Unfamiliar

I was up and about fairly early, out in the half light and had to scrape the windscreen for the first time this year. Then Monday morning A road hell, not one but two major hold ups saw me arrive at the river an hour later than planned, the morning mist had almost burned away and a bright day was in prospect.  The stretch was still unfamiliar so I took a slow hike upstream and ended up in an interesting area with reeds and features.  This’ll do.  I was fishing by 0825 with a float rig slowly dragging a herring down river, just touching bottom and holding from time to time.  The other was half a bluey on a float leger, swung upstream and in close.

I can’t sit still nowadays and after a few minutes I picked up the lure rod and clipped on a shad, as much as anything I used this to count down and check depths, any fish would be a bonus. Or not as in this case.  After an hour I wound in and went for a wander upstream a bit further, once again counting down the lure finding a bit of depth variation and spying a nice reedy bay as I did so.  A move was in order and I was soon settled in again.  The morning was pleasant and quiet with the loudest sound the cawing of crows and there were loads of birds about, most too quick and too brown for my eyes but I saw Kingfishers regularly, a Red Kite drifted over and several times a Sandpiper.  But as the time ticked away I’d seen no sign of a Pike and any confidence was dwindling.

By 1100 I was tidying up and planning my next move, one rod was already wound in when a too loud blast from the micron spun me around, something had picked up the bluey and was moving upstream.  I wound down quickly, felt a tap and then nothing, I’d messed it up.  Bugger! With this I decided to stay a while longer so got the rods back out and settled down for another hour without anything else happening.  By midday it had clouded over a bit and I’d moved downstream a way.  I started off spending twenty minutes or so casting the shad around and identified a couple of promising areas then settled into a tight swim where I was hidden behind reeds.  An hour passed quickly and I was weighing up another move when I noticed a float jab, the herring almost under the rod tip was on the go.  This time I connected with the fish which ran around in front of me and felt decent but then the bloody hooks came out!

I had another move but in my heart I knew I’d blown it, for today at least, but there’d been enough going on for me to look forward to a rematch and next time I won’t be going in blind.

I’d had a plan for the weekend but the anti-social weather we had coming in meant that was a non-starter, rain and strong wind ain’t really what you want for mobile fishing in the flatlands so if I was going to fish then sitting behind buzzers beneath a pegged down oval brolly seemed far more sensible.  The only question was where.  In the end I decided to head back to the new stretch again, it’s not how I’d usually fish this kind of venue but today I felt I could make it work and besides, there was nowhere else I really felt like fishing.

I walked a fair way upstream before stopping at one of the spots I’d fished last time.  I swung a legered bluey upstream and round the corner the dropped a float legered herring downstream before quietly setting up camp a few yards back from the water.  Now it was just sit and wait fishing, something alien to me these days, years of boat fishing makes it frustrating for me to sit still but I wonder if I’m sometimes too quick to move these days?  Even within the confines of this static fishing I still kept the float rod on the move, dropping the bait into different areas around the swim.  Meanwhile the leger rod was just left in place as I’d had a take from that spot last time…  The weather actually wasn’t that bad, yes the wind was gusting but the rain seemed to be mostly staying away.  This enforced hand brake on my movements may have done me a favour as the clock ticked round to 1050 before anything happened.  I’d recently recast the herring, under arming it about 1/3 across on the edge of the flow.  After a few minutes the float wobbled a bit then slid under and travelled upstream.  I set the hook and a spirited fish charged around under the rod tip but didn’t manage to take any line from the clutch and I soon had a nice fish of around six pounds on the mat.

I swung another herring out then sat back once more, content for a while longer. I’d sat in the same spot for three hours before a fish found my bait, I’d almost forgotten this was possible.  Meanwhile the day was growing gloomier, the wind was gusting ominously but the threatened deluge was little more than the occasional spray of drizzle.  Not good weather for bird watching but I did see an Egret fly languidly by.  But I couldn’t sit still forever and after another hour had passed without Pikey interference I tidied up, stowed the oval and lugged it all downstream a way, a few minutes later everything was reassembled in a tight swim just below a bend.  The area looks the part and I sat back with a boost of confidence but two hours here passed in a blink, it may have looked good but nobody had told the Pike.  I wondered what to do next but without anything to motivate me further I decided I’d had enough and got away home.