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.