After my last few trips and much pondering, wondering where the fish might be hanging about and all those likely looking, sumptuous spots that are full of features which us anglers are drawn to, I decided that on my next trip I would head further upstream. After spending some of the evening time having a good feel about with rod and lead, I found a nice deep, near margin spot, with a lovely overhanging feature, I decided to place a single Hinders Crab and Krill pellet to this spot and heavily glug it in some Anchovy plus, just to give off an attractive slick and to slow down the ingress of water into the pellet.
My other thoughts were very much preoccupied with trying to accurately place a bait to the spot pictured above. There is a dense jungle of pads,cabbage patch and other snags, thick enough for various waterfowl to stand on, eventually I decided to go short of the main area, the idea being to intercept any Carp cruising up and down the weed line, just a single 30mm pillow shaped, black snail bait, with a small stringer of 4 boilies was placed to the outskirts of this area. I rather fancied this low bait approach.
|The consummate angler|
Just myself and the frequent call of two very good anglers, the Kingfisher and Heron, the former passing me by before perching itself in the nearby tree on more than one occassion, perfect.
It was a still, humid evening, a trail of red left in the sky and wispy clouds, probably one of the warmest I have fished this season, just t-shirt and optimism needed. The movement on the far bank began after 11pm, the sound of clooping, synonymous with carp, perhaps feeding on freshwater snails and other insects. Part of my mind began to whisper to me with words that I didn't wish to hear.
"Preoccupied on naturals Mark, or perhaps your bait placement is not close enough to them?". I realised that I had turned round and placed my invisible other half as if he was there in front of me and we had conversed some, it has always been my way of processing my thoughts and ideas. I must admit I have had anglers walk up to me in the past, looking slightly bewildered and wondering just who it is I'm speaking with, not the easiest thing to explain either, but there you go.
My near margin rod started receiving, numerous fast bites, I did consider Crayfish, but had been told there was not any in this particular stretch, but on my previous trip I had spotted two in the margins, so knew of their existence, the fast bites continued, before finally falling quiet. it was an hour later when the butt of the rod leapt out of the rear rest, swinger and baitrunner coming alive, I grabbed the rod with some urgency and was immediately met with a dogged resistance, that made five long hard runs, one of which was an attempt to get under my marginal bush, eventually the flank of a fighting fit Barbus appeared through the surface, glistening gold and looking fresh as a daisy.
By 9am I had my last fish, a small Chub, once again to the same rod as the Barbel. The sun was out along with Bees and other insects, but it was time to pack up and head for home, the enjoyable contrasts of angling, something that I certainly could not live without.