A SOD, A POLE AND PERCH.
My river season this year has been pretty poor really. My one trip to the Avon offered promise but not enough to justify the stresses and strains of driving 40 odd miles in the dark, in the pissing rain, in the middle of the rush hour. I'd hoped that as the mornings got lighter I could travel earlier, miss the traffic and get back on it. Some chance; it rained for weeks and I'm not local enough to know what's going on or what to do when it's boiling its banks off.
The Leam has been very slightly more helpful and I did get a few trips in chasing Chub on the feeder. That was fun; I had some decent fish but what really intrigued me were the bites I couldn't hit. Could a decent Roach or two be responsible? I hoped so and last week I set up to pole-fish a swim that had produced more taps and trembles than most; and failed miserably.
Today, with the river finally behaving itself, I went back. I picked a swim further up river that had previously produced in more summery conditions. After plumbing up, I began laying on with maggots under a 4 no4 crowquill. All went well for ten minutes or so. I missed a couple of indications and sneaked out one 4oz Dace from my only bite. As so often happens on here the swim produced a fish immediately and then the square root of bugger all until I gave up.
By 10.15 I was set up and fishing the swim that failed me last week. Why? Well I couldn't get all those bites that I'd been unable to hit on the feeder, out of my head. Most of them had come after I'd already landed a good Chub and that suggests to me that the area was holding better numbers of fish than most.
The previous swim had been 8ft deep so I was surprised that this one needed a rig extension of at least eighteen inches. Those eighteen inches were enough to fish a foot or more overdepth. With just two dust shot on the bottom, changes in the current allowed the buoyant tip of the quill to drag the bait if necessary.
A small dropper of chopped worm and maggots went in first followed by my rig bearing a single maggot. The float dithered around the swim for a while before slowly submerging. Rather than finding myself attached to the expected snag, the elastic was stretching to the pull of a decent chublet. Time would soon tell if this was another one fish swim so I thought I'd try changing my maggot for a worm.
It wasn't; another slow dragging bite found me attached to somewhat better fish. All went well until it surfaced and turned into a pound plus Roach. It took me quite by surprise and in my giddy state of excitement I tried to net it with too many sections still on the pole. I knocked it off the hook with the net; definitive proof of my incompetence and turned to extended profanity in an effort to save my day.
It worked! Next put in, another desperately slow and unmissable bite led a cracking Perch of a pound and a half to the net; just a few ounces short of being my venue best. I caught two more chublets which was very encouraging; it's always good to find evidence of another generation coming along. Bites dried up then which was fine as I needed to leave by now anyway.
Most of my triumphs, minor as they are, are down to luck. If I'd known it was going to be as cold today as it was warm yesterday, I'd have done something else and not learned anything. The season ends next week and this may well have been my last fling at the rivers before next summer. As always happens, after a good day, I left hoping for another chance but it's unlikely this time, sadly.
The Leam has been very slightly more helpful and I did get a few trips in chasing Chub on the feeder. That was fun; I had some decent fish but what really intrigued me were the bites I couldn't hit. Could a decent Roach or two be responsible? I hoped so and last week I set up to pole-fish a swim that had produced more taps and trembles than most; and failed miserably.
Today, with the river finally behaving itself, I went back. I picked a swim further up river that had previously produced in more summery conditions. After plumbing up, I began laying on with maggots under a 4 no4 crowquill. All went well for ten minutes or so. I missed a couple of indications and sneaked out one 4oz Dace from my only bite. As so often happens on here the swim produced a fish immediately and then the square root of bugger all until I gave up.
By 10.15 I was set up and fishing the swim that failed me last week. Why? Well I couldn't get all those bites that I'd been unable to hit on the feeder, out of my head. Most of them had come after I'd already landed a good Chub and that suggests to me that the area was holding better numbers of fish than most.
The previous swim had been 8ft deep so I was surprised that this one needed a rig extension of at least eighteen inches. Those eighteen inches were enough to fish a foot or more overdepth. With just two dust shot on the bottom, changes in the current allowed the buoyant tip of the quill to drag the bait if necessary.
A small dropper of chopped worm and maggots went in first followed by my rig bearing a single maggot. The float dithered around the swim for a while before slowly submerging. Rather than finding myself attached to the expected snag, the elastic was stretching to the pull of a decent chublet. Time would soon tell if this was another one fish swim so I thought I'd try changing my maggot for a worm.
It wasn't; another slow dragging bite found me attached to somewhat better fish. All went well until it surfaced and turned into a pound plus Roach. It took me quite by surprise and in my giddy state of excitement I tried to net it with too many sections still on the pole. I knocked it off the hook with the net; definitive proof of my incompetence and turned to extended profanity in an effort to save my day.
It worked! Next put in, another desperately slow and unmissable bite led a cracking Perch of a pound and a half to the net; just a few ounces short of being my venue best. I caught two more chublets which was very encouraging; it's always good to find evidence of another generation coming along. Bites dried up then which was fine as I needed to leave by now anyway.
Most of my triumphs, minor as they are, are down to luck. If I'd known it was going to be as cold today as it was warm yesterday, I'd have done something else and not learned anything. The season ends next week and this may well have been my last fling at the rivers before next summer. As always happens, after a good day, I left hoping for another chance but it's unlikely this time, sadly.
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