Keeping The Gunpowder Dry

What I mean is, I've not been fishing. Why ? As if you didn't know, its been freeeeezing. And wet. And windy.

I must warn you, in this post I spout even more shite than usual. You have been warned.

Being a keen, mostly armchair, football fan, two teams have ruined the last couple of weeks For me.

The mighty Liverpool, whom I've followed since I was a glory seeking kid, have fallan apart. A heavy defeat in the Europa League and more losses in the league against Palace and, of all people, Everton, has made it look like the season is going to end not with a roar but with a whimper. 

Secondly, the much loathed Man Utd managed to beat Coventry, somehow, in the semi final of the FA Cup. And I witnessed it.

I turned off at half time with Utd leading 2-0 as I can't bare to see them win.

Waaak Baines text me a while later saying it was 3-3 , so I turned on again. With the last kick of the game Coventry scored and I went crazy, jumping all over the sofa and shouting like a madman. 

The dead hand of VAR rescued the useless feckers and then....you know the rest. 

I'm so sad that I'd prefer Utd to lose than Liverpool win. Its always been that way. I know, I know, pathetic isn't it ?

Football is about passion, irrational likes and dislikes and about being able to be tribal and unreasonable for ninety minutes. Or, these days ninety nine or a hundred minutes.

And thats why VAR is killing the game, whilst at the same time not even getting decisions right.

Here's three turds for you.

I suppose I'd  prefer Arsenal to win the league more than City, just to freshen it up, but they both play tippy tappy, look-at-us-we've-had-80%-possession boring football.

Boot it down the middle occasionally, whilst shouting " 'Ave it !"  And get some crosses in early ffs. And keepers, make saves and stop being attention seeking second rate outfield footballers. You know I'm right.

There's still hope that Ipswich can salvage "my" season. As they say in these parts,  "Upper towen !"

Hail the beautiful game.

Troot. Sea Troot.

I promise I won't mention or moan about the SHITE  weather. 

I've not been fishing this past week, just working and plotting.

Bazza called the other day. I introduced him to a couple of mullet spots two years ago and now he's down there more than me.  

Recently, we'd spotted a sea trout that was holed up in a very specific area. A decent one too. This river is by no means known for them, so it was an interesting occurrence. 

"Quick, come down right now, I'm watching a big sea trout ". Two minutes later I'm there. He's shaking and jibbering, " I got the fucker ! I got the fucker!"

And he had.

5lb 2oz.  What a fish.

Now, that doesn't look like a sea trout. Normally, they're lean and very silver. More on this later.

We peered back down in to the shallow water and almost unbelievably , there was another fish of similar size swimming about.

We watched it. It was patrolling round and round the same area. Bazza cast back in and minute later the rod hooped over and another troot took off seawards. The water exploded, the clutch fizzed and the light rod hooped over. A short but exciting fight ended as I scooped it up in Bazza's pathetic little net.

At first we thought it was the same fish, but a cut on the tail and different markings proved otherwise. 

This time 5lb 1oz. The markings and condition of the fish were again incredible. 

I would bet all my cash that nobody has had a brace of five pound sea trout in a session off this river. Ever.

One last cast he said and hooked another, a little one of a pound or so. Blimey Charlie.

Normally, I'm a hungry fecker and am mad keen to catch myself, but today I was just pleased to watch and see what was happening.

We also saw a large fish thrash on the surface. At least as big as the five pounders. 

I spoke to a mate who is an EA scientist. He studies migratory fish and he thinks these are "slob" sea trout, that leave the fresh water but find rich feeding grounds in the estuary, so never leave for the ocean proper.  Hence the build and markings.

He's asked us to take samples of scales in future, so he can analyse and work out growth rates, movement, etc.

Let's hope there's a few more about.

Ramblings

Not really caught much of note over the last few weeks.

Saturday I arranged to meet Bully at a little tackle shop in deepest Suffolk.

I had picked up a pair of 1980s rods for Bully, made by a bloke called Terry Smith, from Sheffield. Back in the day he was one of the best and as usual Bully had managed to get a bargain.

These were early twin top rods, with lovely soft fibre glass quiver tips. Think he paid seventy five quid for the pair.

I also had quality second hand gear to pick up, firstly a pair of Fox Specialist 1lb TC rods from the late 90s/very early 2000s. 

The Chubmeister General had been raving about this rod and after I told him I tracked some down he insisted I bought them. Who was I to disobey  ? He was right. They're bloody lovely.

Then it was on to pick up two Fox Barbel Plus 1.75lb TC from the same era,  but from a different village. Oh, and a couple of Daiwa Exceler 4000s. From the same village.

They were lovely too.

They were proper bargains.

We then checked out a small farm ressie which we'd been told held some big bream, plus the mandatory carp. It was truly out in the sticks, not pretty, but very quiet, so a session was quickly arranged for the coming week. 

Talking of carp, or more accurately carpers, whilst on my morning walk yesterday I got talking to a young bloke fishing a small local lake.

He was dressed in standard carp boy gear, hoodie, cotton joggers and white trainers and excitedly told be he was sponsored by the ( carp related) clothing company. The logo was on everything, "Addicted" or "Afflicted", something like that. Oh, he said, I'm also sponsored by a bait company and thrust some brown, stinking boilies in my face.

Try 'em mate, try 'em, they're pukka, they're the bollocks, the dog's dangles, the mutts nutts, had some proper units on them I have, geeeeeezer.

Not interested in smeggy carp said I. He stared at me in a gormless uncomprehending gaze and then repeated his praise of said boilies.

I then told him what my old boss once said to me, "Don't try to sell a one legged man a pair of shoes".

He is, I am sure, still trying to get to grips with the meaning of this.

Next post I hope to have tales of big bream.

Toodle pip.