Chub fishing on small waterways vlog

Leuciscus Cephalus & The Paste Tinkerer

It was a crisp sunny morning, peering out the kitchen window I could see Blackbirds perched upon frosty roof tiles, these were accompanied by steam being vented with regularity from the neighbours central heating, it was the first proper winters day we have had.

The multitude of different mugs rattled away as I hastily liquidised a loaf of bread before setting about to tinker with my cheese paste mixture, as the rivers were likely to still be coloured I wanted to try to create a slight clouding effect, so whilst mixing a new batch of the blue krill paste I included a liberal helping of powdered milk, the idea being that this would leak off a creamy textured cloud and prove inviting to any inquisitive chub.

A flask of coffee was soon stashed away and I was eventually ready to make my way to the riverbank for a mornings chub searching. It was brilliantly sunny and it did not take long for the rod blank and eyes to start freezing up at regular intervals. Bread flake and lob worm were to be the willing accomplices to cheese paste today and in the first few swims I started with link ledgered bread, it did not take long for minnows to find the bait numerous fibrillated taps soon followed.

The air was fresh and piercing, each breath waking an angler up from the inside out, expelling plumes of warm air, red nostrils begging for the warmth of a jacket collar. Stopping in one swim I was kept company by a couple of wrens, which spent their time moving industriously in and out of the dead vegetation, such loud and lively chatter for a small bird and one which I put on the same level as being a constant companion to the river angler as that of the kingfisher. It was proving tricky and bites were most tentative, even in swims with good coverage and decent helping of structure, sometimes the odd inquiring knock then nothing to follow it, much like a path that shows promise of leading somewhere only to eventually fade away.

By now having tried a good few swims, a pacey area of river beckoned, not the deepest of runs but with a welcome undercut to it, the limbs of an old tree outstretched into the river, its sunken boughs inviting me to run a bait through. A few minutes later and a confident bite was missed, a fault of my own making as digits responded with lethargy and cold clumsiness, they had asked many times for the solace of my jacket pockets but I had resisted lest I miss a bite, ironic that it should backfire.

It was late afternoon when I made my last port of call, as the sun gradually dipped behind the trees you could feel the temperature dropping, a change to touch ledgering  and a switch back to the cheese paste was made, the addition of powdered milk was working better than I expected, providing an added colour and leak off to the mixture a component which I felt it lacked before.



One final cast turned into four more, each one supposedly the last. That final roll of the dice, bail arm open, line paying out as bait and with it hope rolled downstream, there is something wonderfully tactile about feeling a bait move through a swim, as it rolls into place, followed by dislodging it and allowing it to carry on in search of its quarry.

Eventually lowering the rod onto the front rest and popping the lid of the flask for that final cup of coffee I was smiling, sure it had not been a straight forward fishing trip but you seldom learn anything if every trip has a set certainty to it, you can be focused but still enjoy the day for what it is, a chance for escapism and inner peace. Looking over the flask lid I noticed the faintest of plucks, something was playing the harp with the paste, picking up the rod and feeling the line a couple more delicate taps soon followed before the rod tip thudded confidently. Welcome resistance and a sprinting dash for cover, angler fuelled with exuberant adrenaline, a concoction of caffeine and the pulsing sprints of what felt a good Cephalus. Those final moments as broad lips break the surface, thoughts about hook holds tumble from mind and become verbalised, wondering if a final head shake will see the days prize slip from view.

A hard won chub (5-12)

A long brassy flank my reward and a good deed is done, the removal of another anglers hook, a chance to wonder if it had also been their last cast, a final hope and spirited scrap before hook and line parted company, leaving an angler with alluring thoughts of what might have been.

Carry on with your mud pies

Yesterday lunchtime having taken stock of the river levels of the local waterways it was apparent that my angling choices ranged from high but not bad, right to the extremes of coco pops turns the river chocolatey. Me being me of course opted for the latter option, always a good helping of the bloody minded at times and yesterday was not going to break that pattern.

Getting down to the river it was as I expected, over the banks in places but looked like it had finally peaked, a gravy meets rusty tea colour to it, not the most ideal chub hunting conditions and it was evident that visual and smelly baits would be the way to go, thankfully I had brought the krill cheese paste and some bread with me.

It was a beautiful afternoon, sunshine interspersed with showers and a light breeze. The first few swims were a mixture of slacks and flotsam pockets, good skulking zones. Not a touch was to be had on bread, so a change was made to cheese paste. Within a few minutes the rod tip twitched and was followed by a bite with more conviction, I was soon playing what felt a nice fish and one that put the extra flow to very good use, ten seconds later and the hook pulled, I was annoyed with myself as I had perhaps given more side strain than I would have liked but had very little choice given the snags and debris.

A few mumbled curses later and a move of swims was on the cards, moving upstream I found a marginal area where the river over the years has scoured away the bank, having seen chub laying up along here in summertime I thought it would be worth a trot through with the link ledger. It didn't disappoint and I had my first couple of chub of the new year the larger a fish of 2lb not huge but given the conditions I was buoyed and hopeful that one of the better fish might put in a showing. Near to this area is a swim that at times is choked with too much detritus, however given the recent rain a lot of this had been flushed through, leaving a few planks of wood and other junk in its place but with enough room to run a bait under for any unsuspecting chub. A few small lumps of cheese paste were introduced and these were soon joined by the hook bait. Twenty minutes had passed when I received a confident bite and I was given a good scrap by a better stamp of chevin, a fish that made repeated headstrong sprints for the sunken debris.

4.2

I was suitably cheerful with this fish and could have gone home happy, but as you can see from the first photo I decided to fish on into evening in hope of picking up one of the waterways 5 or 6lb fish. Just into evening the rain picked up and changed from light showers to heavy downpours, the swim I was in was a bit of a mud pie to say the least and having somehow conceived to lose one more chub to a hook pull I decided it was time to pack up and head home. Sliding my way out of the swim and back to one of the adjacent paths I somehow managed a combination of tumble, forward roll and head first slide into a ditch that I had not seen, thankfully as I fell I dropped my rod at the top and it was fine, but I was left covered in mud, battered and brambled in the ditch. A check of myself and other belongings found that all was fine and that it had been a good thing that I had not landed on my back. An hour later and an undignified figure that looked akin to a muddy Yeti made its way slowly to the waiting car, mum exclaimed "my god it must have been very muddy today Mark", biting my tongue I nodded silently, there is never a dull moment I can certainly say that.

Play misty for me

I found myself afflicted, but by what? Sure enough during a previous trip targeting chevin this river had rebuffed me in an unceremonious manner and I wanted to respond, accept that challenge and the changeable moods that would come with it.

It was late afternoon with very little breeze and apart from an infrequent trail of autumn leaves the water clarity was very good, so much so that in some swims the gravel runs were most visible, I made a mental note of these areas, taking a few pictures along the way so as to keep in mind the features that would eventually be obscured should we get any heavy rainfall, during this time I had rolled the link ledger through various swims and chopped and changed between a multitude of baits, wax worm, lob worm, maggot, bread and krill cheese paste to name but a few, but barring the odd tap from minnow and crayfish the rod tip was untroubled by the chain mail, clad warriors which I sought. It's always with a great sense of enjoyment, anticipation and dare I say a hint of trepidation when fishing areas of river you have never wet a line on before, that first fish always acting as a catalyst and boosting your confidence.

Come evening time I decided to try a couple more swims, one of which I had avoided during daylight due to it being so shallow, I figured that any of the larger fish would be tight to the snags and overhanging bushes, the small gap between the opposite bank and these features provided enough room to roll some cheese through on the link ledger, by now a dense mist was slowly enveloping me and the gradual patter from its droplets collecting on my rucksack could be heard, a few minutes later and a crayfish that had mistaken my line for a new age guitar string was untangled and dispatched. I sat and contemplated whether to move swims or not, after a slight amount of dithering had taken place a few small pieces of cheese paste were fed along the swim and it was rested before another roll through was made with the same bait.

Despite the low water levels the conditions were not bad, sure there was the usual debris that one associates with this time of the year, but that aside it seemed spot on, however it was eerily quiet on the fish front and in another thirty minutes I would be packing up with a few positive ideas to take with me accompanied with one very thoughtful and dare I say wry smile. In all the years that I have fished this waterway be that either old or new stretches it has never failed to make me sit up and think or bring me down to earth and it wouldn't be the same without it.

As I waited for the isotope to spring to life I thought about how easy it would be to head back to areas of river where an angler might be more sure footed, in the past I have witnessed old friends wishing to do the same, but where is the fun in that? Or least that is what I told myself as I willed one of the better chub to relinquish itself! I was nudged out of my thought process by one of the softest chub bites I have witnessed, not the usual lunging take or even the kind that would tap away before rod tip steadily arches round, no this was clearly mouthing the bait apprehensively, its grey lips at work on the cheese paste like the dexterous hands of a master safe cracker, I slowly slid the butt of the rod across to my knee and waited, hoping that a more committed bite would follow. It certainly didn't disappoint with a more solid thud, setting the hook it felt a reasonable fish as it headed downstream and under the numerous overhangs dotted along this reach, it was a good scrap and a rather tricky one especially with the amount of reed beds that stood between myself and netting my reward, it was quite a relief to slip the net under it.

5.3

A long, blunt headed, stout fish and a welcome first chub from this area of river. It's always nice to get that first fish of a species you are targeting, especially in new surroundings, it buoys your confidence and fills you with more understanding and expectation for that next trip, after all who knows when the river might just bring you back down to earth with a bump.

Stalking chub on the Blackwater (Video 83)

Small river chub fishing

Do you ever pass by a water that others ignore? Overgrown and forgotten, cars rumbling by as it cuts its way underneath old road bridges and alongside weed choked footpaths, from tiny trickles with weed choked pools, to brooks and small rivers that cut through urban sprawls. There is many a tale waiting to be told, each one holding a surprise or two in their depths, just waiting to make your reel clutch sing, they provide excellent opportunity all year round for stalking chub in summer or winter.

I really do enjoy fishing the smaller tributaries, brooks and feeder streams, in many ways they are places time has forgotten, usually ignored by other anglers, disregarded as unworthy of their attention. Keeping proceedings simple and staying mobile is the name of the game, rod equipped with a small cage feeder or link ledger, landing net and a small rucksack is all you need to begin this minimalist and most enjoyable styles of fishing. Hunting out likely features such as weed rafts, bankside cover, deeper pools, undercut banks and structures such as bridges, all perfect places for chub to skulk around.

Bait need be no more complex than a loaf of bread, cheese paste, worms from your garden compost or maggots, fishing each spot with little or no groundbait, lest you spook your quarry.
I do fish a wide variety of baits when targeting chevin, what baits I use can vary a lot and are also dependent on the time of year.

During winter I favour cheese paste, maggots and lob worms and I have two cheese paste recipes that I use. One actually contains no cheese and I call it my "quick mix",this is perfect for when there is no cheese in the house and uses the following ingredients.

Removing all the crust from the bread and adding 1ml of Richworth Cheese and half a level teaspoon of the Richworth Active xtracts blue cheese and garlic, I then knead the ingredients together whilst adding a small amount of water, until I am left with a nice smooth ball of paste.

It is important to make sure that the paste is thick enough to stay on the hook, but also soft enough to allow the hook to penetrate and pull through the paste when striking fish. This recipe can be made in just a few minutes and you can be out fishing more or less straight away.

My other recipe is very similar and replaces the liquid cheese and blue cheese and garlic additives with the following.

Blue cheese, and shortcrust pastry, mixed until you get a completely smooth and well balanced paste. Once again you want a firm paste, but one that you can still pull the hook through when striking into a fish. Remember in cold water conditions the paste will harden more when it enters the water. For such reasons I always make sure the tip of the hook is well exposed and the paste is only moulded around the hook shank. You can of course use any cheese, Camembert and Brie both work very well and provide a good scent trail for the chub to pick up on.

My fishing rig consists of a low resistance Nine Bream Kwik change run ring, a simple but effective run ring, enabling a fast switch of feeder or weight, so that I can change straight back to link ledger too, these have over the years become an integral part of my fishing and allow a very low resistance presentation for wary fish, beneath this I use an Enterprise Tackle protect-a bead both these components are then slid over the swivel which connects the hook link and main line.

The anti tangle tubing helps to push the hook link away from the feeder or link ledger, minimizing tangles. As can also be seen in the picture above, the cage feeder is filled with a mixture of bread which has been chopped down in a food processor, to this mixture I add a tiny amount of krill powder, this leaks off a very strong, fermented shrimp scent trail which the fish absolutely adore, but at the same time does not over feed them.

 

Most of my fishing for chub is done using a roving style, fishing in such a manner you are a lot less constrained into fishing only certain areas due to the amount of tackle you are carrying and as such you will feel the urge to wander somewhat more as you fatigue a lot less, learning a lot more about the water you are targeting in doing so and being able to seek out fish holding areas. Believe me the rewards are there and tools such as Google earth can come in very handy in finding hidden waterways.

Come winter and when sport is perhaps not so forthcoming on larger waterways due to flooding (2012 springs to mind),  smaller streams can be excellent, the fish remain in an amiable mood and quite willing to feed, providing some excellent winter sport, many is the time I have had a mornings roving, on a snow covered small stream or river and been pleasantly rewarded with a fish or two, where had I perhaps targeted the Thames in spate conditions, results would have been quite different.

So the next time you pass by what might look like just a ditch, perhaps narrow enough to jump across, or a weed choked small river, don't treat it with disregard, stop and take a look, because chances are you will be rather pleasantly surprised with what you may find.