Winter 2022/23

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.....

23lb 2oz pike
 

30lb 1oz carp

2lb grayling

The rest....

Mike Lyddon 6lb 10oz Chub

Dai Gribble 17lb 2oz Zander

Andy Shaw 7lb 2oz chub

Bobby Brookes Trent Zander

Photos

A lucky few at the Kennet

Amazing place

Blending in

Nick in action

Refuelling

Contact- shukphil@gmail.com

Till next time..........

Winter 2021. Spring/Summer/Autumn 2022

 A refreshing dip

Last week I was pike fishing on a local river. Having rained for much of the day the river was rising and the flow increasing hour by hour. I'd taken my umbrella though so remained satisfyingly dry. The rain eventually stopped and as ever I started to get itchy feet. A short distance upstream I found a few small fish in a slack on the far bank. I was pretty sure perch were attacking them. I returned a short while later with my float rod, some worms and big pike net. I crouched down on some flattened near-bank reeds with the main flow right by my feet.

Sure enough I was soon expertly playing a decent Perch. I drew it into the reeds to hand it out as I didn't want to have to unfurl it from the folds of my cavernous pike net. As I leant down to pick out the fish my balance shifted slightly and I put my hand down to stop myself toppling over. As my hand went onto the reeds they instantly parted and my arm shot into the cold, muddy torrent followed by much of the rest of me. A brief panicked melee ensued and by the time I'd removed myself from the water the Perch had somehow ended up in the net anyway. My fishing wife for the day Nick was mortified he hadn't witnessed the carnage. I fished on, wet but somewhat revitalised by the experience.

Catching up

After reminding myself not to leave it so long last time, it's been even longer this time. In my defence I needed a new laptop which I'm writing to you on now. You owe me for it obviously, no doubt you'll lavish me with cash when our paths cross. Some highlights from last year...

Winter 2021/2022 

Trent perch 3lb 1oz

Back a week later with Alfie Naylor, best of a multiple perch/pike catch between us.

Lincolnshire river 3lb 13oz perch. Taken second cast of the day on a TRD, caught nothing else of note from there the rest of the winter.

Lincolnshire drain. 3lb 6oz perch on my first visit, again nothing else of note on multiple return trips.

Nate Green always visits from a distant Kent at Christmas. Here with an expertly caught 5lb 10oz Chub from the river Bain right at the end of an otherwise uneventful day.

I know that place!

Scrolling through my news feed on Facebook one night I came across a picture of a chap with some rather large roach. Ever the opportunist I thought I recognised the venue and so I should have done, it turned out to be in my village. Something wasn't quite right though. From experience I knew most of the fish weren't true roach but hybrids. I studied the photo again. He was holding one that looked about right but the others laid on the unhooking mat in front of him were dubious. Only one way to find out I thought and rather than fish from the almost suicidally steep banks I lobbed my boat in. They certainly weren't put off by it and I caught some magnificent fish on trotted bread. Not one of them was a true roach. 

2lb 9oz was the biggest and I had several 2's. They look suspicious as soon as you see them, mouth and fins not quite right to be true roach but lovely to catch regardless.

I was still catching a few pike all winter. Modest fish to mid double-figures, either on my own or with.....

....our old friend Benidorm Dave, 

The back end of the river season was spent chasing chub, unsuccessfully for the most part. Not for my mate Nick though who caught a really remarkable fish. Like me he endured plenty of blanks and missed bites but joined the uber exclusive Lincolnshire 7lb club. That's as much of his secret I'm giving away.

Spring 2022

Every year I have a few very half-hearted goes at trying to catch a catfish. Night fishing isn't really my thing but this year I was aided by some mates from work- twins Zak and Josh. Avid carp anglers I joined them at a local lake for a few sessions. They fished for carp and I fished for cats and carp. I did catch a few of the latter but nothing massive. The cats proved allusive though.

The chaos twins, hogging the facilities

On one memorable night, just after dark eventually my cat rod alarm rang out. I'd caught a few rogue pike on squid but as soon as I lifted into this fish I knew it wasn't one of those. Luckily both brothers were there to help and they wound in my other rods and readied the net. Even with 50lb braid the fight was fairly fraught and I basically just held on for dear life until it got fed up. It's difficult to put into words because for most of the fight I was just praying it didn't come off or get snagged. After what seemed like an age the boys finally netted it for me, I can't remember which one but give me a break, they're virtually the same person. Joking aside that shared moment of your mates being pleased for you and the elation of finally catching something significant by design is one I'll never tire of. 

37lb 8oz Catfish, handily impressive for when any non-fisherman friends ask what the biggest fish I've ever caught is. 

Other than a few carp I spent most of the spring trout fishing at the excellent Withern Mill. I even tempted my friend Nick out of fly fishing retirement to have a go despite his protestations about having a bad back. I caught loads of trout, mainly rainbows from the lakes but had a few brownies from the river too. A lovely way to spend a few hours.

Nick in action

A few of us also had our annual Ide fishing trip, which if truth be told I'm a bit hopeless at. They swim around with hundreds of ravenous carp you see. Very frustrating trying to pick them out.

For the first time ever I can't actually remember the weight. 3lb something I reckon

Richie Martin had the best of the day at an impressive 5lb 1oz

Summer 2022

The drains and rivers of Lincolnshire tend to be smaller and shallower than the proper fens further south. As such they can get pretty much choked with weed. With the exceptionally warm conditions we experienced this year the weed seemed to be as bad as I can ever remember.

The river Steeping, totally unfishable.

There's an almost scripted calendar proper specimen hunters stick too. Early summer for most means Rudd. Fortunately a few friends were catching some really nice ones that were in my range for a visit. I took Nick up on his kind offer of a lift to a venue he'd already been to a couple of times. We arrived to find an almost arrow-straight drain, impressively wide and deep, thankfully almost completely free from weed. 

We both headed downstream and soon found small pockets of fish, visible just under the surface, some quite large ones too. Being a newbie I struggled for the first hour or so but after making a few mistakes and the loan of a heavy, stumpy float I sussed it out. They were mostly on the far bank and the odd one I did find close-in were super shy, even with a free-lined bait. Loosefeeding didn't seem to make much difference to the likelihood of tempting one either. My first fish was in a group of three fish milling about on the far bank. I didn't feed anything and just made a speculative cast towards them. One of them grabbed the bread almost instantly. It went 2lb 1oz, a lovely start. 

After walking a good couple of miles in the searing heat I was beginning to flag somewhat but the promise of stumbling across something special kept me going. Indeed I did see a really big fish that was frustratingly hanging around a far bank staging that I just couldn't reach. Later in the day though I struck lucky. It too was out of range and I must have had six or seven casts at it before it took pity on my efforts and swam over to swallow my bait.

The best one of the day- 2lb 6oz

Sea round up

Despite my relative rudd success I didn't go back because at the start of the summer the sea always takes priority. I was really keen to better my 13lb Smoothhound PB and had several trips out in my small inflatable trying. As usual I caught plenty but sadly no really big ones. Fish to 11lb were great fun though. Even the smaller ones are able to strip 30lb braid from the reel and fight all the way to the boat.  

Such experiences are always better shared and I had a couple of great trips out with Zak and Josh from work too. 

Zak with one of several that day, including rays, whiting and bass.

Myself with a modest example

Rays were abundant this year, often catching more of them than hounds

Zak's twin brother Josh

Braver than his brother who wouldn't hold the prickly rays

Despite some very hot weather the summers hound prospects were actually pretty poor, offshore winds roughing the sea up for weeks on end. The opportunities to catch them soon whittled away and all the gear put away for another year. There's always something else to do though and although not as productive as usual I bothered a few caravan park carp on the float.

22lb 4oz

With it being too hot for most of the summer I only went barbel fishing twice, both times with Josh who was keen to get his first river barbel.

I failed miserably to catch the target species although I did get a few chub

On our first trip Josh waited patiently and kept plugging away, feeding and re-casting finally to be rewarded with a 9lb 12oz beauty. 

That just about rounds up the summer action but I did have a few early perch trips

3lb 2oz from a short window when the Witham was free from weed

Oh I nearly forgot. Bear with me. For a few years now I'd been meaning to visit a commercial reasonably close to home that had a history of throwing up the very occasional big perch. I'm talking genuine 4lb+. I was probably a bit late to the party but everywhere else must have been fishing pretty terribly for me to finally have a go. 

I went with Zak, also keen to catch a decent perch and he'd come with just the right man, or had he? I fished with two float presented lobworms, one in the margins and one in open water. The margin one produced an eel in the first couple of hours. Zak was catching some tiny perch from the edge of his swim while my open water bait had produced nothing. Not a tap.

I must have recast it around a dozen times during the afternoon, spraying maggots around and generally trying to create a bit of activity. On my last cast I set my rod down to fire in some maggots and it ripped off the bank almost immediately, disappearing far faster than my reactions into the murky water. A carp must have taken the worm on the drop, along with one of my beloved perch rods. More importantly I couldn't have a fish towing that around so after much consternation and despite not having a clue where it was, I had to go in. 

Shameful, but ultimately no harm done. 

Autumn 2022

I had a rather fraught feature for Improve Your Coarse fishing where I really struggled to find any decent perch locally. Just the day before I had a 2lb 13oz fish from the venue in question which was new to me....

A week or so later I met up with our old friend Martin Barnatt for our yearly visit to the south of the county. Strangely enough we couldn't fish in our usual spot due to someone being bivvied up on the river for days at a time. Martin assured me he'd found somewhere to fish further downstream. In fact he'd had numbers of perch to 3lb 6oz a few days before. 

In essence the river is wide and featureless. I was pleased to see a few bait fish dimpling in our chosen spot though when we arrived. To cut a long story short I had a disaster. Martin couldn't stop catching perch all morning, some good ones too. Despite fishing above and below him at much the same range with the same tactics I could barely buy a bite. It was bordering on ridiculous. In fact, looking back now it was. I still can't really fathom it. 

Martin with two perch from the tightest shoaled perch in the world

Luckily for me Martin started to get pestered with small fish and being the host suggested we might have time to try elsewhere on the way home. It was a venue I was familiar with and I was slightly disappointed to find the first spot we stopped at lifeless. A match angler confirmed our fears by informing us he hadn't had a bite in two hours. Upon arrival at the second spot I instantly saw some fry priming in the water. That'll do I thought. Indeed it did. Ten minutes later I rescued the day with a reasonable specimen.

A very welcome 2lb 13oz perch on a tough day

A day with Dave on another river produced lots of Pike between us. This 15lb 10oz fish the best of the bunch

I had a perch that day too. Unbelievably it was also 2lb 13oz. 

Nick and I had agreed to meet locally to try for both perch and pike. I took my boat and we were soon afloat. Nick caught a perch almost straight away, I'm almost embarrassed to write this as you'll never believe it- it was 2lb 13oz. He took it from some structure a fair distance away so I decided to move the boat closer. On striking the engine up I heard a strange noise. It turned out to be the drag on my reel and as I looked down to the side of the boat my dropshot rod was bent double eventually snapping clean in half before I'd had the chance to shut the engine off. 

A Favorite White Bird, my favourite dropsot rod. 

It turned out my rig had become entangled around the propeller, ripping the braid from my reel. When I finally untangled it all there wasn't anymore perch in that spot anyway. Then on the way back to pick up a spare rod Nick was loaning me I dropped my new vape in the river. Not a good start. Pretty terrible in fact, I really liked that rod.

For the next couple of hours we drifted and motored about trying to find some fish to no avail. In the end we went to a spot neither of us had any joy from before, just out of curiosity really. Amazingly we caught a couple of small perch so we anchored up. What happened next proved to be fairly significant.

Nick hooked a decent perch, probably just under 2lb and a Pike absolutely torpedoed it on the way in. The pike weighed 17lb 8oz and the perch swam off seemingly uninjured. With the pike returned to sulk upstream the perch really came out to play and we started to catch on every drop down.

There's a famous sports psychologist that explains something called the beat. A period in an activity where everything becomes almost effortless. I've experienced it when I was swimming regularly, runners experience it all the time. A sort of serenity where every action becomes automatic. Without wanting to sound like a wanker I've experienced a few times when I have a big shoal of perch in front of me, lost fish and missed bites become distant memories and I hook and land every one. I had ten that were comfortably over 2lb and two that weighed 3lb 2oz. Nick caught plenty too but sadly the 3s evaded him. 

3lb 2oz

3lb 2oz

As a brace

Final word

Looking back it's been a good year. I've really enjoyed my time with my friends, none in particular, I'm not fussy, they're all my favourites. Two of them, Nick and Benidorm Dave I met through this blog so it's only right I keep it going (and they pay for my laptop). Thanks for reading. 

Till next time....