Back For More

Hungry for more barbel, it was back the Trent for a few days with Bully, who was keen to break his duck.

First stop was at the excellent Tackle Dynamic, to stock up on feeders and bait. Top bloke who runs it, good prices and Louis is very helpful and knowledgeable.

Evening we took the easy option and fished fifty yards from the camper. Bloody lovely. 

It was a bit slow but I had some decent roach and an eight pound plus barbel to get off the mark. That'll do.

Next day, more of the same. Quality roach, eight good bream to 7lb and two barbel to 10lb 6oz, a cracking day.

Plenty of bait seems to be the key. I probably used five or 6kg of seed, pellets and corn.

Best period seems to be the first two hours of the ebb, although you can catch at all states of the tide.

Bully had a cracking roach around the pound mark but couldn't get a barbel.

We tried a new stretch on the following day and we were told you could drive along a track to your peg. The track was soft, muddy and slippery but once committed you couldn't turn round until the end, which was about two miles ! It was a real trouser filler.

We both had hybrids and big silver bream, the best going 1lb 11oz. The thought of driving back along the track in the dark was too much, so we packed up early, negotiated the track and went back to the campsite.

Bully decided to try in my swim on the final evening and I went in his.

Thirty droppers of bait went in immediately and a couple of minutes after the barrage I cast the feeder out, baited with a single small pellet.

Literally seconds later the rod whacked over as a decent barbel surged off downstream. 

9lb 11 oz and in immaculate condition. A great start. 

Next cast, same again, the rod sprang back and I was in again. This time exactly 10lb. 

Another bait dropper bombardment and the feeder was cast back in and same again, this time 8lb 12 oz.

Three fish in three casts and I decided to pack up and sit with Bully, who was biteless.

A superb home made curry and dry white wine were enjoyed on the bank. How very civilised.

Bully started to have a few bites and landed one, a decent bream of four pounds or so.

Dusk was approaching and we sat there waiting for "the" chance. The rod whacked over and Bully was in. Not for long though, the line parted. I was more gutted than him I think.

He had another chance but again it was not to be.

You've got to use robust gear for these fish, they take no prisoners.

A great trip again.

Take No Chances

We decided to try a stretch that had been recommended to us by several people. 

We parked up. I grabbed my gear and was ready to go. Bully was faffing about and told me to stop hassling him and he'd meet me on the bank.

Half hour later no sign of him. An hour went by. I rang him. 

"I loaded up my barrow with all my gear and walked off until I realised there were stiles to get over. I'm at the car sorting out my gear into a bag now"

Two hours later I ring him and he's at the nearest peg to the car park. "Not walking any further. When I finally put my chair down the back legs collapsed and I went arse over head". Oh dear.

The fishing ? Crap. Small roach and dace. We packed up, went back to campsite and had a big meal and a beer. It was only late afternoon so plenty of time for an evening session, less than a minute walk from the camper.

We went back to the same swims we fished the evening before.

I started off with a dozen big droppers of maggots, seed and pellet and then fished over the top with a big feeder. Simple stuff.

Nothing for two hours. A rat was shuffling about near my bag, so I got up and walked two paces to shoo it off. Then I heard the reel scream, I turned round to see the rod horizontal, the second ring luckily jammed in the rod rest, which was about to collapse. 

I grabbed the rod and an obviously decent barbel was on, it put up a long and vigorous fight before it was drawn over the net. Another of eight and a half pounds.

Next cast another eight pounder, then an absolute beauty of 10lb 4oz. Fantastic.

Bully unfortunately missed out again.

Last day and we had a recce of a nice bit of river, farted about drinking coffee and sorted the gear ready for another go in the evening on the campsite stretch.

I offered Bully "my" swim. He accepted. I, of course, reminded him that if he blanked there and I caught in his swim I'd never let him forget it.

We were talking about hook lengths. Were they put off by thick line ? I really don't think they are. Bully offered some 10lb ESP Ghost fluoro. 

"Have you used it before ?"

"No" he said.

I decided to stick with 15lb green Big Game. Thick and as tough as old boots.

An hour after starting the tip went round and yet another eight pounder was in the net. Then another an hour later of the same size.

Bully rang. "I've just lost one" he said. "The hooklink broke before I even struck".

ESP Ghost. Give it a wide berth if I were you.

I packed up just after dusk having added a couple of nice roach and a hybrid to the tally and went and sat with Bully until midnight.

It was absolutely still and silent, a lovely night, but it was not to be. He blanked and will forever have to take da shame of failing to catch in "my" swim

Bloody brilliant three days fishing and of course we can't wait to give it another go.

The Mighty Trent

The camper was fully stocked with bait, tackle, food and drink. I was off with Bully on another trip, this time to the Trent.

I spent the morning going through the van and organising the gear in to some kind of order. Buried beneath about fifteen rods and tackle I found an LRF rod I thought I'd sold years ago ! Bonus, I suppose.

After much searching I even found a couple of bait droppers, one made from a tuna tin about twenty years ago. You can get about quarter of a pint of bait down in one hit, its a beast.

Arriving at the campsite, the first thing we did was walk over the flood bank to have a look at the river. Of course, we had to have a go straight away.

Lead on, cast out and I counted down, oooh, about two seconds maximum. Bit of a surprise. I tried all the way along and it was really shallow in every peg. Not necessarily a problem but not what I expected.

After two hours fishing I was biteless and that on maggots. Not good. I was fishing like a plonker too. Every new venue this happens in first few hours. I can't help myself. 

Loads of tangles, couldn't get comfortable, covered in mud, then it starts thundering and lightning. Brilliant.

When it stopped I re appraised the situation. I'd been  putting maggots and seed out in the feeder on the same spot for two hours. I couldn't believe there were no fish there. Got to be worth continuing to keep the feed going in.

Next cast a fish, a nice dace.

I was pleased with anything at this stage. Next cast a pound plus perch, then another. 

I was getting bites on and off, missing more than I was hitting. Bully was a few pegs down and had just one skimmer, but came up to me saying he just been broken up. Good news, in a way.

With that I started introducing pellet and corn in the feeder then went bank to the camper for a bit of tea.

On my return I changed to stronger line and slightly bigger hook baited with a single pellet.

As soon as the feeder hit the the bottom I started getting line bites and a minute later the tip dropped back and a decent roach was in the net.

The next bite was definitely not a roach. The fourteen footer hooped over as a barbel powered off downstream. It felt a decent one and was, at 8lb 8oz.

Bites continued with another good roach, then another barbel of similar size. I rested the barbel in the net, re cast, then went to release the fish. Before I could so the rod pulled round another fish was on. Blimey.

Obviously plenty of fish in the swim by this stage and as Bully came round for a chat the rod went over again and a slightly smaller barbel was the result.

After a poor start it turned out a really good session.

Four barbel with two over 8.5lb, two perch over the pound, two decent roach plus dace and small chub. That's a good start from a new venue you know nothing about, especially when you spend the first half fishing like a total bell end.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Fenland Magic

Yes, back after a biggie. Hopefully. 

The first afternoon I started on a stretch a fair walk from the campsite. Rudd of all sizes hammered the floating bread. You have to find a method to get through to the bigger fish, as there a huge amounts of litluns.

I resisted the urge to cast until I saw a bow wave of a bigger fish approaching the crust. A bit of compressed flake, pressed hard to withstand the inevitable attacks from the hoardes, was cast out towards the swirl. It was taken straight away and the rod hooped over.

Not the fish I hoped for, but a decent rudd in pristine condition. 

Moving downstream I spotted a decent fish near the far bank lillies and cast accurately for once. The fish hit the bread immediately and I could tell from the start this was a big'un. I hustled the fish unceremoniously over the weed and in to the net. It was a big old warrior and went 2lb 3oz. Well chuffed.

I'd put some mixed seed and corn in a couple of swims to see if I could get a tench or more probably a bream and sure enough, both areas were covered in bubbles. I won't bore you with the details but I caught four bream to 6lb in half hour before getting back to the camper for much needed sustenance. No tench.

A good start indeed and I was already looking forward to fishing the following day.

I won't give you a blow by blow account of the next session, but briefly this is what happened.

I decided to have a recce downstream. I walked about a mile and a half without finding any accessible bank.

When I did find a swim i.e a miniscule gap in the reeds, I started catching pound plus fish straight away.

A speculative cast to the far bank resulted in the float shooting under and I was attached to a very big rudd. Again, I had to bully the fish through weed before it hit the marginal lillies, but I couldn't reach it with the net . It just lay there agonisingly out of reach and as I prodded the net further out I knocked the fish. It flipped over, the hook fell out, then ever so slowly a huge rudd waddled away, never to be seen again.

I was gutted. "Only a fish" , but feck me I was not happy. I then managed to hook one of the poxy swans. Luckily for the swan it came off. God, I loathe them.

To compound the situation I managed pee a full bladder full of urine into my chest waders. I think you'll agree it was time to pack up.

For the final day I decided to try even further downstream. Bully joined me for the day and this stretch proved to have slightly easier accessibility which pleased the ageing Bully.

On my first cast the bread was hit within seconds and a clonking fish just short of two pounds was in the net.

Next cast, same thing. An even bigger fish, 2lb 2oz and in immaculate condition. Fantastic. 

I ended up the countless fish with lots over a pound, a great day.

The condition of these fish is amazing.

A great few days fishing,  I want more of this.

The mighty Fens, big skies, massive empty spaces, some strange places and very different to anywhere else. Long may it remain so.

Midsummer

Little recce to a lovely Fenland river in search of big rudd. No a/c in the camper, so when the electric windows wouldn't move it was rather a hot journey, as it was 28 degrees outside ! Oh well, the old van has it's idiosyncrasies. 

Parked up in a big field by the river, only one other person there, magic.

Before I got my gear ready, S demanded a G and T ( slice of lime, lemon and loads of ice ). Good job she did too, because it was bloody lovely and a real tonic ( ho ho ho ).

In the evening I made my way to the water, the further I walked the more overgrown it was. No signs of early season anglers from the bank, but I saw a couple of blokes in a boat after the rudd.

As usual, plenty of rudd hitting the crusts I was chucking in, but the trick is to find the bigger fish. I saw a couple of bigger swirls a bit further upstream and battered down the stingers and goosegrass to reach the bank.

First few casts resulted in rudd of half a pound or so, then I hooked some bigger. A cracking fish of just over a pound and a half I guess. Next cast another a bit smaller. That'll do.

I stuck at it until dusk, but activity surprisingly died down. I did, however, spot some discoloured water and saw several bream or tench roll. Before I left, I chucked in a bit of bait in preparation for the morning.

Up at the crack of dawn, I was greeted with the sight of a barn owl quartering the misty meadows. Always a thrill.

I poked my head over the vegetation and immediately saw signs of feeding fish. I dropped a large bit of flake, compressed ultra hard to resist the attack of small rudd on the way down, with an AA a few inches from the hook.

A few minutes later the peacock quill slid away and a good sized fish took line off the clutch as it sped towards the far bank.

Sped is not a word you associate with bream, but this one thought it was a tench. Nice fish at well over 6lb.

Not surprisingly, this commotion killed the swim, so I tried another baited area. Same result, a chunky bream. Then another.

After those three fish it was back on the rudd. Nothing huge but several nice fish around the pound mark.

A nice start. I'm going back next week for a proper go.

Recharging The Batteries

This is not a moan, but it's a bit shite at the moment. The fishing, that is.

I really can't complain, because the weather has been dry and gloriously sunny ( although often very cold ) for probably a couple of months and I've been out in it most of the time.

The never ending northerly wind has ruined two months of mullet fishing and I'm also blaming it for my total failure to catch even one tench on the TBS. So, at the moment I'm having a ( very short ) break from fishing and getting ready for the new season, which is three days away.

Plans have been made for a recce trip to the Fens this weekend, followed by a session on the river Yare next Wednesday and then four or five days back on the Fens, in search of some big rudd and anything else that comes along.

Me and Bully have also pencilled in a few days on the Trent in July too. Can't wait for that.

Lots of other stuff including a Dutch or French trip in September. The ferry is booked, I just need to decide which way to point the camper.

Last Sunday there was an Earth Festival in the town and for the first time this year it really felt like a proper summer's day.

Loads of people milling about, food stalls, all types of stands selling various stuff, music ( no dreaded "singer-songwriter" with acoustic guitar thank feck ).

Highlight was the Manningtree drummers. About eight blokes dressed in rainbow colours banging the shit out of various drums in a random, haphazard fashion. Utterly tuneless and quite mesmerising.

Two pints of Mosaic pale ale drank outside, followed by a fantastic Italian meal finished the day off perfectly.

Old Blighty can be magnificent sometimes.

Modern Life Is Rubbish

Or is it ?

Down to Wiltshire in the van, just us in a big field by the canal, lovely.

I had some nice hybrids, 1-2lb which fought like mad and some other bits, but I didn't really suss it out.

Was interesting fishing though, with just about enough success to keep me keen.

 
That's the van in the distance, nice spot eh ?

Had a walk along the chalk downlands, taking in Silbury Hill and the Avebury stones. Apparantly the largest Neolithic stone circle in the world.

Both Silbury Hill and Avebury are strange, mystical places, or they would be if the National Trust hadn't sanitised and "protected" them.

Fecking interpretation boards, ropes marking off areas, silly souvenir shops and all the rest. Does everything have to be micro managed ?

Yes, it's difficult and needs preservation, but all that fussiness takes away from the magic of it. For me anyway.

I did manage to get a few pictures where I carefully avoided getting cars or the hoardes in the frame, have a look.

There's about forty million too many people in the country and we need a cull. Twenty to thirty million would makes things so much better.

The cull shall include, but not be limited to....

Bigots of any kind

Man Utd, West Ham and Everton fans

Water company bosses ( while we're at it, all utility bosses )

People in shops who call me "fella"

Kirsty Allsop

The bloke down the road who has car reg SAT 666 and dresses in black and who grunts when I give him a cheery " Good Morning". I suppose you should expect this from The Prince of Darkness.

Anyway, on the way back I got caught in five hours of motorway traffic and was rather grumpy about it. Maybe Blur were right.