LOSSES MOUNT...
...but so do captures. Back on the Avon today, half hoping that a few silvers might feed as well but they didn't really. The river was nob on, a tinge, nothing more, winter level and no wind. Everything was set for a good day and to be fair it wasn't bad. It wasn't as good as it should have been but then is it ever? Anglers like farmers are never happy.
I started at dawn as usual feeding a few casters and a pinch of hemp every second trot through. I've really got into fishing the waggler these days. All my life I've felt that pure fishing was trotting a stick off a centrepin. No longer, a waggler is far nicer. It doesn't disturb the swim when you strike for a start. I like mine pre-loaded with just 3 no 6s down the line, usually split into smaller shot so today I bulked 2 no6s and one no 10 with a 10 as a tell-tale 12" from a 16. I make my own floats, no insert on the river, finer inserts on the lakes. The fat tip of a peacock quill can drag a hookbait or even a ten along the bottom if the conditions are right and that is where I like my bait, as close to the bottom as I can keep it.
I used to fish unloaded wagglers with all the weight down the line but last year on the Wye I had something of a light bulb moment. If you are loose feeding there is no point in getting your bait right down any quicker than the loose offerings get there. It only seems to take the odd dust shot to help overcome water resistance on the line and the bait is then in the right place most of the time instead of some of it.
Greasing the line helps enormously as well, I use a Leeda aerosol fly floatant at the moment but it is a stupid price so I will give Mr Sheen or car dash dandy a go soon. Not only does it make the line float, it makes it slick through the rings and stops the coils sticking together on the spool. I really like it.
Less than an hour in I had my first fish, a 3oz Chublet shortly followed by a proper one of 3-6. Bites were sporadic and it was a long time before my next, another big chub that threw the hook. Then I fought another good fish up to the net whereupon it dived in under the bank and I ended up pulling for a break. I'd now gone from a 100% catch to bite ratio from the first two, to 0% for the next two. Pride comes before a fall they quite rightly say and I was about to fall further still.
These middle Avon Chub are heavy, dogged fighters and you bully them at your peril. Steady pressure on the fish seems to keep them out in the river where you can hopefully tire them out a bit before they come to close to the bank. When they eventually do, you really do have to work hard to keep their heads up or they will find the snaggy margins and flip you off. All the time you are playing them, they bore away against the rod occasionally bumping hard against the resistance.
The Barbel are different. Often, like today one is not even certain that it is a fish on the end. Mid morning I hit a bite right at the very end of the trot, easily 35 yards downstream and it felt for all the world like a snag. The snag however was coming up river under extreme pressure. Every so often the rod tip would pull right over before once more setting to its task of dragging this recalcitrant beast up stream against the current. There were fewer signs of life on the other end than with the Chub, less drama. After some time I had the fish in front of me in mid-river but instead of turning in towards me and the waiting net, it just carried on past. It went under the overhanging tree to my right forcing me to put the rod, now bending all the way down to the corks, under the water. When the rod had nothing much left to give, line just started peeling resolutely off the spool until after it had travelled several yards, everything went slack. The hook had pulled again and I had lost yet another Avon Barbel.
I used to fish unloaded wagglers with all the weight down the line but last year on the Wye I had something of a light bulb moment. If you are loose feeding there is no point in getting your bait right down any quicker than the loose offerings get there. It only seems to take the odd dust shot to help overcome water resistance on the line and the bait is then in the right place most of the time instead of some of it.
Greasing the line helps enormously as well, I use a Leeda aerosol fly floatant at the moment but it is a stupid price so I will give Mr Sheen or car dash dandy a go soon. Not only does it make the line float, it makes it slick through the rings and stops the coils sticking together on the spool. I really like it.
Less than an hour in I had my first fish, a 3oz Chublet shortly followed by a proper one of 3-6. Bites were sporadic and it was a long time before my next, another big chub that threw the hook. Then I fought another good fish up to the net whereupon it dived in under the bank and I ended up pulling for a break. I'd now gone from a 100% catch to bite ratio from the first two, to 0% for the next two. Pride comes before a fall they quite rightly say and I was about to fall further still.
These middle Avon Chub are heavy, dogged fighters and you bully them at your peril. Steady pressure on the fish seems to keep them out in the river where you can hopefully tire them out a bit before they come to close to the bank. When they eventually do, you really do have to work hard to keep their heads up or they will find the snaggy margins and flip you off. All the time you are playing them, they bore away against the rod occasionally bumping hard against the resistance.
The Barbel are different. Often, like today one is not even certain that it is a fish on the end. Mid morning I hit a bite right at the very end of the trot, easily 35 yards downstream and it felt for all the world like a snag. The snag however was coming up river under extreme pressure. Every so often the rod tip would pull right over before once more setting to its task of dragging this recalcitrant beast up stream against the current. There were fewer signs of life on the other end than with the Chub, less drama. After some time I had the fish in front of me in mid-river but instead of turning in towards me and the waiting net, it just carried on past. It went under the overhanging tree to my right forcing me to put the rod, now bending all the way down to the corks, under the water. When the rod had nothing much left to give, line just started peeling resolutely off the spool until after it had travelled several yards, everything went slack. The hook had pulled again and I had lost yet another Avon Barbel.
I was still bemoaning my lack of luck and skill when Colin came along. He sat down and we chatted for a while. He must have some luck with him as I soon had another Chublet and a consolation prize of 3-7 on the bank. That was pretty much my lot then. I fished on for a bit, stuck it out 'til 1 o clock and made tracks. I have a plan for my next visit which will probably be on Friday. It won't be as enjoyable as fishing the waggler but it might just put a Barbel on the bank for me. At the very least it should catch me one or two more decent chub.
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