From The Jaws of Defeat ( Again )

We rolled up at the port at Harwich, thirteen miles from home. Passports checked and then we were pulled over by customs for first time ever.

Obviously Because Bully was with me. Bloke ruffled through the van and found my filleting knives. He said it technically illegal , read Stena's terms and conditions.  I said it's a filleting knife. For the kitchen.

Yes, he said, he knew that because it had a fish picture on the sheath. Genius.

He then found Bully's fishing knife which he confiscated. No little fish on the sheath you see. No point arguing. 

In the morning we arrived at Hellevoetsluis, where the Haringfliet meets the Voorne canal, a known hot-spot for roach and bream in the spring. Unfortunately, only the bream seemed to have turned up and we struggled with just a few bream, a monster hybrid and an ide.

We set off the next morning to the Waal, a spot I'd wanted to try for a while. A nice park up in the countryside, surrounded by lakes and wildlife. Perfect.

Turning up somewhere new this time of year can be difficult.  Are the fish present, are they feeding and more worryingly has the snow melt from the alps that the Rhine / Waal suffers from started yet ?

I leaded about. The depths varied massively.  One side of the first crib it was three feet, the other side eighteen to twenty five feet. We chose the deep side but within a few minutes I was twitchy. I've always done better on this river in deaths of five to ten foot.

I eventually found an area that looked about right and moved my gear round and started fishing. Forty five minutes later, nothing, but first cast from worm to corn and the tip jabbed round. Missed !

Next cast same. A cracking roach of 1.5lb, followed by fish on the next five casts.

I called Bully and told him to get his arse round here now.

He did and first cast he snapped off, breaking not only his line but his quiver tip. He sat there in his chair staring into space. Not a time for piss taking.

It went dead and two hours later I asked Bully if he wanted a go for zander in the evening.

"Well, I'm not gonna do this all day" he grumpily said.

A few minutes later, his tip went round and he was into a cracking roach of about a pound and a half. Then another, quickly followed by a much bigger fish. I waded out to net it and saw a clonking rudd and scooped it first time.

2lb 11 oz !

It got better. Next cast he was in again. A roach. An enormous roach.

3lb 5oz. Three pounds five ounces. THREE POUNDS FIVE OUNCES.

My turn next. Tip dropped back, an obviously big roach, jag, jagging away. I gazed in the net to see another giant. 

3lb 2oz. Happy ? Just a bit.

From then on we caught fish on and off until we packed up. Mostly around the pound,a few smaller ones and another big one for me of 2lb 2oz.

A curry in the van was demolished,  followed by a celebratory drink or two.

I wonder what will happen tomorrow ?

Road Trip

Season finished, onward to spring and summer adventures. 

I'm packing the Hymer at the moment for the first trip away this year. Over to the Hook of Holland on the night ferry for a week fishing with Bully.

He's been warned about taking too much gear on multiple occasions, so may not be granted access to the camper if he does not obey. I, on the other hand, can take what I want.

Feeders anyone ?

20 pints of cooked seed and hemp, 25 kg of brown crumb and forty tins of sweetcorn for starters. 

No need to go mad as they do have tackle shops in Europe ! Probably fishing the river Waal, Lek, a couple of canals and a very large water near the port, but we'll see how it goes and make it up as we go along.

The forecast seems to be reasonable,  but in March you could get anything, so fingers crossed.

I've no idea what we'll catch. We've got feeder and float gear, lure rods, so armed for almost anything. 

A big roach or perch would ge nice and maybe some zander, but we'll see. Can't wait.

Making Hay

Yesterday, me and The Chubmeister General recorded another podcast, this time "live on the bank" of the local river, on a very deep, slow stretch.

We chucked a couple of rods out and pressed record. Some local kids came by with their lure rods and told us what they'd been catching. One of them had just had a cracking pike, well over 10lb, on a ten inch soft lure. A swimbait I think he called it. It was great to see young kids on their bikes and out on the bank getting into their fishing.

We heard tawny owls, saw a barn owl and surprise surprise, an otter, working the far bank. 

We saw a couple of decent fish splash, rather than roll, just as it got dark. Chub, I said. TCG was not convinced. 

After we'd finished the pod, TCG cast a lump of his new prawn based paste out and ten minutes later, the quiver pulled over and he was in.

He hustled it into the net and we gazed down at an absolutely massive chub.

It went 6lb 12oz and TCG was like dog with two dicks. Understandably so !

Today, I headed to see Baz on his local river.

No sign of him, so I had a cast on a big bend, with a raft and adjacent slack water. Couple of swan shot cast upstream , right next to a raft and a bit of flake on the hook. No free offerings.

After a minute a drop back. I whacked it and the rod bent double. It felt very heavy and was jagging viscously. I had a horrible premonition of losing it and that's exactly what happened. 

I was gutted. I knew it was a very big chub.

Two swims further downstream were baited with dead maggots and sweetcorn and left for a couple of hours to settle.

The first swim produced nothing, but in the second the tip was showing indications, probably liners, from the minute the feeder went in. The tip eventually went round and this time all went solid. Stuck on the bottom? No, it was moving, very slowly. It was very, very heavy and the 12 foot IM8 Quiver groaned.

Bazza scooped it up first time, 21lb 5oz of pristine river carp.

That'll do nicely, even if it wasn't a 6lb chub.

I saw several fish roll, but no further bites were forthcoming and as the fog came down I walked back to the car reflecting on an eventful and productive day.

Just Down The Road

Van in for MOT and I'd left all my tackle in it too. Cobbled together some bits and pieces, including a ridiculous landing net with a one foot handle and, most importantly, a bucket of mash.

Travelling ultra light I walked the two or so miles to the river, along quiet footpaths, away from the madding crowd.

Half dozen swims were baited with a generous helping of mash and first cast in a "banker" swim the tip dropped back. Missed of course.

For the next couple of hours I had bites in almost all the swims, some hit and some missed, ending up with five decent 

chub to around 4lb.

At dusk, the rain clouds gathered, so I packed up and headed back through the mud and puddles, with the sound of geese and wildfowl calling from the floodplains.

Land of the Giants

Barry the Mullet Man text me about 08.00, saying he'd had an 8lb 4oz bream and a 5lb 13oz chub in the first hour. What a start.

The river he was fishing is in my self imposed "exclusion zone" and I've only fished it twice in my life. The reason for this is my absolute hatred of the drive there, only forty minutes, but along the worst road in the world.

Come down and see me said Bazza. I "ooooh'd" and "arrrr'd" and by the time I'd decided to go it was midday.

I text him. "Where are you?"

"A bit further upstream" he said.

I walked and walked. No sign of him. Nothing.

No matter. I selected a couple of likely looking breamy spots, a slow, straight, deep stretch with far side cover and deposited seed, dead maggots and corn with the feeder. Not much though, maybe four or five small feeder fulls.

I tackled up with my "catch anything" rig              ( anything decent that is ) of 8lb line, size 10 Guru super strong hook, worm hookbait and a very small cage feeder. That would give me chance of a bream, chub, perch or even a rogue carp. In theory anyway.

First swim, no activity,  so after half hour I moved into next one. Couple of rattles, looked like small chub to me. Re baited, more small rattles, so I struck, whereupon the clutch shrieked and a very powerful fished surged downstream, towards some far bank snags.

Piling on the pressure, I turned it and gained some control. It could only be one thing, a carp. After a few minutes plodding around I netted it, an immaculate common of around 20lb. I say "around 20lb" as my batteries in the scales were flat.

I know, schoolboy error.

Whatever, it was a clonking fish.

I rebaited, left it a while and next cast had a decent chub. That'll do.

By now it was getting dark and still no sign of Bazza. More texts, no reply. 

Just as dark was descending a made out a headlight. There he was.

" I walked a bit further that I intended" he said.

You don't say ? 

A really enjoyable day with some cracking fish.

The other two blokes fishing both had very big fish, one a 6.10 chub and the other a 22lb pike. 

Blimey, you don't get that on my local river.

Let There Be Light

Up at six, walked down stairs without the light on....what's going on ? Poked my head out the door. Not cold. Clear sky. Dry.

Quick cup of tea, boots on, out the door for a walk. It was like a heavy, grey veil had been lifted after months of depressing nothingness.

Colour returned, the birds were singing and General Winter was on his way out. Good riddance.

Five hours later I was home, having bagged fifty seven bird species, including a pair of bullfinchs, something I've not seen for ages.

I was "buzzing" (copyright da yoof).

Lunch in the garden. Boiled eggs done perfectly. 

Finished the day on the little noddy rod at the local river catching bleak, perch, roach, a hybrid and three ruffe. Lovely.

First day of spring and one that'll be hard to beat.

Social

Met up with Bureboi Baines on Monday for a session on the local river.

Mild as forecast and the river looked lovely, if a little pacey.

Wak was shocked when he looked in the back of my van at what he felt was a lack of order and cleanliness. Looked alright to me.

Still a bit of water on the flood plains, Wak gingerly manoeuvred himself through the deeper bits and started off in a "banker" swim. A nice chub on the quiver quickly followed.

I, on the other hand found trotting extremely difficult and after an hour had a break.

After putting the world to rights, specifically on VAR ( get rid ) and Mandleson ( ditto ), trotting commenced, resulting in three nice chub.

Also found a dead cormorant, congratulations to the otter or whatever killed it.

Before Waaaak made his long drive home, I gave him a very tasty wrap from said van. An hour later I had a text saying he was eating the wrap and narrowly avoided getting a mouthful of an escaped brandling . Maybe it does need a clean.