A couple of weeks when not much happened

At the beginning of the month we had a lot of rain over several days so I figured with a bit of extra water in it the river might be worth a go.  I acquired some maggots then the following morning I got up early with good intentions and went out into a grey, drizzly morning.  My grand plan was to walk the stretch I explored last winter, dropping a float in here and there to maybe learn a bit more, I should have known better.  I walked a mile downstream without making a cast, mostly because either the river was choked or the banks were. 

After retracing my steps I walked upstream and soon found a short stretch of clear water with a bit of flow.  First run through her I had a bite which of course I missed but soon after I managed to swing a Dace to hand.  A few minutes and a couple of casts later another smaller dace before the bites dried up.  I knew a short walk upstream would bring me to another run I would probably be able to fish and so it proved.  I had bites from the start but missed a few before hooking a tiny Dace.  A gave it a while here but only had another slightly bigger dace and a chublet.  I debated exploring further upstream but the already damp morning was getting gloomier so for once did the sensible thing and cleared off before I got a soaking.

The weekend came and with an early afternoon tide it made sense to get up fairly early and fish through the morning for a change but I couldn’t decide where.  All my usual favourites weren’t inspiring me, for all of them I had some kind of doubt and the weather conditions, wet and blustery, had to be taken into account as well.  In the end, after a bit of google earthing I decided to head for a beach I hadn’t yet fished, something I haven’t done enough of lately.

So this very damp morning I steered the car through puddles on a different and at times unfamiliar cross country route, three quarters of an hour later I pulled into a car park which I might have stopped at sometime in the nineties?  I walked south where cliffs would shelter me from the weather a bit, passed a line of anglers who were just as daft as me and kept going to give both me and them a bit of space.  With drizzle in the wind I popped the shelter up first then quickly chucked a squid out on a pulley rig and a strip of mackerel on a running leger on the lighter rod.

It felt good to be on unfamiliar territory, looking out at different views but nowhere looks great peering through clouds of drizzle; when the sky cleared a little, in the distance to the north I could see Poshlondon on sea and it occurred to me that my favourite brewery was named after the body of water in front of me.  With no previous knowledge I dodged showers and recast regularly, varying distances and switching baits but as these were coming back seemingly untouched and the rain became heavier and more frequent so I spent more time sheltering and peering out.

High tide came around 1400 by which time the wind had switched to the south and was getting increasingly stronger.  It became one of those days when between the wind and waves the tips were never still, spotting a bite would be a challenge but judging by the baits I was retrieving there didn’t seem to be many fish about, I didn’t see anyone else catch either.  Around 1500 s squall blew over leaving lighter, dryer skies, I took this opportunity to pack up, cut and run.  No fish today but definitely a nice spot to spend time in on a more pleasant day.

The days drifted by, my next scheduled fishing trip was curtailed by a stuck car that proved frustratingly easy to fix in the end.  Then a day or so later another window of opportunity opened on a warm, calm day, what’s more the Princess was off work too so she came along to see what this sea fishing lark was all about.  We arrived at Radar and were fishing by 1830, high tide due just after midnight, we wouldn’t be staying that late but there’s always a chance here on a rising tide.

Here by the sea there was a bit of breeze, far more than at home but otherwise it was a nice summer evening, a little bit of cloud obscured the sun from time to time but it was lovely just being there.  This was just as well as there was no sign of any fish, in fact the baits were coming back virtually intact, never a good sign.  The biggest distraction of the first couple of hours was the antics of a man who had drunk so much he literally couldn’t stand and was navigating the beach on all fours although most of the time he just sat slumped in a pile.  It one point it became apparent he was crawling in our direction, I met him half way and having once been fluent in the language of the boozer I managed to light his crumpled roll up.  He gave me the thumbs up then crawled back to his belongings.

We had a nice night sipping tea and snacking and enjoying all the sights and sounds of what has become my favourite summer pastime?  By 2100 it was head torch time but the drop in light levels didn’t bring the hoped for surge in fishy activity although I did drag a one clawed Crab onto dry land.  So we sat chatting when around 2130, out of nowhere the heavy rod hooped over, at last I seem to be getting the hang of these unmissable bites!  There was a good bit of weight on the end which didn’t want to get any closer but didn’t really have a choice.  I expected to see a Ray and so it proved, not a monster but I enjoy them all.  With the whole squid launched once more we sat back and resumed the seaside meditation, it had been a nice evening already but actually catching a fish was a bonus.  Ten minutes later the heavy rod started banging again and I wound into another solid weight and after a bit of push and pull dragged another Ray onto the beach, a bit bigger than the first, happy days.

A fresh squid was soon soaking and it looked good for another bite although we both had work in the morning so couldn’t stay too late.  The ambience was broken by a strange crunching sound, I turned and the torch beam picked up the bizarre sight of our pissed pal crawling towards us with a badly rolled fag stuck to his lips.  With this successfully lit, he babbled and slurred then crawled/staggered/crawled back to his bottle.  What he did next I have no idea.  He wasn’t ill, didn’t appear to have any kind of disability other than being literally pissed legless and after a few minutes of consideration I decided he wasn’t my problem.  With that I decided I’d had enough and the princess agreed so what we did next was pack up and go home.

Other side of the marsh

20th

Thursday, driving towards the coast on a weekday morning to fish a rising tide on a favourite beach, one that is never easy to work out.  The morning drive cross country was steady, the sky hazy with low cloud and a hint of moisture.  On arrival I opened the car doors and was struck by the stillness, there wasn’t a breath.  Here the sky was clear, I could clearly see the wind farms miles off shore long before I’d hiked across the marshes.

I was fishing the usual two rigs by 0845 and unexpectedly had bites from the start, these were all on the heavy rod fished a bit further out.  First cast saw a good rattle and a bit of weight but the hook pulled inches from the shore, almost certainly a Bass?  I soon recast and within minutes had another bite, I soon wound my first fish of the day up the beach but it was an Eel, thankfully lip hooked.  Next cast another good bang and this time a bit more weight with push and pull in the surf and a nice sized bass stayed on the hook this time. Fourth cast, fourth bite but I managed to miss this one.  By this time an hour had passed and I hadn’t had time to check the light rod fished in close, when I did the bait was long gone.

After that busy first hour things slowed down, the rising tide had dramatically changed the landscape but I’d barely noticed, all my concentration had been on the tips.  The sea was busy this pleasant morning with boats of all sizes and shapes, some passing close, others miles out.  By this time a gentle sea breeze was blowing into my face, this got steadily stronger through the day and actually kept the threatened showers a few miles inland.  I tried mixing the distances up and my next proper bite came around 1045 on a squid I’d given the big hurl, this was another Bass, slightly bigger than the first.

Soon it was passed midday and although for a while I’d been getting pulls and knocks regularly this had slowed up, I hadn’t had any decent strikable bites for a while.  High tide was over an hour away, I hoped fish of some kind would put in appearance with the sea full up as it had spectacularly a few times in the past.  It will always be worth hanging on here but nothing happened today, the expectation diminished quickly and I was soon hiking back towards the car.

29th 

A shortened window of fishy opportunity this weekend but at least it coincided with a 2103 high tide, just as the light would be fading, certainly a decent time to fish.  For the second trip in a row I crossed the marshes and had set up in front of the cauldron by 1745.  The tide was well up the shelf by this stage, the pot simmering gently and it was nice to be out in the wilds with TMS on the radio, Stuarts Broad’s news came as a surprise, we’re going to miss him.  The evening was mostly bright with a moderate south westerly meaning the shelter was facing north for a change giving me a different view of a familiar spot.

This beach is tricky with unpredictable currents which on some days sweep the leads away but when things work out right it’s a big fish spot for sure.  I fished how I always do, mostly casting one in close and the other whacked out but I did drop baits at mid range too.  Bait was mostly squid but I also had a few lumps of nasty crabbiness and I was deliberately fishing bigger baits hoping for the bigger fish.  I know Bass love ragworm but the average size is low, I catch far fewer on squid but they are bigger fish and that interests me more.  However tonight I could have done with some rag, all evening I had one bite and winched in a small Eel which conveniently unhooked itself thus saving the blank.

The tide came all the way up and the sky grew dark but the fish never switched on and for some reason I hadn’t expected them to, it hadn’t felt right tonight.  One of those feelings we anglers get that is forgotten the second something happens.  I walked back along the embankment, face into the wind and head home earlier than planned.

 

A different view

Saturday afternoon came around again, hot and humid with high tide due around 1600.  At this time of year with conditions and a tide like this our experience suggests the beaches will be hard work and we’d be better off fishing one of the estuaries.  Giles and had I discussed this as the weekend approached and decided to go to a spot we’d had success from in the past but this entailed a long walk.  With this in mind we cut our gear down considerably, the plan was to soak a lump of squid while we fished lures around the area, particularly a snaggy spot close by.  Along with a normal running leger rig I sorted out an old carp rod with a float rig, hoping to try trotting on a massive scale.

We left in the early afternoon, once we were off the A road we decided to try the long hike from a different car park.  In reality the walk would be about the same length but along flatter paths through the marshes.  It was a pleasant hike but in the humid air we were glad to finally be facing the water and fresher air.  The spot we’d chosen had the deep channel within an easy cast and we were fishing by about 1515.  After the long walk we were happy to lay on the slope of the embankment and chill out watching rod tips, just one each for a change.

The estuaries are okay, you can actually catch Bass in urban areas but obviously we avoid these places, no matter how good the fishing may be.  Where we sat was anything but urban, beyond the marshes was rolling arable bordered by hedgerows and small clusters of trees.  Unfortunately the warm Saturday had brought all kinds of watercraft out onto the river and this spoiled the ambiance somewhat.  Worst of all were the roaring powerboats zipping up and down, some towing fat bastards on the end of a bit of rope.  It’s strange how people have different ways of enjoying the countryside, some of us like to sit quietly and try to become part of the landscape while others choose to tear around drawing attention to themselves.  Different strokes…

The fishing started slowly but in truth we didn’t expect much to happen until the tide started to ebb.  Even so I was bringing back hooks stripped of bait, it seemed the crabs were on the hunt if nothing else.  We both tried chucking lures around from time to time but there was nothing showing.  I was seduced by the late start in the test match and thoroughly enjoyed listening to England bowl out the Aussies and set up a potential win?  In the innings break I picked up the lure rod again and wandered down to the snags, by now the tide had turned and was carrying loads of weed out to sea.  Using a long thin spoon I cast uptide and cranked back quickly to keep the lure out of the structure.  I could have sworn I saw something swirl, were there fish around?  After a few casts the tip banged round and I was in.  The first priority was to keep the fish out of the snags which I managed and soon had a silver bar fighting hard in clear water.  Even modest sized bass fight like hell on light tackle in a strong tide but I soon picked this one out of the water.  I was well chuffed, any lure caught Bass is a bloody good fish in my book.

Giles joined me at the snags where there were obviously a few fish about.  For some reason I switched from my successful lure and tried a rubber sandeel.  While this was going on Giles stuck to a spoon and bumped a couple of fish before hooking up and landing his first bass of the season.  As has happened in the past the fish moved off after half an hour or so and it was back to staring at rod tips.  By this time all the fuel burning lunatics had left, probably speeding down the A road in an unnecessarily large vehicle (judgmental? Me?) 

With a fish each under our belts we were happy, despite the lack of action on the leger rods.  If we’d brought ragworm I’m sure we’d have caught fish but it’s impossible to be selective and there are plenty of small bass around whilst squid seems to sort out the better ones.  I did try trotting a sandeel down with the tide which was fun but didn’t produce any bites although I did manage to catch a bloody crab on it.

Around 2030 the wind had dropped away and in the calm water we noticed a series of splashes and swirls, it could only be feeding fish and was almost certainly Bass.  We were soon chucking lures again but the fish were a long way out, feeding over deeper water.  The problem we had was finding lures that were heavy enough to reach the fish but light enough to fish effectively in the upper layers.  After a while I hooked up on a spoon and had a hell of a job bringing a Bass back against the tide.  I could clearly see it and I was winning the battle but the fish dived again and shook the hook free.  We kept chopping and changing lures but couldn’t get it right.  Every now and then the fish would move in closer giving us more choice of lures and I managed to hook one on a small rubber minnow.  This one fought hard too but I was able to keep my hook in it and soon lifted it ashore for a photo opportunity.

We carried on casting and even as the light faded the fish were still swirling but mostly out of range, I did hook up briefly but the fish didn’t want to visit the shore.  By 2130 we’d had enough so loaded up and commenced our hike back on unfamiliar paths.  This was not helped by my navigation skills which sent us on the wrong path and doubled our walk back to the car, by the time we reached it rain had started to fall.  Still it had been an enjoyable evening and we’d learned a load more about catching Bass on lures, really good fun but honestly I’d rather be chilling out on a beach.

Brown diamonds and a silver bar

Back to the beaches…  The day was a scorcher, hot, clear and bright.  High tide was due around 1600 which was far from ideal so what should we do?  I suggested travelling light and trying to catch Bass on lures but Giles wanted to sit and stare at the sea so I let him talk me into it.  In truth this didn’t take much doing, watching the rise and fall is perfect therapy.

We were fishing the ‘Cauldron’ by 1430, using mostly squid on our regular rods but we’d also brought lure rods which we both used regularly throughout the trip.  At least here facing the sea there was a cooling breeze making things comfortable.  We started off with enthusiasm, going through the lure boxes and trying different depths and speeds but soon settled down to our usual form of tip watching meditation.  High tide was soon upon us and as the minutes ticked by I wondered if our best chance had gone but around 1615 the tip pulled down then rattled itself back straight.  Something had dislodged the lead and was making off with my squid.  I wound down and pulled into what felt like a snag that was being pulled slowly in.  But this weight throbbed and fluttered then pulled the rod back down on occasions as I slowly gained line and won the tug of war.  I soon had a heavy fish in close, the exact situation I’d lost the battle on two occasions this year but for some reason today I was calm and patient.  With the fish in the shallows Giles grabbed the leader and dragged my first Ray of the year onto the beach.

As usual the fish appeared to stiffen and arch it’s back as if ready for a fight but I flipped it onto it’s back then soon had the hook out. I quickly weighed the fish before posing for a few photos, then waded into the waves to put the fish back, where it flapped its wings and glided away.  My best sea fish of the year so far, nice one!

After that the tide slowly ebbed away and with it so did our chances.  We tried hard; changed baits, varied distances and kept chucking the lure but to no avail, nothing else disturbed us.  We ended up staring out to sea and chatting, just an evening on the beach really and we packed up before head torches became necessary.

 

One week later…

It’s July already but the heatwave has passed and we’ve had a week of winds that haven’t come from a cold easterly direction.  Saturday came around with a forecast that was just about as good as we could hope for; a mixture of sunshine and cloud, a comfortable, mild afternoon with a moderate westerly blowing off shore, high tide due at 2300.  We’d be fishing a rising tide into darkness which our growing experience suggests is perfect and we had a choice of beaches where we’d feel confident.  In the end we chose one of our favourites where we’d usually be confident of catching Bass at this time of year although this time we didn’t have ragworm with us. 

The plan was to fish big baits for big fish but when we started fishing at 1715 we were both chucking lures for Bass.  I used a spoon and a couple of jigs mostly fishing near the bottom but also shallower from time to time.  After half an hour without anything fishy occurring I cast out two lumps of squid, sat back and tuned into TMS to discover England’s top order had crumbled but as I sat looking at the tips and listening, Duckett and Stokes rebuilt.  Giles and I also had nibbles on small baits fished fairly close but nothing to strike at although that didn’t stop us trying.

When the close of play came I picked up the lure rod again and commenced bouncing a jig along the bottom.  I kept glancing back at the rods but the sun was in my eyes and I couldn’t really see but after a few more casts I looked back and couldn’t miss the sight of my bright yellow line flapping in the breeze.  The lure was forgotten as I picked up the heavy rod and wound into a heavy weight which I slowly pumped back towards me.  I was fairly sure what I was attached to and it was no surprise to see something brown and diamond shaped appear in the shallows.  I went a year without catching a Ray now I had two in two trips, not as big as last week’s but we don’t catch many and all are an event.

I recast the heavy rod with another squid bound onto a 2/0 Pennell.  I put a smaller bait on the light rod and dropped it in close, recasting regularly.  I kept winding in bare hooks but wasn’t seeing any bites.  Then around 1955 there was a weird wobble on the heavy rod, it was due a recast so I picked it up and once again felt a solid living presence.  This one put up less resistance and it was another Ray about half the size of the first.  While this was going on Giles missed a slamming bite, his recast had barely settled before the tip went again and he too was heaving something heavy back towards Suffolk.  We almost expected to see another decent Ray come up the beach and so it proved, we’d now had three!

This was the start of a ninety minute period where we were both constantly on the go, something we’ve experienced a few times before on the beaches but these fish were all Rays.  Whatever we fish for and wherever we choose to do it, times like these are magic, fishing on autopilot, casting out just knowing that bait will be eaten.  Whenever we go fishing we are always hoping for days like this.  We both missed decent bites and Giles lost one in the surf but by 2130 I’d had five and Giles four, at one point we had a fish each at the same time, ridiculous fishing that had been totally unexpected.  Tonight we’d fished the same way we always do but for once it had come together spectacularly and we weren’t done yet. 

It was headtorch dark, just before 2200 I was stood chatting to Giles when he started pointing and jabbering.  I looked over to see my rod bent over double and I almost broke into a run, reaching the rod just before the tripod collapsed.  This fish had the same throbbing weight I’d become used to this evening but was definitely heavier and it didn’t want to visit the beach.  Most of our fish tonight had been the size of large dinner plates but when this one came up the beach it was almost dustbin lid proportions and I was well chuffed.

I added another dinner plate sized Ray shortly afterwards then in the lead up to high tide the bites stopped, as they often do at this beach.  High tide came and went, we’d started to tidy up when my heavy rod bent over low once again.  I wondered if this would be something different but soon realised I was pumping back another good Ray.  I managed to get this one in fairly close quite quickly but reached a bit of a stalemate where I’d pull the rod back and the fish would yank it back down again.  This couldn’t go on forever and all the odds were in my favour, soon Giles grabbed the trace and pulled another dustbin lid onto the beach!  This was not as big as the previous one but still warranted the scales and camera.  With this fish returned I noticed the light rod had gone slack, this had been dropped in really close and there was a decent weight on the end.  Instead of a brown diamond I wound in a silver bar, a nice sized Bass had picked up a lump of squid.

It would have been silly to have packed up then so we put our rods out again and Giles was rewarded with one more Ray.  That was the last action of the evening, we gave it till past midnight but the rods rattled no more.  Between us we’d finished with thirteen Rays and one Bass, I’d caught most of mine on squid, Giles mostly mackerel but it felt like we could have chucked anything out and caught.  We’d been confident when we arrived but never expected the fishing to be anything like this and no idea as to why there were so many Rays around tonight.  Every tide is different.

The Glorious...

Friday June 16^th, a special date for the older angler and for the second year in a row two Suffolk lads who would certainly fit that description looked down on a beautiful spate river.  This year it was just me and Kev, (the other two lads preferring to bivvy up on the east midlands river,) and his dog Cooper.  So the river, here it cuts through a beautiful wooded valley, Buzzards circled above the opposite hill.  The stretch before us looked appetising enough, shallow rapids with deeper swims either side but other things weren’t on our side; the river was low as we expected but had a strange brown tinge also the weather would be hot and sunny all day. 

We hadn’t hurried around in the morning and got to the river around 0800, Kev wandered upstream while I set up just above the rapids in a relatively comfortable swim, this was bliss. I fished with a simple running leger rig and a long hooklength, sometimes I used groundbait moulded around the lead, other times I nicked on a PVA bag.  Hookbaits were mostly ‘drilled’ pellets either halibut or source, this remained unchanged across the weekend.  I had a few pulls and rattles from the word go but nothing I could strike at.  After an hour I had a decent bite which I managed to miss, Kev was doing a little better with a couple of decent Chub.  By 1100 I’d tuned in the radio to hear the opening overs of the Ashes, first ball Crawley, four!  That’ll do!  I fished on until midday by which time the sun was high and hot, the fish seemed to have switched right off.

After a siesta which involved taking on fuel and refilling the flask I wandered downstream and perched myself on a groyne below the shallows.  This was a great looking swim, pacey with cover both sides but a couple of hours here didn’t produce a convincing bite.  Kev had moved about too but hadn’t added to his score, after another siesta I went back to my original swim and Kev set up just above me, within chatting distance.  My thinking was I had put a bit of food into this area through the morning, if any fish were to wake up this evening there’d be something to eat out there.

As the evening dwindled away it looked like a blank was on the cards but as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped the rattles began again, there were fish out there.  It took until 2125 before I had a proper bite and this time I managed to set the hook.  There was a bit of weight but very little fight before Kev slipped the net under a very long Chub with a huge head but no belly.  It must have been a far heavier fish at some time in its life but even in this condition I’ve had few bigger and I was well chuffed.  In the last half hour the fish switched on, I had a second chub this a small one and Kev had two himself.  A gruelling day came to an end but the last half hour had given our confidence a boost.  As we walked back to the car our head torches reflected the yes of Deer peering warily out of the woods, they were safe, Cooper is too laid back for chase.

The second morning saw us bouncing down a track to a beautiful stretch of water we’d both fished before.  This stretch still haunts me because last year I really struggled here after losing a decent Barbel early on.  Kev wandered downstream and I was tempted to go straight back to the scene of my haunting but instead I decided to walk in the other direction and fish somewhere different.  There’d been a bit of rain overnight but this had stopped, it was a comfortable cloudy morning and the river looked wonderful. I set up in a deeper swim below a shallow, pacey stretch.  To me it looked perfect but nobody told the fish.  At 1126 I had a text from Kev, ‘Had a Chub and… now got a barbel!’  This was excellent news and what I should have done is move nearer to Kev but instead I moved further upstream and didn’t catch anything here either.  The cricket had began ominously but then up stepped Broad!

After topping up with food and drink I stopped for a chat with Kev who had loads of Chub in front of him and was catching fish of all sizes on the float rod, trotting flake set very shallow.  There were plenty of Chub in the swim upstream of Kev, moving in here was the obvious choice but instead I went further downstream, setting up at the bottom of a wooded straight.  There were Chub here too but not in any numbers.  After forty five minutes staring at a motionless tip I broke out the float rod.  It didn’t take long to break my duck, shallow trotted corn done the trick catching me four small Chub, none of which needed a net.  After a couple of hours I gave it up and headed back upstream finally doing what I should have done hours earlier I set up in the swim upstream of Kev who was still picking off the Chub.

Both our swims had deeper water close in with cover from overhanging bushes, I started off with the float rod and soon caught a couple of small Chub.  By 1930 we were both staring at rod tips hoping for something substantial, half an hour later I had a text from Kev which had me winding in and scurrying down in time to photograph a beautiful big Barbel!  Things just got serious…   My confidence was boosted, there was still a chance but the time ticked by and it looked like mine had gone.  With five minutes to go my rod tip finally wrapped over and I was into a fish, a Chub but a decent one which definitely needed a net brought my day to a positive end.  I felt a little frustrated as I hadn’t made the right decisions today, I could have fished better.  On the other hand Kev had got it spot on finishing with over twenty Chub to over four pounds and two Barbel.

Day Three already...There had been rain overnight and the morning was cloudy which lifted our spirits and our start to the day was relaxed start right up to the point we ran into a closed road.  Twat Nav seemed more of a hindrance but we eventually made it to our destination, another gorgeous stretch of river and one I’d never laid eyes on before.  The first swim we viewed was just below rapids and looked spot on, the next just above the rapids looked just as good, even better as bronze flanks were flashing.  Some were certainly Chub but a couple were longer and darker.  When we’d put our eyes back in their sockets we continued to wander up the beat all of which looked fishy but none more so than the first couple of swims.

We were set up by 0945, Kev downstream and me above, trembling with anticipation I had to make myself slow down, take my time and not charge around in a flap.  I had knocks and rattles from the off as well as a sharp bang that was way too quick for me.  When the next bite came I was stood in the water holding the rod, this I didn’t miss and a nice sized Chub gave me a proper battle after running downstream into the fast water and hanging there with its gob open.  I walked downstream winding slowly as I went whilst trying to control the net in the fast water.  Eventually the Chub went in.  Ten minutes later I added a second Chub of a similar size which gave me an identical, hard fight which had me thinking.  A Barbel or a big Chub getting into the fast water would be a problem, I needed a plan.  My first thought was to quickly gain line and control while wading upstream but this would really take some doing.

As it turned out I had time to think as the bites dwindled as the fish appeared to drift away although I could see dark shapes moving just upstream.  I wound in and took a walk upstream to the next swim which was large, flat and potentially comfortable, here I could see Chub of all sizes drifting around.  There was still plenty of pace, a bit of cover on both banks an if I wanted to I could easily cast downstream and fish the gully above the rapids but I was far enough away to take the problem of fish running too far downstream out of the equation.  I could see Chub but no Barbel but they were here earlier, Kev had found himself in a very similar situation the previous day and it had all worked out nicely for him.  I had a plan.

But first a siesta.  I wandered down to speak to Kev who’d had no luck so far and was planning his next move.  I burnt a couple of sausages and refilled the flask.  While this was going on the phone rang, Mr S my friend from the wild west offering advice and encouragement.  Kev had been exploring and fancied a swim way downstream so off he plodded.

I was fishing again by 1400 catching a bait sized Chub on the first cast but then it went quiet again even though I could see plenty of fish.  I started feeding corn while I unfolded the float rod and a few minutes later hooked a couple of grains on, set it to about nine inches and flicked it out.  I had bites from the start, missed plenty but caught a few Chub of all sizes up to a couple of pounds or so.  The fish drifted in and out throughout what had become a dark cloudy afternoon.  By 1600 it had been raining in the test match for some time and was beginning to get damp here too.  The swim was a rare one in which I could easily erect a brolly, so this I did, back to watching the tip whilst sitting in comfort.  I started off by casting mid-river, upstream slightly then worked downstream with successive casts, then when I’d reached the limits of comfort I started the process again.  I had plenty of rattles caught two decent sized Chub over the next couple of hours but there was no sign of Barbel.  At one point the rain stopped and the sky seemed clearer so I took the brolly down, two minutes later it was raining harder than ever.  Kev was doing better upstream, having been frustrated for a couple of hours by Barbel that were rolling but not taking baits he finally tricked one, then quickly followed it with another.  He suggested I move in close to him but I decided to stick to my plan, though now I was beginning to doubt myself.

Around 2000 I started searching the upstream water after recognising that I’d been blinkered and fixated on the downstream where I’d seen fish rolling.  Upstream looked bloody good too, especially the near side bush where there’d been plenty of Chub milling around earlier.  The first cast here did produce a couple of rattles which were too fast and I resumed searching the swim.  After a couple of casts I under-armed a method ball and source pellet upstream close to the bush, a few minutes later the tip pulled round and things got serious.  The fish moved upstream then stopped in front of me and it was then I realised this was different, there was more weight and a kind of throbbing power, Barbel!  The fish fought hard like I knew it would but unlike last year, today I felt in control, patience soon saw the fish in the net.  This fish was nothing like the monsters my friends were fishing for on another river but I was delighted, it was my second best and to me any Barbel is special and I love fishing this special river!  I’d rested the fish in the net before unhooking and rested it again after, after a few more minutes my lovely bronze whiskery thing was ready and kicked away.

For some reason I cast away from the bush next chuck, I can’t remember my thinking.  Maybe resting the bush or wondering if there were Barbel moving elsewhere in the swim, notably the area where most of my feed had landed during the afternoon.  But I was impatient and soon swung my bait towards the bush again.  It didn’t take long, a solid bite and a bit of weight had me thinking it was a small Barbel but no it was a Chub, my sixteenth of the day and by my standards a big one.  The scales confirmed it, this too was a second best and actually the best as my PB was caught on a Pike lure.  While this was going on my phone had been beeping, Kev had caught a couple of Chub and another Barbel!  The next cast landed in the same place and soon hooped over again, another Barbel that fought it’s heart out but wasn’t as big as the first.  While this fish was resting I checked my phone, Kev had caught another one as well.  I knew Kev would be a while and figured I’d have time for one last cast and would you believe it the tip slammed round and I was in a tug of war once more.  My last fish of the night was the smallest but was every bit as exhilarating.

I’d just released it when Kev and Cooper appeared, he’d finished with four Barbel and three Chub.  We staggered back to the car grinning, for once things had gone to plan for both of us, what a day!

The last day came around, we had to pack away our campsite before we made our way to the river so arrived later than previous days.  Today’s beat was a few miles upstream and once again it had everything I want to see in a Barbel river, white water shallows and boiling pools, shady trees and streaming weed.  I think this is why I want to fish this river as opposed to some that are closer to home and have bigger fish.  Here I see what my younger mind imagined when I read about Barbel fishing and dreamed of one day catching one.  After a wander we chose our swims; Kev opted to fish just downstream of a shallow run while I had developed a sudden liking for swims with cover, pace and deep water close in, even better if there was a shallow margin just upstream and this was exactly what I found.  What’s more tall trees shaded me but they did make casting a careful operation.

I started around 1100 searching what I could with the feeder but the near side bushes received particular attention, the morning was cloudy but humid but today there was a breeze blowing upriver.  Second cast brought a sharp bang on the tip but that was the only action in the three and a bit hours I sat there.  I could see Chub though, mostly out of range but occasionally drifting into my vicinity but they weren’t interested in what I had to offer.  It was time for a move but before I did so I baited the swim with pellets and hemp, to my very limited experience the swim just felt right and for some reason I was certain fish would investigate later in the day.

Kev was also fishless, we met at the car park and after lunch took Cooper for a walk exploring everything we hadn’t yet noticed.  To me there were a couple of interesting swims but the pull wasn’t quite there for me so Kev positioned himself in a new swim and I returned to the one I’d left feeling even more certain that I was in the right place.  Earlier in the day I’d realised that I hadn’t lost a single fish this trip when last year there’d been a couple of disasters.  Of course I cursed myself, first cast in the ‘old’ swim produced a good pull and I hooked a decent Chub which managed to shed the hook after a few seconds.  No worries, I felt sure I’d get more chances, if anything I now felt even more confident.

But two hours passed without anything happening by which time I’d switched to the float rod, running corn through.  I only had a short trot due to the trees and unlike previous days the bait fished shallow didn’t work and I didn’t get a bite until I started tripping bottom.  I began with a couple of Chublets then hooked something bigger that started to give me the run around.  It tried to make it into the downstream bush but I turned it only to have it bolt upstream into the other bush where the hooklength parted…  I tackled up again but the bites had dried up so I switched back to the tip under armed to the downstream bush and chilled out some more.

Around 1930 the tip pulled round and I managed to keep a fish on the hook, a nice sized Chub was quickly released.  The evening passed rapidly, a weird feeling as with every second I felt a fish was more likely but every second took me closer to the time I’d have to pack up.  2105 the tip pulled round once more and I lifted into something with weight and power.  The fish was plodding in front of me, taking short rips of line off the clutch while I waited for the unstoppable run I knew was coming.  Then the hook fell out.  It was definitely a Barbel and felt heavier than any I’ve hooked so far.  Gutted?  Not really, there was nothing I could or would have done differently it was just one of those things and I felt justified in the choices I’d made today. 

I still felt I had a chance and on the next cast had a classic three foot twitch and somehow managed to miss it, just like I do when beach fishing.  But I was still confident so got a bait back out quickly, certain I’d get another chance.  Fifteen minutes later the tip went over and I set the hook but it didn’t have the strength and power I’d been anticipating.  A nice sized Chub was soon netted and that was my last action of the trip.

After packing up we stuffed our gear into the remaining gaps in the car then pointed the car to the east and drove through the night.  Four nights sleeping in a tent and four days of physical fishing, walking the banks and almost abseiling into swims had taken its toll.  Between us we caught over sixty Chub to 4.06 and ten Barbel to 8.08 and if you’d offered us that on the 15^th we’d have bitten your hand off.

Solo

3rd

Another Saturday, flying solo today which meant I had to make a decision as to where I set up camp for the evening.  Looking out of the window it seemed the forecasters had got it right, the day was bright and clear, this backed up by a trip to the shed, the wind a moderate North easterly.  Apparently, this isn’t good conditions for beach fishing though I wonder if the dislike for an east wind comes from not being able to launch a bait so far when the wind is blowing into your chops?  The high tide was due after dark at 2345 by which time the clear sky should not be an issue, a decent time to be fishing.  But where do I go?  Radar would be an obvious choice if a little predictable having fished it regularly this spring.  Then there’s the many named beach I’m calling ‘monster’ at the moment, so far this spring it’s been disappointing but here anything could happen.

These days are strange, not much to do in the morning except watch the clock but TMS kept me company for far longer than anyone expected.  I mooched about a bit, before starting to get my kit together when tea came.  By the time I was on the road the mental debate had ceased, I’d made up my mind, monster beach it would be.  A steady journey across country, outside the car Suffolk was glorious green but inside it was all London grey but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  After parking tight to the wall I hiked across the marshes, the wind was in my face already and had a bite to it.  I arrived at possibly my favourite piece of coast to find I had it all to myself.  The camp went up quickly and by 1820 I had two baits rolling around in the heaving grey mass.

It's a weird thing that I do really, I set up early knowing that most days I won’t catch anything for hours so why do I bother?  I suppose it’s mainly down to fishing when I can, in the spare time available but also I just like being by the water, this is the time of the week I look forward to most.  People who get bored when fishing in wild places really are missing the point and here on this strand of pebbles anything could happen.  I enjoy the unpredictable nature of this place, it really is shit or bust.  In all likelihood I could lose hope of ever seeing the rod wrap over but if it does…

And for hours nothing happened except all the things that occur every week, the tide rose and the sun sank, by the time I had my head torch on a full moon had risen, a glowing orange above the sea.  The rod tips stayed eerily motionless but this doesn’t usually bother me because in theory every minute that passes my chances are actually improving…  But your mind does play tricks and just at the moment I give up hope…  2345, high tide was greeted by a proper bite on the heavy rod.  The tip jagged over then sprung back, I was on my feet, tightening the line and hoping…  Yes a definite weight on the end.  I pumped the fish back towards me which took a while as I’d been timing my casts tonight, it wasn’t hanging and throbbing like a Ray nor was it banging around like a Bass.  When a chunky Dogfish writhed onto the shingle I wasn’t surprised at all.  A fish at last but not what I’d hoped for.

The next three casts all brought identical banging bites on squid and three more Dogs all a good average size.  Amidst this I also had a rattle on the light rod which I’d chucked a bit further but didn’t connect.  By this time it was well past midnight, it still felt good for another bite or two but I had to be somewhere the following morning.  By the time I’d tramped back to the car I was well and truly done.

9th

On my own again and with things to do on Saturday I fished day earlier than normal and an earlier time of day.  High tide was due in the afternoon, just after 1600 so where to fish?  I fancied Monster beach but as I’d be fishing part of the ebb tide the steep one was a better bet, in theory at least.  After an early dinner I pointed the car in an easterly direction but it was slow going, when the A14 grinds to a halt all the lanes become clogged.  Luckily my route seemed to avoid the worst but was still slow, it could have been worse, if I’d left a minute later I would have encountered an artic trying to navigate a narrow village high street.

I arrived at the Steep beach, loaded up and tramped across the shingle. the day was clear and bright but a fresh north easterly kept the temperature down.  There were only two other anglers on the beach and I found myself settling down pretty much exactly where I’d hoped.  I quickly erected the shelter then got settled and put a couple of rods together, the usual two rigs but today I was going all out with big baits; hermit crab, bluey and squid.  I was fishing by 1400, two hours before high tide, in theory I should have a chance from the off.  The wind was stronger than expected with sizeable waves smashing into the slope and the rod tips were wobbling, would I see a bite in these conditions?

At 1500 I had my answer, the heavy rod was bouncing and I was soon hauling in something that felt heavy to begin with but got progressively lighter, it was no surprise to see a Dogfish writhing in the surf.  Shortly after the light rod pulled down too but nothing developed.  High tide came and went, in the hour that followed I had two more decent bites on the heavy rod which I missed.  After that it all dried up but I was content sitting in my shelter listening to the boom and hiss of waves followed by the loud ssshhhingle rolling down the slope.  As the waves grew quieter and further away so it seemed my chances were heading in the same direction.  I gave it till 1900 to allow the traffic to die down then headed home.

Spring is giving way to summer now and the last couple of months on the beach have seen plenty of fish but very few of the big or interesting ones.  The two heaviest fish I hooked managed to wriggle free in the surf, had they hung on a little longer… 

Now comes an interlude from the squid hurling.  I spent most of Saturday rummaging in the shed, checking out camping gear then finding fishing stuff and putting it in the right bags followed by rigging up rods and setting clutches.  Back inside an hour tying up rigs and finding odds and sods.  The rivers open again on Friday and I’ll be making a long anticipated trip west.