Destination.....Somewhere

The work has finished, and this evening I'm out for drinks and a meal at the best Italian restaurant in East Anglia. 

Today I blitzed an overgrown garden for a customer with customary speed and panache. It's my blog, I can say what I want.

Nobody at the property, so headphones on, music at full volume and I was grooving in the sun as I worked. 

Tony De Vit, Idles, Nick Cave, Mud ( yes, Tiger Feet ), Sleaford Mods, Morrissey, Wreckless Eric, Motorhead to name but a few.

The rake makes a decent air guitar too. Finished before 14.00. Perfect. 

On Monday we're off to somewhere in Europe for a month.

The van is packed. Somehow there are six lure rods, three feeder rods, two float rods, two barbel rods and a light sea rod along with pretty much any bit of tackle I may need.

And a ludicrous amount of lures.

Nothing booked, but the first couple of  days we'll be on the Waal for asp, zander and ide. After that, we'll make it up as we go along.

Probably fish the Lek, maybe the Meuse and definitely want to have a go for the barbel on the Ijssel again.

Then I'm thinking about heading further north. Much further north.

Aswell as fishing we'll be on the bikes every day. Nice cycling somewhere where you're not in danger of getting killed each time you go out.

I'm hoping for four weeks of sunshine and not a drop of rain. Got to settle down sometime hasn't it ?

I'll be blogging as I go.

Don't get too excited.

Midsummer

I heard this on a podcast last week.

" When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me. It still sometimes happens and they ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. 

They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. 

The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don't ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. 

We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting.

We knew we were beneficiaries of chance. That pure chance could be so generous and so kind, that we could find each in the vastness of space and the immensity of time.

The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. 

That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don't think I'll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful. "

Ann Druyan ( Carl Segan's wife )

Take a breath eh ?

I'm sitting in what I call the luxury recliner in the shade right next to the camper.

Its half three on a steaming hot afternoon and a cup of tea and the essential digestive biscuits are by my side.

I'm on the Fens again, on the fringes of that strange area of space, peace and just a little weirdness. It's most certainly not Surrey.

The timing of the trip was unfortunate, it poured down with rain on the days prior to leaving and the land drains were pumping millions of gallons of water in to the river, resulting in tonnes of weed, detritus and suspended silt floating downstream. 

That's my excuse for not catching much.

Me and Bully endured a hot and slow day with just a few bream and one decent rudd between us. That made me realise how successful many of the trips have been in last few years.

I don't really buy the " Its enough just to be here" stuff. It's fantastic to be here but much more fantastic when you catch a few.

The previous evening I'd watched a barn owl catch a vole not twenty years from me. It then flew along my bank, getting closer and closer, until it was almost on top of me. It looked me straight in the eye and bolted off over the flood bank. I've never been that close before. Incredible. 

That same evening I watched the terns diving for fry, a buzzard lazily whirling on the thermals and an otter that surfaced a few yards from the rods. Sometimes you forget these are once in a lifetime ( or never ) experiences for some people.

Yesterday I sat outside the van until midnight, drinking a cider and feasting on cheese and biscuits, basking in the rare warmth of a beautiful July evening. 

OK, sometimes it IS enough just to be there.

Heatwave

Well, a mini heatwave at least. Four days of baking temperatures up to almost thirty degrees in the east of England.

I'm sure one of the red tops will have posted a photo of a packed Brighton beach with "Phew, what a scorcher !" as the headline. Happens every year.

Brits basking ( its always basking, same as anyone drinking or partying are always "revellers"), the Mercury hitting 30C, Met Office warnings, all the clichés coming out. Standby for warnings of  swimming in "rip tides"and Margate being hotter than Madrid.

I spent almost the entire day laying outside the van on the reclining chair, listening to podcasts and audio books. How civilised. I thought I'd wait for the temperature to drop a bit before getting on the river.

Speci Boy was joining me for his first session targeting rudd, so I was hoping for plenty of action and activity.

First swim the floating bread was attacked by hoardes of mostly small fish,  with SB getting off the mark with a nicely conditioned fish of half a pound or so. 

Walking along the raised flood bank, the evening sun giving the wheat fields a beautiful golden glow and the willows starting to cast long shadows over that flat calm river it truly was a perfect evening. 

Well, almost perfect. The mozzies were on the rampage again and I was once again glad of the head net. Looking a plonker is a small price to pay for keeping the bastards at bay.

We found a group of fish that were intermittently feeding, although it was proving difficult to catch one of the better ones, until SB's rod hooped over as he pulled into something bigger. Hustled through the lillies it was soon in the net.

Not a massive fish, but a real beauty and at 1lb 13.5 oz a PB for SB. Job done.

We kept moving and searching and in "The Tree Swim" we saw a extremely large fish bow waving towards the the floating bread.  I so wish we'd have caught it as it was bloody massive. Another time maybe.

I looked up and saw a barn owl quartering the opposite bank not twenty yards away, that unmistakable ghostly vision slowly working its way along the reeds into the distance. We'd seen a kingfisher earlier so a good night on the birds too ( go on, guffaw, pretend it's 1985 ).

We packed up deep into dusk, the starlite glowing, the evening close, warm and silent, the end of a gorgeous day in June.

Summer Here - Official

At last. With a hot, sunny forecast I jumped in the camper and headed into the Fens for some more rudd fishing.

Now, as its been horrible weather since October I'm loathe to complain, but 28 degrees C ? Blimey.

Instead of doing he sensible thing and waiting until it cooled down in the evening I had to have a quick go in the afternoon. I was sweating buckets, contending with flies and covered in stinging nettles, but first cast resulted in a corker of 2lb 3oz. Fanfeckingtastic.

Great start, but things petered out and after a big veggie curry I was back in the evening.

The less said the better. Bream, swans and swarms of ravenous mozzies. It was not pleasant. 

Next morning I was out on recce along the river on the bike. Covered a fair few miles and found some nice spots. Always worth getting out for a scout about along little lanes and backwaters.

Prepped for the evening session I donned a mozzie mask. It isn't my usual expression, honest. I feel obliged to gurn for the camera.

I tried for a tench on the bottom rod, but was breamed out, hefty fish of 5-7lb, but annoying after the first five or six.

Firing bits of bread in and watching for bigger rudd I pulled in to a good fish and hustled it to the net through the lillies. An old warrior of 2lb 6oz.

I had the England Euro bore fest, match number three, against the mighty Slovenia on the radio at very low level while I fished. Its the way to do it, less painful than having to watch.

Later on I hooked a very big fish that came to the surface and then surged away before the hook pulled. Bastard ! 

I thought I'd show you the hideous carbuncle of a float I was using, with a starlite so I could actually see the bites with my Mr Magoo eyes.

It works though. Takes three swan shot and casts well.

They continued feeding until well into dusk with several rudd of 1.5 to just under 2lb ending up in the net.

Plenty of fish but if only I'd have landed that big one. Maybe next time. 

As I write this, I've just got in from another bike ride in the morning sun, having bagged up on PYO strawberries and golden raspberries and a crusty French stick. Coffee is on and I'm just about to pig out.

It ain't just about the fishing

Summer is here. It's light until gone ten, the Euros are on and the Tour De France starts this weekend.

Ave it.

Deep In The Fens

"As a fisherman, you belong to no one"

Dexter Petley.

I was a grumpy sod over the weekend.  We were due to have weekend trip in the camper to a site right in the river, but the forecast was shite so I cancelled.

Sunday I saw that the early part of the week was going to be dry and sunny. Hmm.

What to do ? Sack off work for Monday and Tuesday that's what.

I was the only one at the campsite, total quiet apart from the birds calling, perfect. Kettle on, get the tackle sorted and I'm raring to go.

The river was slightly coloured and flowing harder than normal.  Hardly surprising after all the rain. 

The fishing was quite hard, nowhere near the amount of surface activity that you'd expect, but there were fish to be had with a bit of effort.

I kept mobile and eventually got two cracking rudd over two pounds, with the best at 2lb 6oz, plus a clonking great bream.

They were hard earned fish, lots of walking, stingers, mozzies, flies and worst of all a big hurd of bullocks, which spent most of the evening staring at me and edging as close as they dared. 

The next morning I had a lay in. This is unheard of when I'm in the camper and there's fishing to be had, but Bully was joining me and I decided on a lazy start to the day. Sitting in the sun, radio on, drinking coffee, a very pleasant way to start the day.

We tried a different stretch and had some decent fish. I had an absolutely pristine rudd just over 2lb, several other nice ones and Bully had bream, some nice rudd and lost a tench at the net.

We leant a few things and although they weren't feeding hard, we still had some cracking fish, so a decent start to the season. 

I'm coming back for a longer trip next week, all being well.

Quest For Asp

I'd lost an asp on the first day and had two other hits, but had so far drawn a blank on this particular target, but Im a hungry, determined fecker and was still confident of success.

We dragged ourselves away from what was a perfect riverside campsite in search of another great spot.

The local tackle shop directed me to a place we could park up and fish close to the van. Very nice spot it was too and after a bit of lunch we gave it an hour with one feeder rod out as a "sleeper" and both of us working lures.

It looked good, but not a touch, so we moved on to an absolutely beautiful place in a huge wetland reserve where we got on the bikes and saw spoonbills, two types of egret, kingfishers, cuckoos and enormous amounts of wildfowl. 

After tea I took the lure rod down to the river, carefully avoiding the wild horses and cattle that looked disturbingly like buffalo. 

Walking out to the point where the fast water ran over the croy I put on a long casting "asp lure". They generally like creases where the very fastest water disorientates prey fish.

The river was very coloured, probably six inches visibility. I'm glad I don't know enough about asp to know whether that's good or bad.  I feared the latter.

Before I'd even tackled up I'd seen two eruptions in exactly the same spot as the bait fish were hit on the surface. I was shaking before I'd even cast out. Alas, nothing. Not a touch. 

On went a zander lure and first cast a big fish crashed on to the shad barely two feet from the edge. I still missed it. An enjoyable blank.

You won't be surprised to know I was back the following morning, alternating between asp and zander. Not a touch on the zander lures. I was surprised. 

I kept trying in the fast water but nothing. I'd leave it ten minutes then try again but I was drawing a blank. Then, out of nowhere a fish hit the lure inches beneath the surface. A lot of thrashing and at last I'd got an asp.

It was a real litlun of a little over a pound but I was well pleased. I was keener than ever and ten minutes later an obviously much bigger fish hit the lure with ferocity and the water exploded. Several fast sub surface runs but it was soon in the slack water and heading for the net.

A real beauty of, I'm guessing, 5lb plus. I keep saying "I was well chuffed" but,I was well chuffed !

Back at the van for a celebration breakfast and then on to the next place on the other side of the river for a go. Toodle pip.

The Mighty Waal

What a river the Lek is. I wanted to stay and learn and catch more, but this is a short trip and I'd a couple of other rivers I wanted to fish.

We found a lovely park up by the river Linge. Bogs, electric hook up and fishing right in front of the van. It was pretty, but a bit tame after the Lek and the fishing was slow, with just a few biggish bream saving the day.

The next morning we headed to where I really wanted to go, the Waal. The Dutch call it the Waal but its really a continuation of the Rhine.

We found a great campsite right on the bank of the river. The previous weekend the whole site was under water, a result of heavy rain in Germany a week before.

The owner told me the levels were now "only" up by 2.5 metres !

The croys ( groynes ) that go out into the river 100-150 yards were covered by the water, but no matter they created slacker areas and it was fishable. You just had to find a snag free area that contained fish.

It's difficult to describe how fecking huge the Waal is. It must be 800-1000 yards wide  where we were. The current past the where the croys finish is incredible. You definitely dont want to fall in.

The first day I got it wrong, fishing on a crease into fifteen feet of water, with just a single bream the result. They weren't in the deepish water.

I was up with the lure rod early the next morning and quickly had two zander under my belt. Not big, but anything from a new venue is welcome.

Whilst lure fishing I found a shallow spot with maybe six feet of water and a bit of weed. Interesting. 

After coffee and toast I returned with the feeder rod to fish the shallow spot. Half dozen feeder fulls of corn and hemp  and I was fishing. It was slow but I was getting bites and every fish was a cracker.

The first fish was a 1lb 9oz roach, the next a 4lb 10oz ide. Then a clonking roach of 1lb 14oz and another of over a pound.

More ide followed, all big ones over 4lb bar one, including an absolutely mint fish of 5lb 1oz. What a beauty.

The last fish was the obligatory bream, a decent one of maybe 7lb. A really cracking day.

It was all about finding the fish, they weren't had to catch.

I used a simple feeder rig with corn and they all hooked themselves.  Had to keep the bait going in and the fish would come and go with long periods of inactivity, then two or three bites on the trot.

Regularly service of tea and biscuits from the van, watching the enormous ships coming and going and a few bites and you have a very civilised way to fish. Fantastic day and well chuffed with the results.