Half a bluey in it's gob

Mid week fishing is all very well but the bloody traffic!!  Especially when the A road is barely moving, again.  As expected my diversions had bottlenecks too and it was 0945 before I had a cast.  The river was up 18” or so today and pushing through a bit but still not what you would call flood conditions.  The paths were flooded however; deep, slippery mud in places but I managed to stay on two feet, just about.  My chosen swim is virtually a ‘U bend’ with slacks on both banks so I dropped a smelly deadbait into each. As usual simple inline float legers with the tips in the air to keep the braid out of the water.

I’ve come to expect an early take here and I wasn’t disappointed when the near side sardine started to move.  However I was disappointed when I wound down to find the bait had been dropped.  Another half hour passed, I’d been moving the baits about without finding anything and was contemplating a move downstream but my wandering attention was alerted by a micron, the bluey was moving but once again the bait was dropped before I made contact.  Highly frustrating.

Rain swept in so I took refuge under the brolly, muttered and ground my teeth…  A good thing about this kind of swim is I can reasonably move rods around, up and down stream and still have them only a couple of yards of my chair, a bit like fishing a point on a stillwater I suppose?  But by 1130 I felt like I was running out of options and was eyeing a move downstream once more.  Something splashed in the far slack, I don’t know what but it was sizable so across went the bluey again and five minutes later the bait was taken once more.  This time I managed to set the hook and the rod stayed bent.  Whatever it was felt heavy banging away out there and I wondered for a moment if I had something a bit bigger than the norm but it shrank at the net, still a Pike of twelve pounds or so.

I gave the swim another half hour then finally did have a move downstream, an hour fishing another bend with baits on the near side brought nothing and with rain closing in behind me, a rising river in front of me and a day in Norfolk to follow I decide to cut and run.

A day in the ‘other boat’ beckoned, my old pal Mr W joined me for the day which began a little uncomfortably on a damp drizzly morning.  This was soon forgotten as we found fish in the first spot.  I was away first with a fish of eight pounds or so on smelt followed by another slightly smaller one on lamprey.  A few minutes later it was Mr W’s turn with a low double putting a smile on his face. 

As expected it went quiet so we went wandering.  Fishing the other river has made me even more impatient so we moved every forty five minutes or so and there were few areas within reach we didn’t try at some point.  Mr W managed another small fish and later had a creature giving him a run around but it turned out to be a low double foul hooked in the tail.  The afternoons have been quiet here this season and this was the case again but at least the drizzle had stopped.  We kept on moving, trying a couple of areas I haven’t fished in years and here we did find some fish, in the form of a dropped take each.  By the time the sun was dropping we too were sagging so decided to get away home before the roads went mental.

Either side of that I had two trips out on the special place which epitomises the fishing there at this time of year.  I’d waited for conditions to be in my favour and mild, cloudy with a breeze does nicely, I knew well where I wanted to fish. For once it went like clockwork and I managed to drop onto a fish early on then caught a couple more through the day which is a result at any time.  Then on the next trip I had almost identical conditions and was confident of a repeat but despite doing the same things in the same places I didn’t see a float move.  I should have known better but that’s Norfolk and I’ll be drawn back again before long.

With the rest of the household off doing stuff of their own I didn’t see any point in staying home alone so quickly got some bits and pieces together for an afternoon on the river.  I was on the bank by 1330, walking a stretch of river I hadn’t looked at since the summer.  At that time I remembered it not been particularly inspiring from a Pikey point of view but there were a couple of pools worth searching so I walked a way downstream and set up on a nice looking bend.  The plan was simple, a couple of deadbaits dropped into likely looking spots for twenty minutes or so before moving onto another spot.

By 1530 I’d covered quite a bit of water, dropping baits into slacks, beside overhangs and sometimes bang in the middle but I hadn’t found any Pike.  My next spot was a place I’d caught plenty of silver fish back in the summer, with a small bush opposite me and a more substantial tree below me.  It was beneath this that I dropped half a bluey and after twenty minutes this was moving into mid river.  I set the hooks into something small and straight away I was aware the fight was ‘different’ and up popped another one of those spotty things.  It was a bit bigger than the one I’d caught in the summer, a new PB at 2-02 which somehow managed to get half a bluey into its gob.

I fished one more swim close to the car and enjoyed the sunset without anything else making off with a bait.  No Pike in the net this afternoon but searching out another stretch of water was time well spent.

Mostly River diaries...

On a dull, overcast morning without a breath of wind I took Mr RO out in the other boat hoping for a day of good chat with a few fish thrown in.  After breaking through some thin ice we arrived at the intended spot and commenced fishing, simple methods – float legers and deadbaits, a couple of rods each.  We planned to move regularly, every forty minutes or so and eventually we should track down some fish.  We started in an area from where I’d had a few fish on a previous visit but without success so then took a long motor downstream, from here we planned to gradually work our way back to base. 

This furthest spot produced just one take to Mr RO but this came off after a couple of seconds.  At the next spot I had a fast take on smelt and a lively fish writhed in the clear water.  This one made it into the boat, a beautifully coloured mint fish just into double figures.  The next couple of short moves were fishless so we decided to motor a bit further for our next stop.  Here things picked up, within a couple of minutes my smelt cast along the reedline was off and I soon had a small fish in the boat.  Next it was Mr RO’s turn and after another tug of war another mint double was in the boat, things were looking up.

After that we made a couple of short moves within the same general area and found a few more fish, at least Mr RO did boating a couple of jacks.  I had another take, on smelt again but this one came off before I had much idea of what I was attached to.  Things went quiet for a while so we had a last move up towards base, a spot that doesn’t seem to attract many anglers which is fine by me.  Here Mr RO was away within a minute or two and this turned out to be another low double and the best fish of the day.  We fished on until we couldn’t see the floats by which time a day of basically sitting on my backside doing nothing had left me thoroughly knackered.

The following morning I found myself wide awake at 0700 so thought ‘fuck it, I might as well go fishing’.  It took a while to get myself ready and fight through the traffic, on the way I couldn’t decide which stretch to head for.  I ended up stopping at the first car park, the area I’d had a few fish in recent weeks which had not been my intention when I set out.  It was 0845 before I dropped a bait in, as usual I fished a couple of float legers and aimed to keep on the move.  The river had a good flow and was looking nice, within minutes I had a ticking baitrunner but unfortunately this was caused by a bloody Swan that had sneaked up unnoticed.  We had a fight and then a cuddle before I managed to untangle the stupid bloody creature which disappeared rapidly upstream to sulk.

Whether all that commotion had spooked the fish or not I had an hour without any action. I recast the bluey upstream and this float was soon bobbing around.  Pick the rod up, wind down and…  Fuck it, I managed to miss it somehow?  This take on a repositioned bait spurred me and I began a slow progression up river, what we used to call leap frogging.  The day was nice and mild, the light south westerly as breaking up the clouds, allowing the odd glimpse of blue sky.  It was a pleasant day to be out but for some reason my brain wasn’t working properly, I was fishing but really just going through the motions, not putting any thought into what I was doing.  I had a night at the football later so by 1315 it was time to head home and get the dinner on the go.  On my walk back I bumped into a couple of cheeky geezers who tried pumping me for info “Where’s the best spots geez? Has it been fishing well?”  I tried to be polite and succeeded in being non committal then upped my pace and escaped.

I returned to the river a couple of days later at dawn in near identical conditions and had a near identical result.  This time I went further upriver and after parking I walked upstream, beyond more familiar water and set up at a ‘new’ spot.  Here there are a couple of nice overhanging trees and a bit of depth so it looked pretty good to me.  And the Pike agreed, within a few minutes a bluey was heading rapidly upstream towards trailing branches.  I hit it quicky and felt the bang, bang we associate with small fish, then it came off.  Bugger, I hate losing any fish, whatever the size.

After that I followed a plan, kept on my toes and moved regularly, every forty five minutes or so.  The first two swims were spots I’d never fished before but the next two were ones I’d caught from previously.  I didn’t get a touch in any of them.  I passed another Piker who was also struggling or else he was playing it clever…  The next swim was another new one which looked really nice, there may be nothing at home today but it looked worth a punt on another, keep on movin’.  By now I was towards the far downstream end of the stretch with familiar water in front of me.  After a few minutes in the latest swim the bluey was travelling once more, just reward for all the wandering?  It might have been but I managed to strike thin air.  I had one more move, and fished till the floats were blobs but my luck didn’t change.

So that’s two blanks on the trot on the river but on both occasions I’d found Pike and really should have put one in the net.  Come to think of it I dropped a fish on my last trip in the boat too so that’s four consecutive takes I’ve managed to bugger up, what’s going on??  I’m using the same double hook traces that I’ve always stuck in deadbaits since the late eighties, I know this works.  I hit fish quickly and maybe I was a bit blasé with striking?  But it’s probably nothing more than half a bluey being a bit big on waters that hold Pike of all sizes.  Must try not to overthink!

The thing about a couple of blanking is it doesn’t dishearten me much, instead it pisses me off and makes me want to go out and set things straight so a couple of days later that’s what I tried to do.  I didn’t head out pre dawn or anything just rolled out of bed at my usual time and was on the road around 0745, straight into traffic hell.  I’d seen the A road queuing so diverted onto one of the back roads but of course everyone had the same idea…  I considered just turning round and going home but pushed on and eventually found my way through the worst.  The next problem materialised when I got near to my chosen stretch, lots of farm machinery that looked very active and not at all quiet.  For a second time I was considering heading home but had a flash of inspiration and instead pointed the car to another area further upstream that I hadn’t yet fished.  I had no expectations but at the very least I’d be learning a little more about the river.

So finally at 0955 I had a bluey upstream and a smelt down river.  This stretch was narrow and I had a row of proper Chub bushes opposite me.  These swims always scream pike at me, the Chub will hopefully come some time in the future.  But in the present the downstream float was moving and I was soon attached to a Pike which thankfully stayed on the hooks for a change.  I unhooked this small fish and slipped it back, the smelt was still in one piece so I swung this back out, sat down and rummaged in my bag for the flask.  A few minutes later it happened again, the downstream float was jabbing and sliding towards the bushes so the strike had to be quick.  This Pike also stayed on the hooks and I soon had it in the net, a bit bigger than the first.

So two Pike in the first twenty minutes but that was as good as it got.  After an hour it was time to get moving so I slowly worked my way downstream and checked out a few more swims with interesting features but none looked as good as the one I’d started in.  By the time I called time in the early afternoon I’d covered a fair bit of water, learnt a little more but hadn’t found any Pike.

Another day and things went a little more to plan, there were no traffic holdups and the novelty of a beautiful dawn sky through the passenger side window.  Down the narrow lanes, Deer skipped across the field to the right, I was soon parking the car and locking the gate behind me.  I loaded up and hiked way upstream and settled into a spot between overhanging trees, fishing just before 0800.  Today was different weather wise, the gloom and stillness had lifted, a southerly breeze was stirring things and there were gaps of blue between the clouds.  The river was still carrying a bit of winter tinge but the pace appears to be slowing a little.

I spent a couple of hours searching this upstream end, moving every forty five minutes or so fishing mostly spots that were new to me.  The only action was a big swirl just upstream of my bait followed seconds later by the float stabbing and my heart racing.  It was heading towards a snag so I wound down quickly to absolutely nothing then a bloody Cormorant surfaced in front of me, a lucky escape I think.  With nothing showing this far up river I took a good walk back downstream and after half an hour on a sweeping bend with rods poking through gaps in the tall reeds, I settled into a swim that had produced a couple of fish last month.  I dropped a smelt in close upstream and a bluey under armed across to settle in a slack.  By now the blue sky was a memory, clouds were gathering and the forecast was for rain by lunch time.  It only took ten minutes before the bluey started heading upstream and I soon had a jack in the net.  The bluey was returned to the spot and minutes later was bobbing away again, I wound into it, felt the headshakes and the fish was off.  It didn’t have any weight to it, don’t overthink it.

The rain came early but was light and not much of a discomfort.  I gave it another hour here before the feet were itching, a short walk to a reed lined bend.  I switched the smelt for a sardine but stuck with the well chewed bluey and within minutes I had another take on it.  This fish was a bit bigger and tried to fight but ended up swimming in ever decreasing circles and into the net.  This bait was good to go again and it had hardly settled before it started bobbing again, I wound down once more but there was nothing doing and soon after a recast the same thing happened on the sardine.  I’ve had a few dropped takes here this season, sometimes a sign of pressure but I haven’t seen many other Pikers.

After a quiet half hour I had another move to the downstream end of a tunnel of Norfolk reeds, the sardine went upstream and the bluey down.  It took a bit longer this time, about fifteen minutes and it was the sardine on the move.  This was a better fish which pulled a bit of line off the clutch before it went in the net.  I weighed it to find it wasn’t quite my best from the river so far and I thought I’d try for a photo of me actually holding a fish, it didn’t go well.  By now it was early afternoon and the rain was becoming more annoying, I decided I’d had enough.  While I was tidying the first rod the float on the other started misbehaving it was definitely a fish but once again the bait was dropped before I felt any weight.  Should I stay a bit longer?  No, the weather was only going to get worse, I’d had enough.

It’s been probably twenty years since I’ve done any of this small river Pike fishing and I’d forgotten how much fun it can be.  I only take what I can comfortably carry and roaming around is easy, even with two rods.  I’ve been using my old 42” triangular net because it is easier to carry but I’ve come to realise the boat net I’ve become used to is much better for the actual job it’s intended for.  There are loads of pikey looking features on the river, shelter for a fish wandering up and down river, I think some days they’ll hold a fish or two but not always.  The trick is to find the more consistent areas and after a bit of legwork I think maybe this is starting to come together.  But time marches on and for the rest of this season there will be a bit less of that and a bit more other stuff.

A Cold Morning

I was awake before the alarm and loaded the car in the dark.  A cold morning, the grass was frosty and the windscreen needed a scrape before I left; proper Pike fishing weather according to some.  But to be fair I’ve always found rivers do fish well in the cold, or maybe they are less adversely affected?  Either way this was convenient because that was where I was heading, I’m enjoying mooching around on this unfamiliar venue.

I crunched across the meadow then quietly got into position in the spot I’d fished the previous week.  The sun was now up, not that you’d know it on this gloomy, windless morning.  The river looked cock on, a decent pace to carry the scents downstream and the ‘greenish tinge’ that gets river anglers quivering.  I was fishing by 0755 with two float legers, a smelt upstream and a bluey downstream both tied on as usual!  Only fifteen minutes had passed when the downstream float appeared to be misbehaving.  Normally when a pike takes a float fished bait there is no doubt, we just know, not on this occasion however.  Still I did the right thing and checked it and was pleasantly surprised when the rod took on a decent curve.  There was a bit of weight but the fish was sluggish in the cold water and was soon in the net where the hooks conveniently fell out.  The scales came out and this was my best Pike from the river so far.

The bluey was a bit chewed but still on the hooks so out it went again and I settled back into my chair with the first brew of the day.  And here was where I mostly stayed for the next couple of hours, I moved the baits around the swim but didn’t move any fish.  By 1015 I had itchy feet so tidied up and wandered upstream, eventually settling in a ‘new’ area with Norfolk reeds upstream and a nice looking overhang down river.  The same two baits were dropped in and the waiting game restarted.

There was no quick take this time, over an hour passed and I was considering another move when the upstream float jabbed.  This was another finicky take but more obvious so I wasn’t surprised to feel another fish.  This one also felt decent and made some attempts to run up and down the river making the clutch tick a little.  Another nice fish popped up in front of me and I scooped it up in the net quick smart.  This one looked like the twin of the first but was actually nearly a pound heavier and like so many from this river I was able to twist the double hook out with my fingers.

The late morning saw a break in the gloom although it could never be described as bright, I did glimpse a patch of blue sky on a couple of occasions.  Another hour ticked round without any more action, I considered having another move but looking around I saw lots of bodies on the footpath which was enough to make this unsociable bastard pack up and head for home.

To block or not to block

By the mid point of the festival of greed being indoors had become stifling, the waterside was calling.  I was awake before daylight, which isn’t saying much as for the last several days we’ve had the ceaseless overcast, greyness that we always seem to get at this time of year.  I loaded the car by torchlight but by the time I arrived at the river it was light enough to do without.  I set up at the interesting spot I’d scouted last time with two float legered deadbaits, one upstream and one down.  The first cuppa of the day hadn’t even finished brewing when a bluey cast downstream near an overhanging tree was on the move.  I soon had a nice lean fish of six pounds or so in the net, with one hook just nicked into the scissors I was able to unhook it with my fingers and slip it back.  I’d liked the look of this area and my confidence had been justified, this was the perfect start.

I always tie my deadbaits on with bait elastic, always.  I do this because I want the only baits in my swim to have my hooks in them, this is especially so in hard waters where takes are few but also in more prolific places.  I’m lucky to know a couple of waters where it’s possible to catch half a dozen Pike in a short space of time which could lead to there being several discarded baits in the swim thus reducing the chances of my baits being picked up.  I’ve never felt that the tied on baits reduce my chances of hooking a Pike, I can’t think of any occasions when this has been an issue.

Forty five minutes passed before the same float was bobbing again, this time I’d used a smelt and something was moving downstream with it.  I wound down quickly but the expected bend in the rod didn’t happen and I found something had made off with my tied on smelt.  How did that happen?  Three quarters of an hour later it was the upstream float along the reeds that started bobbing before heading steadily towards the reeds.  I wound down, felt the weight then swept the rod back and somehow struck thin air, what’s more my tied on mackerel was gone.  I recast with half a bluey, tied on again!  I don’t think these Pike have clocks but another forty five minutes had passed and the upstream float was jabbing once more.  I picked up the rod, wound down then wound some more and eventually retrieved another bare trace.  Once was baffling enough but three times in a morning?

Next bait out of the bag was a Mackerel so this was tied on and under-armed across the river.  Only ten minutes had passed when I noticed a big lump of weed drifting down the river, it looked like it would miss the downstream rod but I had to wind in the other.  While I was retrieving something grabbed the mackerel and thankfully I managed to keep it on the hooks this time and lifted out a small fish of a couple of pounds or so.  Was this the bait robber?  It didn’t look noticeably fat…  This time I rebaited with my last chunk of bluey and it was only ten minutes before this was picked up.  I set the hooks and found myself attached to something with a bit of strength which powered upstream before quickly turning and running the other way.  This caught me unawares and the line was slack for a moment before I made contact again, thankfully the hooks stayed in!  This was clearly my best from the river so far so I left it in the net for a minute while I got the scales and mat ready.  I was able to unhook this one with my fingers but as I turned to get the scales the fish flipped itself off the mat and slid away back into the river.  I guessed it around eleven pounds but I’ll never know and would have liked a photo.

After that, things went quiet as you’d expect.  I was content to sit it out in the one swim but really should have made the effort to move.  There are other likely looking spots close by but none quite look the part as much as this one and didn’t inspire me to get on my heels, in future I’ll know better.  My last trip of the year ended in the early afternoon by which time the dark clouds still hadn’t shifted and I needed side lights on the way home.

The Grinch speaks

As the Pike season got into full swing my Facebook feed was full of inexperienced Pikers showing their recent successes to the internet world. I say inexperienced but I’m making an assumption because no Piker with a few years under his belt would do this!  Anyone with a bit of experience knows this is a quick way to ruin your own fishing so would go out of their way to avoid exposure, unless they’re trying to sell something of course…
But there is the trouble!  The angling trade was quick to use social media to boost sales and over the last twenty years the way fishing tackle is sold has changed completely.  All the major companies have their “Team members” flooding social media with their catch reports and words of wisdom. NB “Team member” usually means someone unpaid trying to boost their own persona by association with a brand.  Following this we see the ordinary angler trying to imitate the names and we see the same kind of report again and again and… until social media becomes saturated with the same old shit!!  This media has made the traditional angler’s trophy shot become a total fucking cliché and nine out of ten are bloody carp. Nowadays the sight of these mutant ratfish being held for the camera just leaves me cold, however big the fish is.  I find myself seeking the ‘block’ button more and more.

Lately there’s a new Pike fishing brand trying to convince me that their bait flavourings are the dogs danglies using all the marketing tricks of the carp trade.  The implication made by clever wording is these flavours will boost our catch rates but there is no attempt to demonstrate this in any measurable way. I’ve not yet hit the block button but only because at the moment they amuse me but I doubt it will be long.

When I say social media I mean Facebook as for several years it’s been the only one I use, life is too short and there’s not enough time in the day to keep up with all that other shit.  Even with just the single ‘media’ almost every day I find myself blocking several sites that try to sell me carp bait, tackle or fisheries.  I know there are still proper Carp anglers around who try to do their own thing amongst all the commercial madness but Carp angling today bears no resemblance to the sport many of us became interested in a lifetime ago.  Nowadays it’s all manufactured, it’s all fake.  Commercial fisheries full of genetically fiddled eating machines that already have names, to me there is no merit in catching these creatures.  If it lives inside a fence and was bought from a farm it’s just livestock.  Worse still, the explosion of exclusive fisheries with waterside lodges that can be booked for a holiday of sorts.  Someone with a lake and a bit of land can close their eyes and see pound signs, you could argue ‘why shouldn’t they?’ But how many anglers are now denied access to waters they previously fished unless they pay big money for a weekend?  Well I’m one for sure but does that mean I’m a hypocrite when I pay the Wye & Usk foundation?  I get annoyed with the seemingly endless lakes for hire Ads but I probably see these because I’ve already blocked most of the major tackle firms.

It’s not just carp though there are also loads of ‘groups’ where anglers with massive fingers exhibit suspect looking fish.  These pages are often started by people whose enthusiasm far out strips their experience and it shows.  Many of these sites are riddled with bad practice and poor advice but if anyone tries to offer constructive criticism let vitriol commence.  I became bored of arguing with strangers on the internet years ago, click on ‘block this page’. 

This has come to a head recently on Youtube with 3 minute heroes making videos showing bad Piking practice then not taking kindly to any criticism, constructive or otherwise.  The star then uses his or her ‘influence’ to belittle those who really do know better.  I’m told there are Youtubers putting out good advice and proper practice but the ‘stars’ I’ve seen on my infrequent visits are mostly frauds, I‘ve said it already, a truly experienced Piker wouldn’t be using that media anyway.

And another thing, anyone who pops up on the screen and has the word ‘angler’ as part of their name gets blocked too, (I think you’re spelling that wrong mate).  It’s like the ‘angler’ bit is tagged on because the person in question thinks it will add a bit of credibility and imply a degree of ‘fame’ but if they were in any way renowned they wouldn’t need it.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too harsh on the social media wannabees because if I’m honest, if my angling obsession had begun forty years later, I’m sure I’d have been doing all of the above and more and thinking about it at the time I was trying to do the nineteen nineties equivalent.  But it was a different time and angling ‘media’ was mostly far more honest back then.  I’m not certain that angling as it is sold to beginners today would appeal to me at all?  I’d probably be living in a wooden cabin with a secret cellar, stashing food and hiding weapons.  Happy new year, assuming we get that far 😊

The Dark Month

November ended with my first trip in the ‘other boat’ of the season on a mild but gloomy day.  Mr W was my guest for the trip, the first day out together we’d managed for a couple of years.  We float fished static deadbaits and moved regularly throughout the day, at our first stop I had three fish all on the same rod in ninety minutes with the biggest just about double figures.  Thankfully the fish were more spread out in our next swim and we managed a fish apiece then it was the turn of Mr W who had the only Pike from the next spot, by this time noon had come and gone.  I was confident we’d keep picking off fish throughout the afternoon but the next couple of moves were uneventful and we packed up in fading light without adding to the score.  It was a nice day in a lovely spot with good company but nowadays not something I want to do too regularly.  This place has become too familiar in recent years, it doesn’t fire me up the way it once did.

Not going to plan...

Early December saw storms with names and heavy rain and consequently the rivers rose for the first time this season.  Where would the fish go in these conditions on the river?  On my visits I’d noticed a couple of spots that might fit the bill and I’d only find out if I gave it a go.  So once again I braved the morning rush hour on roads that are little more than dual queues heading in each direction.  When I pulled up in the car park I had a surprise, the river had certainly flooded and the water had come up much further than I’d anticipated.  I loaded up and waded down the long path towards the river and to cut a long story short, I couldn’t get near to the spots I’d earmarked to fish.  Nowhere I could reach inspired any confidence so I retraced my splashing steps, put the gear back in the car and went home.

Me and Rich had planned a trip to the fens months ago, we wanted to revisit some old haunts that we’d fished regularly through the nineties but these were places we’d barely laid eyes on for a quarter of a century.  Once the Pike season started we’d kept the idea bubbling and narrowed the location down but a couple of pencilled in dates had been scrapped due to extreme weather.  Finally in mid December we head west for our nostalgia trip with high hopes on a mild, gloomy day; we hoped to become reacquainted with the pike on the big Fenland river.

Our destination was the very first stretch we ever fished in Fenland with two consistent swims half a mile apart, we aimed to spend time in both.  But our plans went up in smoke as soon as we arrived with a big unfriendly sign telling us the stretch was now private, no day tickets available…  Still there were other places we knew where we’d have a chance but the first of these was no good because the reed beds had encroached so much we couldn’t get near the river.  It was surreal to see thick beds of Norfolk reed stretching out and filling the shallow margins right up to the top of the shelf.  With piss easy commercial fisheries stuffed with mutant ratfish the ‘go to’ venues for most these days the rivers are neglected, there is no incentive to keep the rivers fishable, from the bank at least.

We turned around and drove back upstream a way and finally found a bit of river we could fish, a short stretch of reinforced bank nestled between more reed beds.  We soon had a live and dead bait out each then settled back for a brew and a chat.  Everything looked good, the river had a bit of colour but wasn’t pushing through and there were plenty of silver fish topping at first light.  It was a nice morning in pleasant surroundings but was lacking the important ingredient - Pike so in late morning we decided to have a move and packed up.  I had a bit of a surprise back at the car, I almost never take live bait with me these days but it was a bit unnerving to see my motor sandwiched between two Environment agency vehicles.

An hour later we were fishing again at a different venue, somewhere I’d had fish in more recent times which is reed fringed and intimate but has swims here and there.  Once again it all looked good but our baits weren’t interesting any fish and a move upstream didn’t help either.  Here we’d obviously found the popular swim as the litter was disgusting, I filled a bag full of other peoples’ crap but still had to leave a bit behind.  With the light fading we decided to hit the road earlier than planned and on the way home we reflected on the day.  The Fenlands are a bleak looking place in winter, dark and depressing until you get to the waterside.  The rivers and drains are another world and beautiful in their own quirky way.  But to get to these waters you have to travel on the fenland roads which are shocking; suspended above the fields these make for nervous travelling, they look slippery but are often corrugated.  This doesn’t stop people from driving right up your backside until they recklessly overtake, I was glad to get out of there.

Over the last decade I’ve revisited several places that were regular venues in the eighties and nineties; reservoirs, pits, rivers or drains and every case it’s been a disappointment, even if I’ve caught a few fish.  Time passes, places change and the spark of intrigue that once captured me isn’t where I left it. 

Another river

Another day and a leisurely start saw me make my first casts on the river around 1030, half a bluey legered upstream and a float legered smelt was fished in various places on the downstream side of the swim.  The weather was dull, mild and dry but there was a westerly gale which had convinced me to carry the oval so I ended up settling into the swim I’d caught from last time.  I sat here beneath a shelter content to wait it out a while.  After forty five minutes the ‘billy’ sounded, the arm had dropped fractionally so I picked up the rod and opened the bale arm, a little line trickled out so I wound down but there was nothing there.  I inspected the bait which may have been picked up but nothing definite and soon had it back in position.  Half an hour later the alarm sounded again, the arm dropping back then pulling back up as a fish moved upstream.  I set the hooks quickly and had a tug of war with a spirited fish but once I had it in front of me it rolled over and into the net.  Six or seven pounds of lovely spotted river Pike was most welcome after recent excursions.

I sat in the swim for a couple more hours as I’m getting better at this patience game but with the wind easing I packed away the oval then made a move downstream and spent an hour fishing an area I’d not yet tried, but without success today.  With the light starting to fade I decided to cut and run to get home before the roads went mad.  It may be well worth staying into darkness some time soon but I’ll save that for a weekend.

Another spare day with just enough time for a mornings fishing but where do I go?  I was tempted to head for the Drain where I’d have a good chance of catching a few fish but here I would learn nothing new.  The River interests me, it runs through quiet, pleasant meadows and I haven’t much idea what I’m likely to catch, there’s loads to learn here.  With that in mind I planned to cover water today and fish some different spots, that said I started in a swim where I’d lost a fish last month, just downstream from a sweeping bend.  I was fishing by 0825, both rods with inline float leger rigs, I dropped a smelt in close just upstream and half a bluey in mid river downstream, both areas screened by tall Norfolk reeds.  I didn’t have long to wait, after fifteen minutes the upstream float bobbed then started to head in towards the reedbed.  I pulled into it quickly and pulled it away from the reeds and into open water.  This was a small Pike and I soon picked it out of the flooded margin, unhooked it and slipped it back.  Another smelt was dropped into position then I sat back again.

The day started off cold with frost on shaded ground and steaming breath, it turned out a mixture of cloud and occasional periods of rare December sunshine, a moderate south westerly kept the clouds moving.  The river was running quite clear with good pace, causing the floats to sway in the current.  Using an inline float and a high rod tip I could keep most of the line out of the water and so avoid the worst of any floating debris.  I could hear the hum of traffic from afar but mostly I listened to the sound of birdsong.  After a couple of hours it was high time for a move, just a short way downstream I set up again at the end of a tunnel of reeds.  This spot looked the part but nothing showed so after an hour I was on the go again.  This time I yomped a couple of hundred yards and came out at an area I hadn’t yet made a cast in.  The recent floods had flattened a lot of bankside vegetation and so allowed access.  Here the river looked cracking with good depth and loads of features, I spent a couple of hours working my way further downstream catching nothing but learning loads.

By early afternoon I was back on the road with just the one fish under my belt but a load more knowledge gained which would not have been the case had I taken the easy option and gone to the Drain.

Unfamiliar

I was up and about fairly early, out in the half light and had to scrape the windscreen for the first time this year. Then Monday morning A road hell, not one but two major hold ups saw me arrive at the river an hour later than planned, the morning mist had almost burned away and a bright day was in prospect.  The stretch was still unfamiliar so I took a slow hike upstream and ended up in an interesting area with reeds and features.  This’ll do.  I was fishing by 0825 with a float rig slowly dragging a herring down river, just touching bottom and holding from time to time.  The other was half a bluey on a float leger, swung upstream and in close.

I can’t sit still nowadays and after a few minutes I picked up the lure rod and clipped on a shad, as much as anything I used this to count down and check depths, any fish would be a bonus. Or not as in this case.  After an hour I wound in and went for a wander upstream a bit further, once again counting down the lure finding a bit of depth variation and spying a nice reedy bay as I did so.  A move was in order and I was soon settled in again.  The morning was pleasant and quiet with the loudest sound the cawing of crows and there were loads of birds about, most too quick and too brown for my eyes but I saw Kingfishers regularly, a Red Kite drifted over and several times a Sandpiper.  But as the time ticked away I’d seen no sign of a Pike and any confidence was dwindling.

By 1100 I was tidying up and planning my next move, one rod was already wound in when a too loud blast from the micron spun me around, something had picked up the bluey and was moving upstream.  I wound down quickly, felt a tap and then nothing, I’d messed it up.  Bugger! With this I decided to stay a while longer so got the rods back out and settled down for another hour without anything else happening.  By midday it had clouded over a bit and I’d moved downstream a way.  I started off spending twenty minutes or so casting the shad around and identified a couple of promising areas then settled into a tight swim where I was hidden behind reeds.  An hour passed quickly and I was weighing up another move when I noticed a float jab, the herring almost under the rod tip was on the go.  This time I connected with the fish which ran around in front of me and felt decent but then the bloody hooks came out!

I had another move but in my heart I knew I’d blown it, for today at least, but there’d been enough going on for me to look forward to a rematch and next time I won’t be going in blind.

I’d had a plan for the weekend but the anti-social weather we had coming in meant that was a non-starter, rain and strong wind ain’t really what you want for mobile fishing in the flatlands so if I was going to fish then sitting behind buzzers beneath a pegged down oval brolly seemed far more sensible.  The only question was where.  In the end I decided to head back to the new stretch again, it’s not how I’d usually fish this kind of venue but today I felt I could make it work and besides, there was nowhere else I really felt like fishing.

I walked a fair way upstream before stopping at one of the spots I’d fished last time.  I swung a legered bluey upstream and round the corner the dropped a float legered herring downstream before quietly setting up camp a few yards back from the water.  Now it was just sit and wait fishing, something alien to me these days, years of boat fishing makes it frustrating for me to sit still but I wonder if I’m sometimes too quick to move these days?  Even within the confines of this static fishing I still kept the float rod on the move, dropping the bait into different areas around the swim.  Meanwhile the leger rod was just left in place as I’d had a take from that spot last time…  The weather actually wasn’t that bad, yes the wind was gusting but the rain seemed to be mostly staying away.  This enforced hand brake on my movements may have done me a favour as the clock ticked round to 1050 before anything happened.  I’d recently recast the herring, under arming it about 1/3 across on the edge of the flow.  After a few minutes the float wobbled a bit then slid under and travelled upstream.  I set the hook and a spirited fish charged around under the rod tip but didn’t manage to take any line from the clutch and I soon had a nice fish of around six pounds on the mat.

I swung another herring out then sat back once more, content for a while longer. I’d sat in the same spot for three hours before a fish found my bait, I’d almost forgotten this was possible.  Meanwhile the day was growing gloomier, the wind was gusting ominously but the threatened deluge was little more than the occasional spray of drizzle.  Not good weather for bird watching but I did see an Egret fly languidly by.  But I couldn’t sit still forever and after another hour had passed without Pikey interference I tidied up, stowed the oval and lugged it all downstream a way, a few minutes later everything was reassembled in a tight swim just below a bend.  The area looks the part and I sat back with a boost of confidence but two hours here passed in a blink, it may have looked good but nobody had told the Pike.  I wondered what to do next but without anything to motivate me further I decided I’d had enough and got away home. 

Damn wet in the valley

The trouble with this big river fishing is its bloody addictive and at a time of year I’d usually have Pike and only Pike on my mind, I managed to convince the Princess she wanted to spend a few days out west once more.  It’s too late in the year for camping so we booked a cosy chalet and set off.  As usual we planned to spend time exploring the area and enjoying long pub lunches then I’d head off to the river for a bit of fishing.  We had an easy drive apart from the rain which battered us for the last hour but things had brightened up by the time we reached the valley and we settled into the digs and chilled out.  After going out for a pint and a steak (it was still raining but this didn’t really register…) we returned and I sorted my kit out for the following day, everything was set.

The following morning I looked out of the kitchen window and had a shock, the brook had burst its banks and what is normally the campsite now looked like a brown lake.  I checked the levels, three metres up and rising, the river had come up over a metre since the previous evening.  Still I set off undaunted, Barbel like these conditions don’t they?  I’d be sure to find somewhere to fish even if I had to do things a little different.  A flooded road meant a slightly longer journey but I was squelching through a soggy field by 0930, then I came to the river which was a foreboding sight.  The water was at the very top of the banks, a good ten feet above the level when I’d last visited this stretch, swims I’d previously fished were completely underwater.  The river was a torrent carrying all kinds of debris including what looked like whole trees, this was way beyond my angling experience.  I only felt able to fish fairly close in as the main river was scary and after a good look around found myself a spot to fish, a large eddy between two semi submerged trees. 

I foolishly started off with feeder rigs but the swirling current kept shifting these and after losing a couple in snags I switched to moulding groundbait around the lead.  Not that this made much difference as what is normally bankside vegetation had become tough snags and things were becoming farcical.  I moved upstream to a spot I’d fished before and here I was able to fish without too much trouble but I had to admit I was out of my depth in every sense.  I’m sure it’s possible to catch in these conditions but that would require far better knowledge of the river than I’ve been able to build up thus far.  I told myself I was gaining experience and when I returned to the water I’d be better equipped to give it a good go.  I packed up in the early afternoon by which time the river was over the bank and filling the field behind me.  A half day had been the plan all along as we were off to meet my nephew and his girlfriend for dinner in the evening and a great time was had by all!

The next couple of days were frustrating on the fishy front as the river continued to rise, peaking at 4.85 metres above the normal level.  The fields beside the main road were under water so I didn’t bother to try and find the river thinking I’d have time before we had to leave.  Just when things were going in the right direction the river rose again, then surely Sunday’s storm would wipe out all my chances?  Maybe not, by the evening the river was dropping again and it looked like I’d get one more chance.

The following morning I returned to the same stretch again, the water had dropped six feet or so and was a lot more friendly looking but was still a formidable beast. I walked past my previous starting swim to find there was a third bush which had been completely submerged before, no wonder I was snagging!  I started around 1100 in the swim where I’d ended up the previous trip.  I fished either groundbait squeezed on the lead or PVA bags of pellets and hemp, hookbaits were mostly pepperami or boilies wrapped in paste.  The day was dull and mild with barely a breath of wind and I found the river much more manageable with considerably less water in it.  I started with confidence and felt I was fishing effectively but despite sitting it out here until the early afternoon no fish proved my assessment right.

What do I do?  Should I move or should I pile a load of bait in and hope to tempt some fish into the swim?  Usually I’d go with the latter option but I’ve gradually realised that this rarely works.  If there were fish about surely I’d see a sign?  I wound in and went for a wander and liked the look of the next fishable spot upstream which had shady bushes either side and I was soon settled in again. 

Here things improved, no snags and after forty five minutes or so I had a fast chub rattle which had me half out of the chair and boosted the confidence but nothing further developed, at least by now the sun had come out.  After two hours in this spot I realised that if I was going to move again today it would have to be soon and after convincing myself for a second time that it was the right thing to do off I wandered downstream.

The trouble was nowhere I could get to the river looked anything like as promising as the two spots I’d already fished so I ended up opting for the snaggy eddy I’d fished on the first day.  Out went the rods again and I sat back with little confidence but happy to enjoy the pleasant weather, the sounds of the birds singing and the river rippling.  Throughout the day I saw many birds that were too quick or too small to identify but I recognised Kingfishers, Great Tits, Long tailed tits, Bullfinches, Buzzards and maybe a Kite?  I’d only been fishing for fifteen minutes or so when bugger me the tip banged over and I actually hooked a fish!  Thankfully it didn’t want to fight and I soon had a nice Chub in the net and I was well happy as it’s a long way to come to blank!  Twenty minutes later the other rod banged and I was into a second fish which had a bit of weight but this one didn’t want to fight either.  Another good Chub went in the net and this one required the scales.  I’d barely got settled again before a third proper bite produced another Chub, the smallest of the three but still very welcome!

By now the light was fading, Tawney Owls were waking up amongst the trees and I chucked in the last of my groundbait hoping the dusk period might produce more fish and hopefully a Barbel?  Unfortunately despite fishing into darkness the opposite happened, there were no more banging rod tips but I was privileged to watch a Barn Owl fly across the river to within a few yards of me where it swerved nonchalantly and followed the near bank upstream.

So that was that, I’d headed west with high hopes but all my plans were thrown up in the air when I was confronted with a river that was way beyond my fishy experience.  I’d made the mistake of just assuming the river would be within its banks and I’d be able to find some fish and have learned the hard way that you can’t take these proper rivers for granted.