Fishing Diary: March 2023

Midwinter Madness

In 1993 almost nobody had a mobile phone. They weren't universally available. Text messaging wasn't a thing. Tablets were something you took when you were ill. Petrol was 45p a litre, cigarettes about £2.30 a pack. Channel 5 didn't exist or freeview. Sky TV was in its infancy, 14 channels that few people had. I only knew a couple of people with it. If you can't remember that far back let's go and take a peek through our friend Joe Millers living room.

He was impossibly young, a small child. He's in the living room with his dad and grandad. In the corner sits a modest cathode ray tube TV as deep as it is wide. The picture is crisp though. It should be, one of the best wildlife film makers Hugh Miles had just spent four years making just six fishing films that were being broadcast on BBC 2. A Passion For Angling. Eleven million other people like Joe and his family were also watching. Never before or since has a fishing program had such a broad appeal.

On that Sunday in late 1993 young Joe sat agog at the images. The episode Midwinter Madness was on and Bob James had just caught a massive Roach by a weed rack spanning the river Kennet. Chris Yates arrives and shines a torch on the fish in the half-light, its massive flank reflected back to the camera. It's one of the most iconic sequences in angling history. Joe was fixated. His granddad reassures him that one day he too would catch a roach like that.

30 years later and in Joe's own words........

"I'd resisted the urge to go straight down there, I still couldn't believe I was actually within touching distance, I decided to leave it in my imagination just a bit longer. After lunch it was time, time to head to a spot that had been ingrained in my mind since childhood.

I took a few sharp intakes of breath and followed Phil downstream. At first the little hut you see on the film came into view, then the weed rack. To most that would be all it is but to me it was my whole fishing world all rolled into one place and memories of my granddad came flooding in. I just stood there and took it all in, I was actually there.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say I've watched the weed rack scene hundreds of times. Yet here I was, it was all mine. I closed my eyes and saw Chris Yates running right by me with a flashlight while Bob shouted excitedly for him. I'm not religious at all but at that moment I opened my eyes, looked up to the heavens and hoped my grandad was looking down on me feeling proud."

...

Joe taking it all in.

So, there we were. Joe does a marvellous job of explaining the significance of the place. A spot none of our little fishing group thought we would ever be present at. We'd enquired about going before and the answer was a firm no. A private trout stretch, out of bounds to the likes of us. Whatever sport or pastime you are involved in imagine a culturally important place you can never go to and then totally out of the blue you get the nod. It was all down to one man, who frustratingly for you will remain nameless. Just to increase your annoyance his name is actually in that last sentence. In all seriousness I'm not even sure I should be talking about it but hey ho. It's just me and you and I'm sure you'll be discreet.

I actually fished the weed rack first and to be honest was in a bit of a tizz. I'd walked past some lovely looking other spots and wanted to fish them all, all at once and it scrambled my tiny brain. This was likely to be a once in a lifetime thing. For a while I was like an excited puppy with too many toys charging about wanting to play with all of them. Eventually I wandered off upstream and stumbled across Martin who had already caught a couple of small chub. Just up from him was Nick who was playing something weighty looking, his long float rod hooped over in the distance. As I approached both of us praying for it not to be a trout worked as a nice chub surfaced and was safely netted after a prolonged battle. The passion guys were right in their book when they said Kennet chub seem to fight harder than elsewhere.

That's his happy face. 4lb 10oz

Despite my best efforts I didn't catch anything that morning. We all met for lunch back at the lodge and it became apparent chub were the most likely targets, The roach, dace and grayling we were hoping for were proving very elusive for everyone. In fact I even phoned the river keeper to see if I could go to a different beat for the afternoon. Luckily he didn't answer.

Joe and I walked downstream to the weed rack. After a few photos and some quiet moments of reflection Joe settled directly above the rack. I noticed a bush just above him and sat a short distance above it. I've rewatched the episode and the bush wasn't there thirty years ago. Almost immediately I started getting some interest in my link-legered bread. Over the next couple of hours I had four chub in total. All of them fought like tigers.

4lb 4oz

4lb 9oz

That's a happy face

The swim quietened down a bit but I was still getting the odd indication. I was sure there were still fish to be caught. It was a big feature, large enough to hold plenty more chub. I went down to see Joe who like me, in the morning, hadn't had a bite on the weed rack. I was really keen for him to catch something and on reflection should have got him in my spot earlier. What happened later was even more unfortunate. Anyway Joe went above the bush and I wandered off upstream. I fished three or four more swims to no avail and being late in the day I packed all my gear away satisfied with my lot. I mooched back down to Joe. He sadly hadn't caught anything either.

Bobby had appeared below the weed rack and I went to talk to him for a while before heading back upstream. As I lifted my leg to step onto the rack I stopped, hanging for a moment like the worlds most ridiculous looking flamingo. I was standing, albeit on one leg, at probably the most famous river spot in modern history. I'd likely never be back and there's still daylight I thought, talking myself into having one last go. I retreated from the waters edge and shouted to Joe to ask if he was coming back. He was going to sit it out where he was.

I unpacked my rods from the quiver and put them together. It didn't take long and I placed a bit of flake by the rack and pondered what to do with the second. I knew from float fishing earlier that below Joe's bush (easy now) was a deep scour in the river bed. I flipped a bit of flake there the line ended up almost going straight down from the tip such was the depth. Within seconds it sprang back and I was into a good fish. I saw it and sure enough it was a big chub. It dived down and found a snag, a big branch I hadn't seen all day but one a wily resident chub was obviously very familiar with. Having not even set a net up I shouted for Joe to bring his down which he kindly did. After a bit of a faff and with Joe's invaluable help I finally netted my biggest chub of the day, totally different to the others, wide across the back and deep bellied.

5lb 15oz

Amazingly despite the commotion I then added another of around 4lb before it really was time to depart. Joe was immensely pragmatic about the situation and said even if he had gone back to that spot he wouldn't have cast to where I did. Even so I tempered my euphoric mood on the long walk back to the car park. To be fair he didn't need consolation, he was just happy to be there. His grandad really would be proud of him.

Day two saw myself and Nick travel to a different beat while the others fished the venues visited the day before. Numbers were limited so we were in rotation. The stretch we ended up on was perhaps the most spectacular. Carriers criss-crossed a beautiful Capability Brown designed landscape in all directions and as far as the eye could see. We both started off at the top of the beat in the weir pool and carrier. It was tricky to fish the turbulent water so I soon headed back towards the deeper water near the cars, leaving Nick to explore the carrier.

The keeper arrived and I tried to glean as much information as possible. He told me of some potential perch spots but also told me of a likely chub spot. Apparently in the warmer months he feeds the trout from a nearby bridge and the chub would also come up for the pellets. Tame chub? Even I could catch one of those I thought as I gathered my gear together and headed for the bridge.

Link-legered bread was again the tactic and it wasn't long before I had my first chub in the net. A modest one but nice all the same. I quickly added two more chub before the trout took over. Not wanting to catch them I wandered off to try and find some perch.

4lb 9oz

5lb 7oz

A quick phone call to Nick revealed he'd also caught a chub of 5lb 7oz too, on the float though so it didn't count. Only joking, remarkable coincidence though.

Over the next couple of hours I walked about two miles. One of the supposed perch spots was right at the very bottom of the beat, another on a carrier in the far distance in the opposite direction. Neither produced any perch. I've always said they are one of the easiest fish to catch but one of the hardest to find. Bloody things. I had a couple more chub on the way back to the car, I should have just fished for them the whole time. After a heavy night at the hotel the night before by 2pm we were both shattered and departed for home.

Two in two casts. Biggest one probably mid 4.

Many of the other SHUKers also had a great weekend. I can't mention them all and apologies to anyone I've left out but here are a few highlights.

Darren Clarke with the best of six fish

Andy Shaw with one of a few fish for him

Martin Hooper said Chub pictures could be most deceiving.
James Hunt with a massive looking 5lb 3oz

Martin Barnatt with a 5lb 1oz

Nate Green with a magnificent 6lb

Oh and Joe did finally get one from the bush swim on day two. He was made up.

Insanity

"Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results."

Around this time last year I came across a photograph of a rather large pike. 25 or 26 pounds. Nothing nationally remarkable but a very worthy local target and I recognised it as the secret river. Almost everyone knows where it is now. It's a chalkstream in Lincolnshire. That narrows it down somewhat for the inquisitive. Anyway with the price of fuel and the presence of such a large fish locally it would make a nice little winter campaign. Or so I thought.

My first visit for the pike was over Christmas with our friend Nate Green. The weather was atrocious and this limited our otherwise mobile approach. Luckily we found a productive area early on and we caught nine pike between us. Up to around 10lbs for Nate and a 15lb 10oz example for me.

Blurry in the driving rain

A great start

I don't really know how many pike I caught from there during January and February. It was a lot. Amazingly I never bettered that 15 pounder caught on the first visit. Lots of low doubles to 14lb and even more smaller than that. I was catching every time but the really big ones avoided me, if they are still there. I had a few perch too, the biggest maybe a mid two pounder but nothing like the numbers or size present just a few years ago. I began not to enjoy it, I had many 'last attempts' and the results were always the same. Maybe next year.

I tried the Witham again, first with Leo and then Nick for very limited returns. The fish had dispersed from their early winter grounds and we failed to locate them in any numbers.

By the last week of the season I bit the bullet and put some fuel in the car and headed over to the Trent. It was a last minute decision so I didn't actually get there till mid afternoon. That still left plenty of time though and I had a couple of nice chub, again on the flake.

4lb 6oz

5lb 5oz

Two days later I was back with Dave Owen and Nick. Driving through a blizzard I was pleasantly surprised to see the river in fine condition, still plenty clear enough for my tactics. A couple of hours later it had risen and coloured up and none of us caught anything all day.

With the Trent out of bounds for the last few days of the season I ventured over to the Bain which had risen and dropped in short order. The first afternoon was pretty good. I had four chub, two on bread and two on steak. The roach were a pest on the bread, a brilliant sign for the river but no good when targeting chub.

4lb 12oz

With the roach seemingly active I went back to have a go for them. Typically I caught a chub. I did get a roach too though, a lovely fish of 1lb 6oz.

A nice finish to the end of the season

Our friends

If you're going through a lean spell then don't panic. We had to stop Nate Green piling up all his tackle and setting fire to it such were his paltry early winter returns for a lot of effort and enthusiasm. Then in a matter of weeks his luck took a massive turn. It started with his 6lb chub from the Kennet. Then he went and caught these.....