Choices

The thought of catching another Smoothound was enticing and intoxicating and led me to ignore all common sense and try to keep the run going.  To be honest I had my doubts, the weather forecast wasn’t promising, hot, clear and bright; also the high tide was due shortly after 1600 which meant if I fished until dark the water would be way down the slope.  Things were far from ideal but the thought of catching another Smoothound…

So I set up at the northern end of busy beach around 1350, two and a half hours before high tide.  There were half a dozen anglers to the south of me and an equal number of day trippers.  As we know, people are compelled to head to the sea when the weather is nice.  Some get in and splash about for a couple of minutes but most just stare at it for while.  Plenty of both types turned up this afternoon and some were more distracting than others.  I used with the normal baits and methods and varied the casting distances, I fished the tide up and four hours down and didn’t get a single bite.  On most retrieves the baits came back in the same state they were launched.  By 2000 I’d had enough and didn’t have the will to hang on until darkness.  I knew I was pushing my luck but if you don’t go, you don’t know!

By now it was the third week of June so my choice of interesting ‘fairly local’ fishing increases to include the rivers.  For once I’d been organised and took a bit of time at the weekend to get a bag loaded and a couple of rods ready.  Another happy day with time on my hands, I rolled out of bed fairly early, mixed a bit of groundbait and got some bits together by which time the morning rush hour was over.  After a pit stop at AD for maggots it was 1000 before I gazed at the river for the first time this season.  Do I go upstream or down?  I fancied up and was fishing with an open end feeder and maggots on the hook a few minutes later.

I’d had some interesting fishing in this swim last season with fish of all species including a couple of decent Perch.  My plan was to plug loads of maggots in the feeder and keep dropping it out to build up an area of feed.  As well as the maggots I had a few worms and if plan A didn’t work a tin of corn with which I’d try for Chub.  I had bites from the off but the 14 hook was too big so I switched to a 16 which seemed tiny in comparison.  The 14 was a now discontinued Matrix ‘rigger’ hook which is more like a normal size 12.  I’ve used these hooks for several years but now my supply is dwindling.  The smaller hook saw me catch a few fish; my first of the season was a tiny Roach, followed by a Perch of a couple of ounces.  I was getting plenty of indications but just annoying rattles that I couldn’t strike at, these must have followed me from the beaches?  I caught a few more small fish but these included a small Chub and a Gudgeon which I will always prize.  I got the feeling there were only small fish around today and started to plot a move.

By 1145 I was walking slowly downstream towards the ‘squirrels bridge’, I stopped just above the swim and was surprised by just how low the river looked, I hadn’t noticed before.  But I could see a dozen or so chub drift casually down towards the raft of debris. There looked to be around a couple of pounds or so but they would do for me on a hot sunny afternoon.  My first few casts were with maggots and I got bites straight away and was soon swinging in a small Dace, followed by a Minnow which made six species today but I wasn’t bothered about adding to that tally.  From then on I fished a couple of grains of corn on the big 14 and loaded the plugged feeder with more corn.  This was dropped just above the raft, now I was content to wait and see if I could tempt a chub upstream.  With this in mind I kept throwing a few maggots or grains of corn into the stream whenever it occurred to me.

I only had to wait ten minutes before I had a twitchy bite and set the hook into something and after a few seconds I realised it was a decent fish.  My rod was bent fully round to keep the creature out of some snags but all I could do was hold a powerful fish, I wasn’t gaining any line, stalemate, then it went slack.  I wound in and found the ever-reliable Matrix hook had straightened, just a little but enough.  As I’d been sitting down throughout the brief battle and screened by a clump of nettles I’d not seen the fish but it was almost certainly a big Chub.  Would that kill the swim?  There was only one way to find out so I tackled up again with a heavier gauge size 10 from an old pack of Fox carp hooks and got the rig back in the water.

Half an hour later I had a similar twitchy bite and having had time to think about what to do differently, I put pressure on straight away and held the fish out in the stream away from the snags.  This was another good fish which lumped around in the shallow water but I eventually got it into the net.  I always over estimate the size of decent Chub but this was surely one of my biggest yet?  It was then I realised I hadn’t transferred the digital scales from the sea rucksack but no worries, as I’m paranoid about this sort of thing I knew there was a Salter spring balance in the bag, I’d seen it the other day.  But the spring balance wasn’t in the bag, which totally fried my brain.  Oh well, there was a scale missing on one flank so maybe I’d recognise it again?  I took a quick photo and slipped it back and all I’ll say for sure is it would have weighed over four pounds.

After that, things did go quiet but I was nicely shaded from the sun and had nothing better to do, so I kept dropping the feeder into the pool.  I’d forgotten about the sound of birds we experience in these quiet freshwater spots, it’s constant and the loudest sound around.  Somewhere above me a Buzzard mewed but I glimpsed it just the once, sat as I was beneath a canopy of leaves.  But I did have a Kingfisher regularly zipping up and down and several visits from what I later identified as a Grey Wagtail.  At around 1435 I had another twitchy bite and hooked a third decent fish.  By this time I was practiced so steered the fish out into the current where it could tire itself out, away from the snags.  This time it seemed easy and I soon had another Chub in the net.  I guessed this one at around three pounds but it looked a lot smaller than the other one and what the hell was that first fish?  After forty five fishless minutes I tidied up and headed home and reflected that I’d managed to catch a few fish through the worst part of a hot day but still there was unfinished business, I’ll be back in a week or two.  When I got home the missing spring balance was just inside the back door?