A bridge too far

Everything looked good for a trip to the shallow beach after Rays.  With high tide at 2315 I could fish it all the way up into darkness and the forecast promised a gentle north westerly which would be blowing over my shoulder.  You couldn’t script it better.  At the car park things didn’t seem right, the air was still, not a breath.  When I broke through cover at the end of my hike I walked into an easterly blowing straight off a bumpy sea, not at all what I expected.  I thought ‘Oh well I’m here now’ and set up regardless, I should have known better.

So I fished the tide all the way up with mostly squid baits and conditions did improve, the wind dropped and the sea flattened out a bit but it was slow.  I had a few knocks and rattles but nothing I could strike at.  I did wind in a small Bass but I’d had little clue that anything had taken the big lump of squid.  Darkness usually switches the fish on but this didn’t happen tonight and by the time high tide was upon me I’d had enough and head for home.

I didn’t fancy a late afternoon tide so for my next day off I head back to the river but this time to a different stretch, one I’ve only fished a couple of times.  The plan was to keep moving and search it out a bit and I started off with a long hike downstream.  Here I stopped at a sweeping bend with an overhanging tree which had collected a raft of debris, this looked as good for a Chub as anywhere, the only thing lacking was flow, there was barely a trickle.  This long dry summer is starting to have a worrying effect on the Suffolk rivers, back home on my local river there’s barely a trickle falling over the weir. 

Back to the here and now, I set up with my normal running feeder rig baited with corn and started searching the swim.  The day was warm and mainly cloudy with the sun poking through from time to time and it was during one of the brighter spells I carefully stood and scanned the swim, noticing there was far more weed than I’d realised.  Over the next few casts, two out of three were coming back with weed on the hook.  There were definitely fish showing and I felt I’d definitely be getting bites if I’d brought maggots.  There were also some sizable fish moving but after one bow wave settled I could see a small Pike sitting there with bristling fins.  My confidence wasn’t improved a short while later by a larger disturbance that was almost certainly an Otter.

I wasn’t happy so wound in and tidied up then went for a wander further downstream where there were more bends and trees.  Most of this water was weed choked but round the corner I found a spot where the river looked coloured and once my eyes were tuned in I realised there were fish here too.  They weren’t Chub so what were they?  It dawned on me that most were Bream but there were also a couple of good sized Roach amongst them and these motivated me to go back and get the tackle.

A few minutes later I was settled and fishing, with fish clearly visible I expected it to be easy but the fish had other ideas.  I tried to keep my head down but my presence obviously disturbed the fish as they mostly disappeared from view but the water remained coloured and I was sure they were still about.  After twenty minutes the tip went over and I was into a fish, the Roach had been out numbered so I wasn’t surprised to see a Bream but it was around four pounds or so, bigger than expected and it fought much harder than Bream are supposed to.  After this I expected a procession but a couple of hours passed without a decent bite so I tidied up then loaded up and wandered back upstream in search of water that looked more likely to hold Chub.

By 1345 I was settled in above another trailing branch/ raft combination, the water here was a little deeper and weed free compared to what was above and below it.  There were fish about here too, mostly small silvers but I was getting a few knocks on the tip.  At 1430 I had a decent bite and lifted into a decent weight that didn’t want to be lead back upstream.  I increased the pressure and a large bronze slab became visible, like the first this Bream fought much harder than their reputation suggests and when it neared the net I realised it was bigger than the first and it was a struggle to get it in.  I’m not really a fan of Bream but this was a lovely looking bronze creature of just under six pounds and is probably the biggest I’ve caught from a river?

I had another cast while I tidied my kit up but by this point in the afternoon the sun had defeated the cloud and was starting to make life uncomfortable.  Bream had been the last thing on my mind when I set off this morning but I’d enjoyed the novelty of catching them although I can’t imagine myself targeting them at any point in the future.

 

Saturday brought the first significant rain we’ve had in Suffolk for months and when the clouds cleared so a window of fishy opportunity opened and I made tracks for the river.  I returned to my ‘normal’ stretch with the intention of exploring way upstream but there were a few cars in the car park and it looked like someone had beat me to it.  Being an anti social sod I decided to head to the stretch I know but I was determined to fish the upstream end of this section.  As I neared my destination I spotted an another angler already in place so I retreated without disturbing him.  That just left the one place I’d been determined to avoid so I settled in above the squirrel bridge without enthusiasm.  At least I’d be undisturbed here and could spend a couple of hours chilling out and listening to the sound of birds and the voice of the river.

I’d brought some pellets and bread with me but as usual started off with corn on the hook, dropping the feeder downstream, just above the raft.  To begin with there didn’t seem to be much about but closer scrutiny revealed the margins were full of fry and these were being bullied by groups of small Perch.  Casts downstream just brought the odd knock so I tried a cast upstream and here started getting sharper pulls and a couple I could strike at.  The second of these saw me set the hook into something that wanted to fight but didn’t feel like a Chub however I’ll never know because the hook pulled.  It might have been a Perch but I have a feeling it was a Trout.

I wondered if this disturbance would ruin things but the opposite happened, in the minutes that followed I started to see a few Chub drifting about.  There were a handful of fish around two pounds or so that repeatedly swam upstream past me, then drifted back down with the current to disappear beneath the raft.  But on two occasions I saw a couple of bruisers, at least twice the size, make the same circuit.  One of these fish would probably be the Chub I’ve already caught this season but the other…  I dropped the feeder downstream again, still baited with corn and sat back to wait.

Around 2000 the tip went round and I was into a good fish.  I leaned in and hung on while the fish thumped about, trying to get into the snags.  This time my luck held and I managed to get the fish into the safe water in front of me and a minute or so later it was in the net.  Of course it was the fish I’ve caught twice already this season, an ounce lighter than last time and although I was glad to have caught something it was a bit of an anti climax.  I switched to pellet and fished on for another forty five minutes, hoping the other big one would show up but no such luck.  When the light started to go I packed up so I could get home in time for the boxing.  Enough is enough, I definitely won’t come back to this swim for a while so I may never know how big the ‘other’ Chub is.  In my imagination it will always be a little bit bigger than its friendly companion.  And why can’t I tempt any of the smaller Chub?  It doesn’t make sense.