Still raining

Last time I fished with Mr W we took the Suffolk boat out and didn’t get a touch but for some reason we decided to try again, mostly because it’s a bloody nice place to spend your time, even if the fish don’t show up.  We were in position and fishing by 0730 on a gloomy morning that didn’t get a whole lot brighter through the day.  At least being mild with a light breeze we’d be comfortable whatever else happened.  Tactics today were the same as always, to fish deadbaits and keep moving till we found some fish.  I’d brought a lure rod too but it has barely stopped raining in the east and the water was up and as coloured as I’ve ever seen it here.  Not really what I expected or wanted to see.

Despite this, today things went a little more to plan; I had two takes in the first half hour boating two Pike of six pounds or so, one each on smelt and sardine.  After that things went quiet and we commenced an anti clockwise circle of moves that took us through a series of spots that sometimes hold a Pike or two.  At our third stop a smelt cast towards the edge was picked up and this fish had a little more weight to it.  I didn’t weigh it but we agreed between ten and eleven pounds wouldn’t be far off and like most of the Pike in this water it was beautifully coloured.  By the early afternoon our moves were taking us back in the direction of the boatyard and Mr W still hadn’t troubled the scorers.  I had to be off the water by 1600 and time was running out so it was a relief when Mr W’s float wobbled then buried at last.  This fish wanted to have a scrap and we got our hopes up but as is often the case, it shrank near the net but was a little cracker all the same.  It’s always best when both anglers catch and this capped an enjoyable day of chat and laughter.

A final move didn’t bring anything further and soon it was time to head back to base.  The Pike here often appear to show a preference and today three of the four takes came to smelt.  This is slightly skewed as both of us used smelt on one rod but the bait used on 50% of the rods accounted for 75% of the fish.  A couple of years ago, fishing this water in similar conditions lamprey fished on one rod accounted for 80% of the action, today it remained untouched.  These things interest me but I’m still not sure about these apparent bait preferences; do we anglers contribute to a self-fulfilling prophecy?  I can’t believe a Pike will ignore one type of deadbait and take another through preference or taste.  A couple of years ago I wrote in ‘Pikelines’ that I think that one bait will be detected quicker than others due to the conditions on the day.  For this to be correct then preferences should change over the days and weeks and this is certainly the case, the example mentioned above being one of many.  Over the years fishing the Broads I consistently caught Pike on Lamprey, in October 2022 I netted a particularly memorable one on this bait.  Since that day I’ve not caught a Norfolk Pike on Lamprey, not one.  In recent visits I’ve not bothered to use them, lack of confidence leading to a self-fulfilling prophecy?  If there is a lesson from this surprising ramble of thought it is this; always use a variety of deadbaits, every day is different.

With little respite from the rain the rivers were properly flooding, for the first time this winter the fields and meadows were swamped making the river largely unapproachable.  This came at the worst possible time as I had a couple of days off which I’d intended to spend wandering the banks.  I was determined to fish but it would have to be a stillwater and with nothing to lose I found myself paying my first visit to a place that had been on my radar for a while.  The day was wet and windy as usual so for once I set up the oval brolly and sat behind a couple of buzzers.  Between the showers I’d emerge every now and then to twitch a deadbait or recast into another likely looking area.  I’d also brought a lure rod onto which I clipped a sinking lure which I’d cast out and count down to get an idea of depths.  On one occasion my curly tailed jig was followed by a Pike which slowly swum away never to reappear.  I did get a good look at it though and although not a big fish it was impressively barrel shaped, a light bulb moment in my pikey brain.

I blanked on that occasion but got back at the first opportunity, first light on a still, dry day.  This time I fished from the opposite bank with a couple of deadbaits and a lure rod which once again was used for checking depths as much as anything.  I’ve done very little pit fishing in recent years and I was enjoying being back in this once familiar environment. At around 0830 I had a take on a paternostered smelt which I just twitched back.  I wound into a Pike that bent the old Tricast nicely but when it popped up in front of me I thought it looked about seven pounds or so.  However once in the net I could see it was another barrel of a fish and I had to weigh it just to see, sure enough it was just into double figures.  My train of thought now will be obvious to any Piker…  I fished till midday but didn’t add to the score but once again thoroughly enjoyed myself and who knows what the future holds?

Up and then down again

 

There’s been plenty of rain lately and consequently plenty of water in the rivers, levels going up and down.  I may loathe government but the river gauges found on the .gov.co.uk website are bloody useful, how did we ever get on without them?  I can be at home yet have a good idea of how the river is looking at that moment and make a decision on what to do, when the river is carrying extra water it makes me feel like trying to catch Chub for a change.  

The day was ‘orrible, gloomy with a fresh south easterly whipping light rain in squalls, visibility was bad on the A roads but I was in no hurry and it was past 1030 before I parked the car.  I had a half mile hike that was slippery under foot in places before I was able to put a brolly up and start fishing.  I’d chosen the swim where I’d had a fish before Christmas and today it looked even better with a large raft of debris lodged against the fallen tree.  I fished with a feeder rig using a meaty groundbait as well as a meaty hookbait hair rigged on a size 8.  I’d also chucked a couple of slices of bread in the bag for an alternative.

I felt confident in this swim, so confident I stayed put for ninety minutes without any sign of a bite.  I felt totally content watching flocks of Fieldfare fly across the sodden meadows as well as Long Tailed Tits who used my rod and net handle as perches on their progression down river.  But by 1230 the weather was a bit more comfortable and I was more than ready for a move.  I spent half an hour fishing a gap between trees and another thirty minutes fishing a bait back upstream to an overhanging tree that was hidden behind thick reeds, so easy to walk straight past as I must have done a few times in the past.  By 1330 I was fishing just above a long bend, dropping my feeder a couple of yards short of a semi sunken tree.  It looked Chubby and snaggy so I’d have to bully anything I hooked but by this point my confidence was gone and I didn’t believe this would be an issue.  Then bugger me after fifteen minutes the tip pulled sharply round and I was attached to a fish which was thumping around a bit.  I couldn’t give an inch and didn’t, therefore the Chub didn’t find any snags.  Once pulled out of its sanctuary it gave up pretty quickly and I had it in the net, at which point I realised it was a decent fish too.  I let it rest in the margin while I got the scales ready and wet the sling.  I also attached my self-take clamp thing to the chair as this was more welcome photography practice and by God I need it.  It doesn’t look what it weighed!

I stayed put in this swim for a while longer but after half an hour without a pull it was time for another move.  I settled into a gap amidst what was effectively a tunnel of reeds and swung a bait along the near side.  Fifteen minutes here brought nothing so I lobbed the feeder across the river and within a few minutes the tip was twitching.  This continued, sporadic rattles that had me poised uncomfortably on the edge of the chair, of course these stopped until the second I settled back comfortably again.  After about twenty minutes of this I had a proper bite and hooked a second Chub which moved quickly downstream, swinging round with the line.  It then allowed me to lead it back upstream then after a bit of plodding it rolled over the net.  Another good ‘un, smaller than the first but a nicer looking fish.  I stayed put a while longer here and had a few more fishy movements on the tip but no proper bites. 

With daylight fading quickly I realised the roads would be going mad again soon, so packed up in a hurry.  I’d really enjoyed the afternoon, for most of my life the colder months have been spent Pike fishing exclusively so mixing it up is refreshing.  It struck me that most of the fishing I enjoy these days is very similar, apart from when I’m out in the boat, pretty much all of my fishing is within forty five minutes of home. It’s relatively simple fishing; I travel light, find myself some space and solitude then try to catch the most interesting fish available which usually means rod tips pointing upwards.  I’m unlikely to catch anything big enough to raise any eyebrows other than my own and not a fuck do I give.

The days passed, most of them grey and wet.  The river rose significantly, plateaued then started to fall again which coincided with me having some time off.  I fancied another go for Chub, the where and the how didn’t need much thought, same again thank you very much.  The conditions seemed good, dull and gloomy with barely a breath of wind, I was keen enough to get to the water a bit earlier this time.  The river was up a bit since I’d last fished but I knew it was falling and it looked good to me.  The current was a fair bit stronger too but it took me a while to realise this.  I wandered downstream but as I crept through the start of the interesting water I noticed another angler further down.  I slowed my walk to a standstill beside a swim with an interesting upstream cast and started fishing here at just after 0900.

Half an hour later I was settling into another swim, one I’d caught from last time so I felt confident but I spent a fishless hour here.  Swim three was the other one that was home to a fish on my last visit and I did manage a bite, a fast rap that I’d never hit in a million years but that was my lot.  I tried three more swims, two of which I’d not fished before but nothing fishy happened.  By the time I was tidying up I’d come to the conclusion that I should have paid more attention to the slacker water but this realisation came a little too late.  I still have loads to learn about this Chub fishing lark, I’ve been able to catch a fish or two but I’m far from consistent.  This kind of fishing is tricky and interesting, it’s my cuppa tea.

Stubborn

 

The beginning of January brought a week of frosty nights and day time temperatures that got lower by the day until they barely nudged above freezing.  This came to a head on Monday morning when I woke to find a load of snow had been dumped on us, I hate snow.  However a couple of days later cloud and rain brought slightly less arctic conditions and an opportunity to fish.  I didn’t get up early, instead I had a leisurely breakfast and waited for the worst of the traffic to disperse.  I didn’t fancy single lanes or farm tracks so played safe for a change and parked up at my least favourite stretch on the river.  I generally catch here and the reason I don’t favour it so much, is it is too close to civilisation meaning I sometimes have to interact with other humans.

The morning was cool and bright with the sun playing hide and seek behind clouds which were travelling fast on the fresh westerly wind.  I walked a way upstream with the usual plan of working my way back down and was set up by 1030.  Nothing happened in the first spot and it looked like going the same way in the second but just as I was starting to tidy up a sardine swung downstream was picked up.  I hooked a Pike without any weight that did nothing bar splash around a bit before I lifted it out of the margins.  This was soon back in the river and I decided to move on anyway.  I fished two more spots, one familiar and the other a swim I’d not yet tried, which like so much of this river looked spot on.  No more fish took pity on me today and I was heading home in the early afternoon.

A week of rain passed and with the river over its banks I made plans for a visit to the olde lake for a change.  As I was making an effort it seemed sensible to get up at a half decent hour and get to the water for first light.  I should have a much more straight forward drive for a change and I’d miss the rush hour for once. I was on the road by 0630 but only a couple of miles into my journey the electronic signs flashed up telling me a section of the road was closed.  No worries, I know the back roads pretty well so diverted through the countryside.  I should have known better, when there’s trouble on the eastern A roads the chaos just spreads down the lanes like a flood.

All was going well until I was just a few miles away from the water when it became apparent that a lot of other traffic had made the same diversion as me.  That shouldn’t have been so bad but bloody great lorries on country lanes that are single track in places doesn’t work, especially with traffic trying to come the other way.  Everything just ground to a halt and I didn’t move an inch in forty five minutes.  There was no point in turning round, the time for that was when I’d first seen the sign, by now it would be the same story in every direction so I patiently and stubbornly stuck to the plan.  Somehow an ambulance managed to squeeze through from the other direction and after this, things started to move again but it still took ages to get anywhere.  Finally I was able to turn off the clogged road and make my way through even narrower lanes and a few minutes later I’d parked the car by the lake.

The previous day had been mild with a deluge but the night had been clear and the temperature dropped low enough to stiffen the grass and leave a bit of ice in the edge.  Recent rainfall had coloured the lake slightly and raised the level meaning I had to wade through flooded grass to higher ground at the edge.  I set up in a deeper area, punched a half lamprey out on a leger rig as well as chucking a smelt and sardine out on float legers.  My plan was to recast these two regularly and so search the swim, after all this the time was 0930 so it was a relief to settle into my chair and pour a brew.  I wasn’t even half way through the cuppa when a float sunk as something made its way off with a sardine and I happily bent into a fish.  I was even more pleased to pull a Pike of seven pounds or so over the net, my stubbornness – probably my best angling attribute – had been rewarded.  The big puddle in front of me was the ideal place to unhook the fish, it barely came out of the water.  After recasting a fresh sardine I sat back to finish my tea and relax in the brightly lit East Anglian countryside.

An hour passed and I was starting to think about making a move when the other float wobbled then lay flat, this time it was a smelt cast to the bottom of a slope into deeper water.  This fish felt a bit bigger but shrunk in front of the net and was actually a bit smaller.  After a frustrating journey it was good to get a couple of fish and sitting in the sun was more pleasant than it ought to be in January.  I tried to watch the birds but my eyes aren’t good enough to recognise most of the smaller flying things but a Buzzard was easy to spot as was a Sparrowhawk a while later.

I’d been sitting here a while and was once more pondering a move when at just after 1100 the sardine went again and I wound in another, similar sized Pike.  I’d barely got this rod back on the rest when the smelt was away again and a few minutes later my fourth fish of the day was in the net, I certainly hadn’t expected this when I set off and it seemed even more remote when I was stuck in traffic.  Fifteen minutes later the smelt was picked up again and this fish did have a little more strength to it but still wasn’t as big as I thought it might be though the best of the day.

I sat it out for another hour which passed quickly and quietly, itchy feet got the better of me I couldn’t stay in one place any longer, it was time for a move. I tidied up and walked back along the bank in the direction of the car.  I ended up setting up again in a swim with nice overhanging trees which looked pikey.  Time passed quickly but not because it was all action, in fact nothing stirred at all but I was content with my lot.  I started to pack up around 1430, the sun was dipping and the temperature dropping quickly.  I tidied up all the odds and sods that had somehow circled my chair then looked up to see a float dip once more.  I wound down quickly, pulled the rod round and felt a head shake for a second or two before it came off, oh well.  By 1500 I was back in the car knowing I’d have to divert again but this time the biggest obstruction was caused by bad parking outside a rural primary school.  My journey home was slow, all roads still busy but still a massive improvement on the morning.