Bread flake on a size 12

The first week of January was mild and damp at times, decent winter fishing weather but I was busy, my window of opportunity shrunk to an afternoon.  If I was Pike fishing I’d fancy my chances but the recent rain had seen the river rise and then fall again and I figured it would be in pretty good nick and I’d have a chance of catching something silvery.  It has taken me a lifetime but in recent years I’ve realised that just because its winter it doesn’t have to be Pike and at times conditions and timing mean I’m better off trying for something else.  Today I would be trying for Chub but I’d settle for anything with fins. 

I could have gone out earlier but the day was bright for a change so I pulled into a busy car park around 1400.  After a bit of a walk I settled into the same swim I’d fished three weeks previously, a sharp reed lined bend, there had been fish present then so it was a starting point at least.  Today it looked good, the classic green tinge and with decent pace too.  What’s more there were definitely fish here, small ones probably Roach topping from time to time.  It looked like I was in with a chance.

I started fishing with three maggots on a size 16 with a two foot hooklength, pretty much same as last time but today I used a lighter feeder which I half filled with maggots and swung downstream.  Switching to the twelve foot rod made life a lot easier and I felt much more in control.  I’d also positioned my chair and net up with a bit more thought meaning I could comfortably do everything seated.  I felt I was fishing more effectively and I was even getting bites from the start.  Most were tremors and twitches but there were two proper pulls which a competent angler would have hit.  After an hour I was still fishless and it occurred to me that I was fishing with a set up that was probably a bit too heavy for Roach and not ideal for Chub.  I was doing neither one thing nor the other.  Still I was glad I’d come out and happy to be fishing for something other than Pike for a change.  The setting was pleasant and the afternoon was comfortable, even the dog walkers were sane and none bothered me.  I could hear plenty birdsong but all the ones I spied were pigeons, have they always been so numerous or is this a thing of recent years?  Later the nearby birds I couldn’t see shrieked in alarm and a second later a Sparrowhawk zipped silently past.  But still I couldn’t convert the rattles to fish in the net and it wasn’t necessarily because I was distracted.

Last time switching to bread flake had made the difference so after an hour I made the change but on this occasion if anything the bites slowed.  I was certain there were still fish in front of me but I was making a balls up of catching them. After a couple of casts with flake I reverted to maggots again but switched to a heavier feeder thinking that as I was too slow to hit the bites I needed a bit of weight to help a fish hook itself.  I’m not sure if this made a difference but the next time the tip pulled round I lifted into my first fish of the year, a small Roach which was swung into my hand, mission accomplished.  The sun had gone now, the light slowly fading but my watch told me it was lingering longer than the last time I fished here, for two weeks the days have been growing a tiny bit longer again.

With the red tip becoming more difficult to see I decided to stop hedging my bets and switched to a size 12 hook and a bigger lump of flake, if a Chub picked that up I might have a chance of seeing the bite, shit or bust.  I’d caught a fish so was pretty relaxed and happy to sit it out like this for a while.  Still when the tip wrapped round it was unexpected!  I lifted into a solid weight but instead of feeling Chubby it felt snaggy.  I remember Chub fight dirty so lowered the rod and slackened the line hoping it might swim clear.  When I tightened again it was out of the snag but the fish had gone.

I was disappointed but also encouraged, what I was doing had tempted the fish I was after, it was working.  I swung out another piece of flake and squinted at the rod tip.  After a few minutes I realised the rod would have to be pulled in before I saw anything, I wound in to find my bait had gone.  I baited up again, a few more maggots into the feeder then swung the lot downstream.  I’d seated myself so I was facing slightly upstream, away from the area my rig had landed.  I left my head torch on as it was the only way I’d see anything, this felt wrong but at least it was shining away from the area I was fishing.  I think it’s normal for night carpers to use their torches almost permanently these days but I still feel awkward if the beam is on the water. 

Just before 1700 the tip pulled round again and this time I connected with a fish that put a decent bend in the rod.  I don’t have any memories of hard fighting Chub, in my mind they are quite tame but this one certainly wanted to have a scrap trying in vain to bury itself in the reeds.  However with the twelve foot rod I was in full control, the fight one sided and I soon had it in the net, possibly the first Suffolk Chub I’ve caught by design this century?  It was no monster, probably about two pounds which would have been typical of the fish I used to catch as a teenager.  Not big but it was absolutely mint and I was delighted to catch it.  I had one more cast, by this time the sound of rush hour traffic was drowning out any birdsong and night had well and truly closed in.  This last cast didn’t bring anything and a little while later I was walking back to the car.  I’d really enjoyed doing something different and I’ll do it again soon.