Planning for memories

Having not been across the water for a few years, the chance of a weeks angling has arisen through work and a generous customer.

Come the 7th of April, 2 trucks complete with a trailer and too much gear will be heading to Chapel lake, 5 hours plus from the port of Calais. Four adults and three children all set for 18 exclusive acres surrounded by woodland and hopefully some nicer weather to that we've been used to here in the UK the past few months!

Not having Carp fished since August 2009 the day came when I had to start sifting through a mountain of tackle, taking out gear that would not be needed. Now, is it just me or do we all carry 9lb of lead?!?!

A mouldy mug was retrieved from the food bag and one tube of mustard and one bottle of ketchup was lobbed directly in the biffa due to a content of fur!

Over the last couple of years I have reduced my tackle down (apart from leads) in as much as I take the same for a quick over nighter as I do for a couple of three days and really only take stuff that I intend using... even then its still too much!

So... I have two weeks of planning for me and my son, bait to be sorted, rigs to be tied, food bag to be filled, tablets for every formality that might be likely to happen, oh and two passports to remember!

My old grey matter is working overtime at present and I find that the planning and preparation for any of my angling expeditions is as enjoyable as the angling itself... it's all part of the jigsaw and learning curve that is fishing and for me that creates the buzz of success and failures of each and every session, whether it be fishing for the smaller species like roach, chub and perch or the monsters that be carp, catfish and barbel.

Anyway, enough of my mutterings... I have to get on and continue sifting through mould and look forward to the evenings sat by Le Lac, sipping red wine and filling up on crusty baguettes with good company and hoping that myself and the rest of the lads bag a few, but most of all...... catch some memories!

(Memories that I will update in three weeks time for those that might just be a little interested).

Last opportunity knocks

I'm sure you've all had thoughts in your head of wanting to angle but not sure where?

Well the weekend that saw the official closing to our native rivers in the UK was one of those said occasions for me! The last day being Sunday 14th March and even to the point of me leaving my drive I was still unsure as to where to go.

All I knew was that I was heading for the Gt Ouse somewhere in Bedfordshire.

20 minutes later I signalled right with my indicator and eventually pulled up near a stretch that I had winkled a couple of fish out of earlier in the year.

The forecast for the day was bright and sunny am with the chance of cloud due pm.

Now, I wasn't really expecting to catch too much (if anything at all) and it was more about seeing the season out for another year and willing on the new after a 3 month close! I had packed 1 rod for the chub and one rod for the barbel and would make my mind up on what to chase after the swim had dictated my best chances.

Having struggled on the barbel front with my last fish being caught in September time, I was keen just to catch one more if I could and at this point I would like to add.... I wasn't overly hopeful...!!

Gathering my gear from the truck and fighting with the padlock on the gate I headed for the river, the time was now 7.30am and as soon as I had cleared the trees a stiff, cold breeze hit me in the face. The river was low but the clarity looked good for a bite from something? The sun was now trying to get through, now that's not something we've said for what seems like an age and even if I didn't manage to catch, I was dam sure I was going to enjoy the day. I'm one of those people that although I fish all year round, still likes the idea of a close season on our rivers to allow nature to do its thing.

I walked past a couple of pegs and then stopped at one that I knew had a record of chucking up a good un earlier in the year to a friend, and although a fairly open swim it had a good depth to it and a nice pace. Out came the Whisker rod, coupled with the cardinal that was already set up with a free running link, I took three pellets and glued them onto the short hair that was attached to a size 6 hook. A small p.v.a bag of pellet was then hooked on and a short under arm cast was made to the centre of the river at the end of a crease that was being created by a near bank bush.

It was now time to sit back and enjoy the sun with a smoke and cuppa!

An hour had passed and not even the slightest of taps had been had. The wind had picked up and was blowing straight at my face causing my eyes to stream, so with that I decided a move was needed to somewhere I could shelter a little to at least enjoy the sun without crying my eyes out!!

It turned out that I ended up in the very last peg in a more wooded area of the river and on entering the swim, straight away it felt two overcoats warmer and for an extra bonus I had the large bow of a tree to shelter me. Nice!!

After going through the same routine with the tackle, only this time I decided that I would put the barbel rod down to my right in a likely looking spot that I can remember seeing gravel on earlier in the year. I also made the decision to set the chub rod up with a lighter set up and attach a worm to see if I could tempt a chub or a perch.

I was just sitting back and watching both rod tips when all of a sudden I spotted a mink on the far margin scooting down the bank and it was at this point from the corner of my eye that I went into angler panic mode when the tip on the barbel rod whacked down towards the surface of the river.

"This is a proper un" I muttered to myself as the fish tried it's hardest to head down river.

The clutch on the 55 yelped a couple of times before I managed to get the fish under control and heading in my direction, at this point the mink had done the off and was probably thinking to himself that it all looked a little to much hassle this fishing lark!!

Soon enough my prize was lying in the net recovering for five minutes while I calmed myself down with a smoke and at this point I rang the old fella who was fishing further upstream to tell him of my news and could he come and take a couple of pictures for me and help with the weighing.

I was now thinking to myself that this funny old game we call fishing was definitely a funny old game!!

"She looks a double in the net Dad" I said to him as he entered the swim (at this point I still hadn't taken it out of the water). With the  unhooking mat in place and the scales reading zero we weighed and confirmed a new personal best of 12lb 10oz. Hands were shaken and pictures taken, we then laid her in the margin still in the folds of the net to recover until she was ready to go home.

I certainly was not expecting what had just happened but I'll take it for sure and it's moments like this that remind me why I go angling... the last opportunity, the sun was shining and I had cracked out a personal best to end the year on.

It don't get much better than that!!!

An ill wind

On arrival at the lake this morning one thing was noticeable, anglers were littered in little green tents all along the east side chasing the carp that inhabit the 9 acre pit. It was from this side of the lake that the wind was pushing so as it turned out, myself and my son Jason headed down the west side to a swim named "killer cat"!! We were armed with the usual feeder rods and an array of bait. Maggot, hemp and worms were the order of the day.

Once settled in it was soon noticeable that someone was cooking bacon on the far bank, all we had was a flask of tea, some chocolate biscuits, 2 bags of beef monster munch and a pepperami each!!

This was the busiest I'd seen the lake for a good couple of months and even the birds couldn't work out what the hell was going on!!

Back to our day and as expected the usual pattern followed with a quiet first hour followed by regular bites occurring. Many a small roach was hooked on the maggot feeder rig and as Jason was just chilling back and trying to keep his hands warm by resting them in his pockets, his 10ft rod arched round and a slightly bigger roach of about 12oz was slid into the waiting landing net. From this point onwards this said fish turned out to be his vocal abuse for the rest of the day... "It's not as big as mine Dad" as every time I swung one in he'd remind me that it was smaller than his!

Still, it was a joy to see his face and brings back distant memories from my boyhood days when I too can remember the feeling and the buzz they'd given me, each and everyone of them.

We were catching steadily and i even managed a little jack pike that took a liking for a double red maggot feast! Both of us missed a few chances with the hookbaits coming in looking like a sucked sock!! Roach were the main build up of our catch but we also managed a handful of immaculate rudd.

As I was just pouring us a tea to share from the flask, from the corner of my eye I saw a 10ft length of carbon whip upwards and to the right, "Blimey Dad, this feels better", "Take your time mate and play him in gently, if he wants some line let him have it" I replied. All went to plan and soon we had a stripy perch lying in the net of about 14oz that was fin perfect.

Well that was it now... Iwas getting all manner of remarks thrown at me, but at the very least it had taken our minds away from the the easterly wind as we sent abuse backwards and forwards to each other.

For the last hour i decided to bin the maggot attack and go all out for the big one just to shut him up!

I was just gathering some tackle together and having a bit of a tidy up when my whole lobworm offering was hit by something that had decided to keep going until it had pulled the rod from the rest! A short battle followed and on Jason's first sight of the trailing pike as it hit the back of the net all I heard from his lips was "Pike don't count dad". I chuckled to myself as I thought...... God he takes after me!!

With that capture we decided to call it a day and nipped round to the sunny side of the lake that was two overcoats warmer and scrounged a fresh brew from a carp angler that could've been sitting there in shorts and flip flops it was that hot, while we were wrapped up like kippers thanks to the "ILL" wind that blew from the east.

A pair of Ace's

Means as though I had a bailiffs meeting at 10am, there was no need to rush about so bread was thrown into the toaster, kettle was fired up and I was soon pondering as to whether or not put the tackle in the truck? It was belting it down with rain as I looked out of the kitchen window and a North Easterly wind was blowing. Do I or don't I?? Conditions were not looking the best. "Sod it, lets have go for a few hours".

In it to win it and all that!!

Gear was loaded and the flask was made, I then grabbed a bar of chocolate and off I trotted.

The meeting did not take too long and I was angling by 11.30. I decided to sit on the back of the wind and fish to the end of an island that was hopefully giving our scaly friends a bit of shelter?

The rain was still tipping it down and the outflow pipe at the far end of the lake was now actually an inflow pipe and the water was actually bubbling as it was pushing from the pipe back into the lake and even a spray could be seen such was the force!! With this happening it led to all swims actually being flooded and things were not looking too good at all!

Up with the brolly, get comfortable and make the most of it, at least it was fresh air. To begin with I decided to feeder fish to the island and put a second rod being a float rod down the margin to my right and just let it sleep with the off chance of maybe picking up a decent perch. Things were quiet for an hour or so and my worm and maggot cocktail that was being fished to the island margin had not had a single knock, smaller hook was taken from the tackle bag, worm taken off and replaced with two juicy maggots. Have some of that!!

Not long after the change, one or two taps started to appear on the rod tip and soon enough I started to swing a few small roach and perch into my waiting hand. The float rod that was fishing with a prawn was not looking too lively either so this was changed to half a lob tipped with a fluro pink imitation maggot!! Sounds more like it should be at a disco than at a lake!

As the hours passed with the rain still falling small fish were still coming to the feeder with the odd 10 to 12oz roach making it pleasing to the eye when all of a sudden out of the blue the float shot off like a ski, "eh up" it was not the hoped for 3lb plus perch but a toothy water crock of about 4lbs and on light tackle it gave me a good run around that Zola Bud would of been proud of. Mr pike returned safely and looking out and up it seemed that the sky was clearing so to celebrate a brighter looking day I grabbed the flask and saluted four geese as they splashed past squawking as they went.

While enjoying my PG tips and having a smoke the tip on the feeder rod gave a promising bang round that was different to any other I had witnessed and the strike was met with a more promising pull from whatever was attached the other end...

Soon she rose up from the deep margin and on first sight I thought "that's got to be two pounds plus". A quick weigh and the needle settled and said 1lb 14oz. She was in mint condition and worthy of a quick picture, then one last look before slipping her back. Happy days!

After that capture I decided to reel the float rod in and just concentrate on the feeder rod, just maybe a few better fish had started to find the dinner table?

The next hour or so saw a few more roach up to the 12oz mark come to the maggot offering but, as before, a different and more savage bite occurred and this proved to be the last bite of the day which turned out to be another immaculate looking roach which weighed in at 1lb 4oz to complete a very enjoyable end of February day made complete with a pair of ace's!!

Learning new tricks!!

After being picked up at 4am sat nav was saying two and a half hours to destination. We were heading North West to the beautiful Teme valley for a guiding lesson and a giggle with good company. We pulled up in the arranged pub car park to find a guy stood outside his van brushing his teeth! "Morning" he said, get out your breakfast gear, put a brew on and chill out for half hour, then we'll wander into the pub to get the tickets. "rivers looking nice" he said and i'm Trefor and you must be my students for a couple of days? Tref was about 5' 4" complete with hat and boots and from that point on I knew it was going to be a little bit of an experience and nothing too serious. Now, Tref's been angling a long old time and knows every trick in the book, so off we trotted to get the tickets, then back into the car for the two minute drive over the road with us following, up a lane to a gated field "shut the gate behind you" he shouted! Now we were driving straight through a field only to be greeted by about fifty cows! Before we can bed down for the night we're going to have to move them out of here and into the next gated field!! I'll go in the middle you two take the left and the right, and we'll herd them up the field and through the next gate! Great i thought, this old boys having a laugh. After about fifteen minutes and the cows all split up like the red arrows we decided that we would sleep in the next field and leave them to it, boots were now covered in crap and a little bit sweaty and I looked at Steve and we rolled our eyes and just chuckled.

We opened the boot on the truck and this time Tref rolled his eyes, "bloody hell, your going home tomorrow" get one rod, one net and your tackle bag leave the rest in the car". "Follow me".

First view of the river from its steep red stained banks and it looked awesome with its twisting slow moving bends flowing into fast shallow rapids before settling down into a long straight which looked as though the depth evened its self out at a nice pace with trees littering the bank at intervals. Tref insisted that we put our kit down once a quarter of the way through the field and told us to tackle the rods up with a straight forward running set up with a 2oz lead complete with a braided hair rig with no loop, with this he opened his bait bucket, grabbed four or five good hand fulls and told us to put them in our pockets and take three out for baiting the hook and lobbed a tube of superglue us, stick them on like this and let em dry while I tell you the plan!

The sequence was this.......... park your bum in the swims I suggest, put the hookbaits out and throw in thirteen freebies, give it twenty minutes and if no knocks or taps have occurred then move down the field and repeat the sequence again...  "We'll have em".

We walked past a certain area to begin with while we angled further down the beat and in this time Tref walked back to it and baited the margin of which was only 18" deep and the far bank had a fallen willow. Fifteen minutes past only for us to hear a shout of "wind in lads and bring one rod and a net with ya"! On finding Tref standing on a high bank looking down into the shallow margins pointing like a crazy thing! Chub coming in from the left, 1, 2, 3. Barbel coming across from the willow, "give it five then abseil down the bank and perch yourself on the tree trunk but go quietly and I'll tell you when to lower the baited rod, but first let me mold this big chunk of plasticine 2ft up from your lead". This old boy ain't all there I thought but it's his rules so I'll abide. "Right, go, lower it in about there" he said while flicking two pellets out, get yourself comfortable and I'll narrate as to what is happening from up here but be prepared for the unexpected he chuckled. Right Derren its going to go any minute get ready to whack it!! With that my arm was nearly wrenched from its socket and a big puff of silt exploded and the fish boiled on the surface for a bid to freedom to the far bank cover. Soon i was in a very uncomfortable position wobbling on the tree trunk rod in one hand, net in the other try my hardest not to fall in and have them giggle at me like a pair of kids. Luckily for me all went well and my first Teme barbel was stalked, weighed and returned. "Who says you cant catch em in daylight hours? you just got to find em, and feed them a little and then whack em boy!" "come on, back to the sequence and we'll try here again on our way back". Derren 1, barbel 0........Thanks Tref, you ain't as silly as you look Ithought.

The moral of this tale and it goes for all types of angling is..........

Keep it simple and find em!!!

Going back in time

I think I was about 7 years of age and all I can remember was sitting under my fathers 45" umbrella that was wrapped with a clear plastic cover and held down by a couple of home made pegs. A pair of 1.25 rods complete with mitchell 300's on a set of old heron type buzzers. Bait was par boiled spuds fished with a scattering of jolly green giant!! We were sat between a pair of tree/bushes on a small sand pit in the heart of Bedfordshire and the rain was coming down when one of the old fellas home made bobbins (I say home made as they were in fact fairy liquid bottle tops) hit the rod butt. After a small amount of commotion and dad saying "get the net lad" there in the bottom was a smooth green fish with red eyes.

"It's a Tench mate, get the little scales and the bag from the bottom of my seat box while I unhook her". This particular catch was 4lb 8oz and I can remember dad getting an old rag from one of his well used tackle bags and holding and returning it to the water with the use of a wet rag and not allowing his dry hands to touch his prize. In those days we used to sit up most of the night with huge expectation sipping tea from a flask and waiting for day break as the best time for a Tench (according to the books) is dawn. Still mornings, allow the best viewing for fizzing,bubbling and occasional Tench rolling!

Moving on in time and it's now February 2010, the weather has been cold, wet and horrid since I don't know when and my thoughts are already thinking about chasing "old red eye" for the first time in many a year come the spring. Thoughts of un-caught doubles are lighting the fires and have set my mind ticking on how to outwit such fish!

Tackle has changed but thankfully not too much, the basics are still the same as they ever were and I for one can't wait to be sitting under my brolly on a damp and misty spring morning waiting to rekindle those same thoughts from 1977 when as a boy, my eyes first set sight on a red eyed Tinca!!