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.

First Tench of The Year

 Ok maybe I'm a bit late with getting my first tench having paid the price for some early half hearted forays for the tincas late March and early April, add to that my penchant for getting easily distracted by the other species my excuses were in early. However a tench is a tench and any fish at any time would do even if I felt one was overdue.

So it was I arrived at the little tench pond which looked so different to last time in early spring, which was more late winter in comparison to today, all the lillies were now up, weed was touching the surface and little rudd were dancing among the greenery as two coots seemed to getting amorous just for the sake of it, working on a second brood perhaps and who could blame them.

I picked a spot by some yellow flags, fed some bread as it is working everywhere else for me and didn't wait long for the first rudd to drag my float across the surface, resulting in a nice 6oz fish. I knew they would keep me busy but rudd wouldn't do today

A few more rudd followed as expected as I could see my bread twitching below the surface in the clear water but I was picking out decent ones as the small nuisance rudd were unable to dip my undershotted float. I waited for that solid bite and it didn't take long as my quarry took the offering and ripped the float under. A fine tench strongly battled it's way to the net, one I should have weighed as it could have beaten my pb for this little pond but I slipped the beautifully coloured fish back delighted.

A few more rudd followed as well as a tiny bream, It's amazing what can take a piece of bread on a size 12, emphasized by the second tench of the day which was one for the future. Note the blurry photo where it's paddle tail must have splashed the lens, well I did need a close up with one this size.

No more tench followed but the rudd got a good feed, I actually think I fed them off which is quite an achievement as even their bites got a bit slow. The pond was now eerily calm on this still, cloudy day, as I left, It was pretty much perfect tench weather and whilst I only had a couple my goal was achieved with a good fish and a well proportioned 'bar of soap' tiddler.

I will look forward to returning to this little haven of tench delights, some time soon.

A Bread Letter Day on The Canal

I planned on giving bread a go on the canal again, this time taking lunch and a seat as the last rove in April was quite tiring on my out of shape body and mind, I was 'rove rusty' but this time I was equipped, or at least I thought I was.

Setting up in the usual area I fed a bit of bread and fished straight through on 4,4lb line to a size 12, under a small pole float that only took the weight of the bread. Expectation once again was realistic, a couple of decent chub or bream would do. First cast the latter obliged, this could be a good day I thought as a good bream rolled in the sun and it got even better when it was in the net.

I recognized this fish instantly as it was Scar (yup I've named it) caught in exactly the same spot in exactly the same way as last time, pretty much a month ago. If you go back to my April post on the canal you can see the difference in how the scar has healed a bit and it is no longer the raw open slice. I was delighted to catch it again and see the breeding tubercules on it's body, I'm seriously thinking about going for it a third time in a month from now for scientific research.

After releasing Scar I had it's smaller relative of around a pound or two so was off to a good start as I moved on, as the local bird life had cottoned on to my bread approach. Further up the small chub were already sunning themselves and to catch one of their larger relatives would make the day. However I made do with giving these youngsters a few freebies as I passed by.

The ever brightening morning saw the bream feed up in the water and I managed another couple on the drop from a new spot, stalking them behind some nettles, I sometimes think when I'm wearing shorts the fish can see the paleness of my early summer legs reflecting the sun, so staking bream behind the flora meant a few stings and bites but resulted in a few nice fish.

Cricket season of course is now in full swing but on walking past the nets I must confess I didn't think much of the slip cordon. You're not going to catch much swanning around like that I thought.

I picked up a couple of chub to 2lb in another swim I had never fished before as my walk continued, then a couple more good bream, pale due to the summer colour of the canal but glistening in the sun. With new swims found and with the weight of bream now approaching 20lb it had been an excellent morning.

The day was complete regarding my goal but I continued walking, it was a nice day and I ventured to a part of the canal previously unexplored hoping for a bigger chub, once again I got my wish when a demon cast under a tree saw a bend in the rod that could not be mistaken for a bream. I've said it before but these chub on the canal seem to go better than river fish, mind you this one was a good one and at bang on 5lb it really made the day.

Lunch was brilliant after a great morning, sitting on a gently sloping grass bank below a lock, my seat redundant, by now my walk had taken me into the middle of nowhere, into a sea of green peppered with the colours of buttercups and blossom, birds were everywhere, people were all in good spirits and sometimes you marvel at the canal on days like today. It was the perfect place to relax and munch my sarnies pausing only to say "This is the life".

I continued, refreshed after my break, my walk took me past abandoned boats, one that had been smashed up and normal ones where boaters were putting out sun shades on the bank, one even wanted to buy me drink from the nearby pub after I suggested she needed a glass of wine to complete her set up, but I was only interested in fishing, much like the 8 other anglers I saw today. I walked on and explored, perhaps too far and caught nothing on this ramble but it was still enjoyable.

So it was I returned to my new found swims on my way back for one last hurrah, I've found bread can sometimes work when you leave it and go back. I feel it can draw new fish in as the small stuff hammer away at any feed distributing particles and the scent, anyhow that's just a theory and whilst it didn't work in the first swim the second one yielded a decent chub first cast on my return

Then a bit of flow came as it does and this coincided with another demon cast (two in a day is pushing it right?) and all hell breaks loose as something big is on, it's steaming along the far bank, clutch screaming and I get it to the middle, I could instantly feel it was a really good fish.

However it was no chub as the most beautiful golden flanks could be seen when I eventually got it off the deck, rod bending double, several sets of walkers passed as I played the battling fish, which made a change from the usual audience you get at busy places like this. I didn't mind this one bit as I finally slid the net under a beautiful common. 

Carp are as rare as hens teeth on this stretch now which is why I had no mat, but some long grass meant the fish went back in the condition it was caught which was pretty much pristine. Ok it wasn't big as carp go but it trumps any pool carp I'll get this year, a canal special. Along with the good chub and all the bream it made the day pretty memorable.

I packed up soon after as I was out of water not realizing I was also down to my last few slices of bread as I would take out a slice at a time keeping the rest fresh in the shade of my bag. The last of the bread went in to feed what I didn't catch, what a job that cheap loaf has done today. Whilst my bag was now light of bread and water I was also dehydrated but still found time to talk to a retired couple on a boat during the long walk home. I'm glad I did as the nice lady kindly refilled my water bottle and I polished most of that off chatting before I bade them farewell thanking their generosity.

By now it was pretty warm, I made it back home around half two all hot and sweaty, sipping the last of my much needed water top-up, after covering five different lock cuts and quite a few miles but it was worth it.

The free water, much like the cheap old bread and the basic gear summed up a day, when the simplistic approach worked wonderfully. It was a great day on the canal.

Christmas in May

 Everything seemed perfect as I arrived at the pond, it was warm but not too hot and a few were already on the sunny side fishing but it was so quiet and peaceful. I had the choice of swims on my favourite side of the pond, this being the first time I have fished there this year as the tree lined bank can be quite cool, today was a perfect day to sit in the shade and watch the world go by so slowly.

My first choice of swim looked like it had roach breeding in the margins as small plops and swirls in the water indicated a smaller species at play so I left that spot well alone, I then walked past a tree that had been pollarded offering the ideal perch for the heron to take flight from, squawking at me for interrupting it's lofty rest. It wasn't long before a decent spot was found (they are all decent on days like this) and my float was in the margins under the rod tip.

I can't recall a year when maggot has worked so well on my club ponds and sure enough I was into carp straight away, fantastic fun on .12 bottom and a size 18, the first of a series of carp broke the mottled shade of the tree, a mix of commons and mirrors with varying colours.

They were really ripping the float under although on a couple of occasions my rod tip being pulled through the rushes was due to my attention being drawn elsewhere, firstly by something jumping into the tree and back down behind me. Of all things I least expected it to be a moorhen, perhaps the arboreal variety, totally on it's own and going up there just because it could I suppose.

Next up were the robins which were a feature for the day, taking my offerings back to their young, one managed to get around 8 maggots in it's beak but the other was entering a Hercule Poirot lookalike contest.

Getting your rod pulled round whilst watching the birds was a laugh, good job I was holding the rod and had the anti reverse off.

I then tried a deeper line in an attempt to get some perch, when I say deeper it was a foot further out and a foot deeper, well two float lengths. I either measure the depth difference between my rod rings or do it in float lengths, that way it's easy to swap depths. I alternated between depths for an hour or so, my deeper line providing some small perch but most fun was had there with the crucians and goldfish.

This one had a fancy tail but it used it to good effect and despite being small tore around like a good 'un.

Meanwhile the robin was tapping out a beat on the tub I use for mixing bread, whacking the maggots on it with a thud thud thud, almost as if it was telling the other Robin to try bread for the last hour for some carp or failing that some greedy gudgeon, so I did.

Whilst changing to a size 12 straight through. I fed a bit of bread on the surface knowing the bird life would feed the swim, too lazy to mix anything up in the tub which was now my namesake's drum. I wondered where the moorhen was (probably up a pear tree somewhere) so had to wait for a lone mallard to break up my slice. I watched as it fed the swim perfectly by the rushes without drawing the other birds in.

With a few freebies fed elsewhere the swim was 'primed' with bread and sure enough lowering the float in.... Whallop!  The rod tip was banging round as a carp ripped the float under, straightened my foot of line and tore through the swim before I had time to say" Ooh that's no gudg..." then finding the net after a barnstorming battle, a really nice mirror.

Next cast was to the 'Mallard Zone' which was now without any bird life but had (I imagined) a lovely bed of bread particles in the margins below, sure enough the float is straight under again and the largest carp of the day is in the net, a parrot nosed brute of a common that barely fitted in the net the club provides.

A chap came round for a chat and politely asked why I took photos of the smaller fish yet put the 'lump' straight back. (It was a lump for this pond I suppose) Realizing that my initial response of "I only take pictures of the pretty ones" sounded mighty pretentious I went on to explain my drawings are the ones on the clubhouse wall.

A good looking fish makes a good drawing and besides they sure look good anyway in the landing net, the last fished summed this up as it was a right looker, one to draw in the future and to catch again too hopefully.

It was mostly carp today save for a smattering of cru's, goldfish, perch and gudgeon including one on bread. The roach must have been the ones getting jiggy as their absence was notable. I walked off for some reason singing the Twelve Days of Christmas song in my head but with the partridge gone and that moorhen up the pear tree instead. 

As I got to the gate a new angler was starting his day as I ended mine. I was glad I wasn't in that corner of the pond as the blossom there was coming down thick and fast, falling on the car which was now covered in a good dusting.

"I'm surprised how quiet it is down here" he said no doubt eager to get started. "Yeah maybe it's because of all this snow coming down" I joked in response pointing to the blossom as we both laughed. When fishing is so relaxed yet eventful every day is like Christmas when you go fishing I thought to myself, we are a lucky bunch indeed.

Now how does that song go again? 🎵....and a moorhen in a pear tree 🎵