A Painful Day Down The River

 It had all started so well, a friendly wave from another driver with the same make and colour car as me en route and a nice chat to some walkers as I made my way from the car to the river, It was very cold with a brisk northerly wind and the river was low and clear but it was good to be out.

Then I got my rod out only to find the tip broken off, my heart sank, this has never happened before in all my years fishing but was bound to one day, today was that day. I always imagined cracking off a tip on one of the many tiny overgrown rivers I fish but not like this, it almost felt unfair. The drawbacks of being a one rod angler came to the fore as I threaded my sorry looking rod.

I set up in a likely looking area and caught nothing so moved to an old favourite swim to find trees down and overhanging making the whole spot unfishable, despondant I walked back only to see a Muntjac drinking at the water's edge, I must have just walked past it and we stared at each other until I carried on determined to just get a fish before sulking back home.

Another spot was found as I had the whole stretch to myself but fishing with a rod tip missing felt like drawing with a blunt pencil, painting with a frayed brush. We take for granted the art of fishing but if something's not right you sure can feel the difference. I was unable to spear my float under the overhang like normal, paying out line felt weird and every now and the the line would loop horribly round the bit of tip left protruding. 

I sat on the deck in the mud to get out of the wind when I finally got a bite it took me a bit unawares  as I hooked a chub and it snapped me, my float drifting off sorrily downstream, then I hooked another determined not to let this one head for the snags but it bent the hook back as it disappeared through the branches of a sunken tree. I now questioned my hook pattern as the new version of them seems to bend more, as well as wondering if the rod tip made a difference, I felt like crying.

I moved slightly downstream away from the tree, only a few feet, then I upped the line, put on a stronger hook and went for a bit of hit and hold, not usually my style but in the clear water these chub were going like beasts for the snags of which there were many in a swim the width of an unbroken rod.

My luck then turned somewhat as I powered the next chub away from the tree, then away from the rushes and slipped the net under a nice fish before noticing the strangest of hook holds. Somehow I had managed with my size 18 to bizarrely get through the eye of someone else's size 10, it was one of those days already.

With a flukey fish under my belt at last I was able to enjoy the scenery a bit more as the sun popped out for just ten minutes, I still had the place to myself but everything joined me as I hunkered down low to the ground. Goldfinches were swapped for long taileds and the odd blue tit, before an egret drifted across the flood meadow making a funny deep noise, a contrast to the pheasants behind me in the grass which were in full view and good voice, a kingfisher zoomed down the river before seeing me and aborting across the rushes and of course I was joined by two robins on the feed.

The robins were much better than I at navigating the mud as I continued, losing yet another chub as I scrambled across slipping and sliding before cursing once more, the fish were giving me a beating and it wasn't good. Some of it was down to my rod but also my arm which was now in agony, I think it's tennis elbow but it felt painful as a break and has been going on for a while, I popped another painkiller like last time and set up 6lb line to avoid another snap off.

This certainly gave my arm a rest as nothing happened on gear which felt like rope, no doubt it looked like rope to a shoal of chub in a swim that's heavily fished, In the clear water I didn't get a touch, the feeling also of fishing so heavy with a broken rod wasn't good. I went back to 4lb and got bites straight away, managing to bully in two more lovely chub, good ones too.

I should have packed up then as my arm was in serious pain, the pill I took having little to no effect, but I fished on losing two more, one of which I had beat before it found a snag under my feet, which left me with nothing to blame but myself. Credit to these fish they were twice as strong as those on the Severn a week ago, seeing that snag in the gin clear water there wasn't much stopping them getting into it. I finished with three good chub and saw a whole heap of wildlife which should be a good day but the lost fish ratio was far too high, the pain in my arm far too great and I packed up on a low with my trusty rod of the last ten years in four pieces not three.

If that was the last trip of the season it certainly wasn't dull I suppose.

Winter Chubbing on The Severn

At last my first winter trip to The Severn as in the past something has always come up to thwart that three hour journey, although I didn't get up there at all last year so imagine my excitement on arriving at a beautiful looking river on a cloudy February morning, not early morning mind, I can't warp time but good things come to those who wait.

I was under no illusion that things could be hard but optimistic that it could also be the opposite, a middle ground of a few dace and enough bites to keep that float running through with gusto was my mindset as I donned the chest waders, took out my rod, net and rucksack and ventured up river with a spring in my step, even though it didn't quite feel as though spring was in the air.

There were a few people there in the usual spots by the car park but once I passed them it was wonderfully peaceful save for the cackle from the odd pheasant in the meadow behind, the river itself looked great with a perfect bit of flow, a touch of colour and there was no wind, I knew I had to catch today, if not it would really put a dampener on any future winter road trips here.

I set up in a spot that screamed fish but naturally was really awkward, with submerged trees either side and a slippery bank to perch on. I used the 4no4 stick from a few trips back that took almost double and run it along a crease to where the water slowed, with nothing to show for the first half hour I was about to move on, when the float went under and the most wonderful thud of something heavy on the end rewarded me for my 'three more casts' rule when roving. This fish powering upstream was what I came for, a magical feeling until I noticed the confines of the swim were now well in play, I bullied it across as much as I could with a 3lb hooklength and held firm as it tried to get into the tree upstream, choosing option B from the appetizing snag menu, the result was my size 18 hook almost bent straight but thankfully after I had slid the net under the culprit, a stunning scale perfect chub bang on 5lb and a wonderful start.

I bent my hook back into shape and persisted a little longer here to no avail before the awkwardness of the swim and the thought of falling in outweighed the need to catch another, plus I wanted to try somewhere faster, to explore further. I went upstream and settled on a more comfortable swim, a pacy 4-5 foot deep run pushing through well, the tip of my float barely visible among the ripples, froth and reflection on the water's surface, however it didn't take me long to find out what was below. 

The float went under right at the bottom of the swim no doubt where my loosefeed was finally getting down, once again another chub although despite being much smaller at around 2-3lb it took longer to bring up through the fast water, a slow controlled battle unlike the ones you get near snags, another nice looking fish.

I then had better one at around 4lb before stopping to put a new hook on as it was bending every time with the first three chub, whilst this was handy when hooking submerged rocks of which I knew there were plenty it was an accident waiting to happen with the fish. With a new hook on another couple of good chub took the tally to five before lunch was needed, it was a fun morning's fishing which surpassed my expectations.

From my vantage point (a mound of dry grass as I forgot my stool) I watched as the mallards proceeded in diving for my bait, there's no way they could find my maggots I thought and sure enough they kept popping up with what looked like donkey choker pellets or large boilies off the bottom, worked into feeding by my actions and finding something else.

My lunch was gobbled down as quickly as the mallards had theirs as I was eager to get back fishing. Then the sun came out for half an hour, the water twinkled and looked magical although this meant I could barely see my float at all and there was a good ten metres of trot where the eyes were shielded, I still managed another nice chub which I didn't weigh but looked around 5lb like the first.

I should have waited to have lunch then as the sun made things too hard, but it was a good time to just sit down and have a rest, my arm was aching as it turns out tennis elbow is actually quite painful. I popped a painkiller and watched the birds do their thing, nothing out of the ordinary just the usual suspects you get in the garden, breaking the silence which is usually the job of the steam trains which don't run this time of year, the tracks opposite me in full view laying eerily dormant. 

With the cloud cover returning I carried on and finally had something smaller which had me wondering what it was, expecting a small chub but hoping for a dace the compromise was a more than welcome roach.

Whilst it was the only roach of the day it does show they can handle the fast water in winter if they want to. I then finally got my dace, a large but tatty looking thing, plus a bleak before the last couple of hard fighting chub, also good fish which took the tally to eight chevins, far exceeding my expectations.

With time now pushing on and a good half hour without a bite I made my way back to the car park where I pottered about for a few more silvers in a shallow swim before finishing with a little gudgeon.

It was another cracking day's fishing, with typical February chub action, I managed not to lose a single fish (somehow) and I was so glad to have done well on the long awaited winter trip here, doing the sort of trotting with small hook and single maggot that you can't really do in summer here due to small dace and bleak, it's opened up a new chapter in exploring this river and a new option for when the conditions align to be perfect, as when that happens in fishing and things go well it's a marriage made in heaven.

It was my first winter trip to The Severn and it will stay in the memory for a while, hopefully it won't be the last.

Grayling Trip Part 2

 I was eager to do a bit more grayling fishing but this time on a different stretch, I figured it would be harder, not just because the river was much lower but also it was a new section, a streamier narrow stretch which split into several carriers. I arrived late morning and was graced with bright February sun following an overnight frost, it was a good day to be out to catch a few fish and find new swims, there's nothing like exploring a new bit of river.

I walked to the top end of the fishery, by fishery I mean accessible river as this stretch like the one a few weeks back was free fishing in a park, It always seems wrong roving upstream so I headed straight to the top to rove back down, thinking "That looks good" more than a number of times as I passed swims, en route to setting up by a fence that signaled 'None shall pass further' 

A fox stared at me from the rushes opposite as I set up, golden red in the sun it looked amazing, it must have been having a drink when I got there, I reached for my camera slowly as we made eye contact before it unsurprisingly continued it's journey just as I started mine.

The bottom of the river was visible everywhere and the first few casts were fruitless until I spotted a lone grayling drifting about, naturally I tried for it and I got the fish feeding only to find the obliging culprits were actually trout, I had two but the grayling I thought I saw proved elusive so on I went downstream questioning my eyesight.

In the next spot I waded out and caught yet another trout before venturing further down and realizing something wasn't right, I'd only left my landing net in the previous spot, I can't remember ever doing that before and here it is standing proud like some totem pole to numptyness, I greeted it like and old friend relieved it was still there.

I had come grayling fishing but was getting 'trouted out' if there is such a term but I settled in a dreamy run that looked like it had been designed by an angler, the water gushed shallow under a bridge and there was the typical far bank eddy running under a tree. My stick float trundled along the crease perfectly, finally the first grayling was caught and I was a happy bunny, I knew it would be hard work today so rewards are relative, then a few casts later there was another grayling and I slipped it back in the sun and everything was just right, just perfect.

With the sun behind me I caught a mix of trout and grayling, some down the bottom and sometimes right under the rod tip in the clear water, they must have been able to see me as my shadow was cast long across the clear water from the low sun behind but it didn't stop them feeding.. 

A lady then stopped on the bridge above and threw some bread in, she knew her fishing and we had a brief chat after she asked what I had caught, then the surface erupted with small trout taking the bread in spots where there really shouldn't be fish, trout are the punk rockers of the fish world, no wonder I was having trouble getting through them as they surfaced in the sun, however they still carried on taking my single red maggot despite also having a liking for the floating bread. 

I then stopped for my own bakery produce in the park on what was now a lazy sunny day as a wagtail bobbed up and down on a fallen tree nearby with much more energy than I had. I took a moment to see what those missed calls were about on my phone, took time to look around, took in some calories and cracked on.

It then clouded up a bit but didn't feel cold as I continued downstream but many of the spots I passed were unfishable due to deep water on the nearside and waterlogged rushes, throw in some low trees and you get the picture. In one area the flow was too fast to bring a fish up with the gear I was using and the only spot I could get to meant an upstream cast, not easy in fast boily water but I managed a couple of fish there. Despite being denied by other overgrown fishy looking spots I must admit I do love that a river that can be too wild and feisty even when running low. 

I picked up a few grayling here and there and yet more trout before losing a hook in one of those precarious swims, with the schools about to come out I decided to call it a day early and head back for a glass (or two) of red wine. I stopped on the bridge and looked back one last time.

It was a quite a hard session but my net was wet which is always a good thing even though trout won the day, all the fish were a decent size but nothing over a pound, they all looked like works of art when illuminated in the sun. I finished on 15 trout and 13 grayling in total. 

That will be it for the grayling this year although I think I may have said that last time.

A Cracking Grayling Trip

 I usually go on a grayling expedition when the days are longer but with the recent frosts I couldn't resist it, naturally it's sods law that there's no frost for the fist time in weeks as I started up the car, but I'll take that although almost two hours later I was setting up in unforecast drizzle, however the river screamed "FISH ME" it was pushing through but not too high, clear but with a touch of colour. I wished the rivers near me flowed like this, it looked perfect.

I set up in a spot I hadn't fished before, using the usual 4 no 4 stick, this one actually taking those shot and not the renegade float from a few trips back that took double that, probably far too light but that's how I roll, and grayling try to roll too, I just find the way I fish I lose less with a lighter float, mind you I got to hook one first and you never know. Grayling are pretty reliable though and It didn't take long as the second or third run through the float dipped at the bottom of the swim and it was clear what was on, twisting turning in the clear water I kept it off the surface and slid the net under the perfect start to the day. I always take a photo of the first grayling and they are usually small, this one was pretty decent though and getting on for a pound.

A great start and five minutes later a similar result, that familiar flash in the water although this time I just watched the rod bend with that unmistakable thud, I could see and feel this was a better fish. I slid the net under a long heavy fish at around 2lb easily the best fish I've had from this stretch, just to think I would have been happy with a few small ones. Just check out that dorsal - Beautiful.

I then lost what felt like a rather large trout snagging me up in the nearside rushes after I had it on for a while, a good fish that I didn't even get a glimpse of. On retrieving my set up I realized I could have gone further onto the rushes upstream to get more leverage but It wont be the last time a fish nearsides me, the worst kind of snag but not worth falling in for.

As I was setting up again I poured a coffee and watched a kingfisher fly by and land in the tree upstream, all dark and wet looking and a stark contrast to the sunlit blue of the one I saw on my local river last time. Unlike myself earlier it was in full concentration with it's head down fully focused on what lies below, whilst my head was turned I heard the unmistakable plop only to look up and see the blue flash as it dashed through the trees on it's way further upstream. I then took out my lunch and reflected on the morning, there was no place I'd rather be right then than here, it's amazing how fishing can make a nobody feel like the king of the world.

Downstream I went following too many runs through without a bite after restarting, perhaps I stayed too long there but it did produce a better stamp of fish than normal so was worth the effort, I was keen to add to my tally of just 7 fish, trying spots here and there and getting a grayling or small trout in each of them finally getting through to a few of the smaller fish with their big eyes and even larger appetites.

Once again there were some more good grayling where, in one spot I was perched precariously on a load of branches getting one a chuck in a swim which was like a whirlpool, my float hardly visible until it was ripped a good foot under the boils, however it was very visible when it pinged off a small trout onto a nearside alder. I took a bit of a gamble getting it back (so much for not risking falling in) but did so without going through the mix of water and wood was bearing my weight, my metal landing net handle coming in more than handy as a wading staff. I set up once more and decided that balancing on the mud and branches fishing this spot was more trouble than it was worth, no doubt a reason it was little fished, I also concluded I'm getting old as I ventured somewhere more comfortable for the last hour.

I encountered a couple of other anglers and had a bit of friendly chat and also a walker who saw me earlier in the day who told me where a large dace was caught, we chatted as I caught a couple of half pound trout that teased me all dace like, but they weren't my quarry today so on I went to finish up near the car, hopefully for another grayling or two to finish off.

By now the kids were coming out of school all lairy and I could hear "He's caught a fish" Naturally I couldn't unhook this one quick enough and slip it back. The next fish was played gently under the surface as it was getting a bit too busy down there, a weird feeling keeping a fish out of sight but it's something I do when I don't want a crowd, not good ploy really as it came off but I wasn't too bothered, I was tempted to count it for a laugh it but didn't of course, and that was how the day ended. I packed up with enough daylight to get most the way home with a decent tally of 27 grayling and 5 trout, only losing a couple including my last ditch escapee, I'm not sure that version of catch and release will catch on mind.

I may not return this season but that would be ok as this grayling fix will last a while.

Impossible To Blank Here

 There's not many rivers that can offer a bite regardless of the conditions so I was interested to see if my old River Gade still produced in this weather, It's all relative remember so anything would do today, gone are the days when a dozen chub would be the quarry here as it's more of a dace river now but dace would do nicely. I was hoping for a minus temperature reading in the car but it was sitting in the sun by the time I used a new found warm bag of water hack from the internet to clear the screen, instead it was a balmy 0c at 10am.

Cue temperature shot...

Half an hour later I'm at the river and it looked totally gorgeous with it's frosty banks and low sun. I started below some shallows with a little egret working above me, one minute it was there and I was thinking about a zoom shot and the next it was gone, I had no (r)egrets though

A small stick with a single red on a size 20 to 3lb bottom with the most basic of shotting was all that's needed here, the maggots were a bit old and lifeless but I've found they seem to be better in cold conditions than brand new ones. I waded out and fished a 'hole' that had a good two feet of depth (deep by Gade standards) and the first bite was welcome as a medium sized dace twisted and turned in the current, like a large spoon twisting in the sun, a blank avoided instantly.

Two parakeets made their noisy flypast for the second time as did a group of canada geese, then a kingfisher went along the sunlit rushes of the far bank catching the sun with an iridescence the parakeets could only dream of, there can't be many better sights in world wildlife, yet we have this bird, often in our towns and cities and as anglers see them in close quarters on a regular basis.

I then stopped to take some pictures of the gravels in the clear water so as to use them as reference for drawing backgrounds for my next fish drawings. Maybe I'll have a group of gudgeon on these shallows or perhaps some dace, who knows.

In the distance by the canal I could hear the constant whizz of chainsaws and upon hearing a crash saw a whole tree disappear from the skyline as if it was munched by some sort of mythical beast below. Then what looked like snow drifted across but it was fluff from the bull rushes opposite picked up in a gust of wind that was ever so cold, as was the difference when the sun went in behind even the smallest cloud. It was grateful for the sun today, "Won't be long til spring I thought" as I pulled the woolly hat over the cold ears once more.

I then had the only perch of the day, last time out on a carp pond I had a stripey close to 2lb whereas this one was closer to 2oz, It still looked great in the sun with lovely colours courtesy of the clear water.

I stopped for lunch and the missus has made me chicken tikka sandwiches - Bam! It may have been freezing, my feet were numb but I was sitting down to eat like a king, at times like this after a nice morning's fishing you realise how lucky you are.

Then an elderly Polish chap stopped for a chat, he was pleasant enough but sometimes I think I have a sign on my back that says stop and chat if you are a little bit wacky, some of things he came out with would be worth a blog on their own, but he left me as I tucked into the rest of my lunch and poured a welcome hot drink from the flask, my feet starting to get a bit of circulation back as I could feel my toes again through the double thermal socks.

After lunch I moved further downstream getting three half pound chub to show that they are still in there plus a few small roach and as ever more medium sized dace some fairly big but not massive, twisting in the clear water, splashing on the surface, before being scooped out by hand, it was classic dace fishing, this one seemed to have quite a large tail.

I could and would have caught more were it not for a panic moment when I realized my wallet was gone, this left a bit of a numb possibility that it fell out by the boot of the car when I was trying to get my thermal clubfeet into the waders. Suffice to say I packed up early and retraced my steps wondering also if the elderly gent was some sort of Artful Dodger, the drive home was one of hope that it was sitting on the side at home, and thankfully it was, so all thing considered a good end to proceedings even if I did have another couple of hours fishing left in me.

The tally showed 7 roach 1 perch 23 dace and 3 chub which wasn't bad at all for 3 hour's fishing, whilst the river is past it's best it can still produce enough for a good day out, the dace were a nice mix of sizes which bodes well for the future. I know whilst it stays clean it will continue to be impossible to blank here if you set your sights low and just go for a few bites, like I say It's all relative on a river that's always dependable.

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.