Not getting it quite right?

After a really good spring on the beaches it’s been harder of late and for the last few weeks I’ve been scratching around to get a fish or two.  Either side of the trip out west, August has been hard work, when I’ve had time to fish the conditions and tide times have often been against me, yes we can always find a way to blame the things we can’t control.  Probably the biggest problem is not getting my hands on fresh wriggling worms often enough and I really should make more of an effort.  This long dry summer has sucked the green out of the countryside and with just a trickle going through the rivers there are only a couple of stretches with enough flow to interest me and there’s only so many times I can fish them and remain interested.  My local River Gipping is in a right state, literally miles are choked with duckweed and on one of the courses there wasn’t enough water to go over the weir last week.  But still I can't resist heading towards the waterside...

Isaac hadn’t been fishing for a while so it was high time we put that right.  A late tide with an off shore breeze should make everything perfect for a Ray at the shallow beach?  Famous last words, when we got to the car park it was obvious the wind would be right in our faces and the sea would be lumpy.  On my own I would probably have been daft enough to sit it out but instead we changed plans and headed to a spot on the estuary that looks the part but I’d never fished before.  We had plenty of squid which accounts for most species but no ragworm which wasn’t ideal as Bass would be our main target.  I did have some frozen black lug so I whipped a couple of these onto our 1/0 hooks and we swung them out.  The other rod was the regular squid on a pulley and it was this that had the first bite after about twenty minutes, I wound in a nice plump perfect Bass of about a pound or so.  Where there’s one…

We spent a nice evening, sheltered from the gusting wind, chatting away with the usual daft stuff.  And we got bites on the black lug.  Fast raps on the tip that stopped before we had a chance to strike, but we tried!  Isaac hooked a fish and it looked like a nice Bass was on its way but the line went slack.  We fished the tide most of the way up and into darkness and were on the verge of packing up when Isaac had a banging bite, it was a mystery as to how it didn’t hook up?  But that’s fishing and that was the lot for the night.  

My next trip was two weeks later, once again the tide was right for fishing the shallow beach but I knew the wind would be fresh and from the north east.  This would make things a bit iffy, would the cliffs give me enough shelter and more importantly, keep the sea from getting too lumpy?  In short the answer was no, but it was a pleasant evening on a quiet, beautiful beach.  Catching a ray never looked likely on this occasion but I did get fast rattles throughout the flood and a couple of small Bass hung themselves on whole squid.  I got a few bites on frozen Lug again but couldn’t hook whatever was responsible.  I fished into darkness but this didn’t switch the fish on and all things considered I’d done well to catch a couple of fish.  But to be honest, if I had half a brain I’d have turned around and headed elsewhere.

I had a few hours free after work so bunged some chips in the oven and while this cooked I filled a flask and got some bits and pieces together; rod, bankstick, net and handle, bag, chair, bait.  That’ll do.  By 1800 I was walking the river bank carefully and I found Chub exactly where I expected them to be, a slightly deeper pool between two thick bushes.  Last time I was here the fish had been really spooky so I set up away from the swim then crept into position.  I wanted to keep disturbance to a minimum so no feeder tonight, instead I clipped on a ½ oz lead, baited up with a couple of grains of corn and plopped the rig out.  The Chub were still there, milling around so I threw a few grains of corn upstream and watched them eagerly as they drifted down towards the fish… which were no longer there!

I had no plan B tonight so I would just have to sit tight, keep my head down and hope the Chub came back.  And this they did, at least four good sized fish would appear in the swim from downstream, circle a time or two then disappear downstream again.  These fish didn’t appear agitated but they didn’t seem comfortable either and they certainly showed no interest in my grains of corn.  After an hour or so, with the coast clear on the fishy front I wound in and replaced the corn for a hair rigged pellet.  By the time I was ready there were a couple of Chub milling about again and they seemed more confident, maybe because there was no line in the swim?  After a few minutes I couldn’t stand waiting any more and flicked the rig out close in and did so without alerting the Chub.  The fish circled a couple more times then vanished downstream again.  I saw this as an opportunity to get the bait          a bit further into the stream but in my haste I managed to snag a branch that had been hindering me all night.  I was well and truly stuck so had no option but to pull and managed to snap the branch with a loud crack.  A load of debris splashed into the river making a mighty racket and I was pretty sure my chances of a fish were all over for the evening.

I sat patiently soaking the pellet for about forty five minutes by which time the light was fading.  I hadn’t seen any sigh of the Chub and nothing had shown an interest in the pellet so I decided to change tactics completely.  I switched back to a couple of grains on a size 10, cast this three quarters the way across the pool then chucked a big handful of corn just upstream.  With no Chub around to spook this surely couldn’t hurt and maybe the smell would draw fish upstream?  I didn’t expect anything to happen but in the fading light I saw a flash then a couple of dark shapes moving, the Chub were back.  Whether the bait had drawn them or the lower light levels had given them confidence I’ll never know but as the minutes ticked by without any action, I wished I still had a pellet on as bait.  Then I had a sharp bang on the tip, too fast for me to react and nothing developed.  I wound in a few minutes later to find the hook stripped of bait and bedraggled with weed.  I recast with a pellet and sat for another twenty minutes or so then gave it up and packed up by torchlight.

All coarse fish love corn but these are tricky Chub who seemed spooked by the stuff in daylight but maybe they’d eat it when the light fades?  Perhaps I’d do better by leaving the corn at home and trying to tempt them with hemp and pellets?  Whatever, I’d got it wrong tonight but next time…

As my day off approached once again conditions seemed to be against me; high tide was due in the early afternoon which is not my favoured time to fish but sometimes needs must.  Also there was a fresh south south west wind to contend with.  This would make my preferred beaches uncomfortable to sit on and the sea would be lumpy, theoretically diminishing my chances of catching Rays.  Add to that a hit and miss ragworm supply this summer and the odds on a Bass are going the wrong way too.  But bugger all that, I had time to fish and didn’t fancy the river so I did a bit of staring at google maps and a bit of thinking and came up with a plan.

At 1150 the following day I was sitting behind my tripod on Fukushima beach.  On the way eastward I’d called in at the tackle shop in Saxmundham (which would have been worth a longer browse if I’d had more time) and picked up half a pound of rag.  The day was mostly bright but the wind was as formidable as predicted meaning the shelter was up providing a small place of tranquillity.  As usual I whacked out a squid on the heavy rod and fished the worms closer on the light one.  This beach runs pretty much north to south so here I’d get more respite from the wind and also a recent report indicated a lot of interesting fish had been about.  With high tide two hours away all I had to do now was sit back, drink tea and play the waiting game.

My first casts saw the tips wobbling in the wind and skipping with the waves a bit but not so much it would make proper bites difficult to see, should I get any.  Or so I thought, despite seeing no fishy movements something was going on as my squid was being attacked and the worms were disappearing, I suspected crabs were the culprits.  Ninety minutes passed in a flash as I was on the go a lot, rebaiting and recasting to keep ahead of the crabs.  As the high tide approached I thought I could see subtle plucks and knocks on the lighter tip.  I tried holding the rod and feeling for bites and managed to convince myself something was happening but struck thin air.  Two hours in, once again things were not going to plan and high tide was nearly upon me.  Behind me was a filthy dark cloud that was travelling northward and dropping rain on some poor soul but luckily it mostly missed me and I just got a few minutes of drizzle.  In the bowels of my memory I thought I could dredge out a memory that this beach fished better on the ebb when I’d been here before, or was this clutching at straws?

Half an hour into the ebb things started to happen, this was in the shape of subtle but definite bites and at long last I winched a small Bass up the Beach.  I was so pleased to see it I made it a photo star which is just as well as I haven’t had much to point a lens out lately.  That was the beginning of a little spell - a couple of hours or so – where I was getting knocks on every cast with the light rod.  Some of these I missed but I hooked a few too, all were Bass but all were small fish around six to ten inches long.  I switched the heavy rod to a python sized ragworm and whacked that out but this just caught me another similar sized bass.  This afternoon was a marked improvement on my recent efforts on the beach, ragworm makes the difference and I was enjoying actually catching a few fish but all the time I was hoping the squid would be taken and the heavy rod would fold over.  By 1800 this hadn’t happened and I’d had enough so it was time to tidy up.  The march back to the car was a grueller as the first part was on soft sand with the wind stinging straight into my chops.  Eventually I made the sanctuary of the car, turned the stereo up and pointed it towards home.

Damn hot in the other valley

Its always hot when the Purple Queen (yes she’s been promoted) and I pack the tent and head west and this time it was fucking scorchio.  The worst conditions to attempt to catch fish from a river that is already painfully low.  This time we pitched up somewhere different to normal but our routine was the same, in the daytime we planned to explore the local Towns and pubs but in the evenings I would be making my first attempts to catch fish from the River Severn.

The whole trip was a bit last minute to be honest so we ended up in a busy campsite with lots of rules and much more hustle and bustle than we are used to.  During the days we toured the towns and pubs in the area; Stourport is a dump but we liked Bewdley, Worcester and Shrewsbury, the latter two seem to be thriving unlike many urban centres these days.  We also had an excursion to Stratford on Avon a place we hadn’t been to since a school trip to see “Twelfth Night” in 1984, I think?  I was aware that Will’s birthplace was on the must see list for foreign tourists but was surprised to encounter bus loads from USA and Japan.  Obviously the town trades on the Shakespeare connection but the way this is milked is crass and spoils the overall effect, it seems tacky, cheap and totally out of place.  We dined in pubs most days, well we had to escape the heat somehow.  The best meal of all was at the ‘Mug House’ in Bewdley, Tuna steak washed down with a couple of pints of Hereford Pale Ale.  Almost perfect.

My first attempt at fishing was a few miles upstream of camp where I was able to park conveniently close to the river.  I left the PQ at the car while I went for a wander, the further downstream I got the more I liked what I saw; shallow rippling rapids and slightly deeper pools, it looked bang on.  There was one spot half way down the stretch which was perfect, rapids upstream and down as well as room bankside for both of us.  By 1715 I was fishing with two feeder rigs and pellets on the hair – basically the same things that have worked on the Wye.  One rod was fishing about one third the way across and slightly downstream, the other I cast here and there, mostly on the upstream side of the swim, sometimes to the far bank trees.  This side of the swim was more rocky so I swapped the feeder for a lead and attached a PVA bag of hemp and pellets to the hook to hopefully avoid snagging.

The water in front of me looked perfect to my untrained eye, I started getting knocks and rattles from the start so there were definitely fish about.  After forty five minutes I had a proper bite on the downstream rod and bugger me I was attached to a fish.  It didn’t fight much but had a bit of weight and it was no surprise to see a Chub of a couple of pounds or so come to the net.  My first fish from the Severn, nice one!  With that confidence boost I put four cricket ball sized lumps of groundbait out then settled back in confidence.

The action on the rod tips dwindled for a while but as time went by and the sun got lower, things started to happen again.  Nearly three hours passed before I got another proper bite on the same rod which I missed, I got this one back out as quickly as I could and a few minutes later it banged again and I was in.  “Serious fish” I said to the PQ as it roared down river taking line off the clutch.  It turned and I brought it back upstream, the fish had power but for its apparent weight and I was pretty sure I had a Barbel attached.  As usual it didn’t like the net the first couple of times but I soon had it in.  A small fish it may be but my first Severn Barbel on my first attempt had me feeling well chuffed and a bit smug.  After that I got the rod back out quickly but was running out of time and all too soon was humping the gear back to the car.

I hoped for more of the same over the coming days but the weather just got hotter and hotter.  I did fish two more evenings, once just outside town where we settled into an idyllic spot with a pool above rapids that looked ideal, then a return to the upstream stretch which was busy on the day and without a plan B I ended up fishing a spot I wouldn’t have picked otherwise.  On both occasions the result was the same, a couple of bites and a Chub of around two pounds landed.  My first impressions of the Severn; the stretches I’ve seen further downstream are big, wide and to my eyes featureless but the river above Bewdley has much more variation and is more to my liking.  I love rivers that have a voice and really enjoyed fishing the Severn and I’m sure I will do so again but it doesn’t thrill me like the other western river.

Variety

I braved the morning rush hour and arrived at the river around 0900, this time determined to fish the upstream stretch. I had only walked this section once before but that was over a year ago so my memory needed refreshing.  What I found was a narrow stretch with good pace and a couple of interesting pools, in one of these I could clearly see three or four good sized Chub drifting around.  A few minutes later I returned, set up quietly then crept into position, everything looked good, I was ready and the Chub were still there.  I put a couple of grains of corn on a strong size 10 then swung the feeder rig into the pool, cue panic, the Chub left at speed.  Oh well.

The spooked fish didn’t bother me unduly.  Fishing in other spots I’d been able to tempt fish back upstream by feeding regularly and keeping a low profile so I was confident this would be the case here too.  With no Chub in sight I started off fishing maggots on a smaller 14 hook and began catching silvers from the off.  I caught small Chub, Bleak and the odd Perch and it was a bite a chuck until I’d had enough.  I switched back to corn and left the rig in place for long periods as I didn’t want to risk spooking anything.  After about ninety minutes I saw two good sized Chub swim upstream in front of me and circle the swim a couple of times.  My hand hovered over the reel but I didn’t get a bite and the fish disappeared again.  I was confident they’d come back again so sat it out for a couple of hours more but that was the last I saw of them.

By the early afternoon I needed a change of scenery so wandered downstream to a gravel run between weed and tried maggots again.  Like before it was a bite a chuck for a variety of species including Roach, Dace and Gudgeon.  Half an hour of this was enough, I then switched back to corn and had a quiet half hour before heading for home.  This is another interesting bit of river and I'd caught a variety of fish but not what i was after.  I’ll be back at some point but I’ll have to do things a bit different.

By all accounts the beaches have been quiet lately but after a few weeks away I felt the need to sit on the shingle and stare at the sea for a while so I set off at lunchtime to fish an afternoon tide.  The weather was a nice mix of sunshine and cloud, the north westerly breeze would be on my back pretty much wherever I chose to fish.  The sensible thing would have been to get some ragworm and target Bass but I made do with what was in the freezer and made my way to the busy beach.  I’ve got into the habit of walking up and down the lane before loading up, getting an idea of where other anglers are pitched up saves crunching across the stones any further than I have to.  On this occasion I found just a short walk would find me plenty of space but there would be anglers both sides of me.  After a few minutes deliberation I decided to get back in the car and try a totally different spot.

A few minutes later I pulled into another car park, one I usually ignore because it is mostly rammed full of desperate day trippers without brains who are likely to box you in then get the hump when you call them out on it…  But on this occasion it was quiet enough so I decided to give it a go.  I don’t know why I came here because previous trips haven’t been spectacular and I recalled my last visit had been a total blank.  Nonetheless by 1400 I was sitting on my backside having cast two stinky lumps of squid to various distances from the shore. 

All I needed now was a cup of tea so while that brewed I started baiting and binding another couple of rigs for the next casts.  Something must have caught my eye because I glanced up just to see the heavy rod bending round and before I could react it went spectacularly slack.  Squid and bait elastic went flying while I lurched towards the rod then wound  down a good few turns before making contact with a heavy weight.  The throbbing presence made me think ‘Ray’ and this one was hanging sideways in the tide making maximum resistance as I pumped and heaved it back towards me.  At one point it all went solid but steady pressure got it moving again and I minute or so later I dragged a brown diamond onto the beach.  The hook came out easily and the scales confirmed it was my biggest of the year so far, happy days!

After that fast start I got another bait out quickly and after tidying up the mess I sat back to drink my well brewed tea, hopeful of a good afternoon ahead.  An hour later high tide was upon me and to this point I’d only seen one fast rattle on the light rod, would the slack water see fish on the move?  The answer was no and the ebbing tide didn’t help me much either.  I did have one fast ‘Bass bang’ on a small squid fished in close but this didn’t hook up and that was as good as it got.  I fished on till around 1900 but it felt like I was wasting my time.  Had I been able to grab some worms it would have probably made all the difference for Bass at least and I should have known better but any day I catch a Ray is a good one.                                                                                                                                                                                                            

A bridge too far

Everything looked good for a trip to the shallow beach after Rays.  With high tide at 2315 I could fish it all the way up into darkness and the forecast promised a gentle north westerly which would be blowing over my shoulder.  You couldn’t script it better.  At the car park things didn’t seem right, the air was still, not a breath.  When I broke through cover at the end of my hike I walked into an easterly blowing straight off a bumpy sea, not at all what I expected.  I thought ‘Oh well I’m here now’ and set up regardless, I should have known better.

So I fished the tide all the way up with mostly squid baits and conditions did improve, the wind dropped and the sea flattened out a bit but it was slow.  I had a few knocks and rattles but nothing I could strike at.  I did wind in a small Bass but I’d had little clue that anything had taken the big lump of squid.  Darkness usually switches the fish on but this didn’t happen tonight and by the time high tide was upon me I’d had enough and head for home.

I didn’t fancy a late afternoon tide so for my next day off I head back to the river but this time to a different stretch, one I’ve only fished a couple of times.  The plan was to keep moving and search it out a bit and I started off with a long hike downstream.  Here I stopped at a sweeping bend with an overhanging tree which had collected a raft of debris, this looked as good for a Chub as anywhere, the only thing lacking was flow, there was barely a trickle.  This long dry summer is starting to have a worrying effect on the Suffolk rivers, back home on my local river there’s barely a trickle falling over the weir. 

Back to the here and now, I set up with my normal running feeder rig baited with corn and started searching the swim.  The day was warm and mainly cloudy with the sun poking through from time to time and it was during one of the brighter spells I carefully stood and scanned the swim, noticing there was far more weed than I’d realised.  Over the next few casts, two out of three were coming back with weed on the hook.  There were definitely fish showing and I felt I’d definitely be getting bites if I’d brought maggots.  There were also some sizable fish moving but after one bow wave settled I could see a small Pike sitting there with bristling fins.  My confidence wasn’t improved a short while later by a larger disturbance that was almost certainly an Otter.

I wasn’t happy so wound in and tidied up then went for a wander further downstream where there were more bends and trees.  Most of this water was weed choked but round the corner I found a spot where the river looked coloured and once my eyes were tuned in I realised there were fish here too.  They weren’t Chub so what were they?  It dawned on me that most were Bream but there were also a couple of good sized Roach amongst them and these motivated me to go back and get the tackle.

A few minutes later I was settled and fishing, with fish clearly visible I expected it to be easy but the fish had other ideas.  I tried to keep my head down but my presence obviously disturbed the fish as they mostly disappeared from view but the water remained coloured and I was sure they were still about.  After twenty minutes the tip went over and I was into a fish, the Roach had been out numbered so I wasn’t surprised to see a Bream but it was around four pounds or so, bigger than expected and it fought much harder than Bream are supposed to.  After this I expected a procession but a couple of hours passed without a decent bite so I tidied up then loaded up and wandered back upstream in search of water that looked more likely to hold Chub.

By 1345 I was settled in above another trailing branch/ raft combination, the water here was a little deeper and weed free compared to what was above and below it.  There were fish about here too, mostly small silvers but I was getting a few knocks on the tip.  At 1430 I had a decent bite and lifted into a decent weight that didn’t want to be lead back upstream.  I increased the pressure and a large bronze slab became visible, like the first this Bream fought much harder than their reputation suggests and when it neared the net I realised it was bigger than the first and it was a struggle to get it in.  I’m not really a fan of Bream but this was a lovely looking bronze creature of just under six pounds and is probably the biggest I’ve caught from a river?

I had another cast while I tidied my kit up but by this point in the afternoon the sun had defeated the cloud and was starting to make life uncomfortable.  Bream had been the last thing on my mind when I set off this morning but I’d enjoyed the novelty of catching them although I can’t imagine myself targeting them at any point in the future.

 

Saturday brought the first significant rain we’ve had in Suffolk for months and when the clouds cleared so a window of fishy opportunity opened and I made tracks for the river.  I returned to my ‘normal’ stretch with the intention of exploring way upstream but there were a few cars in the car park and it looked like someone had beat me to it.  Being an anti social sod I decided to head to the stretch I know but I was determined to fish the upstream end of this section.  As I neared my destination I spotted an another angler already in place so I retreated without disturbing him.  That just left the one place I’d been determined to avoid so I settled in above the squirrel bridge without enthusiasm.  At least I’d be undisturbed here and could spend a couple of hours chilling out and listening to the sound of birds and the voice of the river.

I’d brought some pellets and bread with me but as usual started off with corn on the hook, dropping the feeder downstream, just above the raft.  To begin with there didn’t seem to be much about but closer scrutiny revealed the margins were full of fry and these were being bullied by groups of small Perch.  Casts downstream just brought the odd knock so I tried a cast upstream and here started getting sharper pulls and a couple I could strike at.  The second of these saw me set the hook into something that wanted to fight but didn’t feel like a Chub however I’ll never know because the hook pulled.  It might have been a Perch but I have a feeling it was a Trout.

I wondered if this disturbance would ruin things but the opposite happened, in the minutes that followed I started to see a few Chub drifting about.  There were a handful of fish around two pounds or so that repeatedly swam upstream past me, then drifted back down with the current to disappear beneath the raft.  But on two occasions I saw a couple of bruisers, at least twice the size, make the same circuit.  One of these fish would probably be the Chub I’ve already caught this season but the other…  I dropped the feeder downstream again, still baited with corn and sat back to wait.

Around 2000 the tip went round and I was into a good fish.  I leaned in and hung on while the fish thumped about, trying to get into the snags.  This time my luck held and I managed to get the fish into the safe water in front of me and a minute or so later it was in the net.  Of course it was the fish I’ve caught twice already this season, an ounce lighter than last time and although I was glad to have caught something it was a bit of an anti climax.  I switched to pellet and fished on for another forty five minutes, hoping the other big one would show up but no such luck.  When the light started to go I packed up so I could get home in time for the boxing.  Enough is enough, I definitely won’t come back to this swim for a while so I may never know how big the ‘other’ Chub is.  In my imagination it will always be a little bit bigger than its friendly companion.  And why can’t I tempt any of the smaller Chub?  It doesn’t make sense.

The Rematch

The day was damn hot but I finished work early and had time for a fish.  It would have been cooler on a beach but the tides were all wrong so I did the sensible thing and head to the river.  I pulled into the car park a little after six, there was another vehicle there and I thought sod’s law would ensure he was in my preferred swim but happily this was not the case.  The pool above the raft is only a couple of feet deep, a bugger to get to and difficult to get comfortable in but it always seems to hold fish.  Once in position I’m pretty well screened by the undergrowth but getting in place disturbs the fish so I have to be patient here, feed little and often and hope the fish return.  This has worked a few times in the past including a couple of weeks back and I was confident it would work again.  A peep over the top of the nettles revealed a few smaller Chub drifting about and any fish would do me tonight.

With everything else in position, I picked up the landing net pole and it was at this moment I realised the net was in the shed at home, oh shit!  After a bit of thought I worked out I would be able to wade into the river and lift a beaten fish from it.  I positioned the unhooking mat on a flat patch of gravel at the bottom of the slope, I could slide this into the water with my boot if necessary.  I had a plan, not ideal but workable so I started fishing at about 1830.

I had movements on the tip from the start but with two grains of corn on a size 10 it would need a bigger fish to bang the tip, or so I thought.  Second cast I wound in a Chub about five inches long, oh well.  But I wasn’t pestered by these small fish or anything else for that matter, just the odd pluck or rattle that ignited my concentration from time to time as I was otherwise hypnotised by the gurgle of the river and the songs of birds.  The evening drifted away and my flask became empty but I figured fading light would see a fish or two moving and at just after nine the tip bent round and I was attached to a decent fish.  I held the rod well to my left, hoping to hold the fish away from the snags.  It thumped a couple of times and then the hook pulled, bugger!  The hook looked okay but I changed the trace anyway, rebaited and swung the feeder back out.  Fifteen minutes later it happened again- a good bite, I set the hook, pulled to the left and tried to hold the fish away from the snags.  This one didn’t feel as heavy and I was successful in leading it out into midstream where it splashed on the surface and the hook came out…

I got another bait out there as smoothly as I could but had a strong feeling that would be my lot for tonight.  As the evening grew dark I sat and assessed things, six bites in this swim this season, half of these resulting in hook pulls.  Perhaps time for a change of approach?  Maybe use methods that have worked elsewhere?  The more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea.

My next day off was another roaster, so hot outside it was impossible to stay comfortable with my ginger skin.  Thankfully it was the first day of the Test match so with TMS on the radio I was happy enough inside, doing a few odd jobs and accruing brownie points.  The following day was much more to my liking, a full ten degrees cooler and a bit of overnight rain had seen the river rise a couple of inches.  The rain continued throughout most of the day so with a TMS soundtrack I was in no hurry to get away and it was 1500 before I was walking the river again.  I say walking, in reality I head straight for the squirrel bridge where I have unfinished business.  I peered over the tops of the nettles but could see nothing moving in the pool which didn’t bother me as I could set up without worrying about spooking anything. This I did and for once I did so without discovering I’d forgotten something important. 

I dropped the feeder in around 1530 and my waiting game commenced, having switched the radio on, just as I was settling back in my chair a decent chub drifted past me upstream, I was confident it would return.  My plan today was to try pellets and fish more like I do out west but I began with bread for a couple of casts, followed by corn.  I fed a few pellets and grains of corn at intervals and my thinking was I’d switch to a pellet hookbait later, when I was more confident the bigger chub would be active.  With cricket on the radio I was deaf to the birdsong and blind to just about everything else.  I had a few knocks and rattles, I actually struck at a couple but was never going to connect and a couple of hours slipped by.

At 1815 I had a solid knock on corn and struck as some kind of laughable impulse/reaction.  Ten minutes later I had a better bite and picked up the rod expecting to feel a fish but somehow I missed it?  After two bites on corn, for some reason I decided now was the time to switch to a side hooked pellet/boilie (we know they aren’t really pellets!)  I think my motivation might have been a few quiet minutes while I made a brew but this didn’t happen.  A solid bite saw me hook a decent fish and I immediately tried to pull the fish upstream and away from the snags.  Peering above the nettles I could clearly see a good Chub that looked like it was under the snag, I lowered the rod and held on, this time luck was on my side and the fish moved in the direction I wanted.  After that it was just a case of letting it tire itself in the clear water and I soon had it in the net.

It was a good fish that gave me a similar impression to the one a couple of weeks ago that I’d been unable to weigh.  This time I had scales and these recorded 4-10 which equalled my PB but this one was especially pleasing as it’s the biggest I’ve caught ‘on purpose’.  I photographed both flanks as I had a feeling this was the same fish I’d caught before and after comparison I’m pretty sure this is the case.  I fished on for a couple of hours but everything seemed lifeless and there was no sign of fish.  I had planned to fish into dark hoping to make it a brace but by 2030 this seemed unlikely so I decided to get away.   After my second trip to this pool I felt like I’d been beaten and needed a rematch but now I feel I’ve had a result and its time to move on and explore a bit more.  

No two tides...

I had a plan for my next beach trip, get some rag and fish the cauldron for Bass but this unravelled when I couldn’t get the worms.  After that I wasn’t sure, could I be bothered?  It was tempting to sit down with the cricket for the last couple of hours but the high tide was around 2015 and I could fish the ebb into darkness so in the end I talked myself into an evening on the beach.  But which beach?  I’d have a good chance at the busy beach but on a warm Saturday it would definitely live up to its name.  I decided to go to the cauldron where I could expect solitude and fish big baits for big fish which are always a possibility here, it’s not always just Bass. 

I’d put the shelter in the car but wasn’t sure i would need it?  It would be frustrating to hike to the beach and be cold knowing it the shelter was in the car so I carried it across the marsh.  The breeze was from the east, straight into my chops but in the end the shelter remained rolled up.  I started off fishing baits fairly close in as the ripping tide was moving rigs cast any further than about forty yards.  On the hooks I mostly used squid of various sizes but also tried crab and a disgusting strip of mackerel that has been defrosted so many times it was probably lethal. I never know what to expect at this spot, it is different every time I fish here but I wasn’t surprised that it started off slowly.  Two hours passed and high tide was upon me but the baits which I’d been recasting regularly were coming back intact.  I tried a long cast but the tide was still raging and it didn’t last five minutes but I kept an eye on any floating debris, it would go slack at some point.

Half an hour after high tide things were calm enough for me to launch a bait and the rig would stay in position for about twenty minutes before starting to roll.  Obviously I was recasting regularly and the baits were coming back chewed but the tips are always wobbling here and I hadn’t seen anything that got me out of the chair.  This changed around 2100 with a definite fishy rattle just after the sun had dipped below the treeline horizon behind me.  This didn’t develop but boosted the confidence and half an hour later I had a proper pull over bite on squid and wound into a decent weight which I pumped steadily to shore.  In close the fish plodded a bit but didn’t run so I wasn’t surprised to see a Ray appear on a wave, a nice fish, my biggest of the year so far.

I fished on for another hour, into darkness but didn’t see any more fishy movement on the tips but when I wound in the heavy rod for the last time there was a bit of weight, unfortunately this turned out to be a big lump of weed which was a bugger to strip off the line.  I loaded up and head back to the car, a daunting hike ahead of me but one bite, one Ray.  I’d have settled for that when I left home.

Another day off and another favourable tide peaking just after 2300 which meant I could go to the shallow beach fish it all the way up hoping for a Ray.  I managed to acquire some ragworm which meant I’d have a decent chance of Bass too, plans set and I was confident.  The tide was right but unfortunately the weather wasn’t, the curve of the coast meant the fresh westerly wind would make life difficult so I decided to head elsewhere and for some reason I talked myself into returning to the ‘cauldron’.  The hike across the marsh was taxing but once I’d unshouldered my gear I was alone in one of the most beautiful spots in the county.

This beach is notoriously inconsistent, heaven or hell and unfortunately it was the latter on this evening.  A day before new moon meant it was a pretty big tide which increases the currents and, on this occasion, made the sea a boiling, raging, scary entity.  Add to that loads of clinging snotty weed being carried on the tide meant holding a rig in position was impossible at times.  Seven ounces cast about thirty yards would start to shift after ten minutes and I was not able to whack a bait out at any time.  I managed a bite on each rod but neither resulted in a hooked fish and I tramped back thinking I should have known better, I got it wrong tonight.

Choices

The thought of catching another Smoothound was enticing and intoxicating and led me to ignore all common sense and try to keep the run going.  To be honest I had my doubts, the weather forecast wasn’t promising, hot, clear and bright; also the high tide was due shortly after 1600 which meant if I fished until dark the water would be way down the slope.  Things were far from ideal but the thought of catching another Smoothound…

So I set up at the northern end of busy beach around 1350, two and a half hours before high tide.  There were half a dozen anglers to the south of me and an equal number of day trippers.  As we know, people are compelled to head to the sea when the weather is nice.  Some get in and splash about for a couple of minutes but most just stare at it for while.  Plenty of both types turned up this afternoon and some were more distracting than others.  I used with the normal baits and methods and varied the casting distances, I fished the tide up and four hours down and didn’t get a single bite.  On most retrieves the baits came back in the same state they were launched.  By 2000 I’d had enough and didn’t have the will to hang on until darkness.  I knew I was pushing my luck but if you don’t go, you don’t know!

By now it was the third week of June so my choice of interesting ‘fairly local’ fishing increases to include the rivers.  For once I’d been organised and took a bit of time at the weekend to get a bag loaded and a couple of rods ready.  Another happy day with time on my hands, I rolled out of bed fairly early, mixed a bit of groundbait and got some bits together by which time the morning rush hour was over.  After a pit stop at AD for maggots it was 1000 before I gazed at the river for the first time this season.  Do I go upstream or down?  I fancied up and was fishing with an open end feeder and maggots on the hook a few minutes later.

I’d had some interesting fishing in this swim last season with fish of all species including a couple of decent Perch.  My plan was to plug loads of maggots in the feeder and keep dropping it out to build up an area of feed.  As well as the maggots I had a few worms and if plan A didn’t work a tin of corn with which I’d try for Chub.  I had bites from the off but the 14 hook was too big so I switched to a 16 which seemed tiny in comparison.  The 14 was a now discontinued Matrix ‘rigger’ hook which is more like a normal size 12.  I’ve used these hooks for several years but now my supply is dwindling.  The smaller hook saw me catch a few fish; my first of the season was a tiny Roach, followed by a Perch of a couple of ounces.  I was getting plenty of indications but just annoying rattles that I couldn’t strike at, these must have followed me from the beaches?  I caught a few more small fish but these included a small Chub and a Gudgeon which I will always prize.  I got the feeling there were only small fish around today and started to plot a move.

By 1145 I was walking slowly downstream towards the ‘squirrels bridge’, I stopped just above the swim and was surprised by just how low the river looked, I hadn’t noticed before.  But I could see a dozen or so chub drift casually down towards the raft of debris. There looked to be around a couple of pounds or so but they would do for me on a hot sunny afternoon.  My first few casts were with maggots and I got bites straight away and was soon swinging in a small Dace, followed by a Minnow which made six species today but I wasn’t bothered about adding to that tally.  From then on I fished a couple of grains of corn on the big 14 and loaded the plugged feeder with more corn.  This was dropped just above the raft, now I was content to wait and see if I could tempt a chub upstream.  With this in mind I kept throwing a few maggots or grains of corn into the stream whenever it occurred to me.

I only had to wait ten minutes before I had a twitchy bite and set the hook into something and after a few seconds I realised it was a decent fish.  My rod was bent fully round to keep the creature out of some snags but all I could do was hold a powerful fish, I wasn’t gaining any line, stalemate, then it went slack.  I wound in and found the ever-reliable Matrix hook had straightened, just a little but enough.  As I’d been sitting down throughout the brief battle and screened by a clump of nettles I’d not seen the fish but it was almost certainly a big Chub.  Would that kill the swim?  There was only one way to find out so I tackled up again with a heavier gauge size 10 from an old pack of Fox carp hooks and got the rig back in the water.

Half an hour later I had a similar twitchy bite and having had time to think about what to do differently, I put pressure on straight away and held the fish out in the stream away from the snags.  This was another good fish which lumped around in the shallow water but I eventually got it into the net.  I always over estimate the size of decent Chub but this was surely one of my biggest yet?  It was then I realised I hadn’t transferred the digital scales from the sea rucksack but no worries, as I’m paranoid about this sort of thing I knew there was a Salter spring balance in the bag, I’d seen it the other day.  But the spring balance wasn’t in the bag, which totally fried my brain.  Oh well, there was a scale missing on one flank so maybe I’d recognise it again?  I took a quick photo and slipped it back and all I’ll say for sure is it would have weighed over four pounds.

After that, things did go quiet but I was nicely shaded from the sun and had nothing better to do, so I kept dropping the feeder into the pool.  I’d forgotten about the sound of birds we experience in these quiet freshwater spots, it’s constant and the loudest sound around.  Somewhere above me a Buzzard mewed but I glimpsed it just the once, sat as I was beneath a canopy of leaves.  But I did have a Kingfisher regularly zipping up and down and several visits from what I later identified as a Grey Wagtail.  At around 1435 I had another twitchy bite and hooked a third decent fish.  By this time I was practiced so steered the fish out into the current where it could tire itself out, away from the snags.  This time it seemed easy and I soon had another Chub in the net.  I guessed this one at around three pounds but it looked a lot smaller than the other one and what the hell was that first fish?  After forty five fishless minutes I tidied up and headed home and reflected that I’d managed to catch a few fish through the worst part of a hot day but still there was unfinished business, I’ll be back in a week or two.  When I got home the missing spring balance was just inside the back door?