Times like this

It’s become a cliché in our little world of angling but there really is much more to fishing than catching fish.  Mr T is one of my oldest friends and unusual in as much as our friendship began in pubs and clubs rather than the riverbank.  Still Mr T is an angler but spends his time hurling leads into the North Sea in the hope of catching something he can eat.  We have fished together before but it had been far too long… 

We’d pencilled in a bit of lure chucking once the weather had started to cool and now was the time.  We met at 1600 and drove through concrete suburbia straining with the start of rush hour.  Half an hour later, concrete roads turned to gravel tracks, Mr T opened the gate on my rural oasis and was totally wowed by the scene in front of him.  This beautiful little spot does take people by surprise and I hope I don’t take it for granted.

With a boat loaded I rowed us down the stretch with Mr T trolling a shallow diving Rapala out the back.  The sky was clear and bright but the wind was a fresh Easterly which gave me a bit of a workout as I pulled on the oars.  I expected a take at any time and this feeling only heightened as we passed into deeper water but still no fish showed their presence.  I kept rowing and Mr T kept guiding his lure, by now we were in the area I’d found fish at this time last year, they didn’t appear to be around now.  We continued a bit further until we reached shallow water where I dropped a mudweight and made a brew.  Time for a rethink?  As we sat sipping a Kestrel hovered to the east and Curlew pipped as they flew over to the farmland to the west.

With hot tea inside us we changed to casting lures from the drifting boat, this was always part of my plan but I’d banked on Mr T catching a fish by now, this was still my only goal for the session.  I rowed upwind and allowed the wind to take us, Mr T continued with the Rapala while I fished a ‘real eel’ high up above the weed beds.  Every now and then I’d row us back upwind a way then recommence drifting and casting but still nothing pulled back.  I switched to a Shad and on this I felt a fishy pull but didn’t hook up, this was repeated shortly afterwards and Mr T had something swirl at his lure but we were still fishless.

Time passed and the sun began to sink making the sky a constantly changing canvas of colours.  We chatted and laughed, it really wouldn’t matter if we caught but I was still trying hard.  By now I’d switched to a Slider and it was this lure that finally done the business, I felt a sharp tug and managed to set the hook this time.  The fish was small and soon alongside the boat where it released itself when I grabbed the trace.  Job done?  No, I wanted Mr T to catch! 

I rowed us back upwind and we drifted through the successful area again.  There was a splash and swirl, Yes Mr T hooked up!  I barked instructions but I didn’t have to, Mr T knew what he was doing.  I didn’t want any mistakes here so scooped the fish up in the net at the first opportunity causing a cheer from us both and high fives.  We laughed and grinned and I think I was probably the most excited of the pair of us.  Back upwind again and on the next pass through the productive area we both moved fish but both failed to hook up.  We fished on, gradually working our way back to the slip with the light now fading fast.  By the time we made it back to base it was properly dark, we laughed at my inept attempts to position the boat in a fresh cross wind but eventually got everything sorted.

As we drove through tight country lanes we had to slow down for sprinting Partridges and wait while two Deer crossed the road.  Sights an angler takes for granted but lovely all the same.  We found a quiet pub just off the main road and treated ourselves to a well earned pint.  The conversation continued, as ever veering from quite deep to very shallow with everything in between.  The setting was relaxed, the company couldn’t be bettered, we both agreed that we felt like settling in for the evening.  It was just as well I had my car outside, our drinking history is a long messy one and we are both too old for those kinds of shenanigans now.  We made our drinks last in an attempt to prolong what had been a wonderful evening but eventually had to drag ourselves home.   Modern life puts value on piles of wealth and fancy possessions, this is bollocks.  The most valuable commodities are love, family, friendships and time.  I know I repeat myself but times like this are priceless.

Diversions.

I made a trip to Norfolk in mid August.  We had to drop some supplies off at Maddie’s new house in Norwich so the two of us set off north with a little space left in the car for a bit of a fishing expedition.  The house looks good, solid and spacious.  After we’d finished here we head east to Broadland.  At the staithe everything was ship shape, after draining and shifting the boat my next job was to affix my new engine.  The old Mariner had died, long live the new Mariner.  With the boat on the water and loaded, the engine started easily so Maddie and I set off out of the dyke.

Not far into the broad I realised I’d forgotten to top up the petrol so putted over to a sheltered area where I cut the engine and filled up.  Re-starting was not straight forward but after resting for a bit I got it to fire. 

We crossed the Broad and away, the engine pushes the boat nicely and increasing the revs doesn’t seem to make it much faster.  A slow meander down, checking out spots for later in the year then we settled into my favourite spot just inside a big bay.  Straight away it was obvious that there was much more weed here this year and the weed is growing in areas where it’s usually clear.  There was enough clear water to fish two swimfeeders on heli rigs with short hooklengths and maggots as bait.  Bites came from the off but they were hard to hit.  Eventually we connected with a few and brought a procession of Rudd to the boat.  An hour here was enough, it didn’t look right for Bream in this spot.  The engine restarted fine, I think I’m getting the hang of it.

The day was mostly cloudy with a moderate north westerly wind, as we motored back towards the staithe I pondered a second fishing spot and ended up in a spot I’ve rarely fished before.  Once again bites came quickly but this time we hooked Bream, not big ones but definitely the species I was after.  We packed up when we ran out of groundbait , in ideal circumstances I would have liked to have fished for longer with Bream located but all good.

I had a couple of futile trips down into the Valley, searching for the impossible Carp.  The first time I fished from the bank as the wind was howling.  For some bizarre reason I took a feeder rod and some corn, after constant bites and a couple of Rudd I became bored.  The Carp rods did nothing to brighten my day either, the cricket on the radio didn't help much.  A few days later I went back again and as I’d put a bit of bait into my swim on the previous trip I returned.  Would some Carp or Tench be mooching around?  No.

The final weekend of August, I decided to head back to Norfolk for a crack at the Bream, my nephew Ollie fancied a day out too.  We left mid morning and had the most infuriating journey.  I realised I needed petrol and my slight detour to the garage went a bit awry and I ended up driving on roads I’d never been on before.  We eventually made it back to the A road but things only got worse.  Only in Norfolk would they close one of the county’s main roads but NOT mark out a diversion route.  More miles on unridden roads.  We made it to the staithe about an hour later than planned.

We loaded and launched on a bright breezy afternoon and left the dyke with a plan.  I’d located Bream a couple of weeks previously so it was to this area I headed, this journey was hampered by blind sailors charging us.  When we emerged from the plastic armada Sod’s law intervened again.  A large holiday cruiser had dropped weights in the exact spot I wanted to fish.  No matter, I turned around and headed to another spot I usually catch Bream, this was vacant if a bit exposed.  We quickly set up a feeder rod each and began pinging them into the channel.  Bites came quickly and regularly to begin with and we caught a few Roach each but after an hour bites had slowed and no Bream had shown.  A larger cruiser came past us and it looked like the one which had been in our way so we tidied up and moved.

Half an hour later we were fishing again and I was full of confidence, there were loads of Bream here last time!  First cast my tip pulled round and I struck into what could only be a Bream, heavy and plodding as I slowly drew it towards me.  Unfortunately the fish became weeded and dropped off, no worries, there’ll be more.  We put a load of bait out and continued fishing but bites were slow and tricky, the few we connected with were Roach or Perch.  Time passed and the fishing didn’t improve but we drank cool beer and enjoyed the broad, celebrating that Town were still top of the league and England were still in the Ashes.  The afternoon turned to evening and the sky clouded over, it even spat a bit of rain at us.  With lower light levels I felt more confident and at last we started to hook Bream, at least Ollie did.  I netted three for him but my rod was still just producing the odd Roach.  Then with a series of swirls and bow waves an Otter crashed through our swim and the bites all but stopped.

We got off the water with the falling light and headed for home, better prepared for the quirks of Norfolk’s Highway department.  It had been a poor day in a fishing sense but a very enjoyable social day out.

So that has been summer.  The settings may have been secluded and beautiful but it has to be said the fishing has been rubbish.  I really should concede that I don’t have enough time to put in the required effort to properly tackle the Valley.  The way my fishing time falls I really would be better off fishing more prolific waters but I’ll almost certainly have one more go next year.