Making Hay...

Started this week on the new "club stretch", lots of nice roach on bread with many bites missed.

Then I made the most of the wet weather and went worming. Took a while to find them but some were absolute monsters.

Wednesday it was up to the Fens with Dicky Boy. Very very cold, but a stream of cheese, ham and onion toasties , courtesy of the magnificent Ridge Monkey, made things better. One nice zander for me and some nice roach and skimmers for Dicky Boy. 

Thursday on the upper river. First cast, a big chub lost. Bastard !

Got one just over 4lb later out of an incredibly snaggy swim.

Friday and the river looked perfect and I stayed local. Ten minutes from the house and I was fishing. Bites in most swims, it was great to see the quiver jagging round and I ended up with six nice chub. Lovely bit of fishing.

I don't think I'll be out as much next week, heavy rain will give us the first proper flood of the winter for sure.

Typical lower Stour chub

The Chairman's Address....

It's that time of year again. A few weeks until the solstice, the Christmas consumerist madness in full flow and time to reflect and plan.

This is what I blogged this time last year...

It's very rare for things to go according to plan but incredibly all of those dreams came to fruition. 

A brace of five pound Suffolk Stour chub, with the biggest an ounce under 6lb, some lovely tenching in Norfolk, stunning asp fishing on three Dutch rivers and the icing on the cake, lots of two pound plus roach from the mighty Waal. So many that I didn't take photos of them all, mad fishing.

When you've been fishing for fifty years you can't realistically expect to beat more than one or two PBs a year, but this year I managed seven. Yes, I'm Bertie Big Bollocks.

Two new species too, grass carp and bluenose.  Well chuffed with them, especially as the grassie went 23lb 14oz and was caught on perch gear.

Those most enjoyable fishing was without doubt surface fishing for asp. When they hit the lure under the rod tip I was reduced to shaking like a shitting dog with excitement. It didn't half make you jump.

The biggest fish weighted two ounces under 10lb, came in the half light of dawn and hit the lure with such ferocity that both sets of trebles were mangled.

I managed over sixty nights away fishing in the camper, a couple of foreign trips and lots of short close to home jaunts.

A fantastic dace trip in late winter with The Chubmeister General, trotting on a small stream in perfect conditions and almost a bite a chuck.

Chuck in some nice river perch, some lovely crucian fishing in spring and Fenland rudd and its been a good year.

That said, since September I've caught nothing of note, but you can't win 'em all.

What of 2025 ?

Well, I've booked a ferry to Northern Spain in March/April, five weeks of fishing and hopefully some warm weather.

Hoping for black bass, various species of barbel ( and one on the dry fly ) and maybe zander and pike, but who knows, we'll see.

I'm heading for the big rivers and barrages of Extremadura and then Andalusia. Maybe.

I've fished in Spain but not those regions so I'll learn as I go along.

In the summer we might go back to Sweden/Norway if I can face the drive. Alternatively we might try France or even be tempted back to Holland and Belguim.

I'd like a double figure dace before the season is out, a six pound Stour chub and some big perch. Please. 

Don't really care as long as I can get out fishing. Lots.

Lots of "I did this" and "I did that", but the trips were made more special fishing with the likes of Bully Boy, Bazza, Waaak, Dicky Boy, Cooky, The Chubmeister General, Pike Man and S.

I salute you all, Brothers of the Angle.

Passport To Freedom

One , maybe two short trips in the camper before the year is finished I reckon.

Had it eight years now and done roughly 60,000 km. Second time I ever drove it we went down through France, over the Pyrenees and into northern Spain

Apart from forcing an oncoming lorry into a roadside hedge, due to me not being used to the LHD and driving in the middle of the road, it was plain sailing.

Oh, and going the wrong way round a one way system in Antwerp and when I pulled over, being jeered at and abused ( deservedly ) by drinkers at a local bar.

It's now twenty seven years old and still in reasonable nick, considering its primarily a fishing van. I can't even begin to count how many rivers, lakes and sea marks I've fished in the van.

Isle of Skye, north Wales and the Llyn Peninsula, Wiltshire, Dorset, Devon, the midlands canals, the Wye, Trent, The Fens, north Norfolk, all over France, Holland, Belgium, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Spain and all in an old van that cost not a lot at all ( yes, shite grammar )

The best thing is keeping all your gear and tackle packed in it permanently, so you can go at the drop of a hat. No bed and breakfast, hotel or Air BnB required.

Had a couple of minor issues. Overheating problem in the arse end of Norway, which meant we were stranded for a few days.

We had water and were parked up on a fjord, so had fresh fish and whatever canned food we had in the van every night. Happy days.

To make things a bit more interesting, on the drive back I became conscious of a vibrating sound, as we hit the hideous roadworks around Hamburg and despite driving at 30 mph along tiny lanes for a day, we suffered a tyre blow out two hours from the port. Oh well, "all part of the adventure".

I've had loads of great trips very close to home too, any excuse to get in the old bus

I'm not really one for "things" or possessions, but the Hymer is the best thing I ever bought. As the year comes to an end I'm making loose plans for 2025 and you won't be surprised to learn that it's all about where we're going in the van.

Right, I need to go, I'm off to The Fens for a couple of days, toodle pip. 

A Fenland River

I couldn't decide where to fish, but the camper was loaded with tackle, food and drink, so I set off in the general direction of the Fens and ended up on a nice bit of river on the edge of town.

The cheap but indestructible fibre glass bait snatching pole was set up in seconds, a few maggots were flicked a few yards out and within fifteen minutes I'd got a bucket full of bleak, roach and perch.

I was hoping for big perch, but expecting small zander and maybe a jack or two. Two Dyson rigs were cast out and the trusty poly ball drop offs clipped up.

Within half hour or so the unmistakable click of the indicator hitting the rear bank stick had me jumping off the chair and watching the line peel off the spool.

The light rod hooped over as a small zander came to the surface before being quickly netted. A nice start.

The next couple of hours resulted in more than fifteen runs, with many missed and six zander to 6lb and two pike being netted. It made a nice change having so much action.

There was a young lad of maybe twelve or thirteen fishing upstream from me. He'd not had a thing, but with darkness encroaching his indicator sounded and he sprang into action and eventually netted a nice pike of 8lb or so. He was chuffed and it was great to see his excitement after waiting patiently for several hours.

All my runs came before 16.00, with dusk and the first hour of darkness a total blank.

I stayed in the camper overnight, right by the river and I was back on the bank at dawn with great expectations. Loads of baitfish were topping, but it wasn't until it was fully light that I got my first take.

It then went mad for an hour or so, with small zander and pike hitting the baits, before going dead, which was my cue to go and make breakfast.

Back on the bank with a full stomach, I dicked around with the pole for the rest of the day, happy as a pig in shite. I had intermittent runs on the livebaits throughout the afternoon until, again, it went dead at dusk.

More pike today, with six or seven between 4-6lb plus small zander and a reasonable perch

On the pole lots of nice roach and perch, a few hybrids, a silver bream and four lovely ruffe.

Nice couple of days with plenty of action.

Pioneering and Punts

I say pioneering but I'm obviously exaggerating, I'm not exploring the Yukon or anything like that.

I fished a previously quiet bit of the tidal Trent recently, which, thanks to Facebook reports is now much busier, with long stay carp anglers fishing for barbel, bivvied up for days. Two rods, ten ounce leads, buzzers, boilies, bangers and units.

I got talking to a really knowledgeable angler, who told me of a stretch further downstream, massively more tidal, more coloured, very deep and most importantly seldom fished.

I followed his directions and got deeper and deeper into a landscape that reminded me of the Fens. Scattered farm buildings, big fields and tiny unmade lanes. The track became narrower and narrower and I reached the end of the road where a handful of big, slightly ramshackle houses stood next to a wide, powerful river.

It was absolutely silent, even the farmyard was quiet. No voices, no vehicle noise, just the sound of a lone crow in the distance. It was a bit strange.

There were only two places with access to the river and whilst it was muddy and slippery, it was well fishable.

There was probably twelve to fifteen feet of water ten yards out with an extremely fast flow everywhere apart from the margins. It looked great, but I fished all day without a touch, making regular trips to the van for tea and the new favourite ham, cheese and onion toasties.

As it got dark a wet mist descended, leaving the trees dripping. Totally moonless, it turned pitch black very quickly. 

It was a little creepy. The van was parked right next to the river, in normal circumstances an ideal place to stay, but I felt a bit uncomfortable and drove off to another more familiar park up.

It was definitely a place I'll be fishing again though, you don't get many places that quiet and practically untouched in Old Blighty these days.

Locally, I've been fishing several small lakes for perch. Perch that may or not be present to decent sizes, so a punt. A punt that is so far not paying off, but you've got to try because one day you could hit gold.

It's very exciting fishing places that are for the most part ignored, because you really could catch anything. Or nothing of course.

No pictures of big perch, but here's one of a very small pond.

At the moment I'm struggling to catch much of note and haven't really got my teeth in to anything. 

I really need to pull my finger out.

A Week in the Life.

" A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do "

Bob Dylan

His Bobness yet again hits the nail right on the head.

Monday I was back perching on two small waters, the first produced a re capture ( from last week ). I hate recaptures, so immediately headed off to the other lake, where I spend the afternoon casting livebaits in trees, hooking size 18 barbed hooks in my arse and generally fishing like a knob.

Next day the van was headed in to deepest Suffolk, trundling down tiny lanes to a lake best described as a throwback to a lost world. 

A maze of tiny bays, sunken trees, decaying lilly beds and the banks strewn with beds of water mint. Silent apart from the wildlife, it really has the feel of a place from a bygone age.

I'd gone along to catch up with The Chubmeister General, who had been on a mission to catch an eel, or failing that a carp, from this mysterious lake. Catch up we did, chatting shite all day until the autumn darkness descended and I sloped off back to the comfort of the van, leaving TCG holed up in his bivvy

The lake refused to give up any of its residents and after a morning coffee I headed off an hour north, for a recce on a new section of river, where whispers of big chub and perch had piqued my interest.

What a beautiful river it is, overgrown banks, patches of gravel and ranunculous writhing lazily in the strong flow. As an added bonus, it looked practically unfished.

I walked the banks all afternoon trying in umpteen swims, with just a single bite to show for my efforts. No matter, I'm confident it's worth a proper go this coming winter.

I parked up overnight at a riverside pub, free if you eat in the restaurant. 

Why, I don't mind if I do. £11.00 for a roast beef dinner, bloody beautiful. Perfect.

Back home the following morning, I did a quick gardening job for a neighbour, watched a pair of ravens soaring on a thermal way above the house, made some double hooks for perching and then farted about painting some floats.

Friday morning I made the dreaded trip in to town for a birthday present for S. As usual, I'd left it until the last possible moment.

I was ruthlessly efficient, in and out like Flynn, clutching my prize that ensures my bollocks remain in tact for another year.

Brilliant end to the week with a great gig at the Steamboat watching the mighty East Town Pirates and Attila The Stockbroker with his band Barnstormer 1649. A rowdy, beery ocassion as usual at this fantastic venue.

Paddle your own canoe folks.

 

Perching

I'd unfinished business with the estate lake, early spring had produced some nice roach and perch to probably a pound and a half, but I decided a "proper" go with livebaits was in order.

Catching livebaits, it's almost always a pain in the arse. Not enough, too small, too big, you know the drill. 

There's not that many prey fish in the lake from what I've seen, but the perch look in good nick.

One thing that is a mistake in my experience, is to use lives too small. All you do is end up catching smaller and smaller perch.

Of course, there's always exceptions, but a roach or a perch of 2 to 3oz is about spot on. Anything bigger and you tend to miss runs.

Whilst catching the livebaits I'd had a big bleak, probably six or seven inches long. A monster and how it got in the lake is anyone's guess. 

Two CD/ Bellers rigs were assembled and an unfortunate fish attached and swung out close to cover. The ancient home made drop offs were attached and I was fishing.

After about an hour the line pulled out from the clip with a satisfying click and a second later I saw a big swirl on the surface as a perch hit the roach.

Hustled in to the net quickly it proved to be a cracking fish of 2lb 4oz in absolutely pristine condition. A good start.

A couple of perch around the 1.5lb mark followed and then a very greedy small fish with eyes far bigger than its mouth.....actually that's not true....

The following day I was back. Slightly less activity but another beauty of 2lb 6oz made it worthwhile. 

It's always a pleasure to fish here, tucked away in the valley surrounded by a big wood and away from the madding crowds.

This coming week I may be off in search of barbel and zander. On the other hand it may be more perching.

We'll see.