Back running and back on the river. Had a niggly injury that's been stopping me from getting out running properly, but, fingers crossed it seems to have cleared up.
I text Trotty and asked if he fancied a longish slow run and being the keenie he is he said yes. We started at the tidal end of the Stour and headed up river, we'd had plenty of rain so the water had flooded the meadows.
I took the opportunity of setting poor old Trotty up to cross streams and ditches that were thigh high in water..."don't worry, it's not deep" . He is the epitome of stoicism, uncomplaining and with a never changing poker face. Total opposite of me haha.
I bloody loved it running through the water and the mud, proper trail running and one of the best things about winter for me.
Looking at the river, up a couple of feet and pushing through hard, I reckoned that in two or three days it would be about spot on. Midday Tuesday the new chub rod was taken out of the bag and ready to be christened.
The river was still a day off perfect but I was still ultra confident of a few fish.
Bit of mash chucked in the first swim, then I baited a couple more places before getting ready to cast out. Big lump of bread flake, couple of swan shot swung out in to the steady water adjacent to some snags.
I expected a bite immediately and was ready when the new quiver pulled round as something unseen snaffled my bait. Strike. Missed. Same thing happened next cast. Poor show.
Third cast and I made contact and the rod hooped over in a pleasing curve before a chunky chub hit the net. Wunderbar.