Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Sunday, 13 November 2011
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
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.
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
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.
Monday, 19 September 2011
Thursday, 8 September 2011
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.
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