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.

Enigmatic Gold Video Blog

Enigmatic Gold

The river,I had promised myself that I would return to its sleepy,Crabtree banks,places where an angler can disconnect from the grey monotonise sound that is the hustle and bustle of everyday life,where one can take a chance to dream,streamer weed jungles,moving to the flow like party streamers,in varying colours of green,if this could be my home,then it surely would be.

Life is a short passage of time where if you blink,you may miss something special, being by the water is no different,condensed with the activities of numerous wonderful creatures,there never ceases to be some wonderful sights and this time was no exception,with deer in the fields and fox's padding about marking their territory,simply wonderful.

I had planned on fishing an overnight session,targeting the Barbel,but upon getting to the river I spent the first few hours with the Camera,taking a few choice photographs of the Deer,the evening sun making them look particularly resplendent.





So it was not until gone 7pm that I got setup,with one rod upstream and the other downstream, both with the line well pinned down,the evenings drawing in a bit earlier now and I rather prefer it,as it gives you that little bit extra time at night when the fish are happy to feed a bit more confidently,darkness had not long covered me in its shroud when I had my first steaming run on the downstream rod,lifting in I was met by an angry and very stubborn fish,that tried to power off further downstream and find some comfort near to an undercut bank where a tree had fallen during the previous winter,thankfully it turned before getting any nearer to this sanctury and I was rewarded with a lovely looking Barbel of 9lb4oz.

I was not very sure if I had the camera framed right for the self take and ended up with me having my picture taken wearing an overly serious look on my face,not one of my better self takes I must admit.



The first fish of a trip is always special to me,this fish was no different and it's always a real confidence booster to get a fish early on,especially as this river can have some moody moments where it can really confuse you,but this is something that I have always enjoyed,as the challenge is part of what makes fishing special to me,as well as the preamble leading up to wetting a line.

The night was a peaceful one,with a steady breeze and the odd shower later on,I was contented, one fish was more than enough,but I was happy when the downstream rod disagreed with me and a surging,powerful,mini torpedo headed off toward some cabbage patch,trying to bury itself in there,this fish was a very proud,pretty fish with lovely red fins,weighing 8lb1oz.


I sat back sipping on my flask of tea,the perfect drink to compliment such a lovely setting,the night cooled a little and sped on far to quickly,a glimpse at my watch told me it was getting on some what,I pondered wether to stay longer or go,the thought of leaving the embrace of the river and heading back to the arms of humanity did not appeal to me very much,So I decided to continue on for a while longer

The upstream rod had been in a world of peace,relaxing on its rest,there wasn't any prior warning to the violent take that soon followed,with line being taken and fish on a quest to disappear somewhere upstream,this fish was a real livewire making several runs before it was sat recovering in the net.



It was a very powerful fish,weighing 9lb,with a tail shaped like a spear,which explained the powerful runs it had given,it was in brilliant condition,really scale perfect.

Morning broke,I had stayed far longer than I had planned on doing and it was time to leave this magical place,as I packed up I took another look at the river,thanking it for its kindness in giving up a few of its gems to me and headed off home.

The Forgotten Pool Video Blog

The Forgotten Pool

I have not had much time of late to get back down the rivers,something which I plan on rectifying very soon.

So with a short session fix in mind,I considered my options and my memory served me with the option of stalking on a small stream,plans were made,rod,centrepin,landing net compactly wrapped together with two rod bands,all was needed was my landing mat which would double as something to rest my rump upon,perfect....


Upon arrival to the stream,my plans were thrown into disarray,as I found that the water had been diverted due to building work and was also very low,ankle height in places,I had another option,fish another stretch of the same stream,but given how long that would take it was not a viable option this time round,I made my way back to the car,heart sunken and despondent.


It's times like these that you realise how often such wonderful people can be taken for granted and I have been guilty of this many times in the past with my mother Maureen,despite her not fishing she has always shared a very deep interest in angling and my fishing trips and has always spent time to being able to ferry me back and forth at some of the most ungodly hours that most parents would simply refuse to do.

I got back to the car and shared my heartache with her,her reply came swiftly "do you have anywhere else in mind?"

Baring in mind that time was limited,my mind raced fervently for options which did not include commercial waters.
Somewhere in the back of my mind covered with the cobwebs of many memories was an overgrown pool,murmuring the words "You always promised you would fish me one day,but you never ever did".

I had found out about this small lake from a friend of a friend,as you tend to do with such places,but I never got round to fishing it,I suppose it is around half an acre in size,if that and condensed with snags,overhanging trees and generally abound with beautiful features to cast a float to whilst whiling away the hours in peace.

I had three hours of fishing time available to me,so wasted no time in picking a likely spot with a part fallen tree to one side,deciding to present some loose fed maggot and caster along this spot and fished the lift method with it.

It was not long before the tell tale signs of fish activity were showing,pin prick bubbles soon began appearing and fizzing,but no bite was forthcoming,was this quaint pool perhaps a dark moody mistress? I pondered a moment longer than I should have,in doing so missing the most obvious of bites.


The float slid back alongside the tree and the fizzing continued anew,nearby a Heron caught my attention as it waded into the shallows,barely causing a ripple as it silently hunted a tasty morsel or two.It really was a place that time and the heavy hand of progress had forgotten,fish and fisher melting as one into this green overgrown pool,where one might relive a childhood dream or two.

Thirty precious minutes passed before the next bite,this time I was met by an angry fish that made the centrepin reel crackle with joy as it made several sprinting runs for the nearby snags,after a very spirited fight I slid the net under a very pretty looking Koi Carp that I estimated at 3lb+.



I began to wonder what other suprises this lake held in its depths,it was very close to the end of my limited time when I netted a lively,nice looking,dark Common of a couple of pounds.



A nice way to end a trip to a pool that had remained stored in memory only and for far to long at that.I look forward to revisting it sometime soon,but cannot promise that flowing water will not come between myself and the ivy and bramble entwined paths of this beautiful forgotten pool.

Fishing For Memories Video 9th July

The Crayfish Dance

I had not got down to the river till evening,spotting the light coloured derriere of a deer as it bobbed away into the undergrowth,it was a nice still evening except for odd scatterings of showery rain mixed between the blue sky,the sounds that link evening to night began in earnest,the howling call of a vixen setting off a rather rousing cacophony of barks from nearby dogs.

The silhouette of a Pipistrelle bat skipped in and out of view between the reed beds,flitting about to and fro collecting a feast of insects,the scene was set and completed when a couple of owls sat in a tree nearby me and duly began their hunting routine,which was keeping the mice at bay to say the least,I could have done with the owls growing some gills and hunting the crayfish which were out in force and giving me nightmares,stolen boilie stops,chewed up anti ejection sleeving,you name it,they were doing it.I decided to place some loose feed just a bit further away from the main centre of crayfish headquarters,so as to give me some breathing space and this worked for a while and two or three hours later,I had a resounding,thumping bite and it was not long before the silvery back of a summer Chub of 5lb 5oz was sat in the net,a fish I am pretty sure would go bigger come winter time.



The night sped on,as ever it does when you wet a line and the battle for the land time forgot,the tale of fisher versus the crayfish legions began afresh and unabated,I eventually opted to change my boilie rod for some extra hard freezer baits,in the hope that I would sustain the clawed onslaught for longer,perhaps long enough to allow the fish a chance to pick up this tasty snack,although I wouldnt have blamed them if they had opted to go for a nice fresh crayfish instead,I mean after all who wouldn't?


Time passed,the rod tip responding every so often with a reply of,tip tap tap,these crayfish were really on the ball tonight,wait what was that,thump thump,the rod tip looped over and relaxed again, "crayfish darting backward with the bait damn it" I muttered to myself,not so long after the rod hooped over again and the tightened baitrunner decided to clock off at the rate of knots,it was at this moment I was sat thinking "ye gods,that must be one very big crayfish".

I told my legs to get up and strike this run,they moved but were seemingly not connected to me,my torso wanted to go to my rod,however my legs walked on the spot with me still in the chair,I cannot quite describe what had just happened but eventually I some how managed to get my brain to tell my legs that this was simply not what I had in mind and scrambled for my rod,in the fashion of something akin to a clockwork teddy bear.

I was met with a surging powerful response as the fish kited upstream trying to head for numerous snags including some thick pads and reed beds,it hugged the bottom bullishly,I felt the line tripping over unseen obstacles,before a torpedo shaped flank appeared in mid river,it looked a solid summer Barbel,the thoughts of "please don't slip the hook" played many times through my mind.



It was eventually greeted by the waiting net,a lovely summer fish,one ounce under 12lb and a nice reward considering the amount of crayfish activity that there had been,I went home early morning a very contented chap,I am still trying to fathom why my feet walked on the spot but didnt propel me out of my seat when I had the run,whilst I packed up I came to the only possibly logical conclusion that I had in fact been doing the crayfish dance.