Squall

Thursday morning dawned, I had checked the weather forecast the night before and the forecasters pointed out with an unsettling conviction that there would be dangerous winds for the Northern part of the country, I scanned about and saw that there would be gusts of 50mph for Southern England, but the temperatures looked very nice, sometimes I am easily lured in without taking note of other factors,this could be said to have been one of those times. Some cheese on toast was made, along with  a flask of coffee, hastily packed into my rucksack and I was all set to go. Making my way to the river I was greeted by a flock of wooly jumpers, which made a nice change from the usual bovine inhabitants, which I find can be very inquisitive and a bit twitchy at times.

Bait wise I had brought a tin of Sardines in tomato sauce with me and was planning on fishing half of one, along with a feeder, filled with a mixture of sardine and light groundbait mix,many years ago as a lad this had always been a good bait for me and I use to catch some nice Chub and Barbel in the colder months on it. These days like so many of our waterways, using such a soft bait is always a risk due to the amount of Signal Crayfish that inhabit our rivers and lakes, these days this tributary is sadly no different and as I cast out, the thoughts of Crayfish nagged at me.I placed my other rod out on a small 15mm boilie freezer bait. This particular swim was a lovely glide, just below a bend in  the river, where the current was smooth and the area was quite a bit deeper compared to the usual average,with some nice pockets of gravel and the odd Swan Mussel.


The trees gave no sign of any wind whatsoever, but for  the faintest of breezes, the first thing that popped into my mind was "calm before the storm". But by 3pm the wind started to become more lively, coming and going in surges and at one point I thought that if anyone saw me, they would probably think that I was a few sandwiches short of a picnic and at that point I may have been inclined to agree. It was around about this time that I heard something break the waters surface further upstream,it sounded similar to a fish,but I was convinced it was a Mink, the culprit soon made itself evident as it paddled by me,a very stocky and healthy looking Otter, on seeing me, it turned tail, dived and was not seen again.

The afternoon was peaceful and uneventful on the fishing front, save for a Swan which was still wearing infantile, grey coloured plummage and the Red Kites which were making the most of the wind, showing their aerial prowess with an almost arrogant certainty, I watched on in mild  amusement as some Crows whom usually bully the Kites, tried in vein to keep pace with them in the wind, failing miserably, the Kites were in their zone, this was what they did best gliding, climbing effortlessly, making it look all so easy. If only the same could have been said for the chubby guy under his umbrella, I was having a nightmare, the umbrella was tethered down, bending and creaking in the wind which was changing directions rapidly, causing the the umbrella to buckle in, folding round me and enveloping me like a Triffid, it was one of these gusts that up ended it, nearly taking me behind with it and into a waiting Bramble bush, many bent spokes and holes later,the umbrella which now resembled something akin to a colander was back in use.

I had a few taps on the Sardine and on checking the bait, sure enough it had vanished, no doubt thanks to something wearing a shell suit, replete with a pair of claws, I considered my options, I had brought cheesepaste with me and maggots just in case of this, but out of sheer rose tinted, bloody mindedness and some idealistic attempt at rebellion, I decided to place another half of Sardine out again, this was how the evening went on, I simply could not get past the Crayfish,yet would simply not give in, as I to tried claim some kind of idiotic moral high ground.

By late evening and after some very heavy rain, the sky cleared and along with it the water temperature had dropped off, I was pondering calling it a day, when the boilie rod received a few tentative taps followed by a steady, slow, almost deliberate run, I lifted in and was met by a welcoming resistance, followed by sporadic kicks. I slid the landing  net under a Bream, upon lifting the fish out,I could see it was a rather chunky fish  and it looked in great condition, it weighed 8lb and was one of the nicest looking Bream I have caught from this tributary.

Not one of the most straight forward trips that I have ever had, but regardless of the unsettled conditions it was most enjoyable. However I now have a  growing pile of umbrellas that have either been damaged by acts of god or just seem to not last like any of the older models that I owned years ago, falling apart way to quickly considering what they cost, I am beginning to wonder if there is any manufacturers out there who still produce good quality umbrellas any more, as I have gone through many different brands over the years, oh well roll on a new umbrella,although it's anyones guess how long it will last.

Of Mice And Men Video Blog

Of Mice And Men

What is it that they say about the best laid plans? After having that delightful recent trip,I was chomping at the bit to get back out,but found myself with a hammering head and a heavy bout of man flu.Mark was not a very happy chap to say the least,after to many mild days passed whilst the flu ran its course,I decided to dose myself up and head off down the river.

I got to my chosen swim pretty much shattered,but after a sit down and infusion of coffee,the world was at peace,the river a very pretty autumnal picture,banks strewn with fallen leaves,the numerous trees shedding their once pretty petticoats,revealing a raw,skeletal beauty.The Kingfisher a comrade during so many of my fishing trips,glided into and back out of view,calling out with its shrill whistle,a call that always makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and never fails to bring a broad smile to my face.I decided to fish a small swim,upstream of where I fished last time,the swim was quite a tight one,with a raft to the left hand side,a lovely feature and one I felt might hold a fish or two.

Despite a few taps,it was a quiet afternoon,but one spent in the good company of wildlife,none more so than a Robin which was making the most of the remaining  berry supply,inbetween resting up in the nearby tree,frequently.

It was late afternoon when my rod tip bounced back and forth,followed by two light taps and then wrapped round.After a short but spirited fight,a very long Chub of 5lb,was sat recuperating in the folds of the landing net,it was in beautiful,scale perfect condition.

I was buoyed by the capture,it made for the perfect tonic to how I was feeling,the weather conditions were pretty much spot on and I was confident that there maybe some other fish about,willing to  snaffle up some more bait.

 Early evening darkness enclosed me,the breeze that had been,was no more,rain began to fall,drizzle at first,but gradually picking up pace,coming down steady.As the evening passed I became aware of the sounds of a crafty Dormouse nearby,no doubt picking up my dropped bits of groundbait mix,my mind flicked back to how the little rogues had nibbled my digital scale buttons earlier on in the year.

So I decided to drop a morsel under the bough of a nearby tree,sure enough after a few minutes a bright eyed,mischevious looking chap appeared and set about making light work of my offering.

A veritable banquet

The rain halted sporadically and the moon popped in and out between the sheets of cloud,bright,but not too bright,my bite alarm gave a light bleep,the rod tip shook and then silence,save for the calls of numerous owls and the lonesome barks of a vixen on the opposite bank.The three foot twitch didn't occur until the rain began afresh,an all in one bite,that swept the rod tip right round,as soon as I lifted in I was greeted by the resistance of steady pressure,as the fish tried  to make for the cover to my left hand side,side strain applied,the fish responded well and kicked out directly in front of me,moving away from any danger and out into the main current,of which I was only too glad,after a few more strong,surging runs upstream,I eventually slid the net under a lovely looking November Barbel of 10lb 9oz.

The trip was the prefect remedy for the flu and as I made my way home recounting how the fishing trip had been,being wet never felt so good.

Blown Away Video Blog

Blown Away

 Acorns crunched underfoot,as I made my way to the river and after the first frosts of recent weeks,I was greeted with a very windy,but mild morning. The plan was to do some feeder fishing and try to tempt some of the large Chub that populate the Thames tributary,I eventually decided to settle on a sheltered area and one that had a real aura which screamed Chub,replete with overhanging foliage,wood rafts and faded streamer weed.I usually use live maggots for a lot of my Autumn and winter fishing,but given how tenacious the Crayfish can be on this particular stretch,I decided to go the artificial route and fish a combination of floating artificial casters along with artificial red and white maggots on the hair.The feeder was filled with a mixture of vitalin,maggots,casters and seed,as well as being flavoured with anchovy.

I really love these types of days,which will no doubt become rarer the later we move into the year,blustery,but not too cold and a real mixed bag of weather. Squirrels were scampering about above me,dancing acrobatically from one branch to the next,their minds set on stocking up their larders.

 Bites were forthcoming more or less straight away,but rather hesitant plucks and subtle taps,nothing that would commit angler or fish into doing something rash that they might connect with one and other,as the morning turned to lunchtime a young swan sped downstream,still wearing immature grey plumage,to all intents it moved as if its life depended on it,a few minutes later that turned out to be pretty much close to the truth,as an angry adult Swan,with wings locked in battle mode,surged past me and carried on,only to reappear heading back upstream giving me what seemed quite a resentful glare.

 Not long after this incident,the rod tip started receiving a bite that indicated more serious intentions,every light pluck met by a harder one,until the rod tip eventually smacked round and a sprinting battle commenced,after a short,but spirited fight,a Chub with a broad back was resting in the landing net,I could not help from cracking a very contented smile as the scales settled at a very pleasing 6lb 5oz.

That was to be it until the early evening darkness,when the weather changed again and the it rained hard and solidly for a couple of hours.This seemed to have the desired affect on the Bream and they got their heads down,a couple of smaller fish in the three and four pound bracket,were later followed by a nicely conditioned fish of 6lb.

By now the time was getting on for 11pm and I decided to not stay into the small hours as I would normally do,I was content to have caught a nice Chub by design and it made for a rather fulfilling feeling,one which I would like to repeat again soon,as I don't wish to waste this influx of rain and cloudy conditions.

Indian Summer

Would someone like to enlighten me as to what happened to Autumn? The weather the past few days was something akin to an Indian summer,with temperatures hitting the balmy heights of 29c,with that in mind I cannot say that the conditions looked very favourable on any of my local rivers,but  I was certainly not going to miss the chance to get down the river.

I had planned on fishing an area I had not fished in many years,but like everywhere on this river,it was full of wonderful features that screamed "fish me",such is the flow of this very alluring temptress that it has brought many an angler under its spell,but its ever changing moods are all part of its very seductive charms and I am one of those whom has fallen for it.

The spider webs were heavily laced with the  morning dew,which hung like sparkling crystal chandeliers,across the bramble strewn margins and the insect life was in full swing,the hum of bees,diving in and out of the balsam accompanied by the popping sound as the seed pods split open,catapulting their content everywhere in hope that they might find somewhere to grow.

I decided to pick two spots to fish,the first a very small area which would only be suitable for one rod,the hand of indecision plucked at me as to which spot to fish first and I was stood indecisively for a good twenty minutes,trying to decide which out of the two spots to wet a line in first.Eventually I went for the smaller area and quietly lowered in my rod close to some marginal surface foliage.

It was to be a quiet and overly sunny morning,save for the movement of the Kingfisher,who regularly paid a visit to my swim for a quick snack,I was beginning to kick myself for not having brought any maggots with me,as I could have caught some nice silvers and given the bright conditions I think a maggot or worm would have picked me up a better fish or two as well,hindsight is a  wonderful thing though.

I remember many years gone by that this use to be a good spot for Pike as much as it was for Barbel and Chub,in fact many was the time when after Barbel,you would end up being bitten off by the Pike that resided here.It was late afternoon when this memory became reality,as my rod tapped lightly  and the line gracefully moved to some cabbage patch downstream,before immediately falling and sagging limply,a rye smile broke across my face,I lifted the rod,nothing,no rig no weight and on closer inspection the line had teeth marks on it and was cut off sharply,the Pike had given me a warm greeting and some food for thought when the weather gets cooler.

I noted more small fry scattering repeatedly,when the Pike are on the feed,this swim although a very good one for my sought for quarry,would probably result in more Pike activity.I decided to move to my second swim,a pacey spot with streamer weed aplenty and some nice glides as well as an area just off the main flow,it looked sumptuous.

There was room for two rods here,so I placed one into a clear patch in the main flow and the other into a slower deeper glide.It was not until the sun had long disappeared and the owls began their calls, that I had my first bite,a slow stumbling affair,the rod tip plucked round,nodding a few times,before bending round in a steady fashion,I was into a slow resistance,that kicked sporadically,a Bream of 4lb+,it was most welcome,alas once I got it into the net,I saw it did not look in the best of health,in fact it looked rather the worse for wear,with sore looking growths around its fins and black plating all down its flanks,despite this it swam off strongly.

It was around 3am when I had my next bite,this time a thumping bite,but one which seemed in the style of a Chub,the rod tip smacked round three times and baitrunner ticked off in an alarming fashion,I struck and connected with nothing but thin air, "I bet that was a Chub" I muttered to myself,it would have been nice to have at least felt some resistance,so that I could have more accurately guessed what species had just eluded me.The remainder of the night was a very quiet one and as the early morning sun filtered through the mist,I was making my way home,hoping for some cooler weather and a drop of rain,as I really wanted to return to this area of the river,there were some hidden gems that had remained unearthed under the rivers watery blouse,she had brought me down to earth with a bump,but in doing so had just caused  more fascination and enticed me deeper into her loving arms.

Wind Of Change Video Blog