Pure Fishing...

Pure Grumpy

Saturday evening and I had a little spare time so quickly loaded the car and headed off for a couple of hours fishing.  I pulled into the club lake to find it was thick with weed in some places and thick with anglers in others.  I didn’t even get out of the car, just turned around and pointed myself in the direction of the Marsh.  On arrival here things didn’t look much better, at one end two anglers were considerately taking up three swims and at the other, another two were bivvied up and were sprawled out, shirts off sinking cans of beer.  I had a quick look in a couple of the free swims but I must be getting old and grumpy because I just didn’t feel like fishing amongst this company.  So I went back to the club lake, parked up and took a long stroll around trying to find something inspiring.  A few anglers were packing up and heading off leaving just a couple of groups of sullen looking teenagers and a cluster of bivvies.  Forty five minutes later nothing had inspired me so I was back in the car and on the verge of going home but thought “sod it” and decided to try my luck at the Marsh after all.

I ended up dropping my gear into a swim I rarely fish, it looked good with the nice southerly wind blowing in.  I catapulted a few pouches of boilies in front of a reed bed and down the slope into open water.  I cast a snowman rig with a PVA bag of crushed boilies close to the reeds and then a chod rig at the bottom of the slope then sat back to chill out.  As I sat back in my chair I noticed yet another angler setting up across the lake, he was using a dreaded bait boat to position his baits along the lily choked margins into spots it would have otherwise been impossible to present a bait.  I don’t know how he expected to land a fish from these areas but gave him the benefit of the doubt, surely he had a plan?  For some reason I just wasn’t feeling the fishing buzz tonight but tried to gee myself up, the swim looked good with the wind pushing in and the occasional patch of fishy bubbles breaking out.  Then again I always say that don’t I?

Time passed.  At the western side of the lake the sound of a bite alarm caused excitement and panic as the wandering angler scrambled back to his unattended swim to investigate, there was no fish attached to reward him.  Meanwhile at the eastern end one of the beer drinkers was flat on his back, on the ground outside his bivvy where he remained for some time.  Opposite me the guy with the bait boat was in a bit of a fluster as it appeared his vessel was stuck in the weed, either that or he was really taking his time to get his rig bang on ‘the spot’.  In my own swim absolutely nothing was happening and to be honest I was bored as well as grumpy.  I’d had enough and packed up with plenty of daylight to spare.

 Pure Fun

A couple of days later Isaac, Shelley and I ventured off for a couple of hours fishing in the midday sun.  We headed off to a club water, not the usual one but a small, narrow stillwater purposely designed and stocked to see anglers getting a bend in their rods.  This isn’t your usual over stocked, carp puddle type water but one where you never know what will be on the end when the float goes under.  We began by watching Isaac fishing corn close in on a whip.  I fed a little groundbait and a handful of pellets every now and then but bites were few and far between to begin with.  After a while Isaac got a little frustrated and wandered off so I sat down for a while and sure enough managed to hook a fish, a small but very welcome Tench.

 Isaac returned to the hot seat, more determined than ever to bank a fish or two.  Bites began to come more regularly, a couple of fish were hooked and lost but eventually he banked his first fish of the day, a beautiful little Mirror Carp.  A short while later he landed another equally lovely little Carp.  While this was going on I was watching another, larger Carp cruising around on the surface.  After a while I couldn’t resist setting up another rod with a float for casting weight and an 8mm pop up boilie for hook bait.  I flicked it out and carefully wound it back into the path of the cruising fish which slurped it down without hesitation.  After a short battle I pulled a nice little Common over the net and Isaac scooped it out first time. 

 This commotion didn’t disturb the swim for long, once again Isaac’s float dipped and this time the strike connected with a larger fish which tried to get into the weed.  The attempts were in vain, Isaac kept the pressure on and soon I was netting a nice Tench for him.  I think this might be his first ever Tench but Isaac is sure he’s caught one before but we both agreed this must be his biggest.  After that Isaac was satisfied so it was Shelley’s turn on the whip.  She was out of practice with this style of fishing so we had a laugh watching her strike thin air a few times.  Eventually she set the hook and a nice little fish stretched the elastic until I scooped it out with the net.  Proper Crucian Carp are rare these days but Shelley was fortunate enough to catch her first ever today.  With all three of us content with what we caught we returned home for lunch.

Pure bad luck?

My time with the kids ended that evening so when they went to their mums, Shelley and I went down to the Marsh to make the most of the fine summer evening.  We fished a rod each for Carp and Tench; Shelley cast a chod rig into open water near a snaggy tree while my helicopter rig landed a little closer to trouble.  I baited the area with a few pouches of boilies then left the rods to fish for themselves.

We’ve grown accustomed to sitting behind motionless rods here so I decided to put a little groundbait in the margins and fish corn on a waggler over the top.  I stopped fishing like this at the Marsh a couple of seasons ago and had forgotten the reason why.  Not catching fish is obviously frustrating but after a while catching too many can be equally annoying.  I had been hoping to relax while watching the waggler but it was impossible to get a bait to the bottom because every single cast saw the bait intercepted on the drop by a Rudd.  I gave up counting at twenty, they were all beautiful golden fish with vivid red fins and averaged about 4ozs each.  Very nice but not really what I was after.  To add to the frustration my groundbaited area was absolutely fizzing with bubbles.  On a couple of occasions my sweetcorn managed to reach the bottom and I was rewarded with a Roach, the biggest of which was about half a pound.

After an hour or so with the waggler rod I’d had enough so packed it away and we spent the rest of the evening chatting and putting the world to rights.  One of the reasons we like fishing on a summer evening like this is we can just talk without any of the distractions of life.  The sky grew gradually darker and we were lost in conversation when we were suddenly interrupted by a most unusual sound, a bite alarm.  It was Shelley’s rod and with my encouragement she was soon bent into a heavy fish.  Shelley has caught loads of fish over the last few years including Carp to around seven pounds but this was clearly much bigger.  Unfortunately this fish took her by surprise and made straight for the thick beds of lilies and became stuck fast.  The old trick of slackening off and putting the rod back on the alarm never works for me but we tried it anyway.  Would you believe it, after a few minutes the alarm sounded and we were in business again.  Sadly our hope was short lived before the fish was back in the lilies and everything seemed terminally solid.  The slack line trick didn’t work a second time.  I considered stripping off and going in for it but it was dark and the margins were deep. Eventually I tried to pull but the hooklength parted and I suspect the fish had been long gone for some time.  It may have been down to a lack of experience on Shelley’s part or it may just have been down to pure bad luck.  That’s fishing…

Tapping tips and fluttering wings.

The busy early summer period came to a close last weekend with the brilliant Latitude festival where Shelley and I spent five days and four nights of exhilarating hedonism whilst enjoying the music of The Black Keys, Royksopp & Robin, James and Goat to name but a few. (Who the fuck are Goat? Do yourself a favour and click this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdIR5VLEyQU ). 

I can’t describe the festival vibe but it gives us a sense of freedom, happiness and wellbeing. Latitude is without doubt the best weekend of the year, it may leave us in dire need of a wash but it cleanses the soul.  

A week later and at last we have spare time to spend by the water somewhere. I considered setting the bivvy up in the peace and quiet of the Marsh to try again for the Tench and Carp. Instead I opted to do something completely different, to head north and spend the day in the boat after the famous Broadland Bream. We got up at the crack of 0700, hit the road half an hour later with a bit of drizzle hitting the windscreen. By 0900 we were cutting through the waves, the north wind was breaking up the clouds allowing the sun to break through.

Forty five minutes on the engine took us to a spot where I was fairly sure we would find some Bream. While Shelley made herself comfortable I tackled up two simple feeder rigs with two foot hooklengths and a size 14 baited with two pieces of corn. Groundbait was a 50/50 mix of Gold Pro and brown crumb with a squirt of Brasem added to the mix. I expected to have a while to wait before the tips started knocking but fish were homing in straight away. The first couple of strikes hit thin air before I connected with a proper Broadland Bream of a couple of pounds or so.

And so the morning passed with bites coming in flurries punctuated by quiet spells where nothing much happened.  I kept recasting the feeders regularly, aiming at a large tree on the far side to keep the bait in a fairly tight area.  Occasionally I’d catapult out a few balls to top it up further.  I wasn’t just catching Bream but Roach averaging about half a pound too and even a couple of Perch. I missed plenty of bites which I’m sure came from smaller silvers with eyes bigger than their bellies.  None of the Bream were particularly big either, I hoped if I kept going I’d eventually find some better sized fish. 

What a way to spend a day!  Catching fish in a beautiful place with glorious weather, it was now sunny and bright but the North wind made sure it didn’t get too hot.  Plenty of hot tea and sausage sarnies to keep us sustained and Test Match Special on the radio; England batting on and on with Cookie finally getting some runs!

As ever the wildlife around us was fantastic with all the normal waterfowl putting in an appearance.  We’d passed a couple of harriers on our cruise onto the spot and seen Cranes over the reeds to the west.  The highlight today was something different entirely; the Swallowtail is Britain’s largest and rarest butterfly and we were blessed with a pair cavorting and tumbling around the boat without ever staying still enough for a decent photo.  All the times I’ve fished these waters this is the first time I’ve been privileged to see the Swallowtail.

 By early afternoon boat traffic was becoming annoying.  An elderly couple steered their yacht straight through my lines only yards away from us and actually looked quite shocked when I asked them how much Broad they needed.  Even though the tips were still tapping regularly we decided to wind in and head for quieter waters.  From a fishing point of view this was undoubtedly a mistake but where relaxation is concerned it was spot on.  I dropped down in another couple of spots; one was too weedy, not good for Bream in my experience.  The next produced a couple but bites were slow.  The final spot was warm and sheltered and gave us a good view of the setting sun but only produced Roach.  I realised I hadn’t bothered to photograph any of the Bream I’d caught, thinking I was bound to get a bigger one at some point but this didn’t happen so here’s a Roach instead.

As the sky began to darken we pulled up the weights for the final time and motored back to the slip.  This was the first time I’d managed to fish for any length of time for over two months, now I have lost time to make up for.

In a rush

Working in the tackle trade has its benefits but when you spend Friday afternoon listening to other angler’s plans for the weekend, knowing you have no time to fish yourself, it’s frustrating to say the least.  However, an unexpected text freed up my evening, so I tried to get my mind in gear and make the most of it.  By 1915 I was at the Marsh with two rods fishing along its lily lined margins.  There were anglers at either end of the lake but this didn’t matter as the swim I fancied was vacant.  I’d walked the lake a couple of nights previously and although I’d seen bubbles everywhere, this particular spot had been alive with them.

On the left I fished a helicopter rig and a snowman set up with a PVA bag of crushed boilies attached.  The right hand rod was a chod rig and pop up boilie.  I scattered about a dozen freebies around each bait and fed a few handfuls of pellets every now and again throughout the session.  After an hour I switched the boilie on the chod rig for two pieces of floating fake corn.  I know the chod is supposed to be a boilie rig but the fake corn has caught me a couple of Tench in the past too.

The evening was cloudy and close with a gentle breeze from the North. Once again there were loads of bubblers in the swim and the occasional fish rolled but I think these were Bream.  As the sky grew dark my baited areas were boiling with bubbles.  On any other water you’d think a take was an absolute certainty but I’ve seen this so many times here, I don’t get too excited.  However I have a plan for next time!

Away to the west a local pub was starting its annual beer festival weekend, the sound of a live band drifted across the countryside, old rock & roll covers aren’t my thing…  By 2145 it was getting dark.  I’d remembered my torch so packing up wasn’t a necessity but a bit of drizzle was starting to come down.  I’d had a fix and was ready for home.

We had planned to get down to a lake on Sunday evening too but a couple of massive storms washed away those plans.  Instead we had to settle for watching the first test meander to a draw.  There had been moments of drama and some good cricket over the five days but pitches like this do absolutely nothing for test cricket.  The test will be memorable for Jimmy Anderson’s maiden test fifty and I enjoyed this innings as much as any I’ve seen in recent years.  Mid-summer madness is about to reach its peak but after that things will calm down and hopefully I’ll have time to do some proper fishing.  I haven’t got anywhere near the Tench and Carp in the Marsh this season and I really want to put that right.  I want to get out after some Broadland Bream before the summer ends too.

Last weekend in June

Friday was busy and work couldn’t pass quickly enough.  After a lightning quick turnaround I was alone at the Marsh fishing with two rods by 1900.  I knew where I fancied fishing and set up so quickly that it was only when I sat down that I realised I hadn’t even bothered to look for signs of fish.  My swim had a large bed of lily pads within easy distance and I’d cast both rods to the edge of this.  One was fake pop up corn fished over about ten pouches of pellets, the other a heli/snowman rig with a PVA bag of crushed boilies.  Before long groups of bubbles began to erupt around the pads, there were certainly fish about; I was in with a shout.

So far the day had stayed dry but rumbles of thunder had me quickly popping up the shelter, grim clouds seemed to be passing away to the east, someone was getting a soaking but I was lucky, so far.  The storm clouds seemed to pass either side of the ring of tall trees that circle this old place but my luck couldn’t hold, could it?  The wind was freshening and blowing from the South west, the opposite to what the forecast had told me.  There were definitely fish in the swim, a large Tench rolled over the pellets.  I was definitely in with a shout!

One of the good things about getting older is seeing younger members of the family grow up.  My nephews are getting older and it’s good getting to know them as adults.  One of them pooped down for a brew, a chat and a laugh.  Unfortunately he brought the rain with him but it wasn’t too bad.  Still fish bubbled and occasionally rolled in the area, I began getting liners too.  Things were looking good.

The nephew left and as it got quickly dark I packed up the boilie rod.  The swim was alive with bubbling and still Tench rolled, surely I would get a chance?  With most of the gear packed up I stood in the dark giving it five more minutes which turned into half an hour as every time I thought about winding in another patch of bubbles appeared or another fish rolled.  At 2210 I realised I’d forgotten my torch and I really should pack up.  If only I’d had more time!  If I’d have been able to stay all night I just know I would have caught!

Saturday was spent at work, enough said.  Sunday morning saw a nice long lay in then Shelley and I took a midday day drive into another world.  For me to go to London there has to be a damn good reason and there was, but more about that later.  We had a hotel near Wembley, chosen because it was cheap not because of the location. At home a five minute walk takes us into the beautiful Suffolk countryside; fields, lakes and woods; Here we walked through concrete, derelict businesses and litter, with the North Circular road on one side and a septic looking canal on the other.  After an average meal at the hotel we crashed, Monday would be busy.

After another lazy start to the day we got the tube into the city, Kensington to be precise which is another world again.  Yes it’s concrete and steel once more but this part of town has money, nothing run down or derelict here.  People watching revealed thousands of tourists along with wealthy looking people who seemed more at home.  After fuelling up with a nice Lamb Rogan we visited the Natural History Museum, my first ever visit here.  The dinosaur exhibition is brilliant but my overall impression of the place was mixed.  On the one hand it’s fascinating but on the other it’s overwhelming; hot, crowded and noisy.  It’s just too big.  We left sooner than planned and found ourselves in the V&A which although less interesting to me was a much calmer, more relaxed experience.  We even found some paintings of the Suffolk countryside by Mr Constable. 

Our main reason for braving the capital was to see our favourite band in the world, “Eels” play at the Royal Albert Hall.  With a little time to kill we sat on a bench near the Albert memorial and tried to while away the minutes.  We’d seen Eels three times on the two previous tours and they’d been fabulous each time.  This was our first visit to the RAH though and it looked impressive even from the outside.  An annoying shower saw us head for shelter early.  Our tickets were standing, way up at the very highest point of the hall and we found our entrance and started queuing. 

With ten minutes to go someone opened the door and offered all of the handful queuing free ticket upgrades!!  There were a few seats unsold to the side of the stage and we eagerly swapped ours!  We went in, got a beer then wandered around, grinning with that “can’t believe our luck” feeling.  We entered the hall and “Jesus Christ!” what a place!  Seats were to the right hand side of the stage but only two rods back.  The view was different but brilliant.  Lights dimmed and… the support…  I can’t remember what they were called and I have no wish to find out.

Then came the Eels, could tonight possibly match the brilliant emotional nights we’ve seen before?  Yes they bloody well could!  Every Eels tour is different.  We’ve seen “Tremendous Dynamite” a blues brothers R&B show with a horn section then last year was “Wonderful Glorious”, just the five regular band members playing a hard rock and roll show.  This year was the regular five again playing a mostly acoustic set.  We heard many songs both old and new that we hadn’t seen performed live before and I can only remember 2 ½ songs that featured on last year’s tour.  Three tours, three totally different sets.  All of the band members can play several instruments and we were blown away by seeing them reveal skills we didn’t know they had.  There were many different arrangements of familiar tunes, all of them worked.  The set started slowly with what “Mr E” described as “sweet bummer rock” then built in tempo and swept the audience along.  Standout tunes tonight; “It’s a mother-fucker”, “Last stop this town”, “Parallels” and “I like the way this is going”.  “E” hugged the crowd, the band played a long encore then finally “Mr E” took over the massive pipe organ.  The sound was brilliant, the atmosphere fantastic and the hall was splendid.  However they decide to play Eels are the best live band I’ve seen in thirty years of gigging and the RAH was the perfect venue for this set.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Mytg5rZOnE

Muck

It’s been a poor spring fishing wise, mostly because I often fail to see what’s staring me right in the face.  I haven’t had enough time to fish the Marsh properly but I haven’t used my time wisely at the club lake.  Live and learn, only it takes me a bloody long time to learn sometimes.  Now we are at the time of year when fishing really has to fall in behind the many other distractions of summer; Family stuff, weddings, concerts, festivals, cricket etc.   What I have to do now is decide whether work out the best ways to use the time that I have or just do what I feel like doing, or perhaps both.

This morning Isaac decided we wanted to catch Carp so we headed off to the piranha pool where we would be likely to achieve this goal with ease.  The sun was strong and there was very little breeze so it should be ideal for a bit of floater fishing.  We set off into the Suffolk countryside around 0900 with the car windows open and Nirvana blasting from the stereo.

It was nice to see an empty car park but the scene that greeted us at the pool was an unpleasant surprise, duck weed stretching from bank to bank choked the water.  Things looked grim but we decided to throw a handful of floaters into one of the less dense areas to see what happened.  Within seconds the weed was being parted as the mouths of hungry carp slurped down the baits.  This was good enough for us so we chucked more floating pellets in and hurriedly tackled up.  Simple methods, just a size 10 hook tied to 10lbs mono, baits were side hooked, bright pink 10mm boilies slid onto the eye.  These were highly flavoured and very visible in the muck.

 Isaac was quickly into a fish which tore across the pool, parting the weed further as it boiled on the surface.  Within a couple of minutes a little common was in the net, along with several pounds of duck weed.  I took the opportunity to wave the net around and clear out a load more weed, which should hopefully make fishing easier.  Pretty soon it was my turn to hook up and another little Carp charged around on the surface before being scooped out with another pile of weed.  I wafted the net around some more but it didn’t seem to matter how much weed I scooped out, it just seemed to reform itself like some kind of creature from a Sci fi film.  The clearings I made only lasted a few minutes before they’d almost closed once more.  Not even the actions of the feeding Carp made much difference.

 We tried to fish in the clearer patches but we were constantly having to strip weed from our baits. Unless something can be done the piranha pool will be a no go area for the rest of the summer. The fishing was frustrating but we managed to catch another fish each before we decided it just wasn’t much fun.  We packed up quickly and headed home in time for the start of the test match.

Same

Tuesday was horrible.  It started raining sometime in the night and didn’t stop all day.  This wasn’t enough to put me off a short trip to the club lake though.  As usual I found Carp, plenty of them cruising around a weedy bay and more crashing out in open water.  I chose to fish the latter and had a frustrating evening watching Carp swim around but refusing to touch my baits.  Apparently Bream had been spawning in the bay and I wonder if the Carp were preoccupied, feeding on the spawn?  That’s my excuse anyway.  By the time the sun disappeared I was damp and I’d had enough.

Sunday was lovely.  After a nice lay in we emerged to find a warm sunny morning with a clear blue sky.  Jobs in town made me grumpy but watching that knock out on the news cheered me up.  Carl Froch proved everything he said after the first fight was true; he did box very badly on that occasion, he did under-estimate Groves but he did win the fight and the ref did save Groves from being knocked out.  Saturday night Froch conclusively proved that he was the better fighter.

Mid afternoon saw me and Shelley arrive at the puddle.  She hasn’t caught a decent fish for a while so this should be ideal for her to get a bend in the rod and a bit of practice.  There were only a couple of anglers but two thirds of the lake was covered by duck weed so we had to share the same area, this we were able to do without encroaching.  We both fished a boilie rod, snowman set ups on helicopter rigs with a small PVA bag of boilies attached flicked out to either side then I began feeding floaters.  Within minutes Carp were slurping down the pellets and my boilie rod was ripping off.  A fish was attached for a few seconds then off again.  No worries the rod was soon back out, there were loads of fish about so it was only a matter of time.

I used to love floater fishing more than any other method of catching Carp but here it seems too easy.  In no time at all I’d managed to lose one and land two, a Common and a Mirror but neither were worth the scales.  With nothing happening on the boilie rods I wound one in for a recast at which point the other screamed into life.  Shelley picked it up and bent into a fish, she was a little out of practice at first but the clutch done the trick and a better Common was soon in the net.  Mission accomplished and with all three rods out of the water it was an easy decision to load the car and head off somewhere else.  The puddle is what it is, great to see a bend in the rod but not a place where you can just chill out and forget the world.

Early evening saw us arrive at the Marsh, settling into my favourite corner, a spot that is comfortable, familiar and makes me feel confident.  We shared three rods; a helicopter snowman rig cast to the reeds, a chod and pop up whacked to the treeline and pop up corn fished in open water.  The areas were baited liberally with pellets and chopped boilies, then we sat and chilled out in the sun.

There was one other angler at the far end of the lake but he was out of sight so it was if we had the place to ourselves.  We spent a lovely evening relaxing, reading, listening to bird song and watching Grebes feed their young. I’m particularly pleased to see two juveniles have survived the attentions of Otters this spring.  A few fish bubbled, there was the odd decent splash and as the sun began to sink the surface came alive with Rudd.  By the time we started tidying up the bats were out and no fish had interrupted our relaxation.  This didn’t matter one bit, the time spent blanking in this wild piece of Suffolk was much more enjoyable than the hour catching at the puddle. 

Blanking

The spring has been a grueller, wherever I’ve been and whatever I’ve fished for has seen the same dismal result.  I’ve fished the club lake regularly as its ideal for short evening or morning sessions.  On every visit I’ve managed to find Carp and put my baits amongst them without spooking them off but I haven’t had so much as a take.  On a couple of occasions casts that seemed likely were retrieved to find debris on the hook.  It finally occurred to me that the winter of storms has certainly dumped all manner of twigs and crap on the bottom and I’d be far better off with a pop up rig.  I found some big fish in a bay two weeks ago but they were cruising round in circles and more likely to spawn than feed.  After a few days of hot weather the Carp did spawn this weekend, ripping up weedbeds in their usual boisterous manner.  Hopefully these fish will be fully spawned out and ready to feed when I next visit.

I haven’t fished the Marsh as often as I would have liked.  Spring is silly season on here when for some reason it gets very busy and choice of swims limited.  By June things usually settle down, I think some anglers move onto other clubs or syndicates while others get fed up with blanking and give up.  It finally dawned on me that I’ve caught close to bugger all here in early spring over the years.  I’ve always assumed it’s because I’m doing something badly wrong but it may be because it’s a deep water that takes a while to warm up. 

 

This weekend saw hot weather and an almost empty lake so Shelley and I loaded the car and headed off to the Marsh.  We arrived in mid-afternoon and had a look around, the first thing I noticed was the water level had risen again and the water had coloured up.  We found fish at the windward end of the lake, Carp cruising slowly with fins just breaking the surface, swim choice sorted.  I chucked a zig set just below the surface carefully towards the cruising fish, hopefully one would chance upon it.  A chod rig baited with a pop up was cast to the edge of the lilies and the area baited with pellets.  I used about a kilo in all, spraying a few pouches every hour or so throughout the session.  I also mixed up some groundbait laced with corn and hemp, this was dropped along the margin to my right and a pop up fake corn fished here.

 The evening deepened and the Carp had stopped their cruising but there were definitely fish rocking the lilies from time to time.  I replaced the zig with another boilie rod and this too was cast to the pads.  As the bats began to swoop we settled into the bivvy and I felt sure something would happen in the night.  Apart from a couple of Bream pulls, nothing did.  Around 0600 I recast the boilie rods and relaxed in my chair, there were a few fish bubbling from time to time but nothing like as many as normal and the early morning also passed fishless.  Despite the lack of fish we stayed on until lunch time, enjoying the first hot weekend of the year.  The fishing may have been difficult but it was a good weekend for wildlife.  I heard a Cuckoo for the first time this year and shown here are a few of the creatures that come close when you stay quiet in a wild and beautiful place.  All photos were taken whilst sat in my fishing chair.

Several weeks without a fish had been messing with my head.  I needed to see the indicators moving so could no longer resist the allure of the puddle.  I arrived in the early evening to find the place thankfully quiet so I had plenty of choice of swims.  It didn’t take me long to find Carp, lots of them in a bay I’ve fished before so quickly began tackling up.  I dropped a helicopter rig next to an overhanging tree and began tying a hook onto a rod I intended to use for fishing floaters.  I’d hardly got this job done before the boilie rod rattled off, fish on… then off, hook pull.  Bugger!  Back out with that rod while I continued to feed floaters.  There were Carp slurping them down already.  I drilled an 11mm pellet then mounted it on a hair before dropping it amongst the slurps.

Twenty minutes or so passed and as usual the fish were taking all the floating pellets except the one with my hook in.  The hook pull on the boilie rod was playing on my mind too; the rig worked well last year but after weeks of blanking, doubts were setting in.  These were dispelled by another ripping take on the boilie and a small Common was in the net in no time.  Less than ten minutes later an almost identical Common made it fish number two and my confidence was restored.  I tweaked the floater rod too, removing the hair and mounting a 10mm boilie directly onto the shank of the size 10 hook.  Within minutes I had a proper take on the floater and another fish was on its way.

And so it continued, regular takes on the boilie with the occasional Carp fooled by my floater.  At one point I had a rod in each hand playing a fish on each, somehow they both ended up in the net too.  The swim was snaggy so I had no choice but to play the fish hard and thankfully there were no more hook pulls.  Although I hadn’t managed to bank a fish in weeks, this was too easy and I soon became bored.  After two hours I’d managed seven Carp, I’d convinced myself that my rigs would do the trick and been reminded why I enjoy challenging fishing.  More of that soon…