Long Hair vs Grey Matter And The Feeder

 After the excitement of the river season kicking in, I have to admit that my fishing fell a little flat on its face what with one thing and another. Although I did manage to grace the banks of my local Great Ouse on three occasions right at the very start of the season and banked half a dozen Chub to up and around the four pound mark before the weather turned blisteringly hot and the levels dropped off.

Coincide this with the fact that I still have the problem of "we have not moved house yet", purchaser pissing about, solicitor pissing about, so in turn my head and thoughts have been everywhere bar angling which is difficult to say the least especially when you work in the trade!

Things seem to be heading in the right direction now though and a completion for early September is on the cards so things should (I say with baited breath) start to settle down in the coming weeks?

With most of my gear now packed, I have made sure a little has been left to hand just in case; a just in case  'grab and go' session could be made as and when I fancy and time prevails?

 



 

 

Less Kit Is More.

 

So over the past couple of weeks I have been grabbing and going, the nice thing with angling in this manner is only a small amount of kit is required. One bucket bag to park my bum on which carries the minimal amount of tackle that I require for a few hours fishing. Half a dozen feeders which consist of three blockend and three open ended in a variety of weights, a spool of hooklink mono, a couple of packets of spade hooks in size 14 and 16, a hook tier and some quick change beads complete the end tackle.

 Bait/feed is also a simple affair with groundbait, castors, maggot and corn being thrown into a large bucket and mixed to my requirements once I am at the waterside.

The rod is prepared at home, broken down and strapped to my landing net handle with tip tops and apart from my net bag and trusty flask, that is the lot, happy days! 

 

Choice Of Water.

 

The water is only a short twenty minute drive from my home and although I had fished it many years ago during my Carping years I had yet to angle it in this manner. At 75 acres it is more often than not a little windswept, it holds all your everyday species from large shoals of Bream and Roach to Tench, Perch, Gudgeon and even the odd Chub shows every now and then so with the prospect of just fishing for bites, potentially it could just about throw anything up at any time and who knows to what size?

 

Session One.

I arrived at the lake just after first light and the wind was blowing a fairly steady South westerly and as I plodded my way along the bank I soon become aware of fish topping in an area some 35 yards or so out on the choppy water "bonus" I muttered to myself. Having located some fish the next thing to do was prepare my sweet, sticky and dark groundbait mix and once done it was soon being loaded into a 50gm feeder and complimented with a double castor hookbait mounted on a size 14 hook.

First cast to the area and I was clipping up and taking note of a distant blot on the landscape for precise accuracy. Second cast in, the tip pulled round good and slow and soon I was netting a nice size skimmer of roughly a pound and a half and this was to be followed up in consecutive casts by a couple more just slightly smaller. My first Roach came to hand after what was probably a dozen casts, it was a nice sized little fella of around seven ounces, immaculate and mirror like, I could almost see my reflection looking back at me!

From that point onwards the silvers just kept coming at me, sometimes the feeder would have only just hit the bottom and on clipping the bail arm over the tip would be taking on its healthy arc.

I had to be away just after 2pm so after what was probably twenty last casts I finally pulled the keepnet in for a last glimpse of my prizes. Roughly 30lb-35lb of silver gems lay in the folds of the mesh with a couple of them being just over the pound mark, with that I left the lake that day with a buzz of excitement and already itching to get back.

 

 

A Pristine Silver







Session Two.

After returning to work the following day and reporting my findings to my colleague and buddy young Daniel. It soon became apparent that he was up for a bit of a social session with the hope for a repeat of my findings. We decided that an evening after work would suit just fine so settled on the coming Monday. This in turn gave us a couple of days plus the weekend to throw banter backwards and forwards and wind the job right up! The same tactics including the bait would be used by both of us as he decided to copy me, but at least it made sense.



 The Whipper Snapper.

 

Monday evening arrived and I was soon collecting Bob Nudd from his hideout, a quick pit stop in MacDonald's for an on the go burger n fries was made and by 7pm we were angling. We had settled in a couple of swims just up from where I had sat the previous session, positioned some twenty yards apart so not only could I see him but I could also smell him!!

With only two hours angling in front us and after all of the build up and banter we had given each other the anticipation for that first bite was getting bigger and bigger. After what was to be Dan's third chuck he received a bite and just as he was pulling it over the waiting pan my tip also bounced round. His first was a mint conditioned Roach and mine turned out to be a striped sergeant, we were now up and running.

Large black clouds were rolling our way but we were catching steadily but soon we were hiding beneath our brolly's and hanging on as the wind picked up its now increasing blow, it was inevitable that whilst holding on to the brolly spike that I would receive a good gentle pull that wanted to just keep on going, on striking I knew that it was a better fish, a fish that turned out to be a Bream of roughly 4lbs or so. The next three casts I made produced three more of our snotty friends of similar size and it was just as I was placing one in the net that I looked down the bank at my little hippy friend only to see him walking the bank to retrieve his brolly that had decided to go air born!!

I took the piss a little and he came back at me a two fingered salute that I just shrugged off and launched another feeder out, shortly after the rain eased off and all seemed comfortable again (I hate brolly's). Dan was picking up some nice Roach which to be fair made a nice change for him instead of the shelter. Time was now ticking on and with only about half hour of daylight remaining I was soon to be playing what turned out to be a nice little Tench that weighed somewhere in the region of 3.5lbs  and by now all I had to do was give a cheeky little cough and that was enough for him to give only a head shake back at me. Ten past nine arrived and we were calling it a day, pleased with our efforts (me more so than my young apprentice), we had had giggle and caught some nice fish.

That's what angling should be.

 



'Cheese Danny Boy'

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Visited by the doctor

On unlocking the gate and entering the fishery, with ground frost crunching beneath my feet, the day had been forecast to be 18C at its warmest and as I trudged my way along the footpath and through the trees I was still pondering as to where to park my bum to wet a line. I'd already decided to walk past the first lake and on to the second as it's a little more secluded and intimate with trees and rushes separating almost every swim. The quality and quantity of the fishing is a little unknown to me and only snippets can be found on who, what and why but it all adds to the excitement of what the next bite could be. As I have said before, these two little waters are just filling the gap of the close season so anything that I do manage to catch will be bonus captures of whatever species.

Anyway, back to the "doctor". I decided to stop half way along the bank and the said swim is natural but large but plenty of open water could be covered if the need arises, to my left is a bare but quite large tree that hangs a fair way out from the bank that I am on, and on putting my gear down although I was facing the wrong way, a small splash was heard and on turning round the ripples could be seen at about thirty five to forty yards straight out  in front "that'll do me" I grunted to myself.

The plan was to blackcap feeder fish with maggot/hemp as feed and either maggot or castor as hook baits, I also had some jolly green giant and my faithful tub of pets (lobworms) with me just in case I fancied or needed a change of tact.

I took my time tackling up but every now and then I would grab the catty and pult some castor's and a few grains of corn to the front of the tree on my left, the idea was to do this and leave it for as long as possible until I could resist no longer, this was to be angled with my trusty 13ft power float rod and after taking the depth I just left it in peace until I was happy, and that something might just fancy a corn breakfast.

Three feeders of maggot and five of hemp were deposited without the rig attached, roughly on the line where the earlier splash had taken place, and soon I was sat back in the chair awaiting a sign.

It was probably fifteen minutes or so, before I had the first bit of interest. A quick jag on the tip indicated that something was after my two wriggling reds, seconds later it pulled round enough for me to think "strike", and strike I did. A small roach was led to my hand, admired and gently put back. For the next couple of hours this seemed to be the trend, as roach and the odd Rudd to around the half pound mark at best ( they were all one handed jobbies) found there way to me.

All the time I had kept on trickling, little and often to the margin tree, and after a brief cuppa complete with a sarnie and an egg of the scotched variety the decision was now made to drown a golden grain beneath a float. A cast was made just past the baited patch and pulled back into place and left to cock and settle. Just at that point three geese came into landing straight out in front of me, from then on peace had been shattered as they had decided it was "fruity time". On looking back at my float it bobbed before sitting right up and lying more or less flat on the surface, on lifting the rod I was soon met by a plodder.

A heavier,slower fish hugged along the bottom and was trying to gain the sanctuary of the tree or its branches. With pressure applied control was soon had and after a spirited fight there in the bottom of my net lay "old red eye", due to the colour of the water it did look a little pale, even in the sunlight. Not the prettiest of samples as you can see by the picture, the "doctor that needed a doctor", rot on the tail had set in.

A quick weigh, not that it mattered really, was taken and five pound twelve was the reading.

A couple of Rudd took a liking to my corn offering on the float but then the bites just dried up on me so it was back onto the feeder gear.

The pattern that followed was almost like for like with the mornings events until a different bite occurred.

I was just on the phone to the "better half" when the tip took on a solid arc and on connecting with the fish, straight away I knew it was different. A slow and steady fish was taking me basically where it liked but after a while I did manage to get to within ten yards of my bank and this is when the line fell slack! Harsh words were muttered and on swinging the feeder in I could see that my five pound hooklink had broken half way up, with the fish taking my size 16 hook. Tench or carp? who knows?

After that the swim went quiet, my arms and neck were burnt and the flask was dry and with that I packed it in and shouted to lake "I'll be back, you owe me"



Another wet night

As usual I was in two minds whether to go?

I had walked nine acre pit on Friday evening to see a friend that was carp angling but also to see how many were on the lake and where they were situated.

A quite large north easterly wind was blowing up the lake but more importantly there were thirteen carp/cat anglers pitched up all round!

As well as being a tad on the windy side, the forecast was also giving persistent rain for the next twenty four hours!! After scrounging a couple of teas I bid the lads farewell and headed back to the gate to ponder on my way home as a few of the lads were departing on the Saturday but at this point I was still unsure as to what to do?

Saturday arrived and as promised the sky was full of rain and for a full view all I could see were clouds, big old dark ones!!

Out to the shed I popped, grabbed my tackle and bait bags... I wasn't planning on rushing "I'll get there when I get there" I muttered to myself even if it was evening time.

I eventually arrived at just after three that afternoon and again before doing anything else I went on the scrounge for a brew and also to find out if anything had been caught during the last twelve hours? As it happened a new member that was fishing the windward end of the lake had managed to hook himself his first wels catfish, all 63lb of it!!

The previous week a couple of tench had come from the shallower end of the lake and on this day it was also looking nice and sheltered,comfy and cosy (this thinking was probably against the grain but to be honest I didn't fancy the cold wind battered end of the lake!!).

It was with all this in mind that I headed for a nice little secluded swim that has of a channel of water between the bank and the island in front of me.

House erected, bed made and kit all put in its usual tidy place that it goes in most weeks (the OCD comes into place so that I know where to find it during the hours of darkness).

The left had rod was placed to the island margin and the right was under armed just down to my right to the left of the marginal snags in six feet of water.

By the time I had completed all this it was now time for a chillie that would be sat nicely on a bed of basmati rice!

By 9.30 I was tucked up in my bag with a niggling headache having a cuppa and a smoke just watching the world go by but not long after that I drifted off to sleep.

Just after 10.30 the left hand bobbin was up and away and with this I was out there bringing a bream of around the 7lb mark to the net.

Had they found me again?!?

The rain was still falling and had not really let up since I had arrived.

Rod re-baited and I was soon back in the warmth of my sleeping bag, the same rod was away again at 1.30am and led to the same outcome as before and at this point I had imagined that this was how it was going to be for the rest of the session.

All went quiet then and I awoke just before first light, rolled over, flicked the kettle on to await enough light to be able to see enough to replace the baits back on the spots, just after 5am I was back on the bed and I then dozed off until 7.15 am when I was ripped from my sleepy state as the right hand rod bounced into life.

Straight away I could tell that this was no bream as the fish was darting around all over the place with its tell tale twisting and turning.

After losing one the week before at the net I decided not to give it too much wellie at the dying stages.

All went to plan and soon enough I'd scored my first intended caught tinca since them early days some twenty years ago.

The weight (although it did not really matter) came in at 5lb4oz and was a female, but guess what? It had stopped bloody raining and the sun was poking through!!

A quick couple of self takes were done and with one last look the fish was soon returned.

I held on to try and dry the gear and had a slow pack up before quitting at just after 1 o'clock with no more action.

Did it matter? Did it hell!!

I'd had one and the sun was now shining!!

It rains, it pours....

My mind was set just to angle from Saturday morning till Sunday morning but after doing a milk run to a carp angling buddy and viewing the lake I suddenly got the urge to wet a line.

So Friday tea time saw me dashing home, having a swill, mixing some bait and loading the truck and heading to the lake via the Chinese with my dinner in tow!

The lake was quite busy but was always going to be with it being bank holiday weekend.

My sweet and sour chicken and rice set me up nicely and I then began to tackle up in a nice little bay that does not get too much attention.... it is a deep bay with sloping margins and a few hanging trees that drape down to the waters surface.

The time was ticking away and I eventually got the rods placed and baited by 8.30.

It was now time to sit back, pour a cuppa, have a smoke and watch the water for any movement but most of all chillax.

This session I decided to head to the opposite end of the lake to last week as the bream were still making an appearance and I needed a little sleep!

All was quiet when headed for the sleeping bag and the confinement of my shelter, although the clouds were starting to collect and aiming our way.

I'm sure some anglers that go night fishing are actually scared of the dark?

The light pollution to my right caused me to turn over and face the back of my shelter, "turn em off lads" I don't want to see it!

No sooner had I got settled than the left hand rod bounced and shuddered into action as something tore off with my corn offering, it was now raining and looking very angry up above.

Into the net went a bream roughly six pounds in weight... was I in for a night of it or was this the lone ranger?

Rod re-baited, sod it, I'll have a cuppa and if a few had moved upon me then I might just get another quick bite. Nothing else happened until 1.30am and this also turned out to be another slab of around the same weight, it was now raining a little heavier and from the opposite side of the lake I could hear the sound of a fellow anglers alarm "that's good" I said to myself, "I'm not the only one to be getting pissed upon"!

While on the myth subject of it being good for fishing in the rain, I for one seem to struggle in the daylight hours while it pours but occasionally catch the odd something in a wet darkness.

But as for it being the best time to go, let me tell you " it ain't for me"!

I managed a couple of solid hours sleep before the same rod sang its tune but this time the culprit was a roach of around 12oz. I will just say here that I'm expecting to catch all sorts while fishing the method I am so will have to take the rough with the smooth and after all... a fish is a fish!

Back in bed by 4am and it was there I stayed till roughly 5.15 when again the left had rod was attached to something that was adamant on getting into the nearby bush that was hanging to my immediate left.

A little bit of pressure applied and yet another bream was lying in the net and although I didn't actually weigh it, she looked to be near the double figure mark. It mattered not and it was from this point onwards I decided to stay up, re-bait both rods and also set up the float rod and try some early morning pellet fishing to see if I could entice my quarry a different way?

At 7am, just as I was pouring my third cuppa, the right hand rod took on a slightly faster take and straight away I knew it felt different.

This rod had been placed down my right margin and across a bit next to a small bush, of which it tried its hardest to reach, but old Birdy weren't having any of that!

And it was maybe this that caused what was about to happen next?

On grabbing the net and looking down into the margin I could see my target just taking its last gulp, when all of a sudden my stonze weight, flew over my head causing me to duck n dive! The tench was gone and although not huge, I guessed it to be roughly five pounds or so?

This was what I was after but luck this time was not on my side. "Can't do nothing about it now, its gone" I muttered to myself. All good things come to those who wait and lets be honest here, one day it'll happen?

Saturday turned out to be quite a nice day weather wise, but some anglers went and other anglers arrived. I sat and dabbled with the pellet rod enjoying the sun and even managed to catch a good few roach, oh and even a couple of hungry gutted pike that found a liking for my prize as I wound them in.

The rods on the feeders went quite during the day so it wasn't until 6pm that I baited and set the traps for the following night.

Job was done and I then set about cooking my dinner which consisted of (for those of you that are interested!) sausages, potatoes of the new variety and some peas!!

Come nine o'clock that evening, a couple of rumbles of thunder with an odd lightening strike had clapped above me. By ten I was in my cozy bag watching rain drops bounce from the waters surface, my little radio could not be heard due to the noise being made as it hit my little nylon house.

Sod this I thought to myself and decided to get some sleep just in case anything decided to go on the munch.

Nothing did and the rain stayed on all night even to the point of filling my footwear up as I'd left them to near to the bivvy door in case a sharp exit was needed!

Like most, I hate packing up in the rain and by 10 am I was loading the car soaked to my skin and still tenchless!

It rains, it pours!

Baiting has commenced and attack has been planned.

I am still sticking to my plans of chasing the "doctor" fish.

A couple of times this week I have visited the nine acre pit and baited with a few handfuls of tit bits in certain areas of the margins. The plan is to fish the spring months chasing the tench that nobody seems to angle for.

Rods are rigged up and baits have been selected; myself and my son plan to fish for the unknown this coming Saturday for a twenty four hour session.

On walking the lake this evening one thing is noticeable........ it's still bloody nippy when the sun drops from view and the temp reading when back at the truck was saying four degrees.

Its looking pretty as a picture up there and things are waking up and the trees are budding.

Lets hope the fish like the gourmet i am offering.....

I'll inform you of my findings!!