To block or not to block

By the mid point of the festival of greed being indoors had become stifling, the waterside was calling.  I was awake before daylight, which isn’t saying much as for the last several days we’ve had the ceaseless overcast, greyness that we always seem to get at this time of year.  I loaded the car by torchlight but by the time I arrived at the river it was light enough to do without.  I set up at the interesting spot I’d scouted last time with two float legered deadbaits, one upstream and one down.  The first cuppa of the day hadn’t even finished brewing when a bluey cast downstream near an overhanging tree was on the move.  I soon had a nice lean fish of six pounds or so in the net, with one hook just nicked into the scissors I was able to unhook it with my fingers and slip it back.  I’d liked the look of this area and my confidence had been justified, this was the perfect start.

I always tie my deadbaits on with bait elastic, always.  I do this because I want the only baits in my swim to have my hooks in them, this is especially so in hard waters where takes are few but also in more prolific places.  I’m lucky to know a couple of waters where it’s possible to catch half a dozen Pike in a short space of time which could lead to there being several discarded baits in the swim thus reducing the chances of my baits being picked up.  I’ve never felt that the tied on baits reduce my chances of hooking a Pike, I can’t think of any occasions when this has been an issue.

Forty five minutes passed before the same float was bobbing again, this time I’d used a smelt and something was moving downstream with it.  I wound down quickly but the expected bend in the rod didn’t happen and I found something had made off with my tied on smelt.  How did that happen?  Three quarters of an hour later it was the upstream float along the reeds that started bobbing before heading steadily towards the reeds.  I wound down, felt the weight then swept the rod back and somehow struck thin air, what’s more my tied on mackerel was gone.  I recast with half a bluey, tied on again!  I don’t think these Pike have clocks but another forty five minutes had passed and the upstream float was jabbing once more.  I picked up the rod, wound down then wound some more and eventually retrieved another bare trace.  Once was baffling enough but three times in a morning?

Next bait out of the bag was a Mackerel so this was tied on and under-armed across the river.  Only ten minutes had passed when I noticed a big lump of weed drifting down the river, it looked like it would miss the downstream rod but I had to wind in the other.  While I was retrieving something grabbed the mackerel and thankfully I managed to keep it on the hooks this time and lifted out a small fish of a couple of pounds or so.  Was this the bait robber?  It didn’t look noticeably fat…  This time I rebaited with my last chunk of bluey and it was only ten minutes before this was picked up.  I set the hooks and found myself attached to something with a bit of strength which powered upstream before quickly turning and running the other way.  This caught me unawares and the line was slack for a moment before I made contact again, thankfully the hooks stayed in!  This was clearly my best from the river so far so I left it in the net for a minute while I got the scales and mat ready.  I was able to unhook this one with my fingers but as I turned to get the scales the fish flipped itself off the mat and slid away back into the river.  I guessed it around eleven pounds but I’ll never know and would have liked a photo.

After that, things went quiet as you’d expect.  I was content to sit it out in the one swim but really should have made the effort to move.  There are other likely looking spots close by but none quite look the part as much as this one and didn’t inspire me to get on my heels, in future I’ll know better.  My last trip of the year ended in the early afternoon by which time the dark clouds still hadn’t shifted and I needed side lights on the way home.

The Grinch speaks

As the Pike season got into full swing my Facebook feed was full of inexperienced Pikers showing their recent successes to the internet world. I say inexperienced but I’m making an assumption because no Piker with a few years under his belt would do this!  Anyone with a bit of experience knows this is a quick way to ruin your own fishing so would go out of their way to avoid exposure, unless they’re trying to sell something of course…
But there is the trouble!  The angling trade was quick to use social media to boost sales and over the last twenty years the way fishing tackle is sold has changed completely.  All the major companies have their “Team members” flooding social media with their catch reports and words of wisdom. NB “Team member” usually means someone unpaid trying to boost their own persona by association with a brand.  Following this we see the ordinary angler trying to imitate the names and we see the same kind of report again and again and… until social media becomes saturated with the same old shit!!  This media has made the traditional angler’s trophy shot become a total fucking cliché and nine out of ten are bloody carp. Nowadays the sight of these mutant ratfish being held for the camera just leaves me cold, however big the fish is.  I find myself seeking the ‘block’ button more and more.

Lately there’s a new Pike fishing brand trying to convince me that their bait flavourings are the dogs danglies using all the marketing tricks of the carp trade.  The implication made by clever wording is these flavours will boost our catch rates but there is no attempt to demonstrate this in any measurable way. I’ve not yet hit the block button but only because at the moment they amuse me but I doubt it will be long.

When I say social media I mean Facebook as for several years it’s been the only one I use, life is too short and there’s not enough time in the day to keep up with all that other shit.  Even with just the single ‘media’ almost every day I find myself blocking several sites that try to sell me carp bait, tackle or fisheries.  I know there are still proper Carp anglers around who try to do their own thing amongst all the commercial madness but Carp angling today bears no resemblance to the sport many of us became interested in a lifetime ago.  Nowadays it’s all manufactured, it’s all fake.  Commercial fisheries full of genetically fiddled eating machines that already have names, to me there is no merit in catching these creatures.  If it lives inside a fence and was bought from a farm it’s just livestock.  Worse still, the explosion of exclusive fisheries with waterside lodges that can be booked for a holiday of sorts.  Someone with a lake and a bit of land can close their eyes and see pound signs, you could argue ‘why shouldn’t they?’ But how many anglers are now denied access to waters they previously fished unless they pay big money for a weekend?  Well I’m one for sure but does that mean I’m a hypocrite when I pay the Wye & Usk foundation?  I get annoyed with the seemingly endless lakes for hire Ads but I probably see these because I’ve already blocked most of the major tackle firms.

It’s not just carp though there are also loads of ‘groups’ where anglers with massive fingers exhibit suspect looking fish.  These pages are often started by people whose enthusiasm far out strips their experience and it shows.  Many of these sites are riddled with bad practice and poor advice but if anyone tries to offer constructive criticism let vitriol commence.  I became bored of arguing with strangers on the internet years ago, click on ‘block this page’. 

This has come to a head recently on Youtube with 3 minute heroes making videos showing bad Piking practice then not taking kindly to any criticism, constructive or otherwise.  The star then uses his or her ‘influence’ to belittle those who really do know better.  I’m told there are Youtubers putting out good advice and proper practice but the ‘stars’ I’ve seen on my infrequent visits are mostly frauds, I‘ve said it already, a truly experienced Piker wouldn’t be using that media anyway.

And another thing, anyone who pops up on the screen and has the word ‘angler’ as part of their name gets blocked too, (I think you’re spelling that wrong mate).  It’s like the ‘angler’ bit is tagged on because the person in question thinks it will add a bit of credibility and imply a degree of ‘fame’ but if they were in any way renowned they wouldn’t need it.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too harsh on the social media wannabees because if I’m honest, if my angling obsession had begun forty years later, I’m sure I’d have been doing all of the above and more and thinking about it at the time I was trying to do the nineteen nineties equivalent.  But it was a different time and angling ‘media’ was mostly far more honest back then.  I’m not certain that angling as it is sold to beginners today would appeal to me at all?  I’d probably be living in a wooden cabin with a secret cellar, stashing food and hiding weapons.  Happy new year, assuming we get that far 😊

The Dark Month

November ended with my first trip in the ‘other boat’ of the season on a mild but gloomy day.  Mr W was my guest for the trip, the first day out together we’d managed for a couple of years.  We float fished static deadbaits and moved regularly throughout the day, at our first stop I had three fish all on the same rod in ninety minutes with the biggest just about double figures.  Thankfully the fish were more spread out in our next swim and we managed a fish apiece then it was the turn of Mr W who had the only Pike from the next spot, by this time noon had come and gone.  I was confident we’d keep picking off fish throughout the afternoon but the next couple of moves were uneventful and we packed up in fading light without adding to the score.  It was a nice day in a lovely spot with good company but nowadays not something I want to do too regularly.  This place has become too familiar in recent years, it doesn’t fire me up the way it once did.

Not going to plan...

Early December saw storms with names and heavy rain and consequently the rivers rose for the first time this season.  Where would the fish go in these conditions on the river?  On my visits I’d noticed a couple of spots that might fit the bill and I’d only find out if I gave it a go.  So once again I braved the morning rush hour on roads that are little more than dual queues heading in each direction.  When I pulled up in the car park I had a surprise, the river had certainly flooded and the water had come up much further than I’d anticipated.  I loaded up and waded down the long path towards the river and to cut a long story short, I couldn’t get near to the spots I’d earmarked to fish.  Nowhere I could reach inspired any confidence so I retraced my splashing steps, put the gear back in the car and went home.

Me and Rich had planned a trip to the fens months ago, we wanted to revisit some old haunts that we’d fished regularly through the nineties but these were places we’d barely laid eyes on for a quarter of a century.  Once the Pike season started we’d kept the idea bubbling and narrowed the location down but a couple of pencilled in dates had been scrapped due to extreme weather.  Finally in mid December we head west for our nostalgia trip with high hopes on a mild, gloomy day; we hoped to become reacquainted with the pike on the big Fenland river.

Our destination was the very first stretch we ever fished in Fenland with two consistent swims half a mile apart, we aimed to spend time in both.  But our plans went up in smoke as soon as we arrived with a big unfriendly sign telling us the stretch was now private, no day tickets available…  Still there were other places we knew where we’d have a chance but the first of these was no good because the reed beds had encroached so much we couldn’t get near the river.  It was surreal to see thick beds of Norfolk reed stretching out and filling the shallow margins right up to the top of the shelf.  With piss easy commercial fisheries stuffed with mutant ratfish the ‘go to’ venues for most these days the rivers are neglected, there is no incentive to keep the rivers fishable, from the bank at least.

We turned around and drove back upstream a way and finally found a bit of river we could fish, a short stretch of reinforced bank nestled between more reed beds.  We soon had a live and dead bait out each then settled back for a brew and a chat.  Everything looked good, the river had a bit of colour but wasn’t pushing through and there were plenty of silver fish topping at first light.  It was a nice morning in pleasant surroundings but was lacking the important ingredient - Pike so in late morning we decided to have a move and packed up.  I had a bit of a surprise back at the car, I almost never take live bait with me these days but it was a bit unnerving to see my motor sandwiched between two Environment agency vehicles.

An hour later we were fishing again at a different venue, somewhere I’d had fish in more recent times which is reed fringed and intimate but has swims here and there.  Once again it all looked good but our baits weren’t interesting any fish and a move upstream didn’t help either.  Here we’d obviously found the popular swim as the litter was disgusting, I filled a bag full of other peoples’ crap but still had to leave a bit behind.  With the light fading we decided to hit the road earlier than planned and on the way home we reflected on the day.  The Fenlands are a bleak looking place in winter, dark and depressing until you get to the waterside.  The rivers and drains are another world and beautiful in their own quirky way.  But to get to these waters you have to travel on the fenland roads which are shocking; suspended above the fields these make for nervous travelling, they look slippery but are often corrugated.  This doesn’t stop people from driving right up your backside until they recklessly overtake, I was glad to get out of there.

Over the last decade I’ve revisited several places that were regular venues in the eighties and nineties; reservoirs, pits, rivers or drains and every case it’s been a disappointment, even if I’ve caught a few fish.  Time passes, places change and the spark of intrigue that once captured me isn’t where I left it. 

Another river

Another day and a leisurely start saw me make my first casts on the river around 1030, half a bluey legered upstream and a float legered smelt was fished in various places on the downstream side of the swim.  The weather was dull, mild and dry but there was a westerly gale which had convinced me to carry the oval so I ended up settling into the swim I’d caught from last time.  I sat here beneath a shelter content to wait it out a while.  After forty five minutes the ‘billy’ sounded, the arm had dropped fractionally so I picked up the rod and opened the bale arm, a little line trickled out so I wound down but there was nothing there.  I inspected the bait which may have been picked up but nothing definite and soon had it back in position.  Half an hour later the alarm sounded again, the arm dropping back then pulling back up as a fish moved upstream.  I set the hooks quickly and had a tug of war with a spirited fish but once I had it in front of me it rolled over and into the net.  Six or seven pounds of lovely spotted river Pike was most welcome after recent excursions.

I sat in the swim for a couple more hours as I’m getting better at this patience game but with the wind easing I packed away the oval then made a move downstream and spent an hour fishing an area I’d not yet tried, but without success today.  With the light starting to fade I decided to cut and run to get home before the roads went mad.  It may be well worth staying into darkness some time soon but I’ll save that for a weekend.

Another spare day with just enough time for a mornings fishing but where do I go?  I was tempted to head for the Drain where I’d have a good chance of catching a few fish but here I would learn nothing new.  The River interests me, it runs through quiet, pleasant meadows and I haven’t much idea what I’m likely to catch, there’s loads to learn here.  With that in mind I planned to cover water today and fish some different spots, that said I started in a swim where I’d lost a fish last month, just downstream from a sweeping bend.  I was fishing by 0825, both rods with inline float leger rigs, I dropped a smelt in close just upstream and half a bluey in mid river downstream, both areas screened by tall Norfolk reeds.  I didn’t have long to wait, after fifteen minutes the upstream float bobbed then started to head in towards the reedbed.  I pulled into it quickly and pulled it away from the reeds and into open water.  This was a small Pike and I soon picked it out of the flooded margin, unhooked it and slipped it back.  Another smelt was dropped into position then I sat back again.

The day started off cold with frost on shaded ground and steaming breath, it turned out a mixture of cloud and occasional periods of rare December sunshine, a moderate south westerly kept the clouds moving.  The river was running quite clear with good pace, causing the floats to sway in the current.  Using an inline float and a high rod tip I could keep most of the line out of the water and so avoid the worst of any floating debris.  I could hear the hum of traffic from afar but mostly I listened to the sound of birdsong.  After a couple of hours it was high time for a move, just a short way downstream I set up again at the end of a tunnel of reeds.  This spot looked the part but nothing showed so after an hour I was on the go again.  This time I yomped a couple of hundred yards and came out at an area I hadn’t yet made a cast in.  The recent floods had flattened a lot of bankside vegetation and so allowed access.  Here the river looked cracking with good depth and loads of features, I spent a couple of hours working my way further downstream catching nothing but learning loads.

By early afternoon I was back on the road with just the one fish under my belt but a load more knowledge gained which would not have been the case had I taken the easy option and gone to the Drain.