Prescribed relief

December is my least favourite month of the year.  We are bombarded by bullshit under the name of “Christmas” and I rarely get any time to escape from it all with a day on the water.  This December has been worse than ever and respite with rods was a prescribed necessity.  Rich and I have been friends on and off the bank for nearly thirty years and despite constant communication and spending most of our Piking time in the same places we hadn’t actually fished together, from the same boat for nearly eight years. So here we were on a gloomy morning, sitting in a boat on an ancient East Anglian water slowly tackling up and waiting for the sun to rise.

This trip had been long planned but had suffered from a couple of false starts but at last here we were.  I’ve fished this water a few times now but this was Rich’s first visit The light grew gradually brighter although the sun never appeared from behind the thick cloud but our floats stood out, little spots of colour amidst the gloom.  Half an hour after casting one of these tipped and slid away, Rich was away on Herring and soon chinned a small Pike out.  His first Pike from a special new water meant the camera had to come out before the fish was quickly slipped back.  Another half hour passed before we had a flurry of takes, I managed a nice fish on smelt while Rich dropped a jack and had another helpfully unhook itself close to the boat.  Things looked good for more action but things went quiet and half an hour later we were on the move.  Another half an hour in a new spot and I was away again with a similar sized fish on Herring. 

We spent most of the day fishing in the same way, every move seemed to bring a take or two but all were small fish and some shook themselves off before they reached the boat.  As ever the chat was constant; we lauded our Rugby team which seems to keep getting better and discussed our cricket team which is also improving, despite getting a hiding in India.  As always we talked about our first love in angling, why do we still keep struggling and battling away at the 'special place'?  I always liken the Piking here as being like playing cricket at Lords, nowhere else comes close.  Rich agreed but said at the moment it’s like bowling at Lords with the opposition 500-2!  Dinner came courtesy of an excellent recent purchase.  The ‘Ridge Monkey’ sandwich toaster is a brilliant bit of kit, providing a hot, tasty snack with the minimum amount of fuss, even in a cramped boat.

In the mid-afternoon we took a long row to an area I hadn’t fished for some time.  As we neared the spot we were heartened to see a few silver fish showing, more than we’d seen all day.  By now the clouds had sunk lower and were depositing annoying drizzle (it always bloody rains when I fish here!), it seemed as if dusk would come early.  It didn’t feel like good conditions but as we’d managed to pick a few fish off through the day we still felt confident.  

Rich was the first in action, hitting a fish that put a proper bend in the rod for the first time today.  His first double from this water was soon in the net to smiles all round.  After a quiet half hour it all kicked off.  Rich again was into a decent fish which unfortunately threw the hooks on the surface.  Then it was my turn with a fast take on smelt, I wound down but felt nothing and retrieved a smelt minus its head! Rich had another aborted take and quickly got the bait back out but shortly after my Lamprey was picked up and after a good battle my first double of the day was in the net.  Minutes later the smelt ripped off again and for a second time I felt nothing and wound in a headless smelt!  I have a feeling something other than Pike may have been responsible?  I didn’t have time to think too long as a Herring cast along the near margin was away.  A nice fish tried to take me into the reeds but strong braid nearly always settles the matter and another double was brought to the boat.  As I was all out of Herrings I recast with another smelt, this had hardly settled before it was on the move again and I was attached to another, similar sized Pike.  By now it was growing dark and the threatening clouds had started to dump heavier rain on us.  We fished on for a while longer before calling it a day.

As I rowed back we reflected on an enjoyable day.  We’d caught fish on a variety of baits but Herring and Smelt had clearly produced the most; coincidence, positioning or preference?  There had been action throughout but that mad hour at the end had produced eight takes and all the biggest fish.  Had we finally located them in the afternoon or did the fish all over the water just switch on?  We can discuss debate and theorise but in the end we don’t really know and that’s the way I like it.

Autumn's end

A couple of proper hard frosts signify that autumn is at an end.  Even though I'm a lifelong Piker I hate the winter!  It's not the cold that does for me it's the short days and endless darkness.  The leafless skeletal trees, instead of vibrant greens everything is dull grey or muddy brown.  I'm forever having customers tell me that the crisp frosty frosty mornings are "Pike weather", I try to remain patient and explain it isn't that clear cut...

I've really enjoyed the fishing this autumn.  Early on the challenge of the special place was exhilarating and a welcome respite from a world going to shit around me.  I knew it would be tough and it didn't surprise me. I've said it many times before, it's not the fish its the fishing and when that float slides away...

More recently I've enjoyed more prolific fishing at another wild, out of the way water.  On one occasion the wind blew a hoolie causing chaos and carnage while Mr N and I fished in peace and isolation.  With the boat position in the lee of the gale we were confident and comfortable.  We don't fish together often but when we do a big bag of fish usually appears, as was the case this time.  The final weight would have been well into three figures and as usual Mr N caught the lions share of them.  That morning I'd opened the freezer and was knocked back by the stink!  At some point over the last couple of days it had packed in and my bait was unappetising at best.  Could Mr N's fresher bait have made the difference or was it down to his greater experience?  Then again it could just be the way it was on the day and on another things will even out.  It didn't matter to me at all, both of us boated good fish and as usual it was a thoroughly enjoyable day in great company.

A few days later the nephew joined me for a day on the water.  We'd both been socialising the evening before so an early start was never on the cards but still I had to wake Josh up!  For once the rain stayed away (mostly) and the wind hardly blew.  Circumstances saw us exploring water I'd rarely fished before and I really didn't know what to expect.  It all looked Pikey and interesting but nothing bothered our baits until we dropped weights in the third spot of the day when at long last a Pike showed an interest in one of Josh's baits.  Unfortunately a combination of inexperience and a small Pike saw the fish come adrift.  We had a couple more takes on the same spot but just couldn't put a fish in the boat, would it be one of those days?

Another move changed our luck or mine at least.  I was looking in the direction of a float above a smelt deadbait when it seemed to tremor, was that a take?  As I was wondering I noticed a patch of bubbles rise to the surface and then yes the float was definitely on the move!  After a short, sharp fight a nice, plump double figure fish was secured in the net.  We moved a short while later and this time it happened, Josh's float slid away and the strike connected.  The bend in the rod indicated a decent weight but the fish had managed to snag a branch and wasn't as big as we'd hoped.  The fish may not have been a monster but it had lovely colours and markings and most importantly the duck had been broken.  Josh had his first Pike for a few years was held up for the camera and he was made up.  He could have added another shortly after if he'd remembered to put the baitrunner on!

After that we had a quiet couple of hours before dropping weights for the final time that day.  As dusk deepened my bait cast to an overhanging tree was taken three times in quick succession and three nice Pike brought to the boat before the feeding spell finished.  It was properly dark by the time we made it back to the boatyard.  The day had been a success, Josh's fish was not the biggest of the day but it was definitely the one that we both enjoyed the most.  He's up and running now, the next target is to catch a bigger one.

Inevitable

A midweek fishing window opened and it couldn’t be ignored.  There was not enough time to fish the special place properly but there is a viable alternative tucked away in the East Anglian countryside.  I was joined by nephew Josh who is on a mission to catch his first Pike for a few years and then hopefully a few more!  Over the last year he’s been out with me three times but so far the fish have avoided him.

The weather forecast was abysmal, it was set to piss with rain all day and we were to be fishing from a small, open boat.  In normal circumstances I would not have been at all confident in this kind of weather and if I had any sense I’d be on the bank under a shelter.  However given the nature of the water I thought we’d be in with a chance and the advantages of a boat outweigh a bit of falling water.

We arrived in the dark, and yes it was raining but not as bad as the forecast had predicted.  By the time I’d rowed into position it was light enough to set up without a torch.  We cast a mixture of baits around the boat then sat back with a brew to await the sunrise, which never really happened due to the filthy grey clouds that continued to drop annoying light rain on us.  Previous visits to this water had produced almost instant action but this was not the case today, had the shitty weather put the fish off?

Forty five minutes and another cup of tea later I looked round to see my float moving away, something had picked up a Herring and was gaining in speed.  Hooks set, the rod took on a decent curve and a nice Pike powered off.  It was soon in the net, unhooked and released.  First of many I hoped.  Another half hour passed and still the light rain fell.  Was it? Yes, the same float moved again and this time the rod hooped over properly.  A typical short, sharp fight ensued then another, bigger fish was in the net.  This was a scales and camera job for sure.  

 Time passed quickly and I began to ponder a move, should I stay or should I go?  A swirl and scatter of bait fish made up my mind.  A short paddle and we were on the spot in time to see two more fish strike.  Rods were quickly cast and we sat back, sure a float would go at any time.  I was happy with a couple of fish and was desperate for Josh to catch.  Cue the inevitable intervention of Sod’s law.  First of all another nice fish fell to a Smelt, followed a while later by a similar sized fish on a Lamprey.  Four takes, all to my rods, I assured Josh his time would come but no sooner was the Lamprey back in position and it was away again.  After waddling on the surface and allowing me to haul it back to the boat it dived and powered away, taking line and thumping the rod.  In the net it looked clearly the biggest so far, the scales agreed but not by much.

It was just after 1000, we still had six hours fishing ahead of us and I was still confident Josh would get his turn.  Privately I’d decided the next take would be his, no matter what rod it came to.  We kept moving and tried everything, including a bit of trolling.  The rain kept falling but the Pike just didn’t want to know anymore.  We fished on until darkness but the fish didn’t show, by the time we packed up the gear was thoroughly soaked and despite the best wet weather gear we were damp.  A day like this might put Josh off winter Piking for life but it hasn’t.  We’ll try again soon and he will get that Pike.

Some photos

It's not all about catching fish...

 I've been trying for a Bittern photo for over a decade then almost got one...

then they were like buses!

The Pike come along when this is blue.

Travelling

I've made the journey north literally hundreds of times, I know every bend and every bump, I drive on auto.  I know when to put the foot down and when to ease up. Even so there are times on the journey that I'm deep in thought and don't know where I am.  I'm on the right road, that is all.

A good soundtrack is essential, sometimes an audio book but normally music played LOUD.  Tonight I have the latest Red Hot Chilli Peppers disc in.  I love this band and I love the new album, I suspect it will get a good few spins this autumn but there is half a dozen other discs to choose from;  Soulwax, Eels, Led Zep, Leftfield.  On the way home I'll listen to something different, something to reflect my mood, celebration or commiseration.  These journeys have ended in ecstasy, despair and every emotion in between. 

 The weather forecast promised North Westerly wind and heavy rain but as I cruised north the sky was clear although lightning threatened in the west.  Will I make it onto the water ahead of the rain?  It will be a big bonus if I do!  Where can I put the boat in these conditions, if it gets rough I need to be as comfortable as possible on the first night.  Getting damp won't cause so much trouble on the second night.  Where will I go on the first morning?  What will the weather be doing? What are my options?  Shit!  Momentary panic, have I remembered everything?  Yes I checked off my list before I left, chill...

My musings are always interrupted on the way to Norfolk, at some point I will need to stop for a piss. A sign of age I expect but anyway as I know the route so well I have a couple of lay-bys marked down for the purpose. These are back from the road a bit so a little bit more discrete, wouldn't want an interruption from the boys in blue would I? I need to go early tonight and the closer I get to the lay by the more I need to go. By the time I see the ironic P sign I'm wincing but just as I approached the lay by a car pulled in! Fuck it, keep going! My mind tells me I can't piss, my bladder discomfort eases, it's a miracle! Funny how the mind works. Next lay by and I’m shuffling in discomfort again but bugger me another car pulls in ahead of me! Hammer down the dual carriageway and finally, just as I’m about to explode a lay by oasis appears.

Back on the road, still dry and clear but the foreboding clouds to the west can only be getting closer.  The second half of the journey is more comfortable, the peppers go round again and by the time I’m in Broadland the sky is still clear but mist is forming.  I take it easy as I approach my destination, the roads are tricky and getting stuck behind a slow vehicle won't make much difference now.  I Park in the usual place, open the door and hear the Tawney's straight away, but no time to admire as I jog to the boat and take another desperate piss!

The routine at the slip is easy now, tried and tested by hundreds of launches.  It's still clear and dry and I'm going to get out and set up without being rained on! Everything loaded and ready, I head out into the darkness...

My Pike season has begun, despite the annual onslaught from the anti autumn Piking brigade. These people hide behind a facade of "fish welfare" but it's mostly a case of; "I'm busy catching Carp/Tench/Barbel so no one should go Pike fishing before I'm ready". I've covered that on here before, fuck 'em. If anyone should need a reminder; http://fishingsgreat.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/first-frosts-cobblers.html

Now comes the frustrating time for a blogger, time to dip below the radar for a while.  I may pop up again from time to time, or maybe not.  So as I'm unable to show any Pike, here are some Cranes.

PS.  It was Leftfield on the way home, read into that what you will.

September

Where has the month gone?  Not much of it has been spent on the riverbank that's for sure!  Early in the month I had neither the time for an over-nighter or motivation to fish a short session.  When I looked at the calendar I realised my summer fishing was practically over and I really needed to spend a day reorganising the shed.  Stuff that won't now be used till spring goes to the back, bags unpacked then packed again.  Rods rigged, knots tied, hooks sharpened.  The Pike gear is now ready.


Saturday 17th was the unofficial start to the pike season, the annual PAC Convention, held at Kettering conference centre.  As ever it was great to catch up with people I only see once or twice a year and good to make a few new friends.  I've bought a bit of kit recently, a new bag for the boat for one and today picked up a few more bits and pieces.  Boat rests from Neville, boat biters from ET.  I fancied buying a book and had a chat with Mr Harper but forgot to have a proper look.  Mr Lumb was in good form as ever.  The evening saw a steak, a few beers and some good Pikey chat with old friends and new.  

Thankfully I survived the Saturday night unscathed and arrived home in plenty of time for a trip to Norfolk.  I had a plan to revisit a spot I'd caught Bream earlier in the year and put a bit of bait out to try and hold them.  Once anchored up I fished brown crumb and crushed hemp in a feeder with corn and maggots on the hook.  Bites were regular so the feeder was recast often, meanwhile I was catapulting pellets over the top.  The Bream didn't show, the bites were hard to hit and I only managed a few Roach and Rudd.

The other reason for going was to have a look around and get an idea of how things look for the season ahead.  It's Pike time and for the next few weeks I'll just be doing my thing in a place I love, come what may.

Fizzling out

Isaac and I arrived at “Ted’s Place” around 1800 on a roasting hot August day.  We had a look around but once again I failed to find any fishy clues so ended up settling for the same swim yet again.  My thinking was twofold, firstly we had plenty of room and secondly I knew this area had received a bit of bait on a fairly regular basis.

Isaac fished with maggots on a whip while I set up the bivvy and everything else.  He was catching Rudd right from the off which kept him amused while I did all the chores, including raking out a load more weed and muck.  I fished with three rods, a couple with chod rigs, one baited with fake corn the other a pineapple pop up.  The third rod had a tutti boilie on a heli rig.  I scattered a couple of kilos of pellets around the area as well as a bit of Maize and a few boilies.  Now it was a waiting game.

Meanwhile Isaac and I amused ourselves by looking at the stars, eating sausages and making each other laugh.  A frog hopping around in the bivvy caused amusement too.  By 2030 the wind had increased to a moderate Northerly, there was no rain forecast but we could see lightning on the western horizon.  I made sure everything was ship shape just in case.  The wind rustled the reeds and whistled through the willows making natural night music.

My main motivation for night fishing this water is to have everything in position ready for fish to hopefully feed in the early morning but I was getting a few liners which gave me hope.  By 2230 we were both in our kip bags, Isaac’s chatter slowing down as tiredness took over.  Around 2330, just as I was starting to feel drowsy an alarm shrieked as the heli rig ripped off, before I’d got out of the bivvy a second rod was screaming too.  An irate Swan bristled in my swim but it wasn’t as pissed off as I was.  I recast all three rods then got back in the kip bag to wait for morning.

 I was up and awake at 0540, closely followed by Isaac who after watching the sunrise recommenced hammering the Rudd while I recast the rods.  Would this be my morning?  The wind had eased considerably, liners started up again and from time to time a few patches of bubbles erupted.  I felt I had a chance but time was short as we had to be away around 0800.  We dined on sausage sarnies again, cooked without any spitting or splashing in my new ‘Ridge Monkey’ toaster.  This was the first time I’d used it and was impressed. Still the odd patch of fizz appeared and the line twitched occasionally but we ran out of time.  An hour later we were at my daughter Maddie’s school as she collected her GCSE results; she made me a very proud dad indeed!

 Fishing wise summer seems to be fizzling out with little to show for my half-hearted efforts.  I may have another chance to wet a line for Tench and Carp, one decent fish would feel like a nice reward but who knows?  September is almost upon us, almost time to start sorting the Pike gear out. 
 

Never the same twice

I arrived around 1930 and after walking the bank and seeing nothing I decided to fish the same swim as last time.  It was a hot sunny day but the westerly wind was fresh and rippling the surface making it was impossible to see any fish in the time I had.  I raked the swim then baited up with three kg of mixed pellets and a tin of hemp.

  

The evening was nice with a spectacular sunset but due to the fresh wind and a harvesting combine it wasn’t exactly tranquil!  The wind was causing regular beeps on the alarms but at least one was a liner and there were a few Rudd showing on the surface.  I’d been toying with the idea of using my cheap and spindly rodpod but I hate these things so for some reason opted for a three rod buzz bar which was even less stable than the pod would have been.  I may have to spend some money soon…

The harvesting finished at 2230 and the sound was replaced by that of the wind in the reeds and trees.  Most of the places I’ve fished in the past have responded to a good blow but will this water?  Will the Tench and Carp move onto the banquet I’ve laid out for them?  The morning would tell me…

After a few hours’ sleep in the bivvy I rose at 0500 and recast all three rods.  Once again the chod rigs had worked in keeping the baits clear of weed but nothing had picked up the bait, as yet.  I recast all three rods and topped up with a few more pellets and boilies.  If anything the wind had increased and a good chop was rolling down the water.  Last time I’d been transfixed by the signs of fish on a calm, clear lake but in these conditions bubbles or indeed anything else would be difficult to spot.

Still I sat and watched the water and enjoyed watching the sun rise along with the bird life; There was a Kingfisher zipping around, I saw an Egret on three occasions, Yellow Wagtails landed on the floating weed and all the usual suspects flew in and out.  Two hours passed and it seemed like my best chance had gone so I began to experiment a little.  Casting a lead around revealed a couple of harder bottomed areas which would enable me to use something other than a chod rig.  I dropped a heli rig with a short hooklength baited with maize and dropped a handful of freebies on top then replaced one of the other chods with a float rig.  This didn’t last long as no matter what bait I tried it got hammered by silver fish before it hit the bottom, I was catching Roach on Maize!

Around 0830 a big patch of bubble erupted and I began to receive a few liners again.  For the first time this trip I actually felt like I was in with a chance.  However that was as good as it got the session fizzled out as the breakfast sausages sizzled and the final day of the test match started.  A bit disappointing fishing wise but still a great way to spend a summer evening.  I’ve still got a lot to learn about “Ted’s place”.

Wonderful Glorious

It had been nearly two years since I have pitched a bivvy up beside a lake in the summer and I had got completely out of the habit.  The early summer weather delayed the inevitable return but now we are in a period of hot, dry conditions it was high time.  I spent an evening getting things prepared then the following day I picked up the Purple Princess after work and we made our way to “Ted’s place”.

This water is very much an unknown quantity for me.  I know it had a history for good Tench fishing before it was decimated by Otters and I have seen a couple of decent sized Carp so I decided to hedge my bets and fish in a way that will give me a chance of catching both species.  Location could be a nightmare, the lake is very long and narrow, bankside access is limited and I have absolutely no experience to fall back on.  Once I’ve selected a swim my next problem is the thick weed growth, I have to fish in such a way I can counter this.  So I am looking for a low head of fish that will be hard to find in a large water and fishing in tricky conditions; why do I always find myself enchanted by such places?  Why don’t I fish easy access, well stocked waters with hard, clear bottoms?  Anyone who knows me…  “Ted’s place” is located in a remote and beautiful part of rural Suffolk, it is lightly fished and the tranquillity is equal to anywhere I’ve fished.

After chasing a Hare down the lane we arrived around 2000 and I began walking the bank whilst the Purple Princess set up her camera and started snapping away.  My walk of the banks revealed nothing that marked any swim out more than another but one had a ditch trickling water in as well as plenty of cover and just felt fishy.  I had to take a bit of a detour to get there as a Swan sat in the path and wasn’t moving!  I lugged the gear over then commenced raking the swim which removed a bit of weed and muck that I then managed to transfer onto myself.  The lake bed is covered with mussels and I chucked back loads of live ones dragged in by the rake.

An hour later I had everything ready; the bivvy was up, the swim sorted and two pop up boilies were being fished on chod rigs.  I don’t like this rig but in the weedy conditions it seems the best way of presenting a bait.  I then baited the area up with about three kilos of mixed pellets, a few handfuls of 10mm tutti boilies and a tin of hemp.  I hoped that by putting a bit of bait out I would encourage any patrolling fish into hanging around for a feed.  As I tackled up I’d grown aware of an ominous, growing humming sound and I feared squadrons of winged creatures forming up ready to drink our blood.  Everything I had done this evening was in anticipation of feeding fish moving into the swim in the early hours of the morning, the rods were out but I wasn’t expecting anything fishy to happen and so it proved.  Instead of catching fish we drank tea, chatted, watched the sun set and the moon rise. 

At dusk the mosquitos attacked, endless waves swooped in buzzing annoyingly and looking for blood.  These creatures were a right royal pain in the arse but for some reason they don’t seem to like the taste of me.  I swatted dozens that dared land on me but evidently none managed to pierce my skin.  We had allies when the bats appeared and swooped low on the hunt.  The moon lit the scene, casting shadows and throwing enough light on the water to show the surface was teeming with life.  I’m sure flies of some sort were hatching and hundreds of Rudd were taking advantage of this.  At around midnight we settled down in the bivvy for a nap, apart from the buzz of flies and the squawks of birds it was almost silent.  From the quiet of the bivvy we heard another sound, deep, strange and distant.  I’m told Bitterns have been sighted here, could it be?

The growing light and the sounds of bird song roused me at around 0430.  I recast the two rods and was pleased to see both baits had been clear of weed.  I topped the swim up with another kilo of pellets and a few more boilies then stuck a third rod out fishing corn and maggots on a waggler close in.  The float began dipping and bobbing straight away as the small baits were engulfed by Rudd or the occasional Perch.  The sunrise was obscured by mist and a dark shape materialised in the eerie light, it was some distance away but it was a Bittern no doubt!  This was the first I’ve seen in Suffolk and I saw it (or another?) emerge and fly out of the reeds opposite me a while later. 

 

At 0525 an alarm startled me as the middle rod took off and I bent into a decent weight.  The fish took line initially and surged along the surface towards a weed bed, a decent Carp no doubt.  I turned the fish and was just beginning to feel in control when the line fell slack…  That’s the thing with chod rigs, I seem to lose the odd fish, more than I do with other carpy rigs.  I should have felt gutted but I didn’t, if anything I was encouraged because my little plan had worked, kind of…  The swim in front of me was alive with Rudd on the surface and periodically large patches of fishy bubbles were erupting all over the place.  I was still in with a chance!

The float fishing was proving frustrating as I just couldn’t keep a bait in the water long enough to feel I was in with a chance of something larger than a Rudd.  I tried to adjust the shot and ended up fishing a bit of fake corn, popped up, lift bite style.  Still I caught Rudd, though fewer.  Eventually I swapped that rod for another, fishing corn on a kind of paternoster rig.  Using a light lead I cast towards patches of bubbles but still only Rudd rattled the tip.

At 0735 the middle rod started beeping again.  The indicator dropped back a bit then lifted oh so slowly and kept heading towards the butt.  It didn’t seem right but I lifted the rod anyway and a decent fish spooked off the line and bow waved away, I should have known better.  Still bubbles broke the surface from time to time, I was certain there were still fish in the swim and I’d get another chance.

 

As the morning continued the Purple Princess emerged from the bivvy and resumed photographing everything and anything.  There was no lack of subjects either with a dozen Swans sharing the water, in harmony for once and we sighted another Bittern.  The Suffolk countryside looked wonderful bathed in sunshine and there was plenty of life flying in all forms around.  Scores of Dragonflies buzzed in and zipped out before we could raise our cameras, this was frustrating for a while but eventually they began to land and settle on the platform in front of us.  There were at least two different species posing for the cameras, despite years of watching these things I didn’t know what species they were so after a little google I think one is a ‘Scarce Chaser’ and the other maybe a ‘Common Darter’.  Perhaps a wise man from the north can help me out?

By 1000 the bubbling had all but stopped and the only fishy activity came from the thousands of Rudd. I amused myself by flicking out maggots, a few at a time, and watching them zip in and pick them off.  I could have caught a fish a chuck but I didn’t feel the need.  We had a fried breakfast and plenty of tea then slowly tidied away.  It had been a brilliant night; I’d enjoyed it immensely despite not catching what I was after.   “Ted’s place” is perfect, it ticks all the boxes and I’ll be back for a rematch soon.

In a rhythm

I had to work on Saturday but afterwards the Purple Princess and I hurtled northwards and by dusk were pitching a tent on the Norfolk coast.  I love the long summer evenings and we still had enough light to enjoy a walk on the beach though not enough light to use the cameras.  We’ve camped here many times and expect to see Seals in the surf and sure enough we spotted one before we’d even descended from the dunes.  We walked northwards seeing more and more seals as we did so, after about a mile we climbed up a tide break and we greeted by the sight of a whole group of seals laying on the beach.  Their calls were strange, some high pitched and musical, others deeper almost barks.  We walked slowly forward but didn’t want to get too close and disturb them.  Further along the beach were even more seals around a hundred in all and there were dozens more swimming just off shore.  We made sure we kept a respectful distance and walked along enjoying something we may never see again?  The Seals certainly noticed us and some of the younger ones shifted position, a couple actually shuffled towards us to get a better look.  The sun setting behind the dunes gave the scene an eerie light, we couldn’t manage to capture it on camera but the memory will stay.

After a night in the tent we packed away in the morning and made our way to the staithe.  By midday we were afloat on a bouncy broad, surrounded by yachts.  Through the yachts I opened the throttle; the fresh south westerly threw spray off the bows and temporarily prevented the PP clicking away with a new Nikon.  After a little cruise around I stopped the boat in a sheltered spot and began tackling up.  I fished two open end feeders on helicopter rigs using corn or maggots on 16 hooks on a two foot link.  The groundbait was the remnants of the Expo mix I’d used in the spring, bulked up with more brown crumb and given a good squirt of liquid Brasem.

 With the cuddy half up, the boat nicely organised I tuned in radio 6 and we chilled out with a brew, or at least I tried but bites came to maggots immediately.  I missed a few and hit a few more and caught fish regularly, all Roach up to 4ozs and after a couple of hours I’d not seen a single Bream.  I was already planning to move before the Pink footed Geese starting fighting in front of us.  This plan became solid when one of the combatants launched itself skyward and through my line, dragging my rod and reel out of the boat and across the broad.  Thankfully the bird became untangled and the rod floated. All ended as well as could be expected when I picked the rod up on the way to a second swim.

 A short while later we pulled the boat into a secret, sheltered bay and got everything settled and sorted once more.  I chucked the feeder into a clear area between weedbeds.  The rods were mostly forgotten while I fried brunch and topped up the flasks, when I wound in I found either sucked maggots or a Roach had hung itself.  The day had threatened rain but we only felt a little drizzle on the wind, it stayed bright and breezy making good light for photography and the Purple princess was in her element.  Meanwhile I was in a nice rhythm, recasting regularly and catching fish, mostly small Roach with the occasional Rudd.  It didn’t take long before the rod stayed bent and I boated a Bream of about three pounds, followed quickly by another one a bit smaller.  This pattern continued throughout the afternoon; I caught mostly Roach but from time to time Bream would drift in and I would catch a couple before they wandered off again.  In future I’ll take more bait to hold them in the swim…  All in all it was a good day’s fishing.

 As always in Broadland there were plenty of distractions and photo opportunities that dragged my concentration away from the rod tips.  We saw all manner of wildfowl, in particular another Pink footed Goose which came right up to the boat.  I’m not sure if it was trying to scrounge a feed or if it was trying to make amends for earlier…  We see far fewer birds of prey in the summer but a couple of Marsh Harriers ghosted over.  Dragonflies buzzed by but didn’t stay for a photo.  The bay was ours and only ours, we didn’t see a soul though we heard plenty and no one knew we were there.  Radio 6 came up with some blinding tunes and I was dancing in the boat with Leftfield and Lydon.  We even switched stations just in time for the tie break that led to Andy Murray winning Wimbledon.  I’m no tennis fan but fair play.

It was a lovely afternoon and it was tempting to stay out to watch the sunset but the pub was even more tempting.  We made it in time for a lovely seafood platter washed down with a pint of ‘Ghost ship’.  We somehow ended in in the pub quiz and didn’t disgrace ourselves…  We packed loads into a day and a bit and arrived home late, thoroughly knackered.  We really must do this more often!

Early summer interlude

Last year I'd made plans for lots of social fishing with friends and family but at the time life got in the way and these plans had to be put on hold.  This year I had promised to put this right and the long warm days of June should give me plenty of opportunities.  The main priority for these sessions would be simple; have fun first and hopefully catch fish while we were at it.  June arrived but the weather didn't with monsoon weather for most of the month.  This kept the water temperatures down and a bit of lure fishing was on the cards.

First up was my eldest nephew Josh, on a cool a cool evening in mid June. We were afloat in a small boat by 1900 with the clouds breaking up and the sun making a belated appearance; it looked like we had a comfortable evening ahead.  The water was gin clear, revealing thick weed growth to within a foot of the surface.  This simplified our choices of lures considerably and I rowed out feeling very confident, this would be a piece of cake!

We headed downstream, with me just using the oars to correct a nice slow drift.  We started off chucking spinnerbaits but after a few minutes I switched to a Curly tailed thing made by Dave Greenwood.  A couple of casts later I saw a golden flash and the lure was nailed.  I quickly brought a jack Pike to the boat which was quickly unhooked with my fingers.  This was a nice little fish that showed signs of an encounter with a bigger sister sometime in the past.  With a fish under my belt I was happy to take a back seat and the main priority now was to get my nephew a fish.  We continued to drift downstream but I concentrated mostly on the oars, having a cast or two here and there.

I had expected it to be easy but it was anything but.  Everything looked spot on and we kept casting and switching lures, Josh by now using the curly tailed thing.  I warned him that takes would often make him jump out of his skin and the point was made literally seconds later as a nice sized fish launched itself out of the water a couple of yards from the boat.  It missed the lure and didn’t return but gave us a bloody good laugh, the neph said it didn’t matter that he hadn’t hooked it. 

After a stop for a brew it was time to point the boat back upstream, I rowed slowly while Josh cast here and there.  By now the light was fading and he had switched to a spinnerbait, fished high in the water bulging the surface at times.  A pike bow waved, slashed and missed.  He covered the area again but nothing doing.  As we rounded the last bend a Pike hit the spinnerbait with a swirl and slammed the rod over, at last?  No the fish came adrift after a few seconds…

We made it back in fading light, despite the fish not following the plan we’d had a good yarn and a proper good laugh.  The nephew is a casual angler but I have a feeling he gets what it’s all about and understands that catching fish is only part of it.

A few days later I was afloat in company once again.  Isaac has not shown much enthusiasm for a while but earlier in the week he’d said “Dad can we go fishing?” It seems that talking to school friends has rekindled his interest so I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go by.  The day had been dull and drizzly but the cloud was beginning to break up and it looked like the evening would be dry.  We intended to sit and fish with maggots under floats but before that we went for a row.  At least I rowed while Isaac sat holding a rod and trolling his “Angry Bird” lure.  Now these things, made by Rapala are a gimmick but this one in particular runs just beneath the surface and I reckoned it would be perfect for clear water, weedy conditions.

It looked like a repeat of earlier in the week, as we made our way downstream nothing looked at the lure.  Isaac expertly steered it around patches of weed and running shallow with a tight action rattling his rod tip it was surely a matter of time?  A few minutes later a fish boiled at the lure but didn’t hook up.  As it was the only fish we’d moved I decided to circle round and cover the area again.  Isaac continued to steer his lure through the weed and we were silent as we passed through the area again.  I’d just commented that the fish was probably not up for another go when Isaac’s rod whacked over and he was in!  It’s been a couple of years since he has played a fish of any kind of size but he remembered everything I’d nervously yelled at him in the past and done a top job of bringing the fish into the net.

The Pike had engulfed the lure so I leant over to chin it out of the net, as I did so the fish thrashed and managed to impale me on a tooth and rip a chunk out of my thumb.  Losing a bit of blood is normal for Pike fishing but this was one of the worst injuries I’ve had.  It spurted blood and with the fish still in the net I searched for something to wrap it up with, eventually using some receipts from my wallet (there’s never any notes in there).  So with me patched up I did the job properly the second time, removed the lure and held it up with Isaac for a quick photo.  With all the blood around I could forgive Isaac for not wanting to hold this one up himself!

With mission accomplished we set off once again, Isaac working his lure full of beans and a broad grin.  Only a couple of minutes and a few yards further down the Angry bird was hit again and Isaac was attached to an angry Pike which charged around and looked like it might be a bigger fish.  It shrunk at the net and was actually a little smaller than the first but Isaac was buzzing!  Two Pike in quick succession and he was eager for a third. 

We made it to the end of the stretch without any more fish.  Here we tied up to the bank for a while; Isaac fished with the whip while I made tea and sorted out the snacks. He was soon catching Rudd and mostly unhooking them and baiting up himself, I wasn’t sure if he’d remember how.  I nicked the whip and poached a couple of Rudd to save the blank while he was distracted by food.  Having seen a couple of Pike I fancied catching one myself so cast the lure around a bit.  Something swirled at the Angry Bird then a while later swirled at the curly tailed thing and I finally hooked a Jack on a Slider.  It was by the boat quickly and I soon had it chinned and unhooked, Isaac took a quick photo then it was back in the water and away.

Isaac decided he’d caught enough Rudd so off we went again, me rowing and Isaac trolling our way back to base. By now the sun was well and truly out and it was a lovely evening to be out.  Isaac had another Pike swirl at his lure and once again we circled round but this time didn’t find the Pike.  We made it back to base, for once things had gone to plan, almost. 

The following week I tried again, this time with my youngest nephew Ollie.  There had been a bit of rain earlier in the day but the evening cleared up nicely, it would be comfortable fishing at the very least.  Things started well with No 2. nephew hooking up within a few minutes and soon bringing a nicely marked jack to the boat.  Ollie hasn't done much fishing but did a good job despite my coaching.  This was on the 'angry bird' once again.  After that we moved several Pike but just couldn't get one to take.  The neph stuck to the angry bird and got several swirls and follows while I switched lures and only moved a couple.  One of these was a decent fish which followed a homemade spinnerbait right passed the boat then disappeared permanently.

The sky dimmed and I rowed back to base while Ollie trolled the angry bird back.  Another Pike slammed into this but quickly chucked the lure.  When I used to do lots of lure fishing I would find days like these very frustrating but not now.  It's just the way it is sometimes and you have to smile.  It was another memorable evening with great company and a bloody good laugh.

The weekend saw one last boat trip and this time I was the nephew as my uncle took a seat in the boat.  Uncle Brian has been a lifelong angler but just lately hasn't managed to get to the water.  For most of his life he has fished the Suffolk beaches for Cod and Whiting and I used to tag along sometimes when I was a kid.  When I became a coarse angler he would accompany Dad and I catching Carp, Rudd and Tench.  We've often talked about having a day together but the months and years go by, life gets in the way... until now.  Brian has caught most species of coarse fish but never a Pike so we would have to put that right., lure choice was obvious, the Angry bird was clipped on and we set off.

Yet another showery day but the forecast was correct and the rain blew over by mid afternoon.  We drove through big puddles on the way to the water and I had to bail a bit of water out of the boat.  My plan was simple, I would just steer the boat and try to put Unc onto a fish.  We began with a bit of trolling and weed was a problem to begin but as we reached clearer water the lure looked to be running just right.  I warned Brian about what to expect when a Pike hit but even so he was shocked when it happened!  The rod hooped over and the clutch gave line but uncle B is an experienced angler and seemed to take it in his stride.  After a short tug of war I scooped it up and Unc had his Pike.  "I thought it was going to pull me out of the bloody boat!"  The fish was by far the biggest in the boat this year and probably the biggest freshwater fish Uncle B has ever caught.  After removing the angry bird I laid it on the mat for a quick photo, before she was slipped back to glide away, vanishing in the weed.

So uncle B had his Pike!  The pressure was off and we drifted down casting lures and chatting.  We were both absolutely made up with this fish and Unc kept saying "I don't believe it!" I expected to catch more fish but as we worked our way down only one fish attacked my Salmo lure and this came unattached after a few seconds.  I didn't give a shit.  At the end of the stretch we stopped for a brew and caught Rudd on the whip for a while, it was a bite every chuck but the fish were small.  After a while we pointed the boat back and trolled/cast/trolled our way back.  Two hours passed like minutes as we chatted, reminisced and remembered someone who would love to have been with us.  We were almost back to base when the angry bird was hit again and Unc was battling another Pike.  This one pretended to be big by burying in weed but was only half the size of the first.  It didn't matter a bit to uncle though, he loved it and so did I!  

Usually my fishing is very personal, possibly selfish?  It's all about me catching a fish or two that achieves some kind of short term goal.  Most of my future fishing will still be like this, I love the solitude, it's what floats my boat.  These four summer lure sessions have been fantastic fun and I have been happy to take a back seat, playing the role of ghillie to help others catch fish.  I've never been competitive to the extent that I want to catch more than my companion but in the past I've always wanted to at least catch something.  My attitude has been different over these last couple of weeks, as long as we're having a laugh, I couldn't give a shit who catches.  I've got a real buzz out of sharing something I love with my family.  We'll definitely be doing more of this through the summer but the Pike police shouldn't get too alarmed, it's back to not catching Tench again now.  I'd forgotten how much fun lure fishing can be but that's enough for now.

There's more to it...

The long summer evenings of June mean I can often squeeze in a few hours fishing after work.  This takes a bit of pre planning; gear prepped and ready the night before, extra food to eat at work and a flask to fill during the last tea break.  The biggest problem is rush hour traffic and after a bit of thought I came up with a clever short cut to the main road that saved me ten minutes at least.  I was meeting up with Mr N at Ted’s place at 1830 and was ahead of schedule.  Until I run into crawling traffic…  The cause was accidents on both carriageways and the last few miles were a crawl.

I arrived late and Mr N was already fishing so I crept quietly into position beside him.  Ted’s place is a very weedy water and Mr N remembers it being a prolific Tench water but nowadays they are less numerous but generally bigger.  This is another Suffolk water which has seen Tench stocks decline rapidly since Otters have returned in numbers.  We had discussed methods over the phone; Mr N was using a light link leger with a long hooklength so his bait of bread flake would settle on the weed.  He assured me this simple method had seen the downfall of many Tench in the past and I didn’t doubt him.  I had intended to copy these methods but in the end opted to do it completely differently.  I rigged up a make shift chod rig and mounted two pieces of fake corn on a short hooklength.  I swung this out into the weedy water then chucked a few small balls of groundbait on top.

It was lovely to be out on a still summer evening, in a remote and beautiful corner of Suffolk. We always find plenty to talk about and were soon discussing England’s chances in Euro16, the third test at Lords and mourning the passing of the great Muhammad Ali.  We shared the same opinion on the EU debate and moved swiftly on.  Meanwhile, shoals of Rudd dimpled the calm surface, we saw a Cuckoo before we heard it and a Barn Owl slowly drifted along the far bank.  As to the fishing both our methods worked in keeping our hookbaits out of the weed but bites were few and far between.  My fake corn produced just one rattle on the rod tip but Mr N had a couple of twitches and one proper bite on bread.  His strike failed to connect and we couldn’t work out how.  I wondered if my unflavoured fake corn just didn’t have the allure to draw a passing fish or was my make shift chod rig was presenting the bait too high in the water?

We packed up just before it got too dark to see, a blank but plenty learnt with great company, lovely weather and a perfect setting.

Saturday in Suffolk was soaking wet with thunderstorms and monsoon showers.  Everything was still very wet early on Sunday morning when I arrived at the big place after hauling my carcass out of bed around 0500.  I had a quick look around but the level looked higher if anything and my options were very limited, I ended up in the usual swim and set up with little confidence if I’m honest.  I float fished corn over a bit of groundbait a rod length out and cast a tutti boilie/fake corn on a short hooklength with a PVA bag of pellets tight to an overhanging tree.  I catapulted out corn and pellets here then sat back with the awakening brew.

The day was mild, dry and pleasant with a light Southerly blowing in.  The sun rarely poked through the cloud and it felt a bit muggy but it was still a vast improvement on the soaking weather of Saturday.  There were signs of small fish close in and a couple of Bream rolled further out so at least there was something to give me hope.  As usual there was an orchestra of bird song, I wish I could recognise the various calls, the only one I am positive of is the Cuckoo.  On the water I saw Pink footed geese, Grebes, Mallards, Coots, Shelduck and tufties.  In the air and trees there were Martins, Terns, Great and Blue tits, Pigeons and Blackbirds.  The trees were heavy with water from all the rain and from time to time there seemed to be rain fall as patches of trees suddenly shed loads of water, then another… then another.  I couldn’t work it out but eventually the cause shook the branches above me…

I had plenty of time to notice all this because on the fishing front absolutely nothing happened and it was no wrench to tidy my gear up around midday.  So far the Tench in the big place have been more than elusive but to be fair access has been extremely limited and I just haven’t had the time to make a proper effort.  There seems to be a theme to my spring fishing.  Every year I look forward to fishing in improving weather and make grand plans to catch monster Tench but I just never find time to do half of it and inevitably fall on my arse.  It has been alleged that summer is here and this inevitably means sporadic fishing and mostly short sessions.  I’ll probably be better off spending my time elsewhere but we’ll see.

May

May should be a really productive month for a Tench angler but it never is for me, no different to any other time now I think about it.  For some reason I never seem to have much time in the spring, there are too many other distractions and this month had been very busy.  However the weekend was here and an afternoon come evening opportunity presented itself.  I didn’t really fancy the big lake or more to the point, I fancied fishing the new water as although I’d had a look around I hadn’t yet dropped a line in it.

So on a sunny, warm and breezy day I launched a punt and set off.  The aim was to explore and hopefully catch a fish or two so I armed myself with a pellet waggler rod, some groundbait, maggots and corn.  I paddled around peering into the water, dropping in here and there and fishing for a bit.  For company I had the Purple Princess wielding a new camera as well as TMS on the radio, for once I enjoyed hearing the opposition batsmen doing a little better and extending the match a bit.  England will win on the fourth day though. 

I knew the water could get very weedy and it certainly showed a lot of weed of all varieties.  I also spotted a tiny Pike in the weed, no more than two inches long a perfectly camouflaged miniature predator.  My approach was to find clearer areas and drop a bit of bait in, along with my float and bait.  Then I sat back to see what happened.  It was nice to just chuck a float out and catch what came along just as I did as a kid, doing this led me to being addicted to angling for life.  I can’t remember ever fishing like this from a punt before though.

I fished about five spots in all and caught fish in all of them; mostly Rudd along with a couple of Perch and one solitary Roach.  I didn’t see sight or sound of any Tench but I did see a good sized Carp slurping down emerging flies.  I enjoyed the intimate fishing even though I felt I was totally useless at it!  I waited for the sun to set before paddling back with plenty to think about.  It’s a really nice place to spend time and working out where and how to catch the bigger fish is just the sort of fishing I enjoy.

Following on…

I couldn’t be arsed getting up early in the morning with a cold Northerly wind blowing so it was not until 0745 that I rolled into the car park.  I opened the boot and realised I’d left my muck boots behind, that could be a problem.  I had a quick scout around, there was one area in particular where I’d been meaning to try, and today I would have the wind on my back.  The area looked inviting but without wellies I couldn’t fish it safely.  I ended up in a more familiar area which looked okay but meant I’d be hiding behind the oval with the wind in my chops.

The weekend had been around 20 degrees but today it was down to about 15 and felt cooler under the gloomy skies.  Not a day to be sitting out staring at a float so I began with two feeder rigs; one dropped about fifteen yards down the slope in seven feet of water, the other just a couple of rod lengths out where I baited up with a bit of seed mix, some maggots and some corn.  The close in rod was cast infrequently but for the other I kept braving the blow to keep the feeder going in.  When I did venture out of shelter it was nice to see the big lake in almost full summer bloom.  It’s changed a lot over the last two months.  The resident Swans now have a family of five young to look after, the Shelduck were still around along with a pair of Grebes that must have a nest nearby.  Once again there was constant birdsong all day but stuck behind the brolly I didn’t see much of it.

After a couple of hours I decided to change the close in rod to an inline lead with a tutti boilie and fake corn hair rigged on a short hooklength, I topped the area up with a bit more groundbait.  Then I sat back with a cup of tea and TMS on the radio.  The wind was forecast to increase throughout the afternoon and I would be happy under shelter with the radio.  On the fishing front things remained quiet as did the cricket; England only managed one wicket in the morning session and into the afternoon a decent partnership built.  As the wind increased in the afternoon session so did the action, England picked off the wickets and was set seventy something to win.  The fishing had seen nothing of note happening so as England’s innings began I started to tidy up.  A gust of wind rattled the brolly and knocked the radio over, I picked it up just in time to hear Cook pass ten thousand test runs.  I was home in time to watch the last few overs and the winning runs on tele.

Despite the traditional Pike season coming to an end PAC members have been busy tackling poaching in Essex and Yorkshire (please click the links below).  The shocking truth is the EA just don’t have enough enforcement officers to go round.  The ones they do have are stretched wafer thin and just can’t cover the ground to do the job.  The environment agency do not give anglers value for money, they just tax us.

http://www.pikeanglersclub.co.uk/ea-lets-anglers-down-in-essex/

http://www.pikeanglersclub.co.uk/more-on-the-essex-poaching/

http://www.pikeanglersclub.co.uk/poaching-north-and-south/

Talking of PAC the very latest Pikelines magazine arrived a couple of weeks ago and it is the best for years.  Several well written articles by top Pikers in a beautifully laid out mag but you don’t expect anything less from new editor Stephen Harper.  That’s just another reason why every serious Pike angler should be a member.  I may be biased, bollocks I am biased but I think Pikelines is the best Pike fishing magazine there is.

I have a subscription to Pike & Predators magazine too and this usually has a right ol’ mix of articles; good bad and indifferent.  Editor Neville Fickling always writes something interesting and there are good articles from other authors every month.  There is usually someone reinventing the wheel, sometimes in an attempt to sell tackle and usually there are a couple of thinly disguised advertorials.  I wonder how much does Mick Flanagan pays to advertise his business every month?  On the whole the mag is a pretty good read.