Scriptio continua

You will have to excuse the title as I really could not think of anything more appropriate as it has been a while since my last post, you could call it a slight hiatus, but I do sometimes prefer making lump sum style entries.

During what has been a rather dry Autumn, I found myself wishing to get out for a spot of chub chasing on a new stretch of river and at the same time decided that it would be nice to do a bit of filming of this trip. I was most pleased to slip a perfectly formed chub into the landing net, in fact it was a beautifully brassy fish (5-3), although trying to extend a landing net with your teeth is not something I would ever recommend.



I have been wishing to do some more reconnaissance on a waterway that I have enjoyed fishing in the past, every time I wet a line so new pieces are unlocked and for what is in many places a most diminutive waterway, it is one that I feel has quite a few surprises to be uncovered.

During this trip I was kindly offered a lift by Maureen (all round good egg,superb mother and taxi driver to her son ), we have a mutual agreement whereby I do household chores and in return she kindly gives me fishing lifts.

Positively bursting with features

I had decided to have three hours fishing and at the same time a little scout about, bringing my purist rod and a lighter tip,opting for a spot of link ledgering to get under the many rafts and feature filled swims, a tub of worms, tub of maggot/caster and a few slices of bread was to be all that was needed. The river on this section was very coloured and yet I could not fathom out as to why, there is only a couple of drainage channels and we had not had any rain as such, however it looked as if there had been a spot of rain to say the least, resulting in a slate grey colour.

I was soon engrossed in studying each swim and decided to start in the one you see pictured above, if that doesn't scream fish then I don't know what does, after a steady trickle of caster and maggot I hooked into a spirited chub that had taken to doing what chevin do best, gorging on free offerings! As it rested in the net the casters and maggots tumbled out.

A greedy golden chevin

I was happy to open my account on a new section of river and more so that gut instinct had paid off. Heading downstream I came across a rather interesting swim, replete with a spare tyre for company.

This looked a likely skulking zone for perch so a change to lob worm was made, after a few tentative plucks it became apparent that there was more than a few residing in this location and I soon had some healthy perch awaiting their parole from the confines of the landing net.

The pick of the bunch was to be a beautifully built and marked fish (1-8) my best perch during this short sortie. I plan to return during winter as I fully suspect this little waterway will throw up many wonderful surprises.

Near the end of September Tom Aldous and myself did a fishing trip together on the the Blackwater hoping for a few chub. Arriving at the river we found it to be running low, gin clear and the better chub were to provide us with a stern challenge. A few small perch were taken along with the odd chublet, but it was not until nearer the end of the trip that either of us would connect into a better stamp of fish, Tom taking his from what I like to call the gateway swim (blog title photograph) and indeed he had a few more chances there too, but they were in a skittish mood.

Meanwhile I was fishing downstream and having primed the swim with a few pinches of bread, rolled my flake through and was kindly rewarded with a very lean and mean chub, with a large head to it.

Slim Jim (2-12)

I have to be realistic regarding this trip, I felt neither of us fished particularly well, we were cumbersome in our approach and when bites can be at a premium that is never the greatest of combinations, however in one of the swims I saw a brilliant looking perch with vivid rouge fins which looked all of 3lb,I could not tempt her despite watching her flank a smaller chub that I had hooked.

With those red fins fresh in my mind, plans were made to go back out and have a try for her. This river contains some absolutely gorgeous perch and I had been unlucky to lose a larger fish a few seasons ago to a hook pull on worm, one of those moments you don't forget but can look back on and have a good smile about as it ended in me being left with said fishes incomplete and rather mouldy Bullhead supper in my hands.

Heading back to the river a few days later with lob worms and a healthy helping of dendrobaena from our family wormery, which incidentally is another area I would like to cover in a video as Maureen has gone into special depth and detail with breeding, feeding and keeping these worms in all weather conditions and she knows a lot more on the subject than this son of hers.

I planned to spend a few hours in one swim with the hopeful intention of finding that beautiful  Perca willing. It was a cloudy afternoon with some light drizzle, perfect conditions. I had decided to bait the swim with some chopped dendrobaena and feed this alongside a light amount of maggot. The first bite was from a small chub, this was quickly unhooked and slipped back upstream, followed by a few juvenile perch and a Gudgeon. Now I don't normally use gudgeon as live bait and I have a lot of trouble in doing so as they are such a lovely little fish, but I did end up lip hooking this particular fish and within half an hour I had a perch that I would have estimated at the 1lb mark, thankfully Mr gonk was unscathed and returned to the water alive and well.

I topped up the swim with a light helping of maggot and some more chopped worm, and as I did so noticed a bow wave pass through the swim, the shape of it suggested it was indeed a perch, possibly harassing minnow and had me questioning if releasing the gudgeon was such a wise idea, even if releasing it after having one perch on it did make me feel a bit more morally comfortable.

Around an hour had passed when I had a most affirming bite, as I set the hook there was to be no doubt that I was connected to a better fish, my cheap and cheerful 8 foot Avanti rod had a welcome bend to it as this fish tried to run under the sunken branches, eventually the sight of a broad built, perch broke the water in mid current and I could see from the striking red fins that this just might be the fish I had seen on my last trip. A few nervous moments later and she was finally sat in the net and not one jot happy about any of it with the commotion she was making. I could see she was a nice size and did think she was possibly a 3lb perch, the scales settled at 2-14 and a new personal best for this waterway.

You can't beat a nice river perch caught from home turf (2-14)

During October the family took a break on the Warwickshire Avon, this is fast becoming an annual event for us and something we enjoy, as it gives mum the chance to recharge her batteries and catch up on some reading time, as well as allowing my father and I to do some evening time river fishing together.

En-route to Stratford we made a stop at Shipston, namely to grab a bite to eat at the fish and chip shop which I might add is simply superb price and portion wise, wish our portions were as good locally and as well priced!

The following morning was a sunny affair and Dad and I decided to take a look around the river, we had been informed by a few of the local anglers that the Avon was not fishing so well on the barbel and carp front, some of whom also kindly suggested and offered different stretches to fish, I'd like to say thank you to those chaps whom kindly offered that opportunity, however we decided that we would give this section a good crack much like last year and see what would or would not happen.

I decided to tie this in with doing a spot of lure fishing and had quite a few small perch and a chub which fell to a Yo-zuri Aile Goby,blue shad
 

We stayed in the snugs/beehives that the caravan park provide for rental, these come with a bunk bed and a sofa that converts to a double bed, as well as a small fridge, there is also a toilet/shower block that is used exclusively by these rentals. I just want to say a big thank you to all the Staff, especially Lynn, who is such a wonderful person, she kindly lent my mother some extra books to read and helped us during our stay no end, you're an absolute star and a very thoughtful kind hearted person.

The following evening my father and I had settled down to fish an old swim that had produced both barbel and carp last year, the river is a little deeper here, but no less clear,our plan being to start late evening on each session and fish till around 1am. We decided on one rod each, myself fishing a multi species approach on the quiver tip and 6lb line, my father would be on boilie wrapped in paste.

The first night went nicely for both of us, no barbel to show but plenty of chub up to 3lb for myself on worm over a light ground bait mix and a couple of better chub for my father.

 Golden enamelling

We packed up that evening happy to have got our eye in and with thoughts regarding the clarity and water level as well as the otter activity which was fairly evident from the off.

The following evening I baited both our swims with a light hemp and crumb ground bait mixture followed by a few broken up boilies over my fathers swim. This particular evening was to be a quiet one with little in the way of any fish movement, indeed the same could be said of the flow and I was finding it very easy to hold bottom on link ledger with just a couple of 2ssg shot.

After a couple of light twitches on the quiver what followed was a bite with more commitment, no less subtle though, upon setting the hook the pace soon quickened and was soon aware that I was into a decent fish, as it kept low and held ground I had an inkling that it perhaps could be my first Warwickshire Avon barbel. By now dad had joined me in the swim and as it broke the surface I couldn't help but state in the most obvious of ways "Barbel and looks a decent one!".

However this fish was not in the mood for fun and games and set off on a powerful run along the margins, tearing its way through the weed beds as it went, it was a good test to say the least and when I did finally attempt to net her some nearby tree roots nearly saw to it that she might slip back out, an elated yelp was to be heard as the prize was finally safe. Leaving her to safely recuperate I made my way up the bank to ready the camera only to trip and fall, dad just seeing a pair of legs flipping up into thin air. "What the hell is happening!?" he shouted, "erm I..I seem to have managed to fall over" I replied sheepishly, "how can you manage that on flat ground?" I didn't really have a reply to this as it was all a bit daft, I suppose the best explanation would be that adrenaline can do some funny things or more to the point I'm about as agile as a feline that has paid a visit to a taxidermist.

Happy as a sand boy (11 lb)

I was deeply overjoyed to have had a barbel from this waterway and a double at that on the light tackle, this fish was in perfect condition, no sign of any otter damage to it whatsoever and in perfect health. I remember saying to my father "if I don't get any more during this vacation I certainly won't be unhappy". Finishing up around 1.30 am we made our way back to the snug and I must admit we both slept pretty well with our confidence and hope buoyed by this capture. 


We had made a decision during this vacation to not fish on the first weekend as it seemed busier with boat traffic and people in general and like anything there has to be some give and take, so we planned to have a family barbecue or two, this also gave my dad time to recuperate from the night fishing as he is not the active angler he once was.

bbq or bonfire? Probably too much pallet wood!

A roaring success

After the weekend and mum having some time to enjoy herself on the boat taxi, dad and I decided to give the same swims another crack, personally I would have liked to have tried a bit further upstream but at the same time I did agree on giving it another go as we had baited it on the couple of times that we had fished it. That evening was to be quiet for myself save for a few small chub and a couple of skimmer bream. Dad however managed a better fish, in the shape of a stocky chub (4.7), missing another bite late on, which we both felt could well have been a bream.

A stocky chevin and a happy dad (4-7)

During this particular night we both noticed two different otters, one smaller, perhaps a youngster and an adult, the adult actually surfaced in my swim just prior to packing up, as much as I love my wildlife I can't help but feel that an imbalance is being created with the reintroduction of these animals, last time we were on the Warwickshire Avon my fathers barbel exhibited enough ragged marks on the tail to suggest that something had taken a fancy to it and I somehow doubt it was another randy barbel! Meanwhile on my home waterways I have witnessed the odd carp with its throat ripped out and the E.A wanted to suggest it was the doings of mink, really guys?  Not wishing to be too coarse here but do you take anglers for ignoramuses who don't know the difference between otter and mink or perhaps you take us for a word that rhymes with stunts?

Mini rant over, but how about we at least have some transparency regarding how fish stocks are being damaged by the reintroduction agenda?

Both my father and I felt that by fishing the same spot and ground baiting we might perhaps be helping to lure the fish to their own deaths so to speak, as it seemed quite clear that on the last couple of evenings the otters whilst nearby didn't seem to be directly working the swims as they had done during this particular evening, so with this in mind we decided to move.

A nice tree line

The following evening was pleasantly calm with the cloud breaking at irregular intervals, certainly nice conditions for October time, I picked up a few skimmer bream on the quiver tip along with the odd larger bream (4.6) and plenty of smaller chub.

During this particular evening dad had a good bite which he failed to connect with, I must admit he seemed pretty down about that and I can empathise with him, it can't be easy feeling how he does health wise and he did say "I have lost the ability to fish. Now I know you wouldn't expect me to post such a statement up on my blog, but this blog is at times warts and all, the reason I find myself sharing it is because it sticks in my mind most poignantly. Memories of the times when I was younger and forgetting to bring my jumper with me whilst we were carp fishing, dad kindly lending me his and being able to show me how to fish, someone that I looked up to (still do), hearing him make such a statement filled me with a painfully deep remorse that only passing of time has the ability to evoke.

During the coming evenings I was wondering where the carp might be hiding, we had heard some activity which sounded like carp moving along the opposite margin, but that was to be a blank for my father, with a few chub and quite a few roach to myself fishing half worm over maggot and included a very plump red fin (1-5).

A plump roach, I wouldn't mind a few of this stamp on float from this waterway

I was glad to be fishing quite an open ended method where species were concerned, as I have to be realistic this reach of river was being a fickle mistress.

I do wonder if fishing during evening time was really the best idea, as it makes me wonder if otter activity being higher from evening onward could in fact make fishing more tricky, surely there has to be a possibility that any such activity would spook any larger fish away from the area you're fishing, I mean what fish in their right mind wants a pair of sharp teeth sunk into them? I actually wish during our stay that we had tried a couple of daytime trips just to ascertain if there might be some correlation.

Dad waiting patiently on a cool bright night.

We had an enjoyable trip in general with a nice mixture of species for myself, Robert wanted to stick to a boilie and paste approach, which was understandable, I just feel that at times when conditions are transitional and having those first few colder nights with low and clear conditions that fishing a less selective method can be very helpful, such as maggot feeder, worm, caster etc.

A brassy chevin (4-2)

A short dumpy chevin 4-5

Nearer the last couple days of the vacation, Robert did connect with a very good fish and judging by the way it powered off we both felt it was a carp, sadly this eventually ended in a  hook pull as he had to put some side strain on the fish to stop it from going towards some snags upstream, I really felt gutted as I had been hoping throughout the vacation that a barbel or carp would put in an appearance for him just like last year, sometimes despite the effort you don't always get the rub of the green and this was one of those occasions, he really deserved a bit more luck with this fish, especially for his diligence and being so willing to get out on some of the cooler evenings despite his health, there's always next time dad.

It hadn't been straight forward but dad and I were happy to have had the fish we did, although this stretch of river on some evenings was most fickle and it reminded me of the Loddon for its moods, due to this you could say that over the last two vacations it has struck quite a chord with Robert and myself, hopefully a return visit will be on the cards in 2017.




Over the last couple of months a friend (Mark) and I had arranged and rearranged a trip together, we finally made a date set in stone and that nothing (hopefully) would get in the way of as we had not wet a line together since last season, so this was long overdue and from our numerous phone calls we were both looking forward to hooking up to spend some fishing time together, Mark had mentioned that he would like to come down and spend the day after barbel if possible as they are a species he doesn't target as much and I suggested that would be great and would try to advise and offer suggestions regarding swim selection and such.


The following morning I received a text text "I'll be there within a couple of minutes"  he was punctual to say the least and within two minutes he had pulled up outside the house, after stopping in for a cup of tea and quick chat we were soon on our way to the river.

It was a delightful day, dew lacing the grass, mist gradually lifting to reveal a day filled with promise and sunny intervals, we both chatted a great deal during the trip, stopping off to rest ourselves regularly. Along the way I pointed out quite a few swims, suggesting a light baiting followed by fishing some of these on the way back. Prior to the trip I had made a mental decision to not fish as much as normal and concentrate on some of the swims with Mark, stopping in a few spots along the way and during the evening in hope that one of the better chevin might take a liking to a spot of cheese paste, but no dice on this occasion.

Come early evening and as I was reeling in I could see that Mark had his headlight on and soon my phone was ringing, "I got one mate!" he said, to say I was overjoyed would be an understatement and I was soon in his swim with the kind of elation that you might compare to an overweight and overexcited Labrador, "oh mate well done, well done indeed, I'll go grab the camera!".

One very happy angler! (9-4)

It was a perfect looking fish not a single scale or fin out of place, a few hearty pats on the back were called for, probably too many by myself, but the amount of joy to see that one had shown itself and Mark had winkled one out was a bit too much for my adrenaline levels, I was relieved as when I have any friend come down my neck of the woods I always want them to have a good trip, however Mark did state that he had enjoyed the day anyway but we both agreed this was the icing on the cake, that evening we made our way back to the car chirping away and insisting that we shouldn't have left it for so long and would have to head out together again but in his locality. On the way home he kindly treated me to kebab and chips, thanks for the cracking company throughout the day mucka, it was brilliant to see you so happy with your capture and we must not leave it so long next time.





About six days later and I was pondering where to fish and what species to fish for, I did want to start doing some perch fishing in earnest and perhaps a spot of chevin chasing, that said my barbel itch was starting to tickle me a bit, so I made a decision to head out late afternoon with the words of a certain woman ringing in my ears "if you go today I can only pick you up if you come home early evening". I must admit I didn't get down to the river till 3pm and was then torn in making my mind up where to fish, admittedly having a plethora of features on a river is an enjoyable spanner to have thrown in the works, that said boy can I dither at times, finally making my mind up over a full hour later.

I was soon ensconced in a perfect little spot, with a nice depth and some deep undercuts, preferring to fish this area upstream due to the amount of debris that was flowing by. A whittled down boilie wrapped in some paste, fished alongside a very frugal helping of birdseed was my choice and at around  6:45 I had a lively scrap on my hands from a golden barbel and one that didn't want to take no for an answer, twice making a dash away from the waiting landing net.

A welcome gold bar (7-9)

This fish was a lovely way to end a short fishing trip and I went home very contented.



Recently I have had quite a few people ask me via youtube and email where my intro has gone on most of my recent videos and that they quite enjoyed it as the opening to each episode, I must admit I quite enjoyed what you could call the theme tune for the channel, but at the time of removing my intro I had not thought that it would be missed and suspected that it got in the way of viewers wishing to into the meat of each vlog. Thanks to those of you  whom got in touch, I may reinstate it in due course but with an updated visual.

I guess that brings everything up to date and this will probably go down as one of my largest all in one posts, not sure I'll be planning to allow it to build up in such a way again before posting, as that was a lot to remember!

The water witch smiles once again

Since spending some time trying to piece together another waterway recently, I decided on Saturday afternoon to head off for a spot of barbel fishing, the conditions were ideal and the recent rainfalls had topped the rivers up nicely, adding a touch of colour and I guess you could also say that I was hoping to see if my eye was still in after my recent successful barbel trips.

It was around 4pm when I got to the area I had in mind, the plan being to lightly bait a few swims and then fish them on the way back downstream, a nice way to pick off any fish and given that it only requires a rucksack, rod,landing net and tub, it's always a nice opportunistic way to travel.

Compared to my recent trip where the river was low, gin clear and enjoyably challenging in the hot and bright conditions, today was to be in stark contrast, with cloudy skies, a topped up river and a nice pace about many of the swims, it looked in prime condition for a fish and as such I was in no rush to wet a line instead taking my time making a mental note of what areas I fancied trying and others to store in memory for later trips, which included a few very welcoming pools.

Heading upstream to the first swim (pictured in title opener above) I found that a swim had been created adjacent to this and actually worn bare, which was very odd, no grass at all and looked like it had been well fished, despite this I still wanted to give the area a cast or two and see if I might get an enquiry on the gravel run, by fishing close to the foliage on the opposite margin.

Settling down in my swim with the welcome padding of the landing mat as a support to my well endowed derrière I was soon ensconced and watching a bolt of blue in the shape of a Kingfisher on the opposite bank, a couple of powerful dives under the surface and it was gone, call it middle age or what you will, but it never fails to warm my heart to see them, I could be having the quietest days fishing on the fish front and yet that admission to natures theatre is worth the asking price alone.

Despite a couple of rattles in this swim which I felt were chub being a bit cagey it was fairly quiet so I decided to try slightly downstream in hope that fishing off the edge of what had evidently become a well fished spot might entice a bite, but this was not to be the case and Forty five minutes later I decided to move again, heading further downstream to chance my arm in a swim that has some low lying trees with multiple tendrils skipping across the surface providing some good cover, a short underarm cast was all that was required.

It was safe to say that I was in a positive mood especially given such conditions and whilst I don't wish to generalise too much, I feel if you can catch in clear, sunny conditions, then cloudy and coloured water conditions should always be a bit more straight forward (sometimes at least!).

By early evening, daylight had faded away as it tends to do at this time of the year and I was drawn to an inviting pool, this whole area being a solid gravel zone and most tempting, I did however find myself a little torn with the swim adjacent to it at the tail end of this shallow pool, so opted to try both areas as they are within a rod length of each other.

At around 8.30 I was sat doing my own impression of a crayfish whilst devouring my way through a packet of ginger biscuits, when I noticed the isotope pluck twice, before the rod nearly did an impression of an exocet missile launch, followed by the pin clattering off. I was soon playing a spirited little rebel, albeit with half a biscuit still in mouth and looking like a gerbil that had been caught in car headlights, the scrap was an enjoyable one from a rebellious youngster (6-12).

Three on the bounce happy days

Whilst not the largest fish, what it lacked in size it made up for in fighting fit condition. Four hours of fishing and a welcome third fish in as many trips, I could get use to this, although I suspect the water witch may well have other plans, however whilst she continues to smile I am not going to complain!

Back in 2007 I started making a few videos and uploading them to Youtube these usually opened with me sat under my umbrella, talking about the weather and what I was fishing for on that particular trip, followed by showing any fish I caught and wildlife, fast forward nearly a decade and I really can't believe it has been that long, I now have nearly one hundred videos on Youtube and thanks to people taking the time to watch them, some of whom post a comment and regularly view them as well as subscribe to my channel, I have just reached a little milestone in surpassing 2500 subscribers and admittedly compared to some channels this might not seem a great deal, but for a chap whom use to have around 25 subscribers it means a great deal. I would like to say a huge thank you to all of you who watch the videos and take time to also read my piscatorial thoughts herein. I sincerely mean that so thank you.

Christening a new rod - Vlog 97

Hornets nest - The broken rod vlog

Stirring up a hornets nest

It was a late and humid evening as I made my way toward the river, sheep calling out in earnest, lambs stood, staring quizzically at the quiet soul whom passed them by, some roughly nudging their mothers undercarriage in search of milk and a sense of security. After a recent trip without reward I felt more focused and with a mindset which I have not had in a while, something had changed, another part of me had awoken as if dormant for so much time, a primeval instinct, an incessant urge to reconnect with the waterway that many years ago had a guiding hand in germinating my love for flowing water.


The river was low, her watery blouse parched, revealing inner charms, snags reaching out to any  angler that might be foolhardy enough to wet a line near them, the evening air was thick with the heady aroma of Balsam merged with that sweet smell you only seem to find by the riverbank, a couple of lusty breaths were savoured, boy did it feel great to be out again! As I settled in my swim owls could already be heard and sure enough a Barn Owl appeared on the opposite bank, swooping low before disappearing over the hedges.

A frugal helping of bird seed was followed by no more than four free offerings, less always being more, patience and observation the real key, as well as knowledge that the water witch can flatter to deceive an angler. As light fades an anglers hope increases, but it is a hope that is tempered with the seasons of fishing and understanding he has accrued, with it the ever changing moody embrace of this waterway.

I sat listening to the night sounds, each one telling a different story, the light crunch along the path behind me told me that a deer was nearby and sure enough this was followed by the startled bark as  it picked up my scent, in the distance a shrill cry could be heard and one that never fails to make the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end, dogs cried out in reply to this lustful vixen as its howls faded away as if carried on the light breeze.

I must have nodded off momentarily, my head jerking forward as I looked toward the isotope "crackle" came the reply, the centre pin was startled into action and suddenly clattering off.
A feeling of surging energy was met by the most nightmarish sound of carbon breaking near the reel seat, I looked down dumbfounded, bewildered and more than a little miffed, "why would you break on me now of all times!" Followed by less than eloquent words which tumbled from my lips "fuck it!" I snarled.
A weld was fashioned from rod and hand, eventually the scrap with the occupant at the other end of rod and line was renewed, each lunge gradually weakening my belief that this fish would see the confines of the landing net, after what felt an age and what will probably result in my premature baldness, the most gloriously conditioned barbel was sat in the net.

I felt emotionally spent and sat staring with a mixture of loathing and disgust at the Wychwood Extremis rod that had decided to give up the ghost on me, not once had it been mistreated in the nine or so years of having owned it, in reality I was more annoyed because I loved playing fish on this particular rod.

Having recovered composure, I set about making ready my camera,light and remote control for a photo or two. Having switched the camera light on a whirring sound could be heard, something akin to an Apache helicopter, the sound increased and was joined by three more, Looking at my camera light I could see a rather angry hornet, repeatedly trying to sting this and the camera flash, I didn't need a second invitation to move as rapidly as possible, lifting the fish back into the net and moving out of the swim, resting her in an area without aerial bombardment from what are wasps on steroids.

Heading back to the swim it was obvious that they were now incensed, grabbing my rod rest I took a swipe at the two on the camera knocking them both off and in doing so provoking the wrath of both as they took it in turns to swoop at me, thankfully both swipes with the rod rest proved fruitful and connected with that meaty sound you might expect to hear when timing a well placed shot with a cricket bat. I doused the light, hurriedly grabbed my gear and beat a hasty retreat. 

A healthy thick set double (11-15)

Thankfully this fish went a very long way to compensating for the faulty rod and the hornet squadron. She was thick set, fighting fit and had a glorious colour and tone to her, I went home a happy angler but not without a few more choice words for the rod, which I scolded like a parent chastising a naughty child.

A Vlog Selection

I must admit I have not been keeping up with my blog entries since the start of the season, this is because I have been focusing on filming more videos, which I really do enjoy making. However due to this, my written side which I dearly love has taken a bit of a hit. So for the time being I thought I would share a few of the current videos from this season with you chaps.

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 game of two halves

Well my first post of 2016 and a rather overdue update at that! I hope everyone had a peaceful non hectic Christmas and has seen in the new year.

A few weekends ago I made piscatorial plans, a mental script of how the day could go, yet knowing full well that it might take a detour by that uncontrollable of factors, that a fish must be willing and despite an anglers water craft, the stark reality that he must still procure some luck, I had decided to spend the morning till late afternoon in search of perch on link ledgered lob worm and a feed of krill maggot, then from evening time change species to chub, bait a few swims with liquidised bread mixed with seed and maggot, changing to the blue krill cheese paste for hook bait.

It was a cloudy morning with an on and off helping of fine rain, the kind that convinces you that it is not making you that wet, but believe me this type of rain lies to an angler and is never to be trusted. My first swim brought me to a smooth bend, pacey but with some nice slack sections, a light feed of maggot was introduced before I rolled a double lob worm through, a few minutes in and the quiver twitched invitingly, a solid fight ensued from a very pretty chub, not my intended morning quarry but a nice looking fish of 3.11.

I considered taking a quick photo as I like to record most of my chub captures, as it helps give me an understanding of fish location and movement. Prior to setting up the camera I was landing my second fish of the trip, a smaller chub and decided it would be just a simple matter of slipping the net under it, that was indeed the case as the larger fish sprinted out as I did so! I must admit I saw the funny side and told myself to stick to the perch plan and move swims with a twenty minute regularity. Numerous good spots were tried and a few inquisitive taps were had as well as the odd trout which were hanging around areas that one would not have expected.



The final hour of daylight found me in a slower area of the river, here the fronds of what were once summer weed beds moved slowly back and forth, unwilling to give up their summer ghosts.
Not wanting to spook this small area I stayed back and fed a little and often trickle of maggots upstream of the swim, my first trundle connected with an adjacent bush instead of water, it was with some chagrin that I reached over and retrieved the link ledger sans one ssg shot, a second cast was attempted, this time the lob worm plopped into place rolling just under the bush and I must say it looked good for a bite. Five minutes later and a couple of tentative, harp like plucks occurred, they certainly had a touch of perch about them.

It was perhaps ten minutes after the kingfisher had flown passed my swim when the quiver tip nudged round with certain conviction, a light strike and nothing, just the feeling of something holding bottom, unwilling to move, at least until it awoken and that was when the clutch started chattering excitedly, I was having to play along with what felt a very good fish, after the initial dashes a proud dorsal and the bloodiest of red fins broke the surface, that was when the salivary glands that had been working fine all day switched off, dry tongue, dry mouth and a healthy helping of tightening throat kicked in as she disappeared back into the shadows to put me to the sword, the cogs of thought churned as did my stomach, was the hook hold a good one? Don't apply to much side strain, let her go a bit, this was fast turning into probably one of my best river perch scraps. After a couple of premature netting attempts she was safe within its confines.

Red finned gem (3.5)

If there were such a thing as perca perfection then she was not far from it with her blood red fins, in fact you may have thought I had taken a colouring pen to them they were so vivid! I was deeply  overjoyed, especially as tracking down the larger perch can at times be quite challenging on this particular waterway. After watching her swim away a sit down and a cold drink were needed, if anything to whet my dry whistle and compose myself.



By now daylight had been replaced by a rather gloomy evening, the wind was calm and it looked perfect for a switch of bait and species, heading to some swims downstream I decided to lightly bait these with some knobs of the blue krill paste and the mixture of liquidised bread, seed and maggot, a few inconspicuous balls placed into each swim, allowing these swims time to settle before fishing them. The first couple of spots produced one very good bite between them and forty minutes later it was becoming all too obvious that this may have been a one off and I had perhaps blown my chances either that or the fish had dropped off further downstream. I decided to move again and made my way to the third spot, a slack with a solid helping of debris and undercut bank. A large piece of cheese paste was soon winding its way toward the debris before settling under the bank.

I suppose it was around half an hour later when the bite occurred, if you can call it a bite, the butt of the rod was nestling against my leg at the time, ready for wary grab and go plucks when the rod  nearly launched off the front rest, savage would be putting it mildly, there was no way I could miss it and I was soon having a real game of soldiers trying to get control as the fish charged along the undercut bank and into the main flow, in doing so I could feel the line clipping the debris, it was a heart in mouth tussle to say the least and there is something special I always feel when you see a good chub break the surface, the broad, blunt looking head,thick set lips and chain mail armour, it was with some relief when I netted her.

6.10

I have been lucky to have had my share of nice chub over the years but this was probably one of my favourites, proportionally it had a lovely length and girth with a nice healthy gold enamelling to it. I did consider staying a little longer to try a few more swims but I was beyond content with the day's fishing, it had been a game of two halves where both species had proved most willing.

Just before Christmas I had arranged to meet up with Tom and take him to a waterway that I have made a couple of trips on in the past, one being earlier this season where I put the wax worms to use.

 

After our cars met bumper to bumper at one of the local car parks and having waited a few minutes for Tom to grab a loaf of Warburtons toastie we were soon on our way, it was evident that we were both looking forward to a days chub worrying and we had a cornucopia of baits with which to tempt them with, as we made our way to the little river I explained how it responded to rainfall rather quickly and at the same time usually dropped pretty fast too, today I expected it to be rather low and clear much like it had been for most of the season.

September panorama of a forgotten waterway

It was a sunny morning but that was to be short lived and eventually replaced by squally showers.
We started in a few earlier swims upstream as I felt it best for us as these areas were as of yet undisturbed, being sure to leave a large gap between Tom and I so that he would have a good area to go at before meeting up with me downstream. Leaving Tom to crack on I headed downstream to chance my arm along some scoured bank replete with tangled tree roots, a few trundles later and I had the first small chevin of the day, picture perfect condition and a feisty little fellow, once safely returned no more bites were forthcoming and it was a case of moving on.

Like all tiny rivers this particular waterway is condensed with features that hold chub, perch, dace and many other species, some of these are great nursery swims for younger year groups of fish however along with these features and the fact that I do consider this waterway a bit of a spate river it also has the uncanny ability to replace an anglers ssg armoury with an empty tub or two along the way, something both Tom and I found throughout this trip.


For want of a deeper analysis I am usually quite a loner, something I am trying to rectify but it has not been without having my fingers burnt in the past. When it comes to my fishing I do generally prefer my own company, I focus better and feel a lot less socially awkward and drained owing to not needing to attempt to read into another persons well meaning or conniving body language during or after this social interaction and I would say this has also helped spur me on in finding places that are often overlooked from a fishing point of view, as I also seek solitude and peace, not only some forgotten fishing venues to wet a line upon. Obviously I am not advocating my social demeanour I'm simply stating how I am, those who don't understand or whom wish to grind their own agendas, cast aspersions openly or behind another's back need not apply.

I hope the above doesn't come across as being impolite or indeed seemingly rude, as I do try to be as forthcoming as I can and at times this has led to other anglers taking me for a bit of a ride due to my lack of ability in reading their intentions.

I guess that I went off at a bit of a tangent there..

Tom and I met up downstream near to a nice section of double bends, an area with plenty of flotsam and coverage. A section where I have had chub in the past and I suggested it would be a good idea to try this area, not that Tom or myself need to be asked twice when it comes to such sumptuous features, after a couple of casts he was soon playing a rather frisky chub that had other ideas as it made several dashes for snags.

A healthy small river chub

Heading on from here we decided to partake in a spot of lunch and fish a swim that you might call a bit of a nursery pool, many bites were had here and numerous chublets were caught, a very healthy sign for the future, Tom also had quite a few enquiring taps and had his first perch from this waterway. Unfortunately by now the little river was rising rapidly and the wind increasing, branches were dropping at random intervals and it was safe to say that it was a bit Russian roulette as to whether a dead branch would perhaps hit one of us, Tom soon found this out in a swim which he had a chub from when a bit of a near miss occurred.

The day had sped by and as daylight changed to a dank grey we found ourselves in the final downstream swims, leaving Tom to explore another set of inviting bends I headed down to another  area of the river, a smooth steady flow with a nice slack at the opposite end, a few minutes later and I had a very confident bite from a healthy, slate grey chevin.

Just as I was about to slip this fish back Tom came to inform me that he had caught a better fish, on reaching his swim I could see a plump chub sulking in the net, a quick guesstimate was made between us as we weighed her, I had said 3.8 to 3.12, the scales settled at 3.7, she was rather hollow  and given her frame could have been a 4lb fish, a most satisfying capture for Tom from a waterway which I am sure has larger fish hiding along its concourse waiting for us to seek out.

A happy Tom

Now some anglers might think to themselves, why fish an unknown venue when either of you could be targeting the likes of Avon, Stour and Loddon to name but a few good rivers for large chub, but the fact is that there are many unknown smaller rivers out there and overlooked brooks which have the capacity to produce some excellent fish, so why not? Granted in such rivers the populace of larger fish may not be as high and you do indeed need to do your groundwork to locate them, but the feeling of appreciation and reward when you do so is incomparable.



Come evening time and as we made our way back to the car we chatted tiredly, happy even if a tad windblown.


If you do enjoy the odd fishing video/diary can I perhaps please ask you to take time to subscribe to both Tom's channel and to my own, as we do enjoy taking the time to make the videos and a subscriber base is always most welcome and very much appreciated by us, clicking the links below will take you to our respective youtube channels, where you can subscribe, comment and enjoy other creative content from us.


Hampshire Angling TV

Fishing For Memories




A couple of days after boxing day I decided to make my way to the Loddon and see if I could perhaps pick up an end of year barbel, taking with me a frugal mixture of birdseed, krill powder and liquidised bread as well as a small amount of slick sense barbel boilie barrels, I can't say it was without some head scratching as a couple of trips before the festive period had given me a sound lesson in humility and despite the mild conditions a couple of barbel blanks.


It was another mild afternoon, not quite as breezy as it had been, the river level was up with a nice tinge of colour to it with the odd weed raft and branch floating by, this factor tempered my choice of swim and I decided to fish an area that had some nice marginal features as well as a slack just off the main flow, a perfect place for food to accumulate and fish to move into to rest away from the main current. A light helping of liquidised bread and seed was placed into the edge of this slack along with no more than five free offerings of the boilie barrels. By around 4pm I had received a few jerky taps which I suspected were chub fiddling with the bait, however that was not to be the case as the clawed and whittled bait told a different story of crayfish claws, after not having a single bite from a crayfish or indeed a barbel on the prior trips I did wonder if a change of swim might be in order, after a good chat with my other friend also oddly called Mark (ok I admit I talk to myself) I decided to change baits to a harder hook bait and stay put.

At about 7pm and after having quite a few jerky knocks and taps the reel went into meltdown and I was soon playing a strong fish that was hell bent on making for some downstream snags, bushes and anything it could seemingly find, numerous little scrapes and thuds could be felt as main line and lead tripped too close to these. After a cracking scrap a long barbel slipped over the net, peering into its folds I could make out a slight mark on one flank, a small round blemish which you could almost call a birthmark, I instantly realised this fish was an old friend and indeed my barbel pb from a year ago. She looked in good condition but down in weight, sure enough she was and weighed 14.7, to put this into perspective I caught her last October at 15.6, so she was down in weight by 15oz's which is quite a lot considering the mild conditions compared to last winter.

I was so very happy to see her again, healthy even if down in weight and I guess you could say that it was a bit like meeting a fond friend for a Christmas get together. After wishing her a safe journey I drained the dregs from my coffee flask, gave the river a smile, murmured thank you and slowly made my way home.

Indecision

It came calling in earnest, yet my mind was focused on chub, still that nagging question nudged its way into my thoughts suggesting that I should be out after barbel, yet try as I might I could not bring myself to fully commit, I found myself fixated, willing to understand this stretch of waterway and just where those elusive grey shadows might be hiding.



So a compromise was made with the inclusion of some hard hook baits should I decide to try for my first barbel from this challenging area, by 2pm I was down on the river and whilst looking at swims I mused over my last four trips targeting the chub, the best of those being my second trip that rewarded me with that nicely conditioned fish over 5lb and along with it some more understanding about this piece of river was garnered. Since then I have had a couple of trips where I have not had a fish larger than 2+  and the river had sent me another curve ball. There are so many likely looking spots for the larger more solitary chub to skulk, so during most trips I have usually covered a few swims and in doing so also rotated and revisited some of them after feeding with a light mixture of liquidised bread and krill.

Over the handful of trips that I have made I get the distinct feeling that the fish like to hold back from some swims and feed more confidently below these, rather than entering the main pressured zones which is understandable, I noticed this in the third swim that I fished it was evident that fish were skirting round swims and not very forthcoming. So a change of plan was made and a little and often feed of maggots introduced along a marginal reed line. If I have noticed one thing over the years when chub fishing is that it is at times important to get them feeding as confidently as possible, that said I can also name numerous times where the fish can be so skittish that anything more intrusive than an opportunistic, single hook bait will signal the death knell. After allowing a good amount of time for the bait to work its way across the reed bed I rolled a single lob worm tipped with maggot across the front of them, the response was almost instant, a hefty bite followed by a head first charge into some unknown snag in mid river, the snag was a firm one and most probably a tree or similar, my only option was to allow some slack and see if the fish would make its way back out,thankfully it did and I soon had a nicely proportioned fish in the net.

Not a large chub (4.7) but after some of the tougher trips I was very happy I can say that, so far each excursion has given me new ideas as well as help to build up a picture of the river, however with so many likely features dotted along this area you could almost expect a large chub to be at home in any one of these, but I also know this will not be the case as it is a fairly low stocked stretch.

By the time daylight had been replaced by a very mild evening I had tried a few other swims with just the odd half hearted pluck and these most likely from a combination of minnow and crayfish, there was one final area that I fancied but should it produce then I was most likely going to have a right game on my hands as it was choked with weed and netting would not be easy even with a long landing net pole.

A change of bait was made to a side hooked barrel along with a frugal amount of free offerings, this swim looked too good not to produce, although I will say it was not the most comfortable to perch myself in, even with my well padded rump the odd bramble made itself well known.


As I sat back and had a welcome cup of coffee I found myself pondering about a topic that regularly crosses my mind and that is how many fish we actually pass by without receiving interest from where a static approach might pay dividends with a larger and more wary chub, it is something that always pops into my head especially when roving. I was stealing a glance at my watch and wondering if it was time to give it the "just 20 minutes more" approach when the rod tip swept round in a manic manner and so the sprint began, fish tearing off downstream along the weed beds and toward the reeds, it had no plan on stopping, thankfully the feeder rod bore the brunt off the initial run and dampened each surge, allowing me time to follow the fish downstream with landing net in tow, only to eventually realise that it would be harder to land the fish from this area. After a couple of rather unorthodox attempts at landing were attempted, it rather unceremoniously rolled into the folds of the net, it was around that time that I realised my ankles were caked in mud and I was standing on what I had thought was solid bank when in reality I was actually in very boggy the margins..

My first barbel from a new bit of river (7.3) and unlike me fighting fit with a proud dorsal. Sometimes indecision pays off in funny ways and managing to come to a compromise where bait was concerned had worked out nicely, even if it did leave me looking like I had been part dipped in a pot of nutella.

Catching up - To be or not to be

During early September I found my head turned yet again by the Blackwater and the barbel that inhabit this river, although I must admit these fish do come with their own set of head scratching conundrums, nomadic as they are and can invariably throw a spanner in the works even when you think you have it figured out. During this particular week we had received some welcome rain and the river was fining down nicely (not been able to say that much during this season!), I planned to keep proceedings as simple as possible, after all it can be easy to disappear into a labyrinth of rig adjustments and confidence questioning, I've been there before and torturing your soul over a tactic that you know works well is not wise, that said at times I still manage to do it!

This season I have found link ledgering to pay dividends, I am able to cover a few swims and this helps build up a mental image of the topography of the river, as well as picking up a few bonus fish of other species along the way. By late afternoon a single rod was lowered into a narrower area of the river, this particular swim is a bit of a bottleneck with a steady, walking pace current, the river was still tinged with colour but had dropped a good 10 inches and it looked good for a bite.


During the afternoon I was kept company by the aerobatics of a kestrel as it hunted the land behind me, a few pictures were attempted and as twitchers law would dictate it was not the easiest to grab a  photo of, in fact if it had kindly perched for a little longer on one of the posts I may have got a better image but instead made do with a few rapidly fired shots.

Anyone who knows me will know that I am just as happy having some tranquillity and being kept company by nature regardless of catching during fishing trips, natures primeval instinct always makes me ponder a few things about us humans and how we sully so much that we come across, be that the environment or other people.

As afternoon merged into evening I started to receive a few heavy knocks in a stop start fashion, not the usual pull and hold crayfish experience, no these were definitely enquiring knocks and nearly had me reaching for the rod in anticipation, however it fell silent for the next thirty minutes, I usually find such moments the calm before the storm and the full blooded bite that followed did not disappoint as the rod tip wrapped round and I found myself trying to slow down a fish that was making its way for the exit of the bottleneck and head toward a mean looking set of sunken branches.

A little side strain applied and after a few heart in mouth moments it was coaxed back upstream, as it slipped into the net a quick glance at the healthy golden flank and strong paddles told me it was in fighting fit condition.

A perfectly conditioned Blackwater Barbel (9.14)

Another perfectly formed gem from this waterway, I was pretty happy to say the least and went home with a spring in my step.

Warwickshire Avon

Earlier in the year via Groupon we had booked a short October break in a lodge known as a snug at the Stratford caravan park (Tiddington), this worked out exceptional value for money, four nights costing around £50 and doubled up perfectly for any sightseeing but would also give myself and Robert the chance to do a bit of fishing on the Warks Avon.

The snug an appropriate name, sleeps four and comes with heater and fridge

 

The whole reason I originally created the fishing for memories blog years ago was to share our fishing trips together, it was never meant to be about self promotion or anything of the kind at all, just myself writing about the trips of father and son. However over the years my father (Robert) has seen his health go downhill and as a result has fished less and less, to the point of eventually stopping, many times over the seasons if I have been fishing old areas of river I would glance and look to a spot where he might have favoured and thought about the times we shared together, during the years that have followed we have always chatted about fishing, he always asks how my trips have gone and I guess in a way living those trips through me, during this time I have missed the comradery and mirth that father and son share during fishing trips, I suppose you could say that I have become ensconced in my own company and almost taken on a lone angler aspect and I would be lying if I said this thought did not cross my mind at regular intervals.

The morning of our arrival Robert was not feeling well so we took it steady and I decided to take a good look at the river and pick us some nice looking swims for the following evenings fishing, the plan being to fish late evening (7pm onward) to minimise any boat traffic and pack up around 1am. On reaching the river it was clear that much like my own waterways in Berkshire they had not seen much rain, the river was low and gin clear, in fact the clarity was that good I could have probably mistaken it for any of my local chalk streams and it was fairly evident from the outset that it was going to be challenging due to the combination of high pressure weather conditions and water clarity being crystal clear.

I must say I fell in love with the river instantly, it's hard to explain how different waterways bring out different emotions in an angler but this one made me feel right at home and I was looking forward to us wetting a line together, however there were more areas of this stretch to look at before finally deciding on swims.
 

Decisions Decisions

After spending the morning and best part of the afternoon looking around I eventually picked us out a couple of  areas which offered us a combination of better depth and some coverage in the shape of dense yet tired looking weed beds, these particular swims had a mixture of sandy bottom giving way to gravel runs, areas interspersed with larger rocks, in fact it reminded me a lot of some areas of the Thames, I must admit some of the areas I had looked at simply cried carp and barbel, not to mention other species.

The following evening after enjoying a family barbecue I set about mixing up a light groundbait mixture, as I had not been able to bring any prepared birdseed with me, it was to be hemp a very light scattering of scolded pellet and liquidised vitalin, mixed with some crumb and krill.

We planned to fish a single rod each for barbel and carp and I also planned to do a spot of fishing on the quiver tip and isotope into darkness. Our first evening didn't go quite as I had planned for us, sods law the primary spot I had chosen was taken by another angler, who then packed up an hour after we had set up further downstream. Chopping and changing between worm and maggot fished over the groundbait mix  I had a few lovely conditioned roach, not massive fish the largest perhaps 10/12 oz but they were spotless and with that lovely silver sheen, this along with a solitary bream (5lb) as well as a chub over 3lb on the quiver, just before packing up at midnight I heard some pattering coming down the path which lead to the river and sure enough an overly confident otter ran past me before diving into the river, nice to witness them but that enjoyment is always tinged with a slight sense of bemusement with regard to the way their reintroduction to our waterways has been handled.

A nicely conditioned chevin and a rather odd look to myself haha

That first evening it was safe to say that neither of us were troubled by any barbel or carp and part of me was dearly hoping dad would catch his first barbel in a long time. Odd how time changes everything, I can remember as a youngster looking at dad and asking him what his thoughts were on spots and where we planned to fish, learning so much from our trips together, watercraft, patience and humility from his angling guidance, that's something you can't put a price on, however it now felt like role reversal and I was hoping that I wouldn't let him down.

The weather for October was simply beautiful, not an anglers ideal conditions, but boy it was very settled, cool nights and very pleasant days. The following evening the first choice area was available and we made a beeline for it. The first hour was quiet apart from having a barge pass by which was being filmed by a film crew on board a separate boat, however as daylight faded so the river came alive with the sound of chub and bream topping. It was a windless night, calm but with a chill in the air, both myself and Robert were hopeful, I had decided to stay on the quiver tip, the only change made was to a larger hook and a side hooked boilie barrel.

Two hours later I received a very delicate tap, the isotope arching round confidently, what followed was a fish that headed off to the far bank margins at breakneck speed before attempting to continue its journey downstream, followed by me repeatedly saying "this feels a better fish"  "I think can bloody see that!" came the reply. It was evident from the power and pace that this might be a carp and it was testing my metal.

After a lengthy scrap Robert slipped the net under a very frisky ghostie (14lb), apart from a small amount of fin damage it was in cracking condition and had certainly given me a challenging tussle.

Before I could even get this fish on to the landing mat Robert's rod was away and he was soon playing an energetic looking fish, as its flank broke the surface between each surging run I could see that it was indeed a barbel, after a lively scrap it finally nestled in the landing net, a broad smile was etched on my face, a mixture of elation for dad and a palpable sense of relief.

Happy days and proof your angling heart never dies (9.1)

We fished on for two more hours, during this time Robert hooked into another one of the carp and to say it put up a good fight would be an understatement, unfortunately just as it looked beaten it made a headlong dash for the marginal weed and the hook pulled, despite this slight anti climax it was evident that the old guy was overjoyed.


On the final morning as we had breakfast he said to me "thank you", a reply from myself was hard to come by, not from being impolite or ungracious but from the multitude of different emotions that were welling up, after all what do you say to the person that invested their time, kindled the fire and opened a doorway into what has become an integral part of my life and dare I say well being, you never need say thank you dad, that you were happy again was more than enough.