Fishing For Memories Video 9th July

The Crayfish Dance

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

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



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


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

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

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



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

Streamer Weed And Balsam Seed Video

Streamer Weed And Balsam Seed

The low light of an evening fishing trip,dull colours with faint rays of sun reflecting on the river,streamer weed slowly swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the flow,I smiled as the rain began to hasten,hitting the umbrella harder,hissing and spitting like an angry wet snake.

The river needed the refreshment for thirst that only droplets of water could provide,the water slowly changing colour from green to a slight tinge of brown,lily pad heads were now slightly submerged,a dragonfly perched itself and teetered on the only dry petal.It was not until the evening had long since been relinquished of its daily duties and the Barn owls began their late night rounds that I had my first fish,a small Chub of around 1Lb,young,vibrant,full of life and slipped back I had shadowy images swimming around in my mind of Barbus Barbus,they are never far from my thoughts,they swim freely inside my head,regularly playing tricks on me,always so alluring,yet they deceive me,taking refuge in the tangled roots that are my mind,along with foggy dreams of past halcyon days spent fishing,pondering the meaning of what it is to be human,what is the excepted example that this world and its populace deem as being worthy to grace it,should I be a person that fits into a round hole or a square? What if I do not fit into any of these pre-determined shapes and patterns that society and ignorance accepts,will I be thought less of a human for not being what is the conceived "norm"?

These thoughts invade the space of the Barbel,pushing them back into the opaque density and shadows that are my life experiences carved by the hand of other people and their preconceived notions,the sound of the rain and the reply of the rod tip as it gives a resounding bite are the only thing that bring me back to the here and now,the occupant the other end of the line tussling for freedom,its spirited fight and exuberant power eventually ending at the welcoming,open arms of the landing net. The Barbel had become reality,perhaps I had pushed this gem out of my minds eye and into reality due to the other thoughts that I had let invade its peaceful feeding ground in my memory.



It was very early morning when another Barbus Barbus got the better of me due to a hook pull and had me in its landing net,the least I hoped was that I was a personal best human catch for this fish and that my fight was as spirited as the scaley torpedo earlier in the night had been.My mind at rest again,reset by natures balancing act,it was early morning when I headed home refreshed,happy to be a bit different and not one bit ashamed to call myself an Aspie.

Opening Day Video

Opening Day Magic

A few weeks prior to the beginning of the river season I had tinkered about with my fishing tackle,to the extent of looking like some crazed squirrel,the hiatus was nearly over,I was so excited just like a child at Christmas Eve.

It was evening as I made my way to the river,to the splash and patter of rain which became increasingly steady,the rivers would certainly welcome this,as it had been such a very dry spring,the rain was turning into more of a monsoon,I reached my swim a little damp in body but not soul,the river looked in fine shape and the insect and wildlife was in abundance.
As I slowly set up,the kingfisher gave me a customary flypast replete with shrill whistle,the hairs stood up on the back of my neck and a tingle ran down my spine,it was something else altogether to be back on the rivers again.



Evening past into darkness and barn owls began their hunting calls,my rod twitched and the swinger rose,I was into my first Chub of the season a slim jim of 3Lb 8oz,a nice way to christen the new season.


I sat back and smiled,it was the smile of a contented soul,surrounded by nature,at peace with my surroundings,I sipped tea,relaxed and listened to the ebb and flow of the river and the sounds of nature as a fox barked into the night.

It was gone 3am as the rain gathered pace when I had my next fish,a lovely well conditioned Bream of 6Lb 8oz in full on spawning mode covered in tubercles,a sign that it would still be a while till the Barbel will have spawned and getting their heads down properly as is usually the case.


By first light the river was the colour of a strong cup of tea and the flow had increased significantly,but the baits were still holding in position save for the extra large chunks of flotsam that were now drifting by at regular intervals,I had seen a Carp pop its head up and roll back down in front of me,a dark looking lady with a large flank and belly, "you must be hungry" I whispered to myself.

A single bleep later was met by the spool of the baitrunner melting into life as if possessed by demons,the fish ran for the far bank cover of pads and streamer weed,firmly lodging itself there and not wishing to come out,applying some steady pressure there was the feeling of some slight movement and sure enough the fish moved free and continued a powerful upstream run,more pressure applied and eventually I had a glorious Common Carp of 18lb 5oz,immaculate and scale perfect,sat in the net.


Well I was more than made up with that and that would be putting it mildly,it was also the perfect way to Christen my new Chris Orme handbuilt rod,which felt beautiful,a perfect balance
between forgiving tip to help soften any sudden lunges,yet still with massive reserves of power and strength,without being a stiff poker,excuse me a moment of indulgence,I have really fallen in love with it.

It was late morning when I had my last fish.a very powerful surging run on the same rod,I was connected with another fast paced bullish fish,that was not in the least bit happy to be hooked and showed it by making its way downstream and bullying me,the rod responded and took every surge of the fish in its stride,eventually nestling in the landing net was a moody,lovely looking mirror of 13Lb 1oz and one of the prettiest mirrors I have ever caught.


It was without a doubt a beautiful start to the river season and with another 9 months of river fishing now available to us,I would like to wish everyone a good time and enjoy it on whatever river you're having a dabble on and more importantly,take pictures and leave only footprints.

An Intimate Return Video