A Couple Of Trips Through The 90's

 

After leaving Broggy in 1993 the decision was made to settle back down on the sand pit, regular baiting proceeded in a handful of swims throughout the complex for a good period of time and into the following season. It was this 94/95 season that really kicked my thoughts and efforts in after I managed to catch the first ever thirty to come from the lakes with a fish aptly named 'the pig' at 32lb in late September.

 

The red trousers and yellow Shirt were no more

 

Myself and a few other regulars/mates fished right through that winter all working together, to be fair we did manage to get amongst the better Carp. All too soon they started to receive names after the repeat captures from us all over a period of time with a certain few standing out more than most.

1994 also turned out to be the year that would see me venture across to France for the first time to 'Lac Des Settons' on a drive and survive trip for a week of unknown on a fairly large expanse of water with good friend 'Shaky Lee'. The wives (mine at the time) also travelled with us, staying in a lovely little cottage that overlooked the lake while me and Shake took to the bivvy's for four nights angling.

Twenty two fish between us my diary is saying with four fish over the thirty pound mark and the biggest going 37lbs. This trip was probably my most memorable ever for overseas angling, I think it was just the unknown side of it that made it just that little more exciting.

 

 

'Good times' from the unknown

 

The winter picture below shows just how mad we were back then, this was actually a session to celebrate my 24th Birthday in mid November and if I remember correctly the temperatures dropped to -12, no shelters just good old fashioned army sleeping bags. A bottle or two of Merrydown cider was all we had to keep us warm while we talked about the stars and rocket ships etc, which at the time were really playing mind games with us, that night between three anglers and six rods we caught bugger all but I had a good birthday even if it was a tad on the cool side!!

 

If I had rocket

 

During the close season of 1995 I became a member of the C.C.G (catfish conservation group) and not long after I had joined there were a few places left for a trip to Schnackensee in Germany so up went my hand and soon enough I was joining ten other hairy arsed Cat anglers on a 14 hour road trip in a clapped out mini bus to the other side of Germany and that I can tell you was an experience on its own!!

 

 

There were a good bunch of lads on the trip and most of them I am still in contact with today and most of them are still as daft as they were back then. One of my main memories from the trip was that of the arrival, we pulled up at the site next to four big skips, on stepping foot out of the bus our nasals were instantly hit with the pong of rotting fish and as it turned out this was to be were would have to pitch our digs for the week as night fishing was not allowed, next we were greeted by a short but bearded little German fella that I can no longer remember the name of, it was raining heavily and he offered to walk us around the venue. Now bearing in mind the lake was boasting Cats up to and around 170lbs just to see such a beast would have been an experience on its own, Our first sighting of a Cat was literally five minutes in to our stroll with the beardy man, a mid double wrapped in wet grass and lying on the bank waiting for a trip home for the table and that evenings dinner!! Any Carp, Cats or the like that weren't above a certain size had to be  knocked on the head and slung in our neighbouring skips, hence the whiff!!

Us English anglers were not going to be involved in any of that shenanigans, I know its their country and their rules but the looks on their faces when we were seen slipping fish back in to their watery homes was a picture and probably just as well we couldn't understand a bloody word they were saying/shouting in our direction.

The weather in this particular week was a typical May week for Germany,heavy rain as stated on arrival but also during our five day stay we experienced, hard frosts, sleet and also snow! Not ideal Catfishing weather to state the obvious but we tried our hardest and one of the lads Jason Stambridge dragged in a six footer that took the scales round to a creditable 125 pounds. Another big fish was banked by a German lad that was guesstimated at 160 pounds but it was foul hooked and after he had wiped the whole lake out in the hour and a half that it took him to get it to the net not a lot happened for the rest of the day after that incident.

 

 

Unfortunately I banked a total of Zero Cats but did manage to bag a few Carp on the coldest of days, and in fact my 25lb 8oz mirror was the biggest out of the lake for the week, a few grass carp also dropped my way, nothing of outstanding sizes but good fun when on the bank!

 

 

Big fish and any fish come to think of it were celebrated with small shot bottles which burnt our throats as it travelled through on its way to warming our bellies. A grand total of three Cats were landed by our party, one small, one medium which if I recall was also foul hooked and one extra large. Ken Bishop aka Butler the bus driver manage to hook and land a 35 pound Marble carp, you know the one with the upside down heads? So in general we had an eventful week, one where friends were made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Olds Kool Part Three (I'm Back)

I moved back home on New Years day 1993. Bearing in mind that although I had been out of town for a couple of years I had stayed in touch with Keith so I semi knew what had been going on with the pit and its captures and I had also kept buying the weekly and monthly magazines just to keep up with the trends (for that week/month at least!!). I had missed my family and friends so spent the next few weeks catching up with them and their tales, I also managed to get my welding job back on the chairs. The same old faces were still there including the few that were anglers so tea breaks more often than not were spent talking fish and the urge to get angling again soon rushed through me, but I had the problem of  lack of kit! My plan was to get fishing again in June at the start of the new season so the next few months were spent begging,stealing and borrowing kit from where ever I could.

Evenings after work and odd days over the weekends were spent walking round the waters that were local to me and all the the time the urge to fish kept increasing.

 

I was missing the days like this brace of Nineteen pounders for me and Keith.

 

 

L.B.A.C and W.M.C tickets were obtained and the decision to fish Tiddy for the start of the season had been made after bumping into Coxy, an old school friend that was mad about his carp and cat fishing. The week leading up to the new season saw us building a new point swim that could be doubled up in with the added bonus of controlling a fair bit of water including the back of the shallows and nice bay swim to our left. Spots were chosen, raked and baited with our home made Pukka Salmon boilies during that week leading up to the kick off and to say I was looking forward to angling again was an understatement!

 

Its belly felt like a bag of marbles

Now, I'm not ashamed to say this but that summer was spent solidly beneath my wavelock brolly complete with a Nashy canvas overwrap between the months of June right through to early September with me going to work for the days and popping home for a shower in the afternoons then returning to the lake each evening for the nights. Every few days or so I would move swims depending on what was happening and who was there so that I could leave my tackle with them while I attended work, but in all it was four months of solid fresh air and a nice tan to boot!
Some evenings after the rods had been cast I would just sit there and roll more bait while enjoying the summer evenings, boilies were mainly being used on one rod while the other would be baited with little livebaits like Rudd,Roach and occasionally Perch for the cats. Back then the cats were just scraping over the thirty pound mark not like today's standards with the fish being nearly seventy pounds!! The carp were also a lot,lot smaller back then, with the biggest somewhere in the region of twenty six pounds or so and being of the common variety. Every now and then there would be a mirror that would scrape over the so called magical twenty pounds but in reality an upper double was a good one. As I look back at my diary that I started that season and that I still write to this day, of all captures and findings while bankside it shows the fish count from June16th to September 2nd was thirty eight with twenty of them being Cats to 26lbs and the rest being Carp up to 19lb 12oz( caught twice, once off the top and once off the bottom), occasionally I caught the odd Tench with some of them going a very respectable five pounds or so to which I didn't sniff at and still wouldn't today.

A couple of diary pieces from back then.

 

 

14th Sept 1993

  After moving on from Tiddy I spent a week in a proper bed before booking a weeks holiday off work to have a five day session on a very large and windswept water that goes by the name of Brogborough pit. At just over a hundred acres she looked very daunting, but after the stories we had been told by a couple of lads it was well worth a punt.

Myself and Coxy along with a dingy and a shed load of bait were soon pitched at the more attractive end of the lake, in more attractive I mean it had two very small islands up one end that were a good 200yds from the bank which was a roosting spot for the ever increasing cormorant population.

 

We knew sod all about this lake really

 

As far as we were aware there were only really two regulars that fished Broggy and they both went by the name of Dave! A secretive pair by all accounts and fair play to them because to be honest the last thing they would have wanted was two young upstarts from Leighton Buzzard turning up on their patch and spoiling the party.

As daunting as it seemed at first we soon settled in and decided that the four rods between us would all be placed in the vicinity of the nearest island with one rod each on the face and one each on the outside edges. To be able to do this would mean a row out to the island to place the baits via the inflatable dingy (yes we had life jackets) and this itself was a major ball ache especially when there was a good chop on the water! One rod each on the pukka salmon's and one rod each on peanuts was the fare on offer and complimented with a sloppy/hempy groundbait mix that had been fermenting in a bucket within the old mans greenhouse and had managed to blow the lid off on at least a couple of occasions!

The first couple of days were quiet but at midday on the third my left hand rod burst into life and soon I was playing my first Broggy carp, and after what seemed like forever before we got her back to the net she was soon being weighed, cuddled and kissed. A common just over twenty pounds was the culprit and just as I was holding her up for a couple of pics my right hand rod bounced and danced its merry jig. Quickly I placed the fish back on the mat and left Paul to look after her while I attended take two. 'This feels different' I remember saying and soon I was to be proved right when a dirty great slab skimmed across the waters surface. 

 

Brace of Broggy kippers

 

At the time it was certainly the biggest Bream I had set my eyes on and after a quick weigh that revealed 10lb 8oz it was only right to have a trophy shot of the pair, after all we might not have caught another bugger!

After returning my prize's, both rods were re baited and taken back out in captain pugwash style and once I had returned to the bank we celebrated with a 'good ol brew up'.

This turned out to be the start of a good few days for us and what we had noticed was that it had all kicked off once the windsurfers had taken to the water, it was as if the fish were moving to our end of the lake for a bit of peace and quiet? Over the next few days we went on to land eleven Carp and two Bream with four of the Carp being over twenty and the biggest being a mirror of 27lb 2oz that fell to one of Coxy's peanut rods while my best for the week turned out to be a long common of 24.04.

 

Long lean and pug faced 

 

I decided to have a couple of weeks at home after this particular session as I was feeling a little weathered and worn out from being waterside for near on four months plus working.

But fear not, I was soon to be back out and on land that was sand........................

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





 

 

 



Olds Kool Part Two

 

Once I had started full time employment in the mid eighties and left my school years behind me my angling days returned to general pleasure days as and when I could but mostly being weekend trips to the nearby Grand Union canal or local River Ouzel upon my bike complete with trailer in tow.

Old school friends had started to spread their wings and make the massive move onto some of the surrounding lakes in my area. Many a first light you would find myself a few others spread a long one side of Tiddenfoot pit, waggler rod in hand, whipping out Golden Rudd by the bucket load with the odd averaged sized Tench,Bream and Crucian Carp thrown in as a bonus.

I remember two old characters that went by the names of Big Bill and Melvyn that are sadly no longer with us that fished the the pit week in week out regardless of the weather. They would float fish but with much bigger baits like corn, meat and bread as apposed to my humble maggot offering. Now these boys knew how to select the Bream, Tench and Crucians and some days their keepnets would be bulging with Kippers! It took a while for us to realise exactly what they were up to but once we did then my mums shopping bill increased a little with extra corn, meat and bread being added to her basket.

Back then the pit seemed huge and deep to us but by today's standards it wasn't as in the last ten years or so she has expanded considerably due to the ever increasing rainfall we all seem to keep getting! Soon our 10ft rods were being replaced with 11ft versions but it would still be coupled with one of my dads hand me downs in the shape of the good old Mitchel match reel.

The evenings before any trips would be spent in the garden with my old mans car washing bucket, mixing a concoction of goodies together that included bread crumb as the base but to this I would add corn,chopped meat,hemp and a big splash of molasses liquid that I ponced off dad while he was still at work, it was months before he realised that the bottle was near on empty!! Maggot tubs would have my chosen hookbaits all separated and at the ready and all this would usually have me excited to the point of not being able to get off to sleep very easily, although most anglers I know now are still like that including myself. By now I was also trusted to have a door key for home so once I was up and ready I would load the bicycle trailer and set off on my way, locking and leaving the "old uns" behind me. I can still remember them saying "make sure you lock that bloody door on your way out and don't be too late home" "whatever" was my usual reply.

One particular day on arrival at the lake, Bill and Melvyn were already in their usual positions, they knew exactly where to sit as their garden chair marks and feet marks were so predominant from all the previous months of sitting in the same old peg, it was like a permanent mold in the bank.I had arrived just in time to see Bill scooping up Tench that must have weighed a good four and a half pounds. Now I was excited and soon enough I was throwing my stuff down the bank and into the nearest peg that I could get away with next to my at the time hero's.

I knew I could learn a thing or two from these boys as they, although basic anglers would catch excessive amounts most weeks without too much of a problem.

At first light I used to love ripping the lid off of my bucket to reveal a bubbling frothy mixture that smelt pure sexy, although I don't think the lads appreciated it too much when ball after ball was hurled into what was once a still and glass like water, especially when they were already bagging fish!

That trip even though the 'old timers' were having their fill, I did manage to hook and land two bream it excited me that much that I nearly melted the tyres on my bike as I couldn't wait to get home (late as usual) to tell ma and pa. The months that past after that trip lead me into purchasing an 11ft quiver rod off some fella that also fished the pit and he was a fisherman that liked to fish with two rods on lead or feeder set ups . Now, Ledger as he was known would catch the same types of species but the slightly bigger specimens it seemed.
  

 

Now this ledger fishing lark was a totally new ball game to me really but I had seen it being done not only by 'Ledger' but other anglers that were actually trying to single out the Carp or Catfish that inhabited the water. Soon enough and after plenty of sucking up (yes up, not off!!) I had been shown certain rigs that would hopefully lead me to bigger and better fish?

I would now continue to waggler fish with one rod then the all new but second hand quiver rod would be put out as a sleeper usually with a couple of golden grains on the hook for bait.

I persevered with this attack for as long as I can remember and did manage to catch quite a few good sized Tench with the odd Crucian also pulling at the tip. Bream made up the bulk of my catches in those days, nothing of any size though, probably five or six pounds on average.

The following season I ventured to the lake just for a wander round more than anything and it was whilst doing this that one of those 'Carp boys' had a belting run just as I was passing, intrigued I stopped in my tracks and watched the battle commence. At the time I couldn't quite believe what was involved at getting the said beast to a waiting net but what it did do was leave a burning desire to want to get one for myself!

That sixteen pound Common caused me no end of grief with my dad as it was only him that could help me out due to the fact that he had the gear that I needed to lead me down the Carping path.

Before my actual Carping commenced I did head off with my mates to other waters including Emberton park in search of Tench but I had at least managed to borrow a couple of dads one and three quarter pound test curve Bruce Ashby carp rods that were more used to casting out par boiled potatoes than grains of jolly green. "look after the buggers" was all he said and still to this day they are hanging proud in his garage.

 

 

 

Lovely pair of curtains and a mid double

 

 

It wasn't until the late eighties that my carping years got going for real after a change of job and meeting up with a fellow welder and angler Keith (aka The Intrepid Piscator).

Hours were spent in the welding bays knocking up all sorts of contraptions including bank sticks and rod pods. The other added bonus was that being a chair company, every time the arse in my camping bedchair (you know the ones that had either a red or a blue canvas) fell out we would run across the way to see one of the guys for offcuts of material so that we could re cover and keep the buggers going for another season or at least a couple of months more!

 

Most evenings back then we could usually be found in the kitchen of my then flat, throwing all sorts into a mixing bowl and boiling the arse out of it. Homemade boilies were on the menu back then and our favourite recipe was a 50/50 mix, coloured yellow and flavoured with Richworth butter with a couple of drops of sweetener finishing it off.

We caught loads on these little yellow perils but I have to admit that I was also a little partial to the odd one myself.

 

 

 

 

 

It was one of our little yellow butter baits that led to the capture of my first twenty pounder from a local sand pit in the shape of a fish known as the 'Elstow' at 21lbs 8oz. Yellow baits complimented by a yellow tee shirt and bright red ski trousers!! You had none of this modern stuff back then you know "you lot nowadays are bloody spoilt"

A good few years were spent at the sand pit and we soon got to know the certain fish that had names and slowly but surely we worked our way through them, watching them grow as we went.

In mid 1990 things went a little tits up for me on the home front and after a split with my then girlfriend who I had my eldest son Carl with, who is now 23!! I made the decision to flog all of my gear and move to the flat lands of Lincolnshire. This only lasted a couple of years though before home sickness set in and I returned back to my roots.............

 

................To be continued

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Olds Kool Part One

 

 

 

On many occasions I remember hearing my parents say "he'll never have the patience for it".

Well just the other day while digging through the large plastic storage container that is full to the brim with thirty years of patience and angling photos that I have managed to accumulate, the memories came flooding back to me. Below are just a few shots of a younger me looking absolutely stunning and I'm sure that those who knew me back then or those that know me now will smile and want take the mickey just a little?

 

 

Picking at a cheese bap, wearing white trainers, camo was not an option back then.

 

 

After several years of general pleasure angling the urge to compete got hold of me and soon I was angling for Leighton Buzzard A.C as a junior, before moving up into the intermediates and although not brilliant I did ok and ended up fishing in a couple of nationals for the club.It was the bus journeys to many a different venue across the country that I enjoyed the most, rivers such as the Trent, Derwent,Kennet and Soar to name but a few were visited and even now some of the anglers that were in the team in those days have continued with the match scene and have gone on and still are competing at the highest level with big named teams, but for me it finished once I had left school and found myself a full time job.

 

 

A wax suit, silly haircut and your name on the back of your seat box was all the rage in those days and you could always tell by my facial expression if I'd had a bad day or not!

 

  

Occasionally I got it near right and good days were had as this bag of river Roach proves.Section wins and even the odd match win occured that led me to a runners up place for two years on the bounce at the end of year standings tables, always losing out to a certain Mr Stan Whinnet (I think it was all in his name).

 

  

Runners up trophy being presented by a legend in these parts, Mr Fred Groom.

 

On looking back now though and how my angling has changed (and haircuts) as the years have come and gone, the knowledge on most aspects of what I do nowadays is all owed to what I had a experienced back in the day of my match years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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!!

Mr Chubbly Warmer

I nearly wimped out going this week, the forecast was saying there was a chance of wintry showers, the temperature was +2 but feeling like -4 due to the wind factor and it wasn't until the better half said "if your staying local then just go and if its not happening come home" those wise words were taken on board, the flask was made and off I went on the ten minute or so drive.

Earlier in the week my new pin arrived so I was gagging to get out and give it a go on the float and maggot. But as a back up the tip rod ventured out with me just in case the conditions were not suitable for the float attack. 

The river itself is a tributary of the Gt Ouse and looked cock on with a little extra water and slight tinge of colour, but would the fish be up for it? 

The first swim I chose was a straight that would offer me the chance to work the 8BB avon float that was paired up with a size 16 hook and a couple of white maggots. After what was probably fifteen runs through the swim and with continuous feeding suddenly the float buried away and soon I was playing my first pin caught chevin of around the two and a half pound mark.

 

I kept on feeding and feeding but no other bites were forth coming and  to be honest my hands were bloody freezing so it was time for a move and I would try the peg again for a few trots on my way back past later in the day. The move would also play a part in getting the old blood circulating again as I strolled on down the meadow in to the next field.

The next swim was a sharp bend with a big tree that leaned right across the river from the far bank and debris had built up over time and presented the angler with a big raft with quite deep water below.

The tip rod coupled with my std link ledger set up and a couple of big lobworms was the plan for this peg as I could let the end tackle bounce round and hopefully settle next to the raft.

 

After casting in with a gentle flick I then settled back, poured a brew and took in the surroundings.

Its funny how our minds wander, as I sat there thinking back to the times when I was still in my teens and used to get dropped off to this little river most Sundays to fish the junior matches for my local club, I even used to bike here with my little trailer in tow during the school holidays (and on bunk off days!!). The river itself does not seemed to have changed too much from how I remember it all those years ago and it certainly is a little gem.

 Back to the fishing, I had just placed my cup back on the flask when a small tap indicated that something was sniffing around my hookbait, then another before it gently pulled round with what I would call "a bit of grace". On pulling into the culprit, from the off I could tell it was a better fish as it just held deeper as it tried to plod its way towards the raft, but the gear held out and there was soon a big pair of white lips gliding towards the waiting net. Left to rest for a few moments while I sorted the necessary gear out to make it a star.

  

A weight of 5.04 was recorded and soon I was smiling at myself through the camera lens for a quick couple of shots.  You can just make out the damaged tail on her, cute and cuddly otters?? maybe, but I'd like to hope not! I then placed the fish back in the net, dipped her in the water for a refresh before taking her a short walk downstream for release.

I angled on in the same swim for another half hour or so but apart from a crayfish type annoyance, nothing else occurred so once again it was time to move on and into my final swim for the morning but first I had to stop as planned and have a dozen runs through with the float in the earlier swim but all was to no avail so I quickly passed through and made my way back to the weir pool end of the stretch.

It was now late in the morning, the cold wind had increased making it feel even colder, it was also an upstream wind that was causing large ripples on the surface, again I decided to go with the tip rod and position it as low to the waters surface as possible. Two gigantic worms were taken from the tub and cast out right into the main flow and turbulent frothy water.

As I sat there, listening to the drone that was being made from the weirs the rod tip suddenly took on an arc that could only mean one thing "fish on".

To begin with it felt perchy, head shaking and dogged, fighting for all it was worth against the six pound line, but after my first sighting of the scaly culprit it was soon to be recognised as another reasonable sized chub that was scale perfect and plump as a pudding. A quick weigh that registered 4lb 8oz was made before again resting her in the margin while I sorted myself out. I was feeling quite pleased at this point and decided to call it a day while I was ahead.

Two methods, three swims, three bites and three fish all in a cold mornings work. Was I happy? 

Of course I was. 

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.

Happy New Year

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL

 

Here's wishing all family, friends and fellow fisher's a very happy and prosperous 2013.

May your dreams,wishes and fishes come true.

 

 

 

All the best

 

Derren

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Merry Christmas

With the mixed weather conditions our beloved country has been experiencing over the last couple of weeks not once have I managed to get out and angle. Being an all rounder that lobs his baits out for most species at some point as the season goes on, at present as I sit and tap my keyboard I have the urge to get out and go chubbing but my local Ouse and Ouzel are up to their gunnel's with copious amounts of flooding water so I'll just have to wait.
The Christmas period is now with us so a few days away from the shop might just give me the odd opportunity to get to the banks of a waterway somewhere and although my part of the country isn't experiencing the scenes that we are seeing on the news in the Southwest parts, sometimes you have to make the decision for the right reasons and stay safe, I'll just have to sit tight and see how the 'good old British weather' pans out!!
So can I just take this opportunity to say thanks to all that have clicked on to this blog and followed my findings for 2012 all be it not a brilliant season, I have still enjoyed my time on the bank chasing the many different species about while still learning as I go after thirty five years or so as an angler.