Battered and Bruised
It was a spur of the moment trip to the river Bain late one afternoon in November. I'd only been there a short time when Ken (I only know he's called Ken because he has a personalised number plate on his Range Rover) the local farmer and land owner came by....."Now then, have you got something for me?" He asked sternly. Despite there only being an hour or so of daylight left he demanded a fiver. I had to wind in and run back the not inconsiderable distance to my car and rummage around for some change, just scraping together the required amount. Regulars will be aware of Ken and I's somewhat fractious relationship over the years, he's not an easy man to deal with. I fully expected him to wait by my gear but he had followed me upstream. I met him at the entrance gate, his arm outstretched eager for payment. "Your rod is floating down the river," he said, chuckling to himself as he walked off with my money. When I finally got back, it was just where I'd left it, safely in the rest, the bastard.
A fiver lighter I decided to make the most of it and strapped a starlight on my tip with a couple of float rubbers, intending to fish for as long as possible. After a previous disastrous trip with some recalcitrant cheesepaste that refused to stay on the hook I knew from the one cast I was able to make where I was likely to get a bite. The chub though had different ideas, maybe due to someone tending to an enormous fire on the far bank, the smoke from which was slowly choking me. I moved down in to a gulley and over Ken's newly installed barbed wire fence, ripping the crotch of my trousers while doing so. It seemed nobody had fished the gulley all year and as such the going was tough. Waist high vegetation and the worlds most painful stingers, those little tiny innocuous ones that you accidently touch and numb your hands for a week. I settled a few yards in, flattening a small space with my chair which snapped again and it started to rain. Marvellous.
The first fish made the conditions just about bearable, although at a round four pounds not quite what I was after. With the light rapidly fading I knew I'd get another chance, which I did. An absolutely savage bite that I completely missed. It was now fully dark and with no more bites forthcoming I needed to move further down the gulley to try and find them again. After no more than three yards I slipped over, tackle going in all directions. I gathered it all together and set off again. The second fall was like something off Home Alone, a proper feet from under me affair and I landed almost horizontally with a heavy, bone shaking thud, scaring every fish for thirty yards.
Completely saturated, covered in mud and every bit of exposed skin numb from either the cold or the stinging nettles I made my way back to the car. I stopped off at the weir pool on the way and decided to have one last try. The new fence was a real pain though and I had to shorten my hooklength and thread it through the lower wire before attempting to cast. I took a few attempts to get the bait where I was happy with it but I was worth the effort as I got taken almost instantly. Without a head torch netting was fairly tricky. I had to lie on my front and poke my head under the barbed wire while simultaniously playing the fish and holding the net. More by luck than judgement I managed to get the fish in my net and shuffled backwards. I remember being slightly paranoid about the fish touching the stone wall I was on top of so I angled the handle slightly as I drew it up. It snapped almost straight away.
You've had enough detail already suffice to say, another fall, barbed wire episode and a wet foot later I managed to carefully hand the fish out a bit further downstream. My Acolyte net and rest of the handle was never to be seen again.
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| 5lb 9oz of Chub and a crazed me. |
Feels like good perch
Over to a drain now and one I'd seen some predator strikes a few days before. Two were definitely pike but I had a suspicion the others could have been caused by big perch. They certainly weren't in the area I have encountered them on that venue in the past which further added to the intrigue.
I arrived early and chucked a lobworm in the general area of activity I'd seen before. Sure enough a bite was soon forthcoming and I was connected to a very heavy feeling perch. Don't you just love it when a plan comes together? I knew some of those strikes I had seen were perch and here I was, connected to a real beauty. Something didn't feel quite right though and all became slightly surreal when a bream popped up. I ended up with five before giving in and moving. The best two were six pounders, fine fish, when you're actually fishing for them....
Staying still
When I encountered some big pike in the autumn on the Witham on my boat even though I had lots to just under twenty pounds I was kicking myself that I hadn't fished from the bank for them. It was really shallow and the boat kept moving them. Indeed I saw a really big fish that would have been well worth catching but I was seriously under gunned that day with only my light perch gear to hand. Unfortunately the majority of the fish moved and I couldn't locate them again.
So it was further upstream to a different stretch I decided to fish. I'd been out on the boat and seen plenty of pike strikes. Again I was perch fishing and had quite a few to just over two pounds but after several trip over the years I just don't get the feeling there are any really big ones there. A few days later I went back with the chaos twins and the dead bait rods. I was a bit rusty and missed more runs than I hit but managed a couple of modest doubles and the girls enjoyed themselves.
A few weeks later I went back with our old friend Benidorm Dave. Finally I managed to put him among some fish after a disappointing trip together a week or so before. He had seven altogether to around fourteen pounds.....
I managed a reasonable one myself.........
Later on in the day I got a little restless and decided to try and catch some perch on the worm. After a biteless hour or so, my float disappeared and I struck in to a good fish. Just as I was getting the better of my unseen foe it shot in to the marginal reeds. Hardly becoming of a perch. After a bit of a tussle I netted it with reeds and all. Upon peeling them back, there it lay in the bottom of the net, my prize and probably over the magical three pounds. A bloody tench, in December.
Back to the pike now and I had a few more short trips taking several from a few different venues but alas, only small ones. The best of the bunch came from a freezing cold day on the Steeping while showing some lads from work how to hopefully catch and then handle some pike. Luckily they all caught something and they've been out several times since with some success.
Back aboard
I travelled a short distance to meet our old friend Martin. Same county, same tier. McDonalds got my breakfast order wrong on the way and I got caught up in a one-way system trying to return. With the order corrected I then managed to get lost so I ended up being a little late.
Martin was waiting for me and I hopped out of the car to give him an elbow bump. I felt a twinge in my back but thought little else of it as I readied the boat. We were soon afloat and set off upstream to a section of river neither of us were familiar with. For lure fishing I like river conditions to be as clear as possible, this day however it was carrying a little too much colour for my liking. As such I couldn't really settle, not that we came across any obvious signs of fish. We'd gone a couple of miles before I decided to take us back past the cars and in to the downstream section I knew reasonably well.
We stopped off at the cars and I put some more air in the boat which had been slightly underinflated in my eagerness to get out. "Leave the petrol tank Martin, we'll have plenty" I advised......
Three miles later at the sea gate we ran out. Empty, nil petrol, none, zip, squat. I'd have to walk back to the car to get some. Reluctantly I set off and it must have been half a mile before I could fully straighten up, my back having gone in to spasm. I shuffled the remaining distance, avoiding anyone we'd seen on the way down. I hadn't even had a single bite. Martin had fared little better with one tiny pike. In addition to that I had cast up every tree, bridge and bankside furniture we came across. The only consolation being on a boat, you get retrieve them although on one occasion I did have a tussle with a massive willow tree for a good couple of minutes much to Martin's amusement.
With the car fetched and the boat collected we decided to try well upstream which is the section we know best for a few minutes to try and make something of the day. My confidence spiked when I saw the river, which was a far better colour than the lower reaches. First cast I hooked a reed in the margins with the tensile strength of titanium and I had to set up again. Second cast I caught a perch about a pound and a half. Five minutes later I hooked something under my feet that gave me the right old run around.....
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| 15lb 5oz |
We should have started off there in the first place. Sometimes exploring pays off, many, many times it doesn't.
In the groove
I'd beaten myself up on the Bain, run out of petrol on the Fens and had another absolute nightmare of a roach fishing session that I can't even bring myself to write about. Surely I was due a day where everything would run smoothly? Unfortunately for our friend Alfie Naylor it came about when he kindly took me out on his boat. I still don't know how he did it but he got us on an old haunt of ours and he was about to witness a perch catching masterclass (come on, let me have that one).
From the very first moment I was in the grove, alternating between TRDs and dropshotted worms. In fairness to Alfie he put me in all the right places and being on the motor does take some of your concentration away. He also brought me an early Christmas present in the shape of a scarf that apparently you're meant to wear around your neck. I ended up with eleven perch over two pounds to three pounds one ounces with several big two's.....
Alfie finally managed a decent one towards the end of the session....
Back to basics
The Bain has been fairly shocking all season for roach. This coupled with a bit of car trouble led me to have a go on the nearby drains. Steep sided banks, silty, muddy margins and uninspiring vistas aside I quite enjoyed these little sessions, which is the ultimate aim. I caught loads over four short forays and some good ones to up to a creditable one pounds six ounces.....
It was on one of these trips a man pulled up behind me in his car. "Ere, you're that specimen bloke aren't you?" He asked. "Er....sort of'," I replied. He then proceeded to tell me about a British record perch he'd hooked and lost at a local commercial complex. I know what you're thinking and I thought much the same. I've seen a few perch in my time and even a big two pounder to my eyes is a very impressive looking fish when you have landed it, even more so when you haven't.
I remember a bloke once telling me he'd had a big four pounder, a week or so later he witnessed me catch a perch of nearly three pounds and he nearly wet himself with excitement. His reaction told me he'd never seen a perch that big before in his life, let alone caught one.
Anyway, let's be fair. the way my new friend spoke gave me inspiration and he was very kind in divulging the information. Even if it wasn't a six pounder it was probably worth trying to catch, just to be on the safe side. Besides in the last eight years or so I know of three cast-iron four pounders from this part of the world and two of those were from commercials. I also know of loads of completely made up ones.
The next day I was at the complex. I had a look around and it was all pretty uniform. I'd just have to pick an area and hope one turned up. After three hours without so much as a tremble on either worms or prawns I began to lose interest. "Three o'clock, that'll be bite time," said my mate Dave on the phone. Well that's the last time I listen to that bloody charlatan. It was 3.37pm when my float finally went under, I know this because I was on the phone to the lovely Mrs P at the time. I hung up immediately.
I believe hypnosis is based on suggestion, not that I was in a trance, just a tiny part of me (not that part) believed I was seconds away from a monster. As soon as I hooked in to the fish it came straight to the surface before diving down again. Oh my god it's massive and it's a perch were my simultaneous thoughts. Not a British record but certainly big enough to brighten up a cold winters day. I'm trying to work out how many perch I've actually seen around this size without sounding like a braggard. Over a hundred and they still get me every time when I'm playing them. Had I have lost it, I wouldn't have guessed its weight to within a pound, on the bank I can usually get within a couple of ounces. At an ounce under three pounds it was a very welcome start.....
SHUK interlude
Just a few from the chaps this time around, they've been mostly useless.
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| Mike Lyddon 3lb 1oz Grayling |
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| Nate Green 3lb Perch |
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| Dai Gribble 5lb 12oz Chub |
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| Andy Wilson 6lb 15oz Rainbow |
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| James Aris Pitsford Pike |
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| Bobby Brookes 2lb Grayling |
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| Nate Green 6lb 6oz Chub |
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| Martin Barnatt 5lb 4oz Chub |
Tackle Talk
Fox Duralite Chair
Did I mention I'd snapped my Korum Aeronium chair? Clean break on the frame, not on the weld. As it was Christmas present I didn't have the receipt so Korum wouldn't take it back. Nice of them eh? Anyway, onwards and upwards. I lashed it together as best I could so still usable, just.
Some friends recommended the Fox chair to me so I took the plunge and bought one from my superb local tackle shop- Big Catch Tackle. I have it on dubious authority it's made from exactly the same the metal alloy as the Korum one. Vitally it has an extra front brace to reinforce the front legs that you don't get on the Korum one so hopefully it will prove far more durable.
After a few trips now it's been really impressive. Better in every department to the Korum one apart from weight but not enough to matter. Multi-directional mud feet, locking extendable legs and a lovely padded seat. It's amazing how much more comfy and warmer it is than the Aeronuim, the thin padding making all the difference. Crucially you can use it with the back legs folded up, perfect for Lincolnshire's infamous steep banks.
Aim to pay around £75
Avon Roach Project Book
I can't tell you how much I like this book. I lied, I'm just about to. I picked it up for the first time on Christmas eve morning and didn't put it down until I'd finished it. A really, really amazing story told in a no-nonsense, informative and often quite funny way. It's a weighty book, don't read anything in to me finishing it in a day, I read fast. Trevor and Budgie should be incredibly proud of themselves. Even if you're not an avid reader you really should try this. Trevor told me wanted the story to come across as if you were in a room with him telling you about it. It works. Really well.
It also taught me a few things too. I had this kind of default thought that nature has an incredible capacity to regenerate itself. This clearly wasn't the case on the Avon, certainly not in a generational timeframe. Trevor and Budgie are obviously a 'do-ers', they get things done. What also came across is how insular and downright selfish some sections of the angling community are. A perennial problem in our pastime. They had a great approach to these situations though and if you want to know more then you'd better just get yourself a copy from the link below......
Pandemic
I usually fish in the week and work at weekends, I have done for years and as such rarely see other people. With the lockdowns and tier restrictions I'm encountering more anglers, a lot more. I live in one of the most sparsely populated counties in England so heaven knows what it's like for others. Anyway, no problem. Apart from my number one pet hate, litter and more pertinently litter dropped by anglers, supposed guardians of the countryside. Seriously, it's a cliche but leave nothing but footprints please folks. I'm trying to be as kind as possible because I don't want to end the blog swearing my head off and stamping my feet. So pretty please, with sugar on top, take your fucking rubbish home.....
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Till Next Time...........
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