Salty dogs

Saturday drifted by, helped by a trip to the tackle shop and a series of garden jobs; the grass received its first mow for the year and there was another skirmish in the ongoing war against the Beech hedge.  I got my tackle ready at a leisurely pace then all of a sudden it was time to go, I set off for the beach, another first for the year.  It was a slow drive east through countryside still showing winter’s scars although the fresh green is starting to show through again.  Through one of the “quaint” parts of the county, the Ukrainian flags still fly. Yeah that’s helping.  No Palestinian flags though, this is posh Suffolk after all.

The day had been bright but had clouded over late in the afternoon, the wind was from the south west and was forecast to gain strength.  I loaded up then hiked through scrub to find four anglers already pitched up and fishing, an unusual occurrence on this beach though I’m sure it has nothing to do with being featured by a three minute hero on youtube recently.  My hike continued for a little way, about as far north as I could go before the ground gets too snaggy for comfort.  The sloping beach in front of me had plenty of debris but when I’ve fished here before it hasn’t been a problem.  The sea beyond this looked okay, not too bouncy at least.  I quickly set up two rods; on the lighter rod I fished a flapper rig with two small hooks baited with strips of mackerel, with this I was just trying to get a bite though I hoped for something flat.  On the heavy rod I used the regular pulley rig with bigger baits for bigger fish, hopefully I’ll find a Thornback tonight.

By 1850 everything was sorted and I was sitting comfortably in my shelter sipping a brew and staring up at rod tips, outside there was a cool wind building strength and the roll and boom of the waves.  Today was New moon so there’d be a big tide moving a lot of water and climbing high up the beach.  If I stayed late I might need to retreat at some point.  High tide was due just before midnight and my timings had focused around this, I hadn’t considered the rapidly fading light.  This was no problem as I was expecting to fish in darkness I just didn’t realise what should have been obvious, that I’d be needing the head torch and tip lights quite so soon.  The fading light is often a trigger and when I wound in the light rod a few minutes later I found a small Whiting attached. By the time this rod was back out it seemed proper dark and everything was lit up, torches and tips.

At 1920 the heavy rod banged over and I wound in a Dogfish.  I soon got another squid back into the sea and within minutes the tip thumped again, the result another doggie.  While I was dealing with this the light rod started banging and this time I wound in another Whiting.  I hadn’t managed to recast this before the heavy rod was going again but this time I missed it.  When I managed to sit down again a mad half hour had passed, these hectic spells are fun but I was non stop; baiting up, casting, winding in, unhooking then baiting up again.  I always have duplicate hooklengths baited and ready to go to make sure I have baits in the water for the longest possible time but for a while I couldn’t keep up.

By 2005 it had probably been fully dark for a while though my world was a torch beam and I hadn’t noticed the progression, the spell of proper bites had also finished.  For the rest of the evening I had action of some kind on almost every cast but prolonged ‘strike-able’ bites were few.  Indeed as the wind strengthened through the evening the tips were in constant motion and spotting anything at all became difficult.  Around 2045 I’d seen a few rattles on the heavy rod and wound it in to find a bigger Whiting which had taken a chunk of herring.  I decided to switch the lighter rod over to a second pulley rig, fishing bigger baits which I fished it at mixed distances, dropping in close every other cast.  Despite the beach being busy I was barely aware of the other anglers as I was down wind and had my back to them all night, the fishing was relaxing and enjoyable with enough going on to make me feel I could catch at any time.

2105, a little under three hours before high tide, was that a thump on the heavy rod?  Yes it was, persistent pulls yanked the tip over and I wound into a heavy weight which throbbed and pulled as I slowly pumped it back towards the shore.  Surely this must be a Ray?  I’ve thought this before and been tricked by a Doggie with attitude but whatever this was it was pulling back and I wanted to see it.  My pressure and a convenient wave deposited a fish onto the shingle and yes it was my first Thornback of the year.  I guessed it would weigh three and a bit pounds but a quick check on the scales showed it was just over four, that’ll do nicely.

That was the highlight of the night, as time passed so the wind increased and the tips were ever more wobbly.  Inside the shelter all was calm and comfort but outside it was getting wild.  The wind was blowing across me from right to left and controlling the line on the longer casts was a problem.  I often had to wind in a lot of slack before making a decent contact with the lead.  When the tips done something a bit different I would wind in to check though I was never sure what to expect.  I managed to catch another Dogfish on the light rod and a small Pouting on the heavier set up.  By 2300 I figured my chances of another Ray were diminishing just as the wind was still building.  It was still an hour before high tide but I decided I’d had enough, tidied the kit, took down the shelter then commenced getting the rods in quickly.  First the light rod then the heavy rod last on which I found a fourth and final Dogfish.

I was getting wind blasted as I tramped across the shingle but as soon as I cleared the beach the sound of the waves vanished and I was sheltered from the wind.  Tonight it was a relief to shut the car door and block out the elements, then settle into a comfortable seat. My first saltwater trip of the year couldn’t have gone much better, nine fish of four species including a decent Ray, that’ll do me.  Next the return journey through dark country lanes with Primal Scream as company.

 

Happy New Year

When the river season closes I can’t just stop, I have to have one more go for Pike just to get it out of my system, put a full stop on the season and dispose of any unwanted bait.  It had to be a stillwater but I loaded the kit I’ve been using on the river.  I didn’t really know where to look for fish so wanted to keep on the move, a couple of deadbait rods and a few lures would do me.  We’ve crept past the equinox now and the roadsides were clad in white and yellow blossom, the world will be green again before you know it.

I was fishing by 0715 on a cloudy but mild morning which would have felt warmer without the south easterly blowing into my chops.  The first swim looked the part and it’s one place I have caught at this time of year, but not today.  A small fish followed a springdawg but that was my lot.  I also tried a couple of shads and a slider; I wonder why all my lures begin with an S?  After a couple of lazy hours here I moved along the bank into a tight swim between trees, both of which looked good places to drop my baits while I covered the water with lures.  After twenty minutes or so there was a solid thump and I was into a fish on a shad which charged about for a bit before I got it in the net where it tried to charge about some more.  A decent sized Pike was soon unhooked and returned.

After another half hour I moved again into a more open swim which gave me plenty of space to thrash the lure rod around.  And this I did, catching a fish had given me confidence and the water looked lovely and clear.  Of course it was the deadbait rod that trundled off, a take on a freshly cast herring but the bait was dropped as I wound down and there were no further signs here.  One last move, an hour spent listening to birdsong and trying to identify the little brown blobs.  Then I was amused by the antics of a large flock of Starlings which made quite a noise while perched but this ceased the second they took flight, like someone had pressed a switch.  Nothing here on bait or lures and I decided I’d had enough, for the day and for the season. 

Happy New Year
When the rest of the world goes mad on New years eve it means nothing to me; I enjoy the music on BBC2 but that’s as far as it goes.  For many years I went with the flow and pretended otherwise but in all the ways that really matter my new year begins sometime in mid March when I stop Pike fishing.  After that I’ll be doing something different so let the New year begin. So now is the appropriate time to look back at the previous four quarters in review, so to speak.
Starting off on the beaches; fishing for Rays wasn’t consistent this year but I caught a few, the best weighing 5-08 and 5-14.  The Bass fishing was good throughout with loads caught, plenty of keepers and five that were 44cms/2+.  I had eight different species including a PB Flounder early on in the year and a couple of Turbot but didn’t see a sign of a Smoothound.
Apart from one day on an old pit all of my course fishing was done on rivers.  In East Anglia I caught nine different species including a Chub of 4-07 which is the biggest I’ve caught ‘on purpose’.  Also Perch to 1-14, my first two Brown Trout – best 2-02 and my first Gudgeon and Minnows for more years than I can remember.
Not too long ago I’d only ever caught one 4+ Chub which was by accident on a lure.  This season alone I had seven which must make it my best ever?  Most of these came from my favourite river out west. Here I also caught more Barbel than in any previous twelve months including my best from the river at 8-11.
Almost half of almost every season is spent trying to catch Pike and this has been a strange few months for many reasons.  I didn’t get it quite right in Norfolk, I still managed to do okay but there’s a feeling it could have been better.  Having a ‘new’ water to go at was refreshing and really enjoyable and having a couple of old haunts to fall back on meant I caught Pike steadily all season.  So I’ve had plenty of better seasons and many that weren’t as productive but any ‘year’ I catch at least one twenty pounder has to be a good one.

Next time I fish it will be in salt water; firstly hoping to catch Rays then as the weeks pass it will be Bass and then the elusive Smoothound.  Usually this will involve a bit of a hike across unpredictable terrain to reach an inhospitable location where I usually sit on my arse, hypnotised by the rhythm of the rod tips and being deafened by booming waves and rolling shingle.  I always arrive home knackered, often in the early hours and always stinking like a deadbait bag.  What’s not to like?

Rivers run

I’d always planned to have a go for Chub this winter but have been thoroughly enjoying the Pike fishing so never got around to it but with time running out I was suddenly inspired.  After a rummage in the shed I put together some bits and pieces, a few slices of bread and some worms from the compost, loaded up and head for the river.  By 0945 I was settled into a swim I’d caught plenty of autumn fish from, this was the upstream end of a row of nice far bank overhangs.  The plan was to gradually move downstream searching the likely looking chubby holes as I went.  I fished a small feeder on a running rig then a two foot hooklength with a size 10 hook.  I had a little oily groundbait which I mixed with some brown crumb just to put some smell in the water, hookbait was mostly flake but I occasionally tried a worm.  The day was cooler than of late with a north westerly wind blowing clouds in front of the sun.

Three swims and three hours later I hadn’t had a bite and I’d covered less water than I hoped.  I was tempted to head for home but there were a couple more fishable swims and one of them I liked the look of.  When I returned with my gear I had a look at next downstream spot and for some reason this felt right so I quietly settled here instead and from the first cast there were signs of fish about.  This started off as plucks and twitches on the tip followed by good fast bangs that a proper Chub angler would probably have hooked but I was about a week late.  Then a proper pull round Barbel style three foot twitch that I also failed to connect with, when I wound in the hook had gone.  I couldn’t remember the breaking strain of any of the hooklengths I’d tied but they looked too fine so I tied up another with eight pounds mono.  Soon the flake was back in the spot but of course that had killed the swim.

I passed another hour dropping the feeder into different parts of the swim hoping my luck would change…  Meanwhile a bit of light rain was blowing in now and again and it was beginning to feel chilly, I was starting to think I’d had enough for the day.  Then a twitchy movement on the tip had me striking thin air but boosted my confidence.  I looked at my watch and realised I’d have to be on the road soon so frisbeed the last of the bread down river then added on last lump of flake to the hook, this would definitely be my last cast.  Would you believe it for once it happened, I had a good firm bite, set the hook and steered a writhing Chub away from the snags and into the net.  It was only a couple of pounds or so but punched above its weight and I was pleased to see it.  Then I packed up and went home.

 

Either side of this I made a couple of trips to Norfolk where its always inconsistent at this time of year.  There have been three or four occasions where things have gone spectacularly in March but more often than not I find myself chasing ghosts as was the case on my most recent visits.  Conditions were pretty good and it was pleasant weather to be sat in a boat, I worked hard, moved regularly and covered loads of water but just managed a single jack on each visit.  Even after all these years there’s still stuff to learn and every season I catch Pike from somewhere I’ve never fished before.  I’m not done yet!

Plan B

I was supposed to go to Norfolk today but the weather was all wrong and honestly, its hard enough at the best of times.  So no early start, I rolled out of bed around 0700 and pottered about a bit before loading up and scraping ice from the screen.  Destination today was the river and when I got my first glimpse I was surprised to see it well up and pushing through.  I’d got out of the habit of checking the levels but surely we hadn’t had that much rain lately?  Well I suppose that extra water must have come from somewhere.  No matter, at least it would narrow the options a bit, I’d mostly be fishing slacks today.

I was fishing by 0830, two deadbaits, sardine and bluey as usual, in a swim which gave me loads of options within a sensible distance of the chair.  Apart from being cold the morning was misty without a breath of wind.  The late change of plans had me disorganised, I didn’t notice one of the rods I’d picked up was set up with a leger rig and as I was travelling light I had no spare floats nor bobbins.  I had to improvise with a weight attached to a battered poly ball hanging on the line.  In reality I didn’t need to do this because sitting close to the rod, watching the tip and the line I would comfortably see any movement.  For some reason I felt obliged, blame the internet experts with their buzzers back and front along with three ounce leads.  To be fair a bit more lead might have been handy today as there was enough flow to shift the float rig and a one ounce bomb but I was mostly interested in the slacks so no drama.

I felt lazy today but this was kind of justified by the conditions and I had plenty of scope to move the rods and cover water.  After an hour I dropped half a bluey in close just downstream and ten minutes later the tip banged and the bobbin jumped, followed belatedly by a bleep from the alarm.  I wound down, felt the weight and…  Bugger!  Nothing there once again, this keeps happening on this river!  I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself as the other rod cast to the far slack was moving and this time I did set the hooks.  A nice sized fish plodded around and tried to hang in the flow but it couldn’t hold out for long and I soon had it in the net.  A nice low double, probably a fish I’ve caught already this year?  I’ll check later.

I stayed put for a while longer, the mist cleared and the sun came out, for some reason it didn’t feel right for Pike fishing now.  Time for a change of scenery, a short move downstream to a spot that allowed me to squeeze a bait into a small bay, this was just off the main river and surrounded by reeds.  I’d never been tempted before but today it looked right and within seconds the float jabbed… And then did nothing??  A minute or so later it did it again and I couldn’t resist checking it, winding in to find nothing but my bait which had been battered before I cast it.  I fished here for twenty minutes or so and the jabs on the float kept occurring.  I tried shallowing up the float and fishing the bait just off bottom and this too received the quick pulls followed by nothing.  In the end I gave up and moved on to the next bend, what was causing the float to pull like that remains a mystery but I wonder if the bastards had claws?

After forty five minutes in the new swim I’d decided on a move and was actually about to wind the leger rod in when the bobbin started dancing.  Happy days, pick up the rod wind down and there was nothing there FFS!  I recast and sat back on the chair to ponder.  This happens a hell of a lot on this river and almost always on a bluey.  They can’t all be trout and I haven’t forgotten how to set hooks so what is going on?  The penny dropped eventually, just a couple of months too late.  On similar sized rivers closer to home, I’d expect to encounter plenty of Jacks but here almost everything I’ve caught has been over six pounds and plenty big enough to handle half a bluey.  On my home rivers I used to fish smaller baits; sprats, smelt and herring mostly and that’s probably what I should be doing here.  The trouble is bluey gets me twice as many takes as all the other baits put together.

Time passed, the weather actually felt warm for the first time this year and it was nice just being there.  But despite moving twice more I hadn’t found any more Pike and was running out of spots that inspired any confidence.  Not strictly true, there are a couple of places where I would have fancied my chances but that would have meant a long walk, past the car and then some.  The time was 1430 and I’d had enough so the walk stopped at the car and went no further.

"Here's to Swimming..."

Fishing the special place in winter means a 0430 start then a trying hour long drive (if I’m lucky) on inconsistent roads, another half hour at the slipway followed by a run on the outboard.  If conditions are favourable I’m in with a chance of a fish or two but I’ll have to work hard to find them, they rarely hang around anywhere for long.  Next winter will be totally different again. 

A recent trip was a case in point; I started off at a spot that is as consistent as anywhere at this time of year, meaning maybe 1 in 3?  There was nothing doing here so I kept searching, conditions were good and I expected Pike to be active but if this was the case then I was nowhere near them.  At my sixth spot around 1350 at last a float slid away and a boated a mint fish of eight or nine pounds on sardine.  When you find one there’s often another so I stayed in the vicinity for a while but nothing doing.  I finished on the other side of the broad at dusk by which time I’d fished nine swims and hadn’t found any more fish. 

I cut and run, got off the water before it was fully dark.  Another half hour at the slip then a longer drive back home where I spent a while sorting the gear out.  I was out of the shower by 2030, slumped into my chair, totally knackered.  A long day that seems to get harder every winter but while I’m still enjoying it I’ll keep going, keep searching for the unknown monster whose actual existence is mostly irrelevant.  But every time that float moves it becomes real for a short time at least.

The other boat also is in a wild space but is much more prolific and predictable waters, it’s a rare day when we don’t bring a fish or two onboard.  Getting there and getting afloat is a much quicker, more simple affair.  It’s comfortable and convenient.  A couple of weeks ago I went out in it with Mr P for company, an annual trip where I try to show him there’s more to life than carp.  Usually my guest catches most of the fish but today they favoured me, I had three to Mr P’s one and we both had takes which were dropped before we made contact.  All of these were lovely dark fish between eight and twelve pounds and came to a variety of deadbaits float legered, it was a really enjoyable day with good company and loads of laughter.  This fishing has a hell of a lot going for it but it doesn’t fire the imagination and so I still prefer the masochism.

Quint by Robert Lautner

It’s no exaggeration for me to say that watching “Jaws” at an impressionable age shaped the course of my life.  Spielberg’s film and to a lesser extent Peter Benchley’s novel sowed the seed that led me to become a lifelong angler, earning a living from the trade; I know many of my fishing friends are fans too.  When I saw this book I thought “It’ll probably be crap but I have to read it”.  Sometimes its good to be wrong, if you are a ‘Jaws’ fan then I confidently predict you will enjoy reading this.
Robert Lautner has created the history of Quint’s life, consistent with the book but without doubt this is the character as portrayed brilliantly by Robert Shaw in the film, the narrative is in his voice and we can see that look in his eye.  This is the story of how the character that takes Brodie and Hooper out fishing came to be; we learn the stories behind the scars and we hear him speak of the doomed USS Indianapolis. The war story he tells intertwines with Quint’s current circumstances, another dangerous journey which sees him look death in the eye as it swims past him.
This is a really good book, the author has obviously done his research otherwise he could never have pulled it off, the Indianapolis was no fiction and this is respected.  The writing is very good, the scenes are vivid and feel real, in my mind I could see it all clearly.  Best of all this really feels like the manic Ahab Quint that came alive on screen, the story is told in his voice and it really is his voice. “Here’s to swimming with bow legged women!”

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.