The Fishing Shed

Well, it's the garage actually. New, ultra bright lights put in so my old man's eyes can see when I'm rig tying

More heavy duty hooks so as much stuff as possible is off the ground, I hate clutter.

Note the luxury chair that Dicky Boy gave me. Far to heavy for me to take fishing but great for loafing in the cave with the music on.

Talking of music, we had a night out in da big town last week to see The Bug Club last week. Photo courtesy of Lobby who was there with Janet. Great musicians and an enjoyable evening. 

The old book case been moved into the garage too. Maps, old magazines and books to peruse at leisure. I might not be so keen in the middle of January though.

Very quick go down the river last night after the rain ( almost) stopped. Bit slow, two bass and a great sunset.

Time for some different fishing very soon I think.

Filling Me Boots

Poking about in the cave this week produced some old fishing magazines dating back to 1978.

Coarse Angler, Coarse Fisherman,  Rod Hutchinson catalogues from the early 80s and plenty of classic fishing books too.

John Bailey's Travels With A Two Piece, Reflections From The Water's Edge and several others before he started doing generic old crap just for da money.

This week on the tidal river has been perhaps the most productive of the year. The mullet and bass are about in big numbers and are feeding well too.

I've fished in between jobs much of the time, just an hour or two at a time. On the flip side, although the sessions have been short I've fished almost every day and caught well each time.

Yesterday was interesting.  I went to a mark further down river and thought I'd try the last two hours of the ebb. Despite trying several different lures I failed to get a take in the ten minutes or so that I tried.

On went a ragworm on the light spinning rod and almost immediately the rod whacked over and bass number one was on its way to the shore.

It was a big tide and went down a very long way leaving just a few inches of water in the channel, but the bass kept coming. 

On one occasion I was holding the rod when the fish hit the bait with such ferocity that the clutch was screaming before I'd struck.

On the "last cast" over proper slack water I had a weird, slow bite, before pulling in to the fish but ended up hooked on the bottom.  Then          ( cliche alert ) the bottom started moving. A flash of mottled brown as the fish came to life and shot off down river. What the hell was it ?

It revealed itself....a thornback ray of 5lb or so. First one I've caught this far up the river and in ridiculously shallow water, certainly no more than eighteen inches maximum. 

I packed up after that, seven decent bass and the ray in less than two hours on light gear is a decent result in anyone's book I reckon.

The Hunger -October 2025

It's 11 October.

There are enormous numbers of mullet in the river at the moment. It's staggering.

The bass have disappeared. Ive a feeling it's down to these monstrous tides, but we'll see if that theory holds water when the tides reduce in a few days. This morning there were mullet in the margins as far as the eye could see. Thousands of them.

The weather is pretty much perfect. No wind, mild and cloudy ( sunshine is fine too ).

The fish were feeding hard, I was in the right place, but only hooked one fish, which came off almost immediately. That's partial success.

Just as I was about to pack up I saw a group of three or four absolutely massive fish. By this time the water had coloured up, so I couldn't see clearly, but I could see well enough to see they were.....I'd guess no less than 6lb and more likely well over 7lb. Maybe even bigger.

My hunger is off the scale at the moment and seeing those giants merely added fuel to the fire.

I'd love to get a monster.

I'm having another go tomorrow. 

What Do We Know ?

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns- the ones we don't know we don't know"

Donald Rumsfeld

I doubt The Don was an angler, but this is how I'd describe what's going on down the local river at the moment. 

The more I fish, the more I realise I understand very little about what's going on.

At the weekend I fished a reliable mark at a good state of the tide with surface and subsurface lures without a touch. 

I'd got some ragworm in the car and thought I'd try them on a float. Fifteen minutes later I'd landed five sizeable bass in the same spot as I'd been thrashing away with the lures. I was surprised to say the least.

Last week I saw the biggest shoals of feeding mullet I've seen in a very long while. I would have bet a hefty sum that I'd have one or two.

Not a touch, despite having feeding fish all over the flies. 

Yesterday I tried a tiny piece of maddie on a size 14 hook for the mullet, that were feeding a foot out in six to eight inches of water.

After a five minutes I  hooked in to a fish that bolted out in to deeper water. It surfaced and I saw it was a decent bass. The tiny hook was wedged nicely in the jaw, but really, I didn't expect bass to be feeding in ultra shallow water in the middle of a sunny day.

As I say, I now know I know nothing, whereas a few years ago I didn't know I knew nothing.

Thanks Don.

Two Days

Two visitors this week, Bully and The Chubmeister General. 

Bully was determined to get a mullet before they departed for the winter and by chance picked a perfect day, calm, mild and hazy.

I was working in the morning but when I finally got down to see him I saw a rod bent double and an old bloke with a smile on his face. He'd wangled one out on a brandling on the fly rod.

We moved down river to another mark and waited for the tide to flood. I'd got the fly rod, confident of a take at least. The mullet arrived on cue, hundreds of them packed in to a tight area. I totally failed to get a response on the fly but Bully's brandling worked its magic again as he hooked in to what was obviously a very good fish.

It gave him a fantastic fight on the fly rod, until I eventually scooped it up in the net. A real beauty of 4lb 4oz.

He was chuffed, a reward for persistence and the hour plus drive he has to make each time he tries. 

Next day TCG joined me, with all his shiny new camera gear, to make a film. We walked a fair way upriver for a recce, lots of birdlife and I took him to where I'd caught the big carp. Sure enough, sitting in the reeds, in a few inches of water were five carp. There were mullet mixed in with them too.

It was dull and breezy, the weathermen had yet again failed to cover themselves in glory.

I had a couple small bass on the surface lure in the first ten minutes, then a much better fish, which unfortunately threw the hooks after a few seconds.

The mullet appeared. I couldn't get a take.

By this time it was a bit grim, duller by the minute. 

A move downstream. Mullet soup. Loads of them. 

I failed.

That is all.

Chaos on the Mud

Lots of short smash and grab sessions this week.

Several good quality bass, some off the top and a few sub surface. These fish are in tip top condition right now.

Yesterday, I had a beautiful fish on the popper in the morning and also had several hits that missed the lure.

With that in mind I went back this morning to try and catch a few more. As usual, I took a lure rod and fly rod.

If I see feeding mullet I always go for them, as they're a bit less predictable and more difficult than the bass, so you need to have a go whenever the opportunity arises.

Today, several fish were milling about in an ultra shallow bay, but not enough for a concerted effort. I had a break and looked a hundred yards downstream to the mud pit of doom.

This is an area of extremely soft, algae covered  mud that the mullet absolutely love. It is extremely difficult to stand, let alone walk in, but needs must.

There were some very big fish patrolling a foot or so out, fins and backs out. The cast was good and I didn't have to wait long before the indicator slid away and a fish was on.

I went to move towards the waters edge and managed to leave one of my wellies in the mud. My sock and one trouser leg were immediately covered in sloppy estuary mud, all the way up to the knee.

The fish thrashed madly, right on the edge of the mud, beaching itself ( this happens alot ). I went to grab it, it saw me coming ( yes, really ) and managed to get back in the water, speeding out towards the far bank. It looked massive, I was thinking upper five, maybe six pounds.

Despite the chaos, I eventually netted it, to great relief. Covered in mud, wet, but very happy.

It went 4lb 12oz, but looked much bigger to me, a real corker.

I went home after that, even I'm not daft enough to fish with one boot on.

A mad hour, lots of fun and a quality fish. 

I'm definitely having another go tomorrow,  some of those mullet were huge. 

Making Hay

As Waaak Baines always says.

Well, it's certainly getting colder, as you'd expect for the end of September. North westerly wind, nippy first thing in the morning. 

For the last couple of weeks we've suffered from a deluge of cormorants. They work at low water, in groups of ten to twenty, strung across river.

I absolutely hate the things, the damage they do is devastating. How long it can go on before they vacate the area to annihilate another place is anyone's guess.

Yesterday, I retired the season's most successful lure, a tiny hard plastic shallow diver, about 5 cm long, bought from Nine Seven Tungsten. They do a great range of lures and the best braid I've used.

Those little lures were the princely sum of £3.50 each and the braid was only a tenner. You can't beat that.

The lure had been repeatedly cast against walls and concrete ( accidentally of course ), the little eyes had come off, the lip was broken, as was a piece at the tail. I must have had in excess of thirty of forty bass on that one lure.

Today I decided to have a go on the ebb for a change. It was late afternoon and had warmed up a bit. Lovely in the sun when sheltered from the wind.

As I was standing on the mud fishing, I heard the sound of stones being thrown around me. 

"Bazza, you twat, I know it's you" 

Silence.

He carried on hiding behind a bush for ten minutes before coming out as I hooked a fish. Just in time to take a photo for me.

I had another one shortly afterwards. As the wind dropped the mullet showed. Time for a go on the baited spinner.

I had some flatworms in the van. I opened the bait box and gagged. They'd been marinating for several days. I just about managed to thread one on the hook without being sick.

First cast a follow. And the next one. And so it went on, but they wouldn't take, until out of the blue one did, right under the rod tip.

A cracking fish to end the session.

I may well have another go tomorrow.  Happy days.