.

The morning sauntered in to afternoon so quickly although how much of that was taken up by changing floats or having a coffee I do not know but it was now a lazy approach to the day, I sheltered from the odd shower hoping any remaining barbel doo doo would get washed from my mat. I had one last go for the big roach as futile as I knew it was but I was happy to get a few good chunky ones in the end.

I pottered off slowly having got my fill, the birds were fluttering between the trees, rabbits scurried quickly in the distance upon hearing my footsteps, it sure beat spending time in hospitals and like the trip before this fishing trip was a sensory overload of the most welcome variety.