A look back at the 2015/2016 season

I was going to post a written review of last season, however I thought that I would put together a montage video of some of the fishing trips from it instead, some also with friends.
Many of the clips are from trips where I didn't make a complete vlog.I would like to extend a big thank you to all of you blog regulars whom visit here and take time to read my musings and fishing tales.

A weclome distraction

It is only seven days till the rivers open and whilst I have spent some of the closed season looking at new bits of rivers which I have joined, I have also been enjoying a spot of carp fishing, far away from any crowds, surrounded only by natures harmony.

There is something to be said about lakes that have atmosphere, not all are blessed with it and some can be quite lacking in character, almost soulless. This venue ticks all my boxes, wooded mangrove islands, bays and a plethora of underwater features to place a bait to, the fish are in perfect condition, no damaged mouths to be found, consisting of quite a few Dinkelsbuehl breed, along with tench, perch and rudd, a nice mixture.

My last couple of trips have been in the shape of late evening to early morning sessions, getting down at dusk and usually settling into a swim as the Nightjar begins to call out in earnest. Keeping clutter to a minimum, a couple of four piece stalker rods, small baitrunners all which fit neatly into a compact holdall and along with a small but strong seat that has supported the weight of my derrière rather well over the years, not without a creak or two though.


It was a cool evening despite it being summertime and in the darkness the tell-tale sounds of clooping could be heard near some inaccessible margins, followed by a crash, the ripples eventually caressing my rod tips. The wildlife night shift had begun, deer running along the path, edging slowly closer and closer to my swim in hope of a drink, before realising that this particular spot was taken and running off into the darkness barking in shock, we both jumped believe me. Badgers could be heard tumbling about in the thicket behind me having what sounded like a domestic squabble, I was smiling contented to be in their company, ensconced in this little piece of heaven.

At around 1am my right rod let out a single tone run and I was soon playing a picture perfect mirror of 9lb.

It was soon slipped back and sped off like an angry teenager, I was rather happy as I was also using this trip to test out some baits from West country baits, namely their Lh1 boilies and barbel slick sense range which I also plan to put to use on the rivers once they open.

I know this might seem like a shameless plug and one which most anglers may have heard ad infinitum, but Shaun Hodges who is the main chap behind the company, knows a fair bit regarding bait having been involved with developing most if not all of the Hinders bait range during his time working for them. That on its own is very re-assuring and unlike some bait companies without any credentials that appear overnight and purport to be the best thing since sliced bread, anyway I have digressed somewhat.


Time ticked by far too fast and as the faintest hint of morning was appearing, my left hand rod fished  to a marginal gully let out a single bleep, the bright green led of the delkim reflecting off the water, a prelude to what was to become a bit of a scrap from a lively scamp that had a rather large paddle which it put to good use.

As dawn broke the Tufted ducks landed and they kindly spared me an exhibition of  their normally overenthusiastic bait diving.

"I think the baits are right here, lets do some diving!"

Now there are a few nice tench in this lake, dare I say they would certainly break my pb and it was going through my mind at the time that it was the perfect morning, the water was bath temperature with a nice mist rising from it and a light ripple in the morning breeze. What happened next was all in the blink of an eye, line melting from the spool and rod lifting upward as the fish came up across a gravel bar, as I tried to apply side strain the back of a portly, dark fish appeared. The sudden surfacing threw me off kilter and it did not take long to decide what it planned to do as it powered back down and headed toward some snags, alas it was having none of it and it cut me off on a gravel bar.

I kept mulling over thoughts of the raw power and the chance it could have been a good tench kept popping up in my head, I kept pushing them back, admittedly I was using a pair of carp rods and to some that might not count, but that did not make me feel any the better I can tell you that right now...

By now I had packed one rod up, its lone companion was still waiting for the chance of one more fish and it kindly obliged with a terrific scrap from a  pretty looking mirror (10lb), its middle scales looking akin to a sliced chestnut mushroom. I made my way home in a chipper mood.

These trips were fuelling me with a feeling I have lacked somewhat for still waters over recent years and I looked forward to another trip the following week. This was to be a later start and I had not set up till darkness had fallen. It was a cool night the and sky was crystal clear, the full moon was radiant as if someone had forgotten to turn the lights off. Conditions were perfect for hunters and it was not long before owls could be heard calling out to one and other, a stag called out into the night, its gruff bark filling the peaceful backdrop with a lonely ambience.

On this particular occasion I had taken my jetboil stove with me as you cannot beat a fresh cup of tea and it was not long after the first cup that I slipped a net under the first fish of the night, a small angry mirror which looked a double but scales said otherwise, a few thankful words were said and asked to send some of its older relatives my way.

By now the moon was directly in front of me and the lake was eerily calm, one more fish had  followed its friend to the net, yet despite this it had been rather still and there had been no signs of spawning activity on the lake either.


At 3am my left rod tore off along a deep margin and I was soon playing what felt a better fish, after a nice scrap there was a rather short, plump female sat in the net and it looked a good mid double, at least 15lb was my guesstimate. She had quite a distended belly, in fact it could have matched mine on a lesser scale and she was in perfect condition with a set of proud barbules, weighing less than I had estimated.

12.8

Morning broke and along with it a very rich dawn chorus filled the air, I had the feeling of contentment and timelessness. Although in reality it was not long before I had to be packing up.
All of the fish had fallen to my left rod during the night, the right rod which was placed on a gravel bar further out had remained quiet, a look at my watch told me I had forty minutes left and fifteen of which were allotted to packing up, enough time for a morning brew and maybe one last fish.

The stove was starting to steam as the right rod woke up, line zipping off the reel, thud followed by that slack feeling of a hook pull, sure enough the hook was partially burred, "hard lipped" did spring to mind! Compensation in the shape of a steaming cup of tea was soon to hand, I sat absorbing the gloriously sunny morning, part of me partially lost to this place, immersed in its aura, the other half being drawn ever closer to the heartbeat of running water.

Pastures new - Part 2

After our recent trip I was chomping at the bit to get back down and properly reacquaint myself with some of the carp that I had spotted on a recce after my trip with Tom.


I was set up and wandering the banks by 2pm and it was another scorching July afternoon, in fact I cannot remember such a settled July in a long time.The river was low,crystal clear and it was not long before I spotted a group of three chub skulking under some marginal cover and acting rather apprehensively toward my bait, a quick change of hooklength material was made as I switched to preston powerline (5lb 14oz b/s).

After a quick trundle with the link leger I had picked up a couple of perfectly formed chevin on worm, not monsters but in great condition and no sign of a gatecrashing trout anywhere, although that was soon to change when further downstream I picked up one from underneath an overhanging tree and another from a glide at the end of a bend in the river, both fish scrapping like bucking broncos, combining a mixture of tail walking and lively runs.

I stopped for a bit of respite under a nearby tree, sitting down to rehydrate myself, gosh it was hot and it was slowly getting the better of me. I carried on downstream trying a few likely looking areas where the river slowed and banks were more undercut, crayfish one a chuck were reeled in, the usual  size one might find on the Kennet or Loddon, a size 8 boot was duly applied, I pondered whether to change from lob worm to a more buoyant bait such as bread, but decided to stick with it and try to see if I might be able to find a swim where the crayfish were not so at ease.

A little further along and I found a nice spot, the far margin covered by an overhanging bush, it looked too good to turn down, a few taps were soon followed by a full blooded bite and I was into what felt a better stamp of chub, it was not long before a lively 4lb fish was sat in the net replete with a stunning brassy sheen, it was probably one of the nicest chevin I have caught 

Small river brassy bar

Come evening time the sun was growing long and the call of a Barn Owl could be heard in the field behind me, the setting was perfect, during this time I had been watching the coming and going of a carp along my nearside margins, the odd large swirl giving away its presence.

This is was my chance, a rapid change was made to more beefier tackle (10lb Yo-zuri) and a size 6 hook with two juicey worms were hastily cast just short of the area that this fish was patrolling, after a few subtle plucks the tip swept round, I knew immediately that I was in for a scrap as this fish bow waved off downstream for the safety of a sunken tree, the only option to apply steady pressure and turn it away from its haven of choice.

A dark common broke the surface before powering off into the weed beds again, by now I had the landing net in position and was beginning to develop a slight foam around the mouth caused by thoughts of losing said fish, thankfully after a couple more runs she was wallowing in the net and looked a good double.

A perfectly conditioned common from a small waterway

Weighing 11.9 she was in perfect condition, with a vivid gold meets bronze coloration,I was most overjoyed that she had picked up my bait and after an impromptu video and stills she was swimming off, leaving a very contented angler in her wake.


I carried on fishing till around 10pm, by which time the crayfish had switched on to manic levels and were doing their utmost to annoy me, but I was far too happy to care, it had been a very good afternoons fishing and one where time spent on groundwork had paid dividends in the long run.

Pastures new - Part 1

A change is as good as a rest, or so the saying goes and I must say that whilst barbel fishing has been whispering to me and lurking in my thoughts, I have been enjoying not targeting them during the majority of this season, in fact I have fished the gentleman's river only twice this season and that has made for a rather refreshing change and allowed me the chance to head to a waterway that I only really started fishing thanks to a friend whom has also fallen in love with it.

It shares many features of my local waterways, beauty, intimacy and a resounding feeling of timelessness, in fact the two trips I have made to this particular river have both sped by far too quickly.

After quite a bit of groundwork and google map pondering, Tom and I decided to head to a new area of the river and do a spot of light roving. The day in question was a hot one, blue skies in every direction and pushing 30c, I came prepared with a nice thick fleece and even though I really did not fancy the idea of baking like a pig in blankets it would at least allow both of us access to the more overgrown areas of the river.

It became evident straight away that the trout were going to be very active, almost suicidal in their attempts to save any of the better chub from picking up our baits, mine especially as I had decided to opt for a mixture of link legered lob worm and maggot as my main approach and it was not long before two trout including a tail walking maestro graced my net.

One of many chub bodyguards that were caught

After a few trout and some very apprehensive chub that really were not in a very forthcoming mood we decided to head downstream, the river slowing in pace and once again crystal clear. By now I was overheating to the extent that you could have nicknamed me chitty chitty bang bang, a welcome bottle of liquid refreshment (thanks Tom!) was downed and instantly sweated back out.

Tom suddenly motioned to me to join him, he had spotted a carp laid up in a sunny marginal weed bed and kindly offered me a cast, a quick flick and the link leger was settling just above said fish, its reaction was one of casual disinterest as it decided to drift off downstream and rest in a shadier area.

We decided to stay in this particular spot a tad longer, Tom deciding to try and offer this fish a piece of link legered bread, the next moments were filled with that tension as an angler waits to see what happens next, all of a sudden the river erupted, Tom shouting "yes Mark I've got her!". The fish bolted off downstream before diving into a nearby weed bed, by now I was next to Tom and wondering if this fish had found a bad snag downstream, thankfully this was not the case and with some steady pressure she came free and was soon resting in the net.


I smiled  "feels like a double to me 10 maybe 12lb mate".  Sure enough on the scales she went 10.15 Tom's first river carp and he was clearly overjoyed. Warm comments were aplenty and a hearty pat on the back was given.

A triumphant and elated Tom with his perfectly conditioned  river ghostie

By now the swim had been well and truly disturbed so we made for another area of the river, both of us really wanting to pick a few of the better chub up along here, but alas they were acting rather wary and not wishing to come out from the confines of snags and bank side coverage, I gestured to an area of the river with a nice bit of flotsam, suggesting to Tom that he might chance his arm there with a piece of bread and after a few wary taps he had slipped the net under a healthy chub of 2lb.

Meanwhile I had headed downstream and made a cast to some overhanging trees, the link leger skimming in underneath them, this resulted in a near instant, full blooded bite and what looked a better stamp of chub, but alas resulted in a hook pull and me letting out an anguished cry of "argh noo!".

We moved on and found this area of river to have denser weed growth, it looked perfect for any chub to hold up in such bright conditions and looked worthy of a cast, so one was made to a tiny gap in the weed, my fingers settling on the line, waiting with suspense for any subtle plucks.

Sure enough there was the odd pluck but this was very noncommittal, so I decided to tweak the bait in hope that the extra movement might tempt this weed bed occupant to take a more decisive course of action, it did and the rod tip lurched round violently with fish heading off downstream, this felt like a better chub and after a healthy scrap resting in the net was a nicely formed chevin and more the kind of stamp we were seeking.

A hard earned better stamp of chub (3.4)

After this fish Tom and I decided to stop and have a bite to eat under some most welcome shade, food was shared and swapped as we recounted the days fishing, it certainly had been a varied and enjoyable trip thus far and with a few hours fishing left we were rather looking forward to what we might uncover next.

The river became shallower, in places no more than 18 inches deep, the water gurgling as it caressed the gravel runs, riffles giving way to deeper pools, the kind of features that gives an angler too many options that he might be tempted to cast to each and every one.

I quite fancied one of the deeper pools along here and whilst Tom was upstream unhooking a trout I decided to roll the link leger through and see if anyone was home, pluck pluck came the positive reply, as I set the hook the events that then proceeded were a bit of a blur as a rather powerful fish simply steamed off downstream, my tiny reel purring in despair as I tried to slow said fish down. Sadly it made for the next bend in the river and across some stoney shallows, the inevitable happened hook and line parted, I had a pretty good feeling that I had just lost a carp and conveyed the news to Tom.

As we chatted about it we spotted another carp moving up past his swim, Tom tried a couple of casts toward this fish  but it became fairly obvious that it was not going to be hanging around, instead skulking along the opposite bank before disappearing upstream.


By now evening had come and it found us fishing a slower reach, Tom and I were both thoroughly exhausted but content, we sat together and chatted as I chanced my arm in this slower area of the river.

A subtle tap here and there slowly transformed into a more positive affair, the rod tip swinging round, little did I know that deja vu was about to strike, I was met with a large commotion as the water erupted, followed by fish bow waving downstream, I had little to no chance and little had just about left town! Within a few seconds of the clutch going into overdrive I was left sans hook and a tad gutted to say the least, a mental note was made to come back with the option of some stronger tackle on the next trip, as it was now becoming fairly evident that there was some larger fish lurking in the shadows.

Opening season trip compilation

Just a short video compilation of my first two trips at the beginning of the river season

A nomadic puzzle

My first trip of the new season on the Blackwater had got me wondering about the carp, resident and the  freshly adopted escapees, last season I had caught a couple of them whilst link legering (both commons) and during the close it had been smouldering away on my minds back burner about targeting them.

So on my second trip I decided to take a couple of very compact carp rods along with my feeder rod and link leger setup, if truth be known I planned to fish most of the afternoon on link leger and switch to the beefier tackle into darkness.


It was another pleasantly warm summer day and the fish were very forthcoming on the link leger setup,vividly marked perch and handsome chain mail, adorned chub falling to worm over maggot and casters.

4.11

Midway through the trip at around 6pm a wide, bullish looking head appeared in front of my near margin, a common carp no less and proceeded to paddle by like flipper the dolphin, head right out up to its gill covers, before nonchalantly slipping back under the surface film. It was almost as if it was checking that the coast was clear, it is hard for me to describe it in words it but it was rather comical to say the least.

About an hour later I received an inquisitive bite on double lob worms, nothing aggressive just a steady almost chub-esque bite. I struck and this apparent chevin rapidly began to morph into something that was on a mission to head upriver, the clutch on my reel gathering pace, tick tick turning into zip zip, my hand dampening each run as much as I dared, before gaining some line in return, if fishing line was a currency then the exchange rate was very much erring on the fishes side.
Slowly if not too surely I gained control, "ping" the line clipped the dorsal, but all remained well.

Finally a common with a blunt head broke the surface and thankfully slipped into the net.

15lb

I was rather happy to have landed this steam train meets battering ram, as battered me it certainly had, I could have sworn that I had aged a good few years during the scrap.


After this I decided to setup the two stalker rods which at 9 foot in length are both perfect for some of these small river spots, these were both placed along the margins, with a light amount of free offerings inside pva mesh stocking. Within a couple of hours I had a slow and steady bite on my right hand rod, I struck and became instantly aware that this felt a larger fish as it bolted off for the weedbeds, perhaps being on the heavier tackle bred an overconfidence within me, or the fish was not so well hooked as I thought, but after a fair battle I saw the flank of what looked a very portly mirror, perhaps a scraper twenty and then the hook flew out behind me, the fish thanking me with a flap of its tail (almost a two finger fish salute) and it was gone. I looked at the rig swinging behind me and back at where the fish had been in disbelief.

Alas it seemed sods law to land one on the light gear and lose one on the more appropriate tackle and It remained quiet into darkness despite a couple of small chub on the carp tackle that was to be it. Nevertheless it had been a great trip and I had at least managed to locate an area they seem to visit and winkle one out, albeit on the link leger.

River carp & chub vlog

A path less worn

There is something rather refreshing and invigorating about not taking the known path, instead walking the one that is overgrown and unknown, my last few trips have really added extra dimensions to understanding new areas of the two rivers that I have been fishing on the last few occasions.

I found myself back out with single rod, landing mat, small rucksack and diary to jot things down in. Minimalist and all the more enjoyable for it, my choice to once again rove about, taking advantage of understanding different areas on these waterways and their winter bones.

Both waterways have a plethora of tempting features, each and every one calling out to you to try and tempt a fish from, however on this occasion the river was low and clear, the gravel runs clearly visible in many swims and the depth as low as 10 inches in some areas, but these were also complimented by deeper slacks and undercut banks.

Many spots were tried and the chub were being particularly shy and not very forthcoming. I eventually made why way into a lovely looking area, a copse no less, the river covered by trees that were shedding their burden at regular intervals, leaves creating a kaleidoscope of patterns and shapes along the riverbank. The area looked perfect.

A juicy lobworm was cast toward an adjacent, sunken tree and I sat back sipping a welcome cup of coffee. It had been a day filled with interesting sights,which included seeing a fox sat up in a tree, not something you see everyday and one I wish I had captured on camera!

What I dearly wanted was a chub though and this spot did not disappoint, this river giving me another of its perfectly formed fish, a fighting fit chub

3.15

These fish do not give themselves up too easily, making each one much appreciated and more often than not they are in splendid condition.

By 3pm, daylight was fading rapidly as it does this time of year and I decided to try further downstream in an area with some nice features on both banks, the feeling felt right and the spot looked like it had the potential to throw up a better stamp of fish.

Alas it was not to be on this occasion and as evening drew in I was soon making my way home. It had been enjoyable trip though and I was sure to be returning.

My next trip took me to the sister of this river, not much wider and with very similar features, but a little deeper.

The plan being to target perch and chub, this time however I decided to take a light amount of liquidized bread mixed with bran and to this I had included a small amount of almond extract for added attractant.

It was a grey day but  mild given the time of year, I had decided to settle to one spot mainly and not rove as much on this particular occasion, link ledgered lobworm being the bait of choice and the swim was given a light dusting of groundbait.

It was a nice spot, just off the main flow and with some sunken tree roots, it looked good for both chub and perch and it was not long before I had my first stripey, small but perfection in minature, this was followed by a second  that was slightly larger, certainly no monster.

Later in the day I began noticing the tell tale signs of something having a root about in the swim, bubbles were slowly but surely peppering the surface every so often, the first thing that sprang to mind was bream or carp.


It was not long before I found out either as I began to receive an almost relaxed bite, pluck, pluck pluck, the quiver tip curled round and then all hell broke lose, the fish powering off downstream with myself on the other end cupping the spool as much as possible to try and eventually halt its progress. After far too many heart in mouth moments and with one very dry mouth I eventually slipped the net under a well formed common.

11.2

Muscular moody, but very beautiful, without a mark on it and with the curtain still intact inside its mouth, the first carp from this particular river for me and as you might imagine I was rather overjoyed.

After recuperating from this fraught fight on light tackle and having two very moody swans gatecrash through the swim, I thought it best to give the swim a rest and try a spot upstream, an area where there was a few bushes dotted along the river, likely looking spots for perch and chub, a couple of pouches of maggots were catapulted upstream and a cast was made. After quite a bit of unwanted interest from minnows, I eventually received a more confident bite and was soon playing a very lively chub.

3.10

You could say it was a bit of a warrior, it had certainly been through the wars that was for sure, I did not take a picture of its opposite flank, as it was in a very sorry state, showing signs of what looked like a recent pike attack, red and raw with very fresh bite marks from what looked like quite a sizable Esox. Despite this it swam off strongly,although I must admit that seeing the bite radius on this fish, it has got me considering that it might be a good idea to break out the pike rods.

By evening time it was becoming a bit nippy and I had decided to return to the first swim which had  been well rested. It had been a very eventful trip and as I settled down to watch the warm glow emitted from the Drennan isotope, it was with a feeling of contentment.


Perhaps it is age or just isotopes in general, but stare at them for long enough and you either go cross eyed or end up with phantom bites, the isotope was beginning to play tricks on me as it seemingly moved very lightly to the left and then stopped, I rubbed my eyes looked again and sure enough a light pluck was apparent, this ballet of plucks continued for ten minutes before the rod tip finally pulled round, me lurching forward to strike.

Thud came the reply, the blue touch paper had been well and truly lit as this fish bow waved and tore off downstream, the reel purred into life and I had a fair idea that I had hooked another very lively river carp on steroids. I don't think I have been put through the mill as many times as this fish managed to and by the time I slipped the net under her I am pretty sure that it was I  who felt worse for wear, feeling truly spent.

A little look into the net revealed another common, shorter wider and with more of a stomach to it.

13.15

It was a larger fish and with no less of  an aggressive undertone to its character, replete with a lovely paddle on it. A few pictures later and with her well rested she was sent on her merry way leaving me feeling rather elated.

Back at home I mulled the fishing trips over, both special for different reasons and proof that sometimes treading a path less worn comes with it some wonderful rewards.

New Videos - Vlogs

Be safe - River carp opportunities

I would like to convey my deepest condolences to Steve Stringers family, I cannot even begin to imagine the turmoil and devastation they are feeling.

As anglers we do regularly put our safety secondary and having fallen in twice this season myself, this recent event is a very sobering thought and a stark warning to all of us to be as careful as possible whilst out enjoying the hobby we love.

A collection is currently underway on Barbel fishing world for donations so that a wreath can be bought for Steve, the link for this can be found below.





 Wreath collection for Steve Stringer

There is something about river carp, be they stillwater escapees who have adopted their new habitat or original river residents, I do enjoy fishing for them at times.

Having spotted a couple of fish moving along the river during October and unfortunately losing what looked like a nice mirror to a hook pull on one of those trips, this fish had truly lodged in my mind, sitting in the recesses of my thoughts, ghosting in and out before regularly prodding me, reminding me of its powerful midwater runs that it had made before the inevitable happened.

This was to act as a catalyst and I soon found myself making my way to the river with a mixture of optimism and a rather nasty throat infection in tow. It was a very pleasant October day, the surrounding foliage beginning to show signs of it being late in the year,a mixture of well worn limey green and the river with a touch of colour from recent rainfall, it looked perfect.

Opting for tb1 boilies as bait and small pva mesh bags clipped on to my run rings, containing a mixture of crushed boilie and a small amount pellet, this was then dipped in a light amount of Elips oil.

It was a peaceful day, a buzzard gliding in and out of view from time to time, the sound of a woodpecker merrily tapping away. An hour later and natures ambience was interspersed with the electronic warble from my Delkim as it one toned, the fish speeding off downstream. After some surging runs in midwater, this fish was eventually ready for the waiting landing net.

Not the fish I had lost on the previous trip, but a very nicely conditioned and solidly built common (15.2), I was absolutely over the moon, I sat back and celebrated with a cup of coffee and  a tyrozet.


As evening faded I started shivering a bit, but it was not a cold night. I considered my options, to stay or instead go home for a soothing honey and lemon drink. I picked the former option and decided to stay for two more hours.

I was glad that I did, as it resulted in a very welcome barbel (10.1). By the time I started packing up I realized I had taken too many tyrozets, superb throat lozenges and they have an excellent numbing affect on sore throats, but to say I felt rather more aloof than normal as I made my way home would be a very large understatement..

Oiling the gears vlog

Oiling the gears - Update 1

It has been a while since I last got around to an update, having decided to leave it longer than usual to do so.

My first trip was a couple of days prior to the start of the river season, I decided to head down to a very pretty and peaceful lake, one I have only fished a couple of times in the past, it really is picture perfect, beautiful marginal features, turbocharged carp slurping on the nearby reeds, a nice head of silver bream, roach and enigmatic crucian carp, granted the lake does not have a large populace of these creatures, but catching just one from here would mean a lot.

I planned to spend the day fishing on the stick and pin and at one end of the lake in particular, a feature packed area with an island, overhanging trees and bushes, a bit of a mangrove in places.

Maggots, red worms, lobworms, corn and a light amount of groundbait. I had also brought some inexpensive surface baits with me in the shape of  haribo marshmallows, popcorn and bread (imitation and real).

The day was sunny, but the fish fed well from the beginning, maggots taking roach, silver bream and even the odd small rudd, which until now I was unaware inhabited this lake, bite followed bite. Inbetween these fish, I was getting some very light taps and knocks, were they from the odd crucian?

I changed hook size, finer wire and one size smaller, chopped and changed from maggot to bread flake and brandlings and back to maggot again, but these particular bites remained the same, I was a tad puzzled. During the day, lean silhouettes drifted in and out of the tree line and the sound of carp slurping a nutritious smoothie of insects was to be heard from the far bank.

Switching to half a lobworm it was not long before the float slid away and the first carp of the day made a powerful dash for the safety of the snags, now these fish fight like their life depends on
it, the tussle was an exciting one, it eventually succumbing to the net.

Naturally I became preoccupied and picked up a few more of these scrappers, each and everyone putting a solid bend in my rod and tearing line from the pin, never knowing when they were beaten.

Around late afternoon I decided to pop open the bag of marshmallows and I have to be honest I did indulge myself with three or four before deciding to start using some small pieces, lightly balanced with a little heavier shot nearer the hook.

I have always found these a superb and economical bait, one which carp generally cannot turn a blind eye to and they certainly did not fail me on this occasion.

As late afternoon melted into evening and under the discerning eye of a Heron and half asleep Mallard, I managed to pick up a few more of these little powerhouse's, each and everyone giving myself an enjoyable and at times arm aching test.

Lean and mean, largest of the trip (6.1)

Alas no crucians, but with, roach, silver bream and these lean mean fighting machines it was the perfect way to spend the day and warm myself up for the start of the river season.

New Jigsaw Puzzle Vlog

A New Jigsaw Puzzle

Waiting, watching, for signs of the Thames red board warnings to abate, no sooner were yellow signs posted on the enviroment agency site, only to be replaced yet again by red. Enough was enough, time and tide wait for no one, my gear was gathered and with one thought on my mind  I headed to a stretch of Thames that was virgin to me, carp and barbel my target, the plan being to try to fish as slack area as I could find and for 48 hours. On my arrival the morning was a damp one and frisky bullocks and calves met me as I made my way to the river.

The Thames was tea coloured and the nearby weir whispered to me, each vortex telling me of what may become of my tackle should I make folly of casting in this area, I surveyed my options and decided to head on further downstream, in search of some reprieve from this fast paced maelstrom.

Eventually I settled for a bend in the river the flow not seeming as violent, stinging nettles barely poked through the watery surface, showing where the bank originally should be, I had marginal bush and tree cover to either side of me and eventually opted for a 6oz watch style, gripper lead on one rod and a normal gripper lead on the other. Casts were made,  a smile of wry amusement passed my lips as the current swept the lead aside even in this more slack area, as I had no other heavier weights with me, I decided to test the current off the edge of the main flow with two weights combined (10oz), on hitting the deck the river laughed mockingly, lifting the weights up, bouncing them across the river bed, I reduced my cast to a metre only and the weight found purchase. Not the most ideal of conditions to be testing the water on a stretch I hadn't much understanding of,  but I was eager to understand, although perhaps a fool to fish more than one night, at least in the same swim. The day passed suprisingly fast, with regular passings of bits of flotsam and broken branches, some of which caressed my lines and others which made full blooded, unseen, u-boat esque contact.

During the day I was kept company by Kingfishers, a pair of Grebes busily worked the far bank and Coots squabbled, making that high pitched, semmingly dysfunctional fuss as only Coots seem to do.

I noted with interest how they were spooking when moving across some areas of the water on the far bank, a sure sign that something of interest was lurking beneath and sure enough as night time fell, a suck was heard and not long after two jumps, the latter sounding like a mid double Carp. Apart from one very half hearted bite, the night remained a very quiet one.

The following morning I decided to bait more regularly throughout the day, the water level had dropped a good 5 inch or so, this did little to calm the current and its malicious undertow, a similar pattern as the previous day occurred, daylight hours were quiet and apart from two half hearted bites, including one dropback during the night, the only other activity was once again on the far bank, jumping was heard yet again and during this time I spent the last half of my final night rueing and psychologically kicking myself for having not packed longer banksticks, as I felt sure if I could have got a bait to this area and rods kept high enough, then maybe I would have stood a chance of some better interest.

Such trips are never negative though and there is always something positive that can be taken, the fact that I managed to spot fish activity in an area that they felt confident to move and show themselves and during such a flooded time on the river, was without doubt the biggest positive. The other being that I have burnt into my mind the image of long banksticks and being a fool to not have taken some with me, does admitting to idiocy count as being a positive?

A new puzzle has been placed in front of me and piece by piece I hope to uncover more of the whole picture on this area of the river, after all this is a part of what makes the journey for us anglers a very compelling one.

Reconnoitre

Now that I have the car back and fully operational, I have been able to get out and have a look around at some pastures new, in this case a rather nice looking, lily pad covered lake, which is abundant  in character and features, replete with gravel bars, small bays and a heavy helping of Canadian pondweed and wildlife. The water has a very intimate look to it and I'm told it holds some nice tench and carp in its depths, what other suprises that it maybe holding I do not know, but I was certainly feeling some happy vibes from this water, making me wish I was fishing it right then and there.

It's a jungle out there

When it comes to eventually wetting a line, I have no doubt a weed rake will be the order of the day,   especially given that some swims are absolutely choked up with it, that said the lake was teeming with a variety of life, including a helping of freshly spawned tadpoles,  moorhens, ducks and a family of geese with their brood of very cute goslings.

  

I think you can see that this water is certainly not short of some lovely sights and as an angler this ingredient is a very special additive, that makes passing time whilst wondering and waiting for that moment, when a fish might pick up the bait, speeding off for the comfort of the underwater jungle, something so very special.

In one of the smaller bays, I came across a more open area of water, with less pondweed and noticed a couple of shadows gliding in and out of the nearby coverage, one of those being an orange and black koi, it certainly did not seem too shy. The darker shadow next to it belonged to a common carp, perhaps they were paired up for a bit of springtime lovey dovey?

I saw many tell tale signs of tench fizzing near one of the island margins, I also spotted  a few more carp, whom were intent on giving themselves away as their backs brushed the surrounding lily pads, making the foliage move, seemingly of its own volition. A wonderful sight and I must admit that my appetite to wet a line, is well and truly wetted.

Have A Good 2012

Wind Of Change

When I got to the river bank,I was greeted by the rich smells of blackberry and balsam,a very heady,fragrant combination,the bushes were loaded with heavy crops of berries,birds and insect life happily gorging themselves on natures hamper.As an angler Autumn is one of my favourite seasons to go fishing,a time where the fish are more willing to feed and get their heads down,knowing that the harder winter times will eventually be on the way.



It was a sunny day and the river was still very low compared to how it had been in years gone by,that coupled with sunshine across the water,I cannot say that I was overly confident and I was rather glad that I would be fishing into darkness.I decided to place my eggs in one basket and put both rods out on boilie,upstream rod on shellfish and the downstream rod on a new home made base mix containing anchovy and robin red,which I have decided to name "red anchovy".

Given the conditions I didn't expect much during the daytime and knowing the size of the fish in this river and some of the snags nearby,I was not going to be tempted into fining down my tackle in search of a bite,thus risking fish welfare,I was more than happy and willing to play a waiting game.

A waiting game it certainly was,with only a few light taps and plucks by late afternoon.Daylight faded away and evening drew in earlier,as it does in September,the night was met by a chorus of owl hunting calls,the rustle of mink as they plotted their way along the far bank path and the sound of mice nearby,chattering like a rogues meeting.

This is where something odd occurred,I had a nice cheese and relish baguette sat on top of my rucksack,a prime target for any rodent,but this remained untouched,not a jot of interest from the rascals,instead they decided to have a light snack on the rubber buttons of my digital fishing scales,cutting small slivers of rubber off of two of the buttons,I was puzzled and rather bemused to say the least.

It was not till late night that I had my first serious bite,rod tip lunging round,the fish plodded off in a run downstream and in the direction of some very dense wood,side strain applied and it was gradually coaxed back in my direction,after a short battle,a Barbel of 12lb was recuperating in the landing net.I was very happy,as the fish had fallen to the red anchovy mix and that made for some added satisfaction.



By now the late night sky had changed some what and unsettled clouds were beginning to appear,a wind was taking gradual breathes,lightly caressing the hawthorns and brambles with each passing,the odd speck of rain pattered the umbrella,but did not gather any pace.I looked over both rods wondering if there would be more action,ever expectant but without greed,time comes to pass and a place to rest ones mind with the odd fish as reward is something of a bonus.The upstream rod's baitrunner let out a fast paced run and a very exciting fight ensued with a fish that headed off into the middle of the river,but didn't hug the bottom,instead making long runs in its repeated attempts to make it to the cover of the far bank.Eventually the culprit was in the landing net,a very pretty and heavily scaled Mirror Carp of 11lb+.A fish falling to both baits,"perfect" I thought to myself.


It was very early morning when I had my last run,unfortunately losing the fish to a hook pull,by now the wind had become stronger,gusting with something akin to anger,the clouds were puffing up and the heavens opened,giving the river something it desired and not just a small amount,sheets upon sheets of rain hammered down onto the river,I waited for the rain to stop before slowly packing up,when the rain finally abated the river looked rejuvenated and small fish were topping in appreciation of the welcome deluge.

I made my way home,back to the reality that is the real world,but back to it with a contented smile on my face.