Back On The Bank With Chub And Udders

Its been a bit of busy and mad year for me so far and things on the fishing front haven't gone quite to plan!
Married in April, honeymoon in May and five gruelling months of trying to move house!!
Its now the second week in October and I'm relieved to say that things seem to have settled down again in the world of the Burr.

During the summer period and with the majority of my tackle packed for moving I decided on some lake therapy. Feeder and waggler fishing for bits a pieces made a nice change with some good bags of silver fish being caught and is something that I intend to do a little bit more of now and then.
In the last two weeks though on my day off I have managed to get out and back on the flowing water of the Great Ouse for a couple of day trips.

A Hunch.

Armed with just a small amount of tackle and bait I was soon unlocking the padlock on the gates just as darkness was turning to light. Black clouds were rolling past above and the weather men were giving heavy downpours as the day progressed.
Surprisingly the river had a slight tinge of colour to it but it was desperately low so in fairness the forecast for rain wasn't a bad thing. As a starting point I decided to head for a swim that I had done ok in on a few previous trips and that I knew had a little more depth of water running off some shallows with the added bonus of a bit of tree cover.



Considering I hadn't stepped foot on the river since July I was feeling quietly confident of a bite or two but maybe that was just the buzz/excitement of actually being out on the bank again after my little break away?
I intended to give swims an hour of my time and if nothing occurred I would move on. By 10.30am after presenting baits in three separate swims the only attention I had received on my rod top were from the crayfish and instincts were telling me to head for a different stretch a few miles further up the road.

Why I had this feeling I don't know? But what I do know is, if you get an angling instinct then act on it, the amount of times that I have had the urge to be somewhere else or to try something different and its paid off for me.
After a short drive up the road I was soon pulling into an empty car park 'lovely' I thought to myself, I had the stretch to myself so decided to go for a quick stroll and a look/see to view any favourable areas. A couple of swims caught my attention where a shallow run of water became a slightly deeper pool with trees positioned at the end of the run, hopefully holding a fish or two within its cover?
Just as I was taking the kit from the car the heavens decided to open and let me have it, luckily the swim had some high reeds on my bank so that I could position myself under the brolly and out of sight of anything with a fins view.
The pace of the water was very slow so baiting with a few loose pellets was fairly straight forward and also with minimum disturbance, hookbait was once again two big juicy lobworms (my take anywhere to catch anything bait), a bait that I have massive faith in. A small P.V.A bag of pellets is then attached to a size 6 hook, not only for the added attraction but also to help lay the rig out on descent.
With the bait placed, I was soon sat back and taking in my new surroundings with a brew in my hand, happy days!
Lunchtime soon passed me by and as yet not a single quiver, tap or pull had taken place, do I sit tight, bait and wait or do I up sticks and trot on? The rain was falling steadily and the comfort of the brolly made the decision for me, I was to stick it out where I was positioned in the hope that the foliage would maybe come up trumps?
At around 2.30pm another light scattering of pellet was placed near to the area before once again settling back in the chair. Just after 3 o'clock and just as I saw a pair of kingfishers darting from left to right at great speed, from the corner of my eye I thought the rod end had tapped sharply? Had it? Na couldn't have, could it?
Within the next few seconds or so it happened, the rod whacked over as something bolted for freedom on the other end whilst trying to take 11ft of carbon with it!
Straight away I could tell it was a reasonable fish as it was doing all it could to tuck me up, but after the initial couple of lunges the best it could come up with was to try and gain sanctuary in the margin rushes that were positioned just down to my left. It was at this point that I realised that the culprit was that of a Chub, and a good Chub at that, thankfully I began to win the battle and after one more short but spirited bid for cover she was skimming the net cord, 'white lips an all'.
Right on cue the rain instantly stopped as if the tap had been turned, it was as if somebody knew that I had a job to do?
I left the fish in the net whilst I gathered the necessary tools for a weigh/mug shot, she looked big but how big?



 On unhooking her, my first thoughts were she might just go to the magical seven pound mark, she looked every bit of it but soon the scales were reading a very pleasing 6lb 7oz, camera on the pod, smile and jobs a good un!

A celebratory stewed tea from the flask was poured and swigged down whilst I packed the gear up before heading for home a 'happy angler'.

 

The Cow Run.

 

 This, my most recent trip had been planned with 'Old Man Burr' aka Daddy a few days earlier while we were at work, he fancied a trip to the river but couldn't make his mind up as to where he fancied going. I had already planned in my head a stretch to try and once again it was one that I knew very little about and had angled only once before and royally blanked!

As planned we met in the parking area just on first light and were soon loading our backs with the tackle required. The stretch is known to hold a small head of Chub and Barbel with the added bonus of the odd better one if you get really lucky, not the easiest but its fishing and you just never know? 'In it to win it and all that'.

Before we got our first glimpse of the river though we had a good length of field to cross and one that was full of cuddly things with udders! Now my old man bless him, hates cows with a passion so off we set with him staying rather close to my side like a big girly thing just in case one took a liking to him. I'm sure he won't mind me saying that he's no spring chicken any more, but he can still put a quick stroll on when there are cows close by!! 

Once we had reached the waters edge it would be fair to say that we'd both got a sweat on thanks to our little power walk but at least we had made it and we could now angle knowing that the heifers were in the first field and we were in the second.

After placing our kit on the ground we then had a quick gander to view potential swims, shallows, deeps, trees and rush beds, the section has the lot. Pops was given first dibs on swim choice and I then decided to drop in some 40yds above him, both choosing to fish swims that had the advantage of a bit of cover and a slightly better depth.

After tackling up further up the bank behind some high nettles and well out of view, I was soon to be creeping my way into the swim with as much care as possible so not to spook anything that might just be waiting for a nice lobworm breakfast. This part of the river is fairly narrow so just a gentle underarm cast was all that was needed, and one that hardly made a splash. My eleven footer had been set upon the rest as low as possible to the waters surface and was more or less facing the baiting position, the line from tip to lead was hanging limpish and I was feeling confident of a pull round. Twenty minutes or so must have passed by when with no warning whatsoever the rod just whacked over and soon I was connected to an angry hooked Chevin that had its heart set on reaching some heavy looking roots and branches that were situated on the far bank.

After a little side strain and pressure was applied, I soon had the fish turned and heading in the direction of my waiting net. Once again she looked a half decent and was left resting in the folds while I sorted the necessaries out. 

 

 

 

The scales revealed a weight of 4.12 and left me feeling quietly satisfied, a short walk upstream to release her was made before I strolled down to tell Daddy of my success and also to see how he was doing while my swim was having a breather following the commotion.

On arriving in his swim his first words were 'where's them bloody cows'? I chuckled and said 'your alright their still in the top field' followed by ' I've had one' 'what a cow?' he muttered. I then chuckled some more and began to tell him the events of my capture while enjoying a brew.

As it turned out, his swim had been quiet be he had seen a couple of half decent rises just down from his position. Shortly after I left him in peace to ponder cows and returned to my swim.

The next cast I made was left in place for a good half hour or so but all seemed quiet and once again I had that feeling that I should perhaps shift.

Ten yards to my left was yet another bush, a somewhat small bush but it looked inviting due to a bit of pacier water that was hitting it and kicking off across the river and causing a slight crease, it wasn't long before I moved and had just settled back in my chair when suddenly I was sitting bolt upright with my right hand hovering above the reel seat following a couple of sharp jagged plucks. For probably another two minutes things settled down again until I decided to grasp my cup and just at that point it happened, the rod hooped over and I was once again connected to what felt like another

reasonable fish, all went smoothly for me and soon she hit the back of the net. Shortly after netting the culprit Dad came ambling by with his kit in tow looking for a move above me, but before he went I asked him for a quick hand in sorting my prize.

She was an immaculate, scale perfect fish with a bit of a belly on her and looked stunning in the October sunlight, her weight was agreed at 5lb 4oz and soon we were once again releasing her.

 

 

Dad carried on his way to a bend just up from me while I chose to put out some more free offerings before making my way up to him and once again let things settle down.

The cows by now had shifted a little and were now in our field but still a fair way away, Dad was aware of their position but just chose to moan and grumble 'bloody things'.

I headed back for another go but only fifteen minutes or so had passed when Dad appeared with his kit on his back and he was looking a bit edgy! 'What's up?' I asked, 'them fecking cows are getting closer' he snorted. By now I was struggling not to piss myself but deep down I know that he really doesn't like them so made the decision to call it a day and get us out of there before Dad needed new pants!

At least we had the chance of beating the rush hour traffic and the old fella would get the colour back in his cheeks. I was happy for my efforts and doubly happy that Pops survived the cow run and couldn't wait to get home for my roast beef dinner.

 

Cheers Dad for amusing me, it was indeed a pleasure.

 

 



The end of season with two twats and a sock

Once upon a time............. in fact only just last week, two angling mad twats had the urge to fish.

Barbel were supposed to be their target species but after the unfortunate turn in good old British weather the day before, the pre arranged trip to the River Severn was abandoned and changed to two days chubbing on the Gt Ouse!!

It was a shame as the previous week a customer and friend (cockney Al) had been in to the shop after a couple of successful days on the Severn by banking several fish to a creditable 9lbs or so (well done mate).

The mild/wet weather then decided to go minus degrees, North Easterly winds swept in and to complete the job snow showers had put pay to possibly any barbel activity. So, last minute.com had me and Steve changing the tackle bags and rods over to suite silver/bronze instead of gold.

 

Day 1.

After pulling into the car park and dressing ourselves up like we were going to the Antarctic, we steadily made our way with a twenty or so minute walk to the far end of the section. In hindsight this was probably a mistake as by the time we had reached our destination we were both sweating like pigs but once we had sat down and started to angle the sweat started to freeze and in turn we became very cold very quickly. (note to self.......when walking long distances with kit on your back, go naked and get dressed upon arrival at swim).

There was a hard frost on the ground and cat ice that covered most margins so care had to be taken when parking ones arse into ones chosen swims.

As usual the plan was to give swims 45 minutes or so before moving on, depending what was happening? Worms,maggots,steak and cheesepaste were all in the bait bag and each and every one of them were set for a drowning at some point during the day!

Now to say that the 25mph North Easterly winds were playing havoc was an understatement not only with my rod tip but  my eyes were also streaming making it near impossible to see the tip waving and bouncing around in the blustering cold gusts, so soon we were moving on to calmer areas of the river. It was plain to see that conditions and temperatures were not on our side and if were going to get at a bite then it would only come if the baited hook was placed right on the ends of their noses.

So to cut a long but cold,blowy story short, it wasn't until some six hours or so later when we doubled up for a chinwag on a sweeping bend with loads of fast, bubbling turbulent water that we experienced our first action of the day.

By now the snow had started to fall and I had just had a sharp pull on a couple of worms that led to nothing but just as I was concentrating on maybe another bite, all I heard was......".What the f####ing hell have I got on here?" I asked if it was a netting job and he replied "I don't think so" and started to laugh!!

On looking to my right all I could see was a wet,black sock swinging around in the wind and snow, did I laugh and take the piss? of course I did !!

 

 

 

 

It was in the 7-9 range and for sure was Steve's best to date so he was made up by all accounts, a quick video mas made before resting it in the net and casting out again on the hope that the other might just still be in the area.

To be honest it was more than I had caught all day so it was quite a welcoming sight.

No other bites were forthcoming so after a last flasked brew we called it a day and agreed that day 2 would be on another stretch.

 

Day 2.

After agreeing on a different venue we were soon meeting up in the car park which to be honest looked like a doggers paradise with flunky's and tissues galore so after making a mental note to myself I regained composure and said to Steve "have you been here before mate".

He just looked at me and replied "get your kit on your back, the sun is shining"

This part of the Ouse is a slower and deeper section with the odd tree/bush, the wind was a little lighter but instead of being in our faces it was blowing upstream. After a wander we were soon sitting in our starting positions and both choosing worms as bait whilst spraying maggot over the top. It looked not only chubby but perchy too. It was not a stretch that I was too familiar with but Steve had angled here a few times and assured me there were fish to be had.

The sunshine soon disappeared and changed to darker clouds that started to deposit a light flutter of snow once again (roll on winter I say)!! After an hour or so and not even a tap we decided to up sticks and stroll on to pastures new. Three swims each were tried in total and then the decision was made to move to a different section some ten minutes drive away.

Soon we were walking the path that leads to yet another piece of the river and one that we were slightly more familiar with, known to have done chub to high sevens although not that easy. Earlier in the year I had managed to take a nice net full of perch from here so at least we stood a chance of either species. It wasn't until we moved to our second pitch that Steve managed a proper bite that took the liking to a worm hookbait. On hooking the fish I shouted "is it pulling back or could it be a shoe" "Na its pulling back alright" was his reply as the rod lunged over and the fish held deep in its watery home. By now I had wound in and was marching through the mud to grab the net and scoop the bugger up. Soon it was ours, I say ours as it was a team effort after a hard couple of days and it felt so much like we had earned it.

 

 

 

5lb 6oz was the weight recorded and although he was complaining that his hands were cold I just told the poof to stop moaning and just smile and you can see by the picture that he just about managed it.

We had another chuck and gave it half hour or so but nothing else was willing and I had drawn an end of season blank, still I was pleased that Gaylord had saved our blushes with one sock and a five pound chub.

So that was the end to the season, not the best I hear you say but I enjoyed trying and could easily have stayed at home or gone to work but that wouldn't have been half as much fun eh? A three month river rest will now be had and I'll turn my attentions to a bit of canal Perch or Roach fishing or maybe a lake Tench if this weather ever warms up!!

She looked so cold with no clothes on



23rd January 2013

Now that the heading has grabbed your attention, I shall begin.

The evening before my latest trip I really wasn't sure where I would be heading, but heading somewhere I would be.

I was fancying my chances at a Gt Ouse chub, hopefully complete with an ending snow shot.

Minimum gear was readied, one small bag/bucket to sit on, one rod, a landing net plus my small unhooking mat which doubles up for extra cushioning upon my bucket bag. A flask, couple of sarnies and my hand warmer and silly hat completed the requirements.

On route I had to collect Steve as he was to be joining me (even after calling me bonkers) or words to those affect. With icy roads and snow still laying all around, a steady plod was made and one hour after leaving home we were soon fighting as to who was going to unlock the cold padlock to the fisheries gates.

With white stuff covering our boots we slowly made our way down the track towards the end of the section crunching our way as we went. It certainly looked a picture, the two lakes behind us were frozen solid and topped with snow. The only things that stood out a mile against the white background were the cormorants that were circling the area.

We chose our starting points and both our minds were set with the view of moving on after half hour or so depending on results or lack of them! The bait bag only consisted of worms, a small ball of cheese paste and some garlic steak (freshly prepared a few weeks earlier and thrown into the freezer).

Six pound line straight through to a size 6 Nash Fang Gaper hook, whilst two 3xSSG shots were pinched onto a small tag of line and secured in place by two floatstops allowing me to change the hooklink length if I felt the need to.

The river itself looked sexy to be fair with a nice tinge of colour and an extra couple of feet of water on her. I settled into swim and gently flicked two of the biggest lobworms I could find in the tub out onto the crease that was being produced from an upstream tree, I then sat back poured a brew and took in my surroundings. The only thing to catch my eye in the first pitch was a busy kingfisher that kept on darting backwards and forwards at a rate and at one point he actually stopped on some trailing branches opposite to view below for some breakfast, I on the other hand was too slow to react to get a shot of him with the camera. That first swim produced not a single knock so I was soon moving on.

Swim two was a fair bit shallower and the water was a lot pacier midstream but under my feet to the right there was a pool of slacker water. Bait was changed to a two inch slither of raw garlic steak, a gentle swing out on to the flow and left to bounce round and fall to the back end of the slack water. No sooner had I parked my arse down on my seat, the rod end tapped before taking on a full savage bite and I was in. The chub tried its hardest to get to some near bank foliage but with an extra left hook I managed to steer her clear and soon she was in the folds of my net and resting in the margin. I poured a brew and whistled down the bank to Mr Craptree (sorry Bernard) or Steve as he is more commonly known and he was soon by my side to do the honours with the camera. One thing I noticed as I lay her down on the soft snow to unhook her was "how cold she looked with no clothes on".

The hook was removed, I then made sure my hat was straight and my best side was facing the lens while Steve aimed the camera in my general direction.

A weight was guesstimated somewhere in the region of three to four pounds, not massive by today's standards but the snow shot was mine and I was happy. Another cast was made and after another brew it was time to move on.

 Swim three produced nothing for me but for Steve his did and he chipped in with one of a similar size on cheesepaste. I returned the favour of photographer, took the piss a little and soon we were in our fourth and final swims for the session.

I stayed on the the steak for a cast before swapping over to the cheesepaste as Steve had received another proper pull but struck into thin air in his position some twenty yards or so upstream of me.

Half hour was given but apart from a tiny little knock nothing else happened and by now the snow had returned and was falling quite steadily as we packed the gear together and left for home feeling quite warm and content with our efforts.

Hungry like the horse

It was a funny old Christmas and New year, mainly because a tooth decided to give me a bit of grief and turned itself from an ache to an infection in to a fully blown abscess, great!!!

What with work and family commitments it was difficult to find the time to get out and drown a bait, even on the days that I had planned to, the weather was blowing a gale and hissing it down so I ditched the idea on two occasions and chose to stay at home in the warm and dry and annoy the Mrs, it did not help either that most of the rivers round my way were up to their throats with raging dirty water (even the canal was as bad) so I probably didn't miss out on too much?

Monday 7th January 2013

As planned, Carl (my eldest son) was at the roundabout for just after 7am, we threw his gear into the back of my truck and off we set for the thirty five minute or so journey to the stream/ditch. I was virginal to this small river and to be fair I didn't really know too much about it apart from it has a good head of small barbel/chub to around mid singles with the odd better fish a maybe.

After doing battle with the rush hour traffic we were soon pulling up at the top of the field on a main road with cars whizzing by at a rate that Lewis Hamilton would have been proud of!!

Quickly we unloaded and in his words "lob it over this fence boy", I obliged, looked at him and just giggled, after all I was in his hands as he had been here once before.

After a short walk down the headland dodging horse crap as we went we were soon standing on the edge of the stream observing. Surprisingly it was very low and gin clear, like tap water in fact. The day was cloudy and overcast so that was a plus point but with the clarity of the water it was clear to see where the fish weren't and that in turn narrowed down the swim choices to single figures spread across the two or so fields. After taking the advice of a work colleague to have a base camp  for the bulk of our tackle (thinking back now I think he stitched us up as he knew the score and knew what  the outcome would be) which in turn would then leave us to free roam up and down the stretch at ease.

We each sorted a rod, net and a mat out while a bait pouch finished the requirements for sneaking about. First plan of attack was to work the river to our left (downstream), the spare tackle was strategically placed in a nice tidy pile behind and up against a couple of small trees that were waters edge and off we trotted. Deeper holes or snags would offer us the best chance of a pull so that was what we went looking for. Meat was the starting bait, not big lumps but whittled down bits that would just cover a size 4 hook while a single SSG was pinched on to a tag of line that was secured to the mainline by a floatstop. Our first swims provided us with not a jot but the second produced a small chub of a couple of pound to Carl (or Doogle) as he is known in the trade, I had settled in a swim just around the bend from his position where the river swept from right to left with a bit of  depth and a bit more pace. I had just received a sharp jaggy bite when Doogle pitched up in my swim to see how I was getting on. There was enough room to my right so I suggested that he dropped his hookbait in for ten minutes under the trailing branches from a far bank tree. As we sat there having a smoke and a chinwag whilst perched on a comfortable log Carl received a bite just after lifting and lowering the bait, it was a scrapper alright and hung on for all it was worth but just as his fight was coming to an end the tip on my rod hooped over and soon we were both doing battle. A chevin of roughly three pounds was the culprit on mine but Doogles turned out to be a perfect and pristine little January barbel of about three and a half pounds. Both fish were left in the landing net just to our right rather than being returned straight away while we both had another lob just in case there were any others looking for a meaty breakfast!

After giving it probably another twenty minutes or so with no other pulls we made the decision to amble back to base for a brew and a sarnie but first we would take a couple of shots of Carl's little bar of immaculate gold.

What we experienced next can only be described as total carnage, as we neared our spare tackle we could see and sense that something wasn't quite right!

See, in this field were about twenty horses of all different shapes and sizes and the majority of them were now further down the field, but one (pic below)  looked like he was stood on guard not ten yards from our gear and it soon became apparent what had happened.

My small roving bag which is a fox 16ltr bucket bag was near empty and upside down in the margin of the river as was Carl's rucksack but his was a little further out, I had prepared us some beef (left over from my Sunday roast) and mustard rolls, well they were gone as were a complete packet of chocolate digestives, two packets of crisps and a couple of wispa bars, oh and not forgetting the two maggot feeders that were in the bag loose, they'd eaten the bloody lot!!

My flask had been kicked about all over the field and I swear if they could have got the lid off they'd have drunk that as well, our chairs were five yards away from were we had left them but luckily for me they hadn't totalled my camera although they had a go as they hadn't quite worked out how to get the buckle undone! We did laugh, although now we were starving and boyo hadn't even thought to put any grub in at all so now were buggered. I wiped the mud from the flask and poured us a brew while we sat back and tried to work what the hell had just happened?

After our tea break and clear up we set off to the right of base camp but this time we took all tackle with us (I wonder why?). I swapped over to the maggot feeder and short hooklink approach as I felt my best chance would be to target the chub and if a barbel come along then that would be a bonus.

Whilst walking up the stretch to find some likely looking areas the picture above was hard to resist, with the winds and flooding that we had been experiencing over the past few weeks it seemed to have really taken its toll on this tree and with it came the bank plus the rivers edge.

I picked a swim that had some pacy water to my right as it swept round a small bend before flattening off in front of me and dropping off slowly under some trailing twigs that were hanging just of the waters surface. First flick out and soon the tip pulled round and a chublet was swung to hand. A few more silver fish were taken from this spot but nothing of any size not that it mattered but one thing that impressed me was the quality of the fish they were all immaculate, perfectly scaled and coloured as the roach below shows. 

Carl had stayed on the meat tactics but apart from a couple of jags nothing else materialised in to full on bites. The time was now 1.30pm and I was hank marvin so we decided to get back to the truck and head off down the road and visit the garage and sample some of its pre packed,curled up sarnies but also I purchased a new shiny packet of chocolate digestives just as a little treat of course.

We then spoilt ourselves with our purchases and made the decision to have a little go just up the road on a free section in the nearby village not far from where the source starts.

Again I chose the maggot approach as did Carl as we both felt the prospect of chub would be the better option due to the conditions. I'd like to tell you that we bagged up and it was non stop action but it wasn't, I had a couple of real good pull rounds that left me striking in to thin air and his nibs saved the blank afternoon by mugging a small chub of about a pound. Four o'clock came round so we decided enough was enough and it was time to beat the rush hour traffic and get home home for a nice evening meal that wouldn't be snatched from our grasps by a four legged thieving bloody horse!

Cheers son, it was a giggle but next time do some spare pack up as back up and leave your pets at home.

Down Shropshire way

It was Saturday 8th of September, myself and Lady J were heading up the M40 to destination River Severn for a weeks chill out. My Brother and his partner(Mel) were in tow and we were on course to meet up with my parents for a full English at 9am at a cafe in Bewdley. After all arriving safely we were soon tucking in and filling our stomachs to brimming point before heading off to grab some supplies (food etc) and then it was off to the pub up the road for a quick pint before heading to our bank side lodge that was to be our home for the week.

The lodge is in the most beautiful of settings, fifteen yards from the front door to the rivers bank down a private single track lane surrounded by tall trees leading to open fields with an abundance of wildlife complete with as much peace and quiet you could ever wish for (including hit and miss phone reception) lovely jubbly. Fifty or so yards behind us sits the historic Severn valley Railway that chugs and smokes its way for 16 miles between  Bridgnorth and Kidderminster following the course of the Severn as it goes.

Daytime's were to be spent out and about with the good lady and plans had been made as to where we fancied visiting during our stay. The evenings were to be my main fishing hours although a couple of early morning sessions were also snatched while leaving little Miss sleepy head all tucked up.  

Bridgnorth,Kidderminster,Shrewsbury and Worcester were all on the hit list as was the West Midlands Safari Park and any other little stops that we fancied along the way.

Bridgnorth cliff railway

Just briefly while on the subject of the safari park, to the amusement of Ma and Pa who were situated in the rear of the truck ( Dad wouldn't take his hairdressers car in case it got licked to death) certain obvious areas we were allowed to have the car windows open and others ie... the lions and tigers etc.. we were not! As I pulled up to a free roaming giraffe I casually put the window down to look up at my new found friend only for the wind to gust and blow my cap clean off my barnet, leaving the car was a little intimidating to say the least but fear not I did survive.

This fella was after one of my rhubarb and custard boiled sweets!!

Simples.

Back to the fishing side of things and as I said earlier, most evenings after filling my belly I could be found situated in one of the many beautiful swims that stretch through the nearby fields and each time I ventured out I would at least try to fish a different peg unless I felt otherwise or had one of them hunches us anglers get. Lady J joined me on most evenings and by the end of the week she could still be found out there well in to darkness and intensely watching the rod top and even admitted that she was enjoying it and could see why us men have ten last casts!

In her greens.

Over the years usually one calamity will happen and this year was to be no different!

The time was roughly 9ish and all was quiet apart from the owls occasionally hooting, myself, Paul and Dad were all spread out with about twenty yards each between us, the two girls were out there with us also.

All of a sudden Dad let out a cry and was laying on the floor but because we couldn't see we could not get the full effect of what had just happened. It turns out that Dad stood up and stepped up a ledge to take a pee but in doing so his foot slipped into a crack in the ground and he fell over on to his back, to make matters worse he'd got the little fella in his hand and was mid flow, so all we heard was "oh no I've just pissed all over myself "!! Laugh? we nearly pissed ourselves.

All three of us caught on most evenings, sometimes one,two if not three or so barbel with the odd chub thrown in too even Jackie got in on the act and wound a splasher of about three and a half pound or so in on the last evening when four fish came to my net in a couple of hours angling

It was refreshing to see fish of this size.

All in all we had a great week that as always is over too quick, between the three of us we managed thirty or so barbel and half a dozen chub, Dad knocked out the best fish at 9lb 12oz followed up by Paul with one bang on 9lb. My best of the week just scraped over the 8lb mark, not massive but still made me smile and gave me the buzz that the bite always does.

Talking of making me smile, Thursday evening while sitting out under the stars watching the isotope on a clear night while sharing a coffee poured from the flask with Lady J,(ain't I romantic) I said those four little words "will you marry me" and thankfully she obliged with a "yes" .

My best of the week.

All in all the week was very enjoyable, with gorgeous surroundings and great company.

And the little lady did say "yes"



From calm to madness

I had managed to get two days back to back away from the tackle shop and with the permission of my good lady a trip was planned with a customer to have one day near Bewdley as a guest of his before we moved further up the coarse to where we would be staying for the night and ending our trip the following day near Highley.
The middle Severn was to be our destination and with the two stretches being roughly twelve miles apart, a bed and breakfast was booked for the night in between.
The drive to Kidderminster seemed to fly by and the journey was completed in an hour and forty minutes ( I wasn't speeding gov, honest!!) So 85 miles later I was parked up outside Mal Storey's tackle shop awaiting the arrival of Alan and Spike (Graham).
After getting the appropriate day tickets we then set off to find a good old greasy spoon for a bacon sarnie and a mug of coffee just to get us going of course! By 8am I was following in pursuit of a silver van that was high tailing it down a single track lane with a little bald fella in the driving seat swiping the tree branches as he went with his wing mirrors, a mile or so later we were parked up at the end of the lane surrounded by high trees and a bridge, Severn valley railway was directly behind us giving out its whistle and puffing smoke as she rattled through.

The two lads that I had tagged along with were a little more match orientated than my good self so it would be interesting to see their ways and maybe learn a different angle to snare a barbel or two.
After unloading the gear a short walk was made to a steep declined and nettle high path that lead down to the waters edge. As we descended what seemed more suited to mountain goats than humans, Spike muttered " take it easy, it's slippy as arseholes" well with those famous last words all that could be seen was poor old Spike laying on the floor impersonating only what could be described as a dead fly, myself and Alan rolled about laughing and giggling like school boys and of course offered our sympathy only to be told in a roundabout way to " piss off". Still chuckling we made our way along the path that followed the rivers edge with the two lads both advising me that peg10 was well worth a go.
The swim looked quite tasty, in fact it seemed to have a feature for every occasion, with a slack margin leading into quite pacey and bubbly water from ten yards out to right across to the other side to where two big trees where leaning over giving shade and cover.
I had made my mind up in the days leading up to the the trip that I wouldn't be taking a mass array of baits but instead stick to my guns by just using a meaty/chilli based groundbait to which I had added some small pellets and a tin of hemp,this was to be used for plugging the feeder. Rig wise it was just a case of a simple free running swivel clip with a blackcap feeder with the bottom cut off, stopped by a buffer bead and swivel while 3ft of 8lb maxima and a size14 hook finished the set up. Single or double 8mm pellets were my chosen hookbaits and depending on how the fish were reacting on the day it would be one or the other?
To begin with my first couple of casts flew right across the river to where the two trees had tempted me but this turned out to be a mistake as after about an hour or so with only one small chubby type tap it soon become apparent that I had been suckered in by the trees and maybe I should be fishing the bubbly,faster water fifteen yards or so out?
As a pinch of pellet was added to the feeder before being plugged with my chilli concoction a kingfisher flew by with the usual hurried look about him. With the single 8mm bait now sat only a short flick out on to the bubbly crease I felt happy,content and confident as it landed with donk on the riverbed.
Five minutes or so had passed by and just as I had started to pour some tea from my flask(why does this happen) the rod tip just buckled over and tried to keep going, I kept as calm as I could, placed the cup on the ground and swept the rod air bound with a good 'whack'!!
Just as the fish tried to make headway downstream I stepped left by a foot only to kick my brew straight over but luckily the cup stayed on the bank and not in the drink. A couple of minutes later after a spirited fight, there laying in the folds of my net was a pristine, typical sized Severn barbel of about 7lb or so.

There always seems to be a little bit of added pressure when visiting a new stretch for the first time, especially with new angling friends so getting that first pull relaxed me nicely. A quick photo was taken on the mat before placing the fish back in the margin to rest up for as long as it needed. It had fought hard the weather was hot and these fish really DO need as much recovery time as possible plus an extra five minutes.
I lassoed another pellet on after checking the hook and link and all was fine, the temptation was there to remove the hooklink and load the spot with a few feeder fulls of goodies but I resisted and thought I'd just wait and see what happened in the next half hour or so? As I sat there chilling and taken in the surroundings Alan appeared to reveal that Spike had caught two and he had caught one but was on his way back to the van for a change of clothes after having fell off of the log that he was fishing from and knocking his maggots,castors and a bait box full of feeders straight in to the wet stuff!
After taking the piss a little and calling him a 'cock' he bode me farewell and went on his way to drier climates but he was happy that I had managed to bag one.
Life settled down again and over the next few hours I managed to hook and land another couple of fish with the biggest going just under the eight pound mark which both fell to a pair of 8mm glued elipse pellets.
As the afternoon wore on I decided to take a stroll down the section to see the calamity's and also the rest of the stretch. Spike revealed that he had caught five, two on castor and three on pellet while Alan was still on one and having a mare due to losing feeders every other cast on rocks and snags.
I let the two lads know that my intentions were to fish till 4pm and then I was going to head to the B+B for a freshen up, a pint and a bit of tucker so this I did and they followed not long after but first they had to stop off at the tackle shop so Alan could replenish his feeder stock!

As I pulled into the car park of my digs for the night it soon became obvious that the area was quite busy, not all were anglers but most were. Couples on breaks,walkers and also the odd local made up the rest of the traffic. I decided to book in, order a pint before going back outside and claiming a table to sit and chill out for a while and overlook the river. It was now late afternoon and from my view point on the decking it was plain to see that nearly all the swims were in use and feeders could be seen sploshing at least every couple of minutes or so from one swim to another!
My intention was to sort the tackle in the back of the truck so it was ready to just grab, before going up to my room and taking a much needed and refreshing shower and then ordering some food from the 'early bird menu' it's cheap at half the price. Ham,egg and chips was the order of the day washed down with another pint. Alan and Spike had now also pulled up and joined me with a pint and we sat there and chatted about the days events and what our intentions were for the rest of the stay.
The two lads were not going to fish the evening but instead choosing to freshen up, have some grub and then have a few pints. I on the other hand decided to hit the river when most of the other anglers had chose to pack it in for the day and retreat also to the pub for their dinners/pints and leaving the river in a semi peaceful state once again.
I made a short walk from the car park and descended the bank in to a cosy little swim which also included a staging to fish from (I'm not a fan of pallets if I'm honest) and high Himalayan balsam which cocooned me and offered a little cover. Faster water was just an under arm's chuck out so after gluing three 8mm pellets to the hair I was soon angling once again. Fifteen minutes or so had past and a hesitant,sharp jaggy bite had me swiftly striking but from the off I knew this was going to be a chub and my instincts were proven right as I slipped the net under a long and very lean fish of about 3lb ish. Soon it became dark and I had just looked at my watch which read 9.05,on looking back at my rod there was a slight movement and then it just buckled over 'thats a proper bite' I remember muttering to myself and soon enough I had it wallowing under the rod top, just as I was about to net it Alan appeared from behind with a delivery for me "a pint of the wet stuff for ya fella" "ah good ol boy" I replied " I'll just get this baby in the net and I'll be with you".
"How on earth can you see what your doing in this light" he said "carrots" was the only answer I could come up with which lead him in to calling me a "tosser" I laughed and scooped the barbel up at the same time "that ain't a bad un" I said as I readied myself and sipped my pint. The scales revealed a weight of 8lb 15oz and rounded off the day nicely. I could of had another cast but instead chose to be sociable and go and join the other two for a glass of red before retreating to my room,calling the Mrs and getting my head down.

Day two turned out to be a totally different day. We had planned to all meet for breakfast at 7.30 as Allan insisted that he was always awake by 6.30 "yeah right"!!

On getting up at just gone 6.30 I soon had the kettle boiling away and made myself a brew and also rolled a smoke before heading outside to get some fresh air and to see who was about? Spike was out by the van but Alan was nowhere to be seen? " where is he then"? I asked, "snoring like a pig" was his reply. He'd stayed downstairs and had a couple of late ones, this only added to our amusement and gave us some more ammunition to throw at him, and that we did.

After throwing a good old fashioned English fry up and a cup of coffee down our necks we were soon back outside and loading our backs with tackle by 8am. There was already the odd angler perched on platforms right outside the pub so we decided to head up into the next field and on being the first up there we had the pick of the swims. We all spread out to give each other plenty of room but this turned out to be a big mistake as angler after angler dropped in between until more or less every peg was taken from elbow to elbow right through the stretch!! Spike managed a fish not long after settling and before the crowds started to arrive but by midday I had had enough of the mayhem. Why people drop in so close really does baffle me and then when you speak to them all they do is moan that they have had bugger all, I Wonder why??

I made decision to call it a day by lunchtime and go walk a stretch just down river that I am quite familiar with due to family breaks as I am back there in three weeks time. Alan and Spike headed back to Bewdley for the remaining hours and managed a few fish between them and I headed back to Bedfordshire.

Cheers for the company lads it was a pleasure.

Pulled Out

The traditional season is just about 3 weeks old and so far I have managed to grace the banks of my beloved Gt Ouse for three shortish sessions with very little to show for my efforts.
As the season kicked off the whole country was experiencing extreme flooding and my local was to be no different. Opening weekend I managed to get out on the Sunday for a late evening that was followed up by kipping in the truck before once again gracing the river with my presence at first light to angle for the first few hours of the day. Apart from the odd chubby type tap most of the session was sat there taking in my surroundings but it was nice to be smelling running water again.

The following Wednesday I was back in the field, tucked away down the bank and surrounded by head high grass, to be frank I felt like I was nesting! The water level had dropped back a few good feet in the few days that I was away but was still holding a nice tinge of colour.
I had decided to start the day with two glued 12mm elipse pellets as hookbaits to a size 8 hook c/w pva bags of mixed elipse and a 2oz running lead completing the set up. As always I try to set my rod as low to the waters surface as possible (even if  backleading).
Half hour or so had passed by and apart from two egrets on a fly by and a couple sharp jags on the rod tip, nothing else had moved. A decision was made on a whim to scale down a little, I now had two 8mm pellets glued to a  knotless knotted size 10. First chuck in and the tip bounced and bounced again and on striking my first thoughts were telling me a small chub was going to be the culprit but infact it and the next bite both turned out to be pristine roach in the 12 to 14oz bracket, not what I was there for but nice all the same.
Bite three came 45 minutes or so later and a slightly more definite bite turned out to be a dark old bream of around six pound or so.
I rested the spot for half an hour after depositing some more bait via a small dropper and wandered off downstream with a brew and a marmite sarnie for a look/see. It always amazes me how things change from year to year, tree's move in floods slightly creating new creases and flows, reeds and rush beds become thicker and swims can be created in new areas and all this just seems to add a new life to our river systems.
Back in my swim and just after placing my bait back on the spot and  parking my bum back in the chair a cormorant crash landed in the centre of the river some twenty yards or so to my right before realising I was there when once again it clumsely took flight and buggered off elsewhere to destroy someone elses stock!
Perhaps ten minutes or so passed by when all of a sudden the rod just buckled over with no warning what so ever. On lifting the rod I knew straight away it was a barbel as it flat rodded me on its first downstream run, after what seemed like a minute or so the fish turned and tried to make for the tree on the far bank and the roots that come with it, I instantly applied pressure and briefly thought I would win when all of a sudden the hook pulled! It left me swearing a little and also wondering if I should have stayed on the 8 hook and in hindsight I probably should have considering the situation.
I fished on for another hour in the swim but nothing else was forthcoming so off I did trott and a beaten man to say the least.

Session 3 was today, the 27th and on pulling down the track to the carpark I couldn't believe my eyes, I had been beaten to the water! Usually Wednesdays are quiet on most of the stretches that I fish but here on the mill its very rare that you see a soul. I now had a gut feeling that I wouldn't get back in the swim that had produced the bite the previous week and although I dont like to keep fishing the same holes week in week out I did feel I had unfinished business.
I had guessed right, out of two fields the fellow angler was in the nest, so I chose not to disturb him and just quietly dropped in two swims up to his right. Here the water runs fast under your feet and falls slack on the far bank in front of what is probably the biggest tree on the stretch. I had decided to go back to my size 8 hooks but had lenghtened my hooklinks to roughly 18", the reason for this was a 50gm blackcap feeder with hemp and 3mm pellet was to be the order of the morning but still continuing with two glued elipse on the hair.
An hour or so had passed with just the odd twitch occuring and just when I had turned away to view fishy splash's to my right, from the corner of my eye I saw my rod tip bounce round a foot and just hold there.
On striking I could tell it was more likely going to be a chub and soon after a steady plod she was guided in to the waiting folds of the net. On first view she looked every bit at least a big five but the scales confirmed 4lb14oz of spawned out chevin. It wasn't a barbel but I was happy as the slight change of tact had produced another bite from what is quite a tricky little stretch.
I only had till 12.30ish today as I had an appointment at the dentist for a different kind of pull........A wisdom tooth was to be pulled out and if i'm honest I was dreading it but it had to be done.
Nothing else happened apart from the the odd tippy tap that progress into nothing. On getting back to the truck the other angler had already left so must of crept back past me and left me also undisturbed.

So there you have it, the opening couple of weeks in the life of Derren complete with a couple of different pulls.........2x roach, 1x bream, 1x chub, 1 lost barbel and 1 lost tooth!

Whats next?

Sprucing,preparing and planning

Time seems to of past by fairly quickly since the traditional river season ended and although I have been out in reality they have really only been half hearted attempts for short periods. Maggots,pellets,worms and corn have all been drowned in an attempt to catch any one of a number of species from a vast selection of different sized waters ranging from 90 acres down to 1 acre pools.
A few nice roach,perch and a seldom tench have all graced my net but speaking honestly I'd say 'its been difficult'.
With only a few weeks left and a week in the sun looming for me, the new season will soon be upon us.
At present the whole country is experiencing a deluge of rain and boy was it needed, how many of us would love to be out there now on running water? I know I would.
My local haunts are all bank high and the fields are sodden while the well needed flush through and top up is taking place.
Our scaly friends should be having a munch and readying themselves for the next good warm spell where hopefully they can take part in some sexy times and have the best spawning session they've ever had.
I'll be keeping a close eye on the weather over the coming weeks in the hope of seeing the above taking place just so a rough gauge can be made as to what my chosen stretches of the Gt Ouse might contain for the coming season.

For me the next few weeks will be spent cleaning down the gear,stripping line off and replacing with new, tying rigs and emptying my tackle bag of old sarnie wrappers and crisp packets.
Occasional walks will be made the nearer we get to the sixteenth of June in the hope of getting a glimpse of a golden torpedo complete with that tell tale orange glow as it twists and turns in the flow or maybe a big old pair of white lips as a chub glides out from beneath a far bank snag or a streamer bed to inspect the gravel glides.
We all enjoy the thought of something to look forward to and after sitting and jotting this piece together it has certainly wetted my thoughts and appetite for the glorious 16th of June even more.
The Gt Ouse will as normal get the bulk of my attention but my mind is also set on trips to the Rivers Teme, Severn,Warks Avon and the Wye.

We'll see where the season takes us but one things for sure..........Catch or not, as always I will just enjoy loafing in the great british countryside.

Spoilt by the Wye

The day had arrived and all preparation had been ceased to the point of me not easily being able to get to sleep the night before. This was to be my first ever trip to the river Wye and was I looking forward to it?

"You bet I was".

On leaving my home town in Bedfordshire the weather forecast leading up to the trip and also during my stay in Herefordshire were excellent compared to what we'd been encountering of late so all looked good.A quick stop off in Milton Keynes was made to load Steve and his tackle and with the clock reading 5.40am we were on our way and M40 bound.By 7.45am we were pulling up outside the pub to gain some tickets and a quick cup of coffee from a miserable landlord!
Already the scenery was taking hold of me and I was soon losing myself in the setting that was to be my home for the last two days of the season.A friend of mine is a regular visitor to these parts so I'll admit now that a few pointers had been gained on where to try for my first Wye barbel (thanks Rich, I owe you one). Working in a tackle shop has its advantages too, during the week a few guys had ventured in who were Wye bound as well and had bought maggots by the gallon so all aspects were covered , also Rich and two companions had angled there the weekend leading up to my visit and had a good few fish between them, all this was giving me a right old buzz but would it be kind enough to end what has been a tough year on my homeland Ouse?

The plan of attack was to be maggot by day and swap to the pellet just before dark, 70gm feeders, 3ft of 8lb maxima as hooklinks leading to a size 14 hook with a single hair rigged imitation maggot and 3 or 4 on the hook itself. Swims were chosen and by 10am we were finally settled and angling.
The first job was to put six big feeders full of grubs out and let them sit while I tackled the rods up. With this now complete, they were soon out there and I poured a Brew from the flask, relaxed with a smoke and took in my surroundings.
Just after my first sip of tea the right hand rod pulled down and was away!! Soon enough my first Wye barbel was in the net and with a weight of 9lb 10oz I was one happy chappy.



9lb 10oz



A second cast of both rods was made and once again I didn't have to wait long and was I was soon holding fish number two of 9lb 5oz! Two casts and a pair of nines, I remember thinking to myself " this ain't right".
Just as I was resting the fish up in the margin Steve shouted me to say he'd also got one on.
After sorting both fish out and with calmness restored another coffee was poured to replace the cold offering
that was left of the first sample.

9lb 5oz

We both now had a fish under our belts, so would now take whatever was to happen? And happen it did!!

We continued to fish the maggot approach till roughly 5pm before swapping over to the pellet approach just as the light was fading in the valley.
Up to this point I had landed no fewer than fifteen barbel which included three nine's, 4 eights and the rest all dropped in between four pound and upper sevens! The term "having it away" could now be said!! Steve meanwhile chipped in with five fish to around the eight pound mark and it was soon noticeable that if I wound in for a while he would draw a few fish his way.
We both fished on the pellets until roughly 7pm with myself taking a further five fish to give me a total of twenty barbel and one rogue trout.
What a day we had had, knackered was an understatement and soon we were heading for the B&B a couple of miles back up the road, where a pint or two and a bit of grub would be devoured whilst discussing the days events.

Sleep came easy and soon we were up complete with aches and pains from a head cold and the previous days bank climbing (in the next life I'm coming back as a goat!!).
A full English and a pot of tea set us up for the day and after a quick shower we were soon heading back to the river.

We had our minds set on trying some different swims just because it would be nice to, rather than head straight back to where we were the previous day but if we failed then we could maybe use them as a plan B.
Deep down I wanted Steve to get amongst a few more, not that he was complaining, he was happy and we'd both agreed that if we could catch just a couple more then it would be a bonus.
We finally settled on a couple of swims downstream just above the next shallow run, it looked in all honesty good for a bite, but after two hours of maggot all we could show for our effort was another small trout and a salmon par which both fell to Steve's rods while I had nothing more than a couple of sharp tugs which developed into nothing.
The decision was then made to move back up river and as long as they were vacant to fish the swims from the previous day and this time Steve dropped in the going swim and I settled in above him.
It took a while to get going but soon he was away and landing a few and also dropping a couple off!

I only landed one of about seven pound and then decided to ditch the static rods and swap over to rolling some garlic meat about all to no avail but the pleasure was had.



Big eight.


Steve added a further five fish to his tally, which included a couple of upper eights and at 4pm we decided to call it a day. We were both tired and had the journey back to overcome and decided to try and get as far back towards home before the rush hour traffic took hold.
The Wye had been good to us, the trip itself was a total pleasure, 31 barbel between us but not just the fish, the scenery, surroundings and the company was second to none and we will definitely return.

The river season has now closed for another term and I for one will be having the odd go on a couple of waters in search of maybe a nice sized perch, roach or even a a tench. Whatever floats your boat in the coming 3 months whilst the flowing waters are shut then enjoy and be lucky.