The Rematch

The day was damn hot but I finished work early and had time for a fish.  It would have been cooler on a beach but the tides were all wrong so I did the sensible thing and head to the river.  I pulled into the car park a little after six, there was another vehicle there and I thought sod’s law would ensure he was in my preferred swim but happily this was not the case.  The pool above the raft is only a couple of feet deep, a bugger to get to and difficult to get comfortable in but it always seems to hold fish.  Once in position I’m pretty well screened by the undergrowth but getting in place disturbs the fish so I have to be patient here, feed little and often and hope the fish return.  This has worked a few times in the past including a couple of weeks back and I was confident it would work again.  A peep over the top of the nettles revealed a few smaller Chub drifting about and any fish would do me tonight.

With everything else in position, I picked up the landing net pole and it was at this moment I realised the net was in the shed at home, oh shit!  After a bit of thought I worked out I would be able to wade into the river and lift a beaten fish from it.  I positioned the unhooking mat on a flat patch of gravel at the bottom of the slope, I could slide this into the water with my boot if necessary.  I had a plan, not ideal but workable so I started fishing at about 1830.

I had movements on the tip from the start but with two grains of corn on a size 10 it would need a bigger fish to bang the tip, or so I thought.  Second cast I wound in a Chub about five inches long, oh well.  But I wasn’t pestered by these small fish or anything else for that matter, just the odd pluck or rattle that ignited my concentration from time to time as I was otherwise hypnotised by the gurgle of the river and the songs of birds.  The evening drifted away and my flask became empty but I figured fading light would see a fish or two moving and at just after nine the tip bent round and I was attached to a decent fish.  I held the rod well to my left, hoping to hold the fish away from the snags.  It thumped a couple of times and then the hook pulled, bugger!  The hook looked okay but I changed the trace anyway, rebaited and swung the feeder back out.  Fifteen minutes later it happened again- a good bite, I set the hook, pulled to the left and tried to hold the fish away from the snags.  This one didn’t feel as heavy and I was successful in leading it out into midstream where it splashed on the surface and the hook came out…

I got another bait out there as smoothly as I could but had a strong feeling that would be my lot for tonight.  As the evening grew dark I sat and assessed things, six bites in this swim this season, half of these resulting in hook pulls.  Perhaps time for a change of approach?  Maybe use methods that have worked elsewhere?  The more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea.

My next day off was another roaster, so hot outside it was impossible to stay comfortable with my ginger skin.  Thankfully it was the first day of the Test match so with TMS on the radio I was happy enough inside, doing a few odd jobs and accruing brownie points.  The following day was much more to my liking, a full ten degrees cooler and a bit of overnight rain had seen the river rise a couple of inches.  The rain continued throughout most of the day so with a TMS soundtrack I was in no hurry to get away and it was 1500 before I was walking the river again.  I say walking, in reality I head straight for the squirrel bridge where I have unfinished business.  I peered over the tops of the nettles but could see nothing moving in the pool which didn’t bother me as I could set up without worrying about spooking anything. This I did and for once I did so without discovering I’d forgotten something important. 

I dropped the feeder in around 1530 and my waiting game commenced, having switched the radio on, just as I was settling back in my chair a decent chub drifted past me upstream, I was confident it would return.  My plan today was to try pellets and fish more like I do out west but I began with bread for a couple of casts, followed by corn.  I fed a few pellets and grains of corn at intervals and my thinking was I’d switch to a pellet hookbait later, when I was more confident the bigger chub would be active.  With cricket on the radio I was deaf to the birdsong and blind to just about everything else.  I had a few knocks and rattles, I actually struck at a couple but was never going to connect and a couple of hours slipped by.

At 1815 I had a solid knock on corn and struck as some kind of laughable impulse/reaction.  Ten minutes later I had a better bite and picked up the rod expecting to feel a fish but somehow I missed it?  After two bites on corn, for some reason I decided now was the time to switch to a side hooked pellet/boilie (we know they aren’t really pellets!)  I think my motivation might have been a few quiet minutes while I made a brew but this didn’t happen.  A solid bite saw me hook a decent fish and I immediately tried to pull the fish upstream and away from the snags.  Peering above the nettles I could clearly see a good Chub that looked like it was under the snag, I lowered the rod and held on, this time luck was on my side and the fish moved in the direction I wanted.  After that it was just a case of letting it tire itself in the clear water and I soon had it in the net.

It was a good fish that gave me a similar impression to the one a couple of weeks ago that I’d been unable to weigh.  This time I had scales and these recorded 4-10 which equalled my PB but this one was especially pleasing as it’s the biggest I’ve caught ‘on purpose’.  I photographed both flanks as I had a feeling this was the same fish I’d caught before and after comparison I’m pretty sure this is the case.  I fished on for a couple of hours but everything seemed lifeless and there was no sign of fish.  I had planned to fish into dark hoping to make it a brace but by 2030 this seemed unlikely so I decided to get away.   After my second trip to this pool I felt like I’d been beaten and needed a rematch but now I feel I’ve had a result and its time to move on and explore a bit more.  

No two tides...

I had a plan for my next beach trip, get some rag and fish the cauldron for Bass but this unravelled when I couldn’t get the worms.  After that I wasn’t sure, could I be bothered?  It was tempting to sit down with the cricket for the last couple of hours but the high tide was around 2015 and I could fish the ebb into darkness so in the end I talked myself into an evening on the beach.  But which beach?  I’d have a good chance at the busy beach but on a warm Saturday it would definitely live up to its name.  I decided to go to the cauldron where I could expect solitude and fish big baits for big fish which are always a possibility here, it’s not always just Bass. 

I’d put the shelter in the car but wasn’t sure i would need it?  It would be frustrating to hike to the beach and be cold knowing it the shelter was in the car so I carried it across the marsh.  The breeze was from the east, straight into my chops but in the end the shelter remained rolled up.  I started off fishing baits fairly close in as the ripping tide was moving rigs cast any further than about forty yards.  On the hooks I mostly used squid of various sizes but also tried crab and a disgusting strip of mackerel that has been defrosted so many times it was probably lethal. I never know what to expect at this spot, it is different every time I fish here but I wasn’t surprised that it started off slowly.  Two hours passed and high tide was upon me but the baits which I’d been recasting regularly were coming back intact.  I tried a long cast but the tide was still raging and it didn’t last five minutes but I kept an eye on any floating debris, it would go slack at some point.

Half an hour after high tide things were calm enough for me to launch a bait and the rig would stay in position for about twenty minutes before starting to roll.  Obviously I was recasting regularly and the baits were coming back chewed but the tips are always wobbling here and I hadn’t seen anything that got me out of the chair.  This changed around 2100 with a definite fishy rattle just after the sun had dipped below the treeline horizon behind me.  This didn’t develop but boosted the confidence and half an hour later I had a proper pull over bite on squid and wound into a decent weight which I pumped steadily to shore.  In close the fish plodded a bit but didn’t run so I wasn’t surprised to see a Ray appear on a wave, a nice fish, my biggest of the year so far.

I fished on for another hour, into darkness but didn’t see any more fishy movement on the tips but when I wound in the heavy rod for the last time there was a bit of weight, unfortunately this turned out to be a big lump of weed which was a bugger to strip off the line.  I loaded up and head back to the car, a daunting hike ahead of me but one bite, one Ray.  I’d have settled for that when I left home.

Another day off and another favourable tide peaking just after 2300 which meant I could go to the shallow beach fish it all the way up hoping for a Ray.  I managed to acquire some ragworm which meant I’d have a decent chance of Bass too, plans set and I was confident.  The tide was right but unfortunately the weather wasn’t, the curve of the coast meant the fresh westerly wind would make life difficult so I decided to head elsewhere and for some reason I talked myself into returning to the ‘cauldron’.  The hike across the marsh was taxing but once I’d unshouldered my gear I was alone in one of the most beautiful spots in the county.

This beach is notoriously inconsistent, heaven or hell and unfortunately it was the latter on this evening.  A day before new moon meant it was a pretty big tide which increases the currents and, on this occasion, made the sea a boiling, raging, scary entity.  Add to that loads of clinging snotty weed being carried on the tide meant holding a rig in position was impossible at times.  Seven ounces cast about thirty yards would start to shift after ten minutes and I was not able to whack a bait out at any time.  I managed a bite on each rod but neither resulted in a hooked fish and I tramped back thinking I should have known better, I got it wrong tonight.