Happy Days

I joined The Chubmeister General ( AKA The Suffolk Stalker ) on a beautifully mild, late winter day on the upper river trotting for dace.

First glance and it looked absolutely spot on, with what looked like perfect flow and colour. Often, when it all looks the dooh daahs and you get super excited, it doesn't live up to its promise, but today was not one of those days. Oh no sir.

TCG loves his small stream fishing and most definitely had his "Dace Head" on. He's ultra keen ( another hungry fecker ), a bit of a purist and a proper angler, the boy will go far. And he's a mere youngster, being half my age. The bastard.

We had fish from the off, the majority being dace with some quality roach and big gudgeon mixed in. The TCG clearly disapproved of the classic bobber float I was using, which was admittedly rather weighty for the narrow, shallow piece of water. It looked good though and the dace didn't  care.

It really was practically a bite a chuck and every swim we tried held fish, due obviously to our brilliant watercraft. 

TCG also managed a couple of very sizeable chub which tested his light hooklength and size eighteen hook to their limit.

The last couple of swims were probably the most prolific and produced a run of herring sized dace for us both, it was real old style fishing.

Just before dusk we dragged ourselves away, because TCG wanted to introduce me to another stretch that held some big roach that was best fished, shall we say, when it was quiet.

No really big ones but more clonking dace, a decent perch for me and a nice roach for TCG.

Great fishing, good company, and lots of chat and piss taking, days out don't get any better.

Poking About

I made a rare trip south, down the dreaded A road to hell. Forty minutes of congested unpleasantness and I was on the outskirts of a grubby Essex town in search of dace on a tiny stream.

The stream itself was lovely. Clear, fast flowing, lots of riffles and just a handful of deeper pools.

For the most part it was only a few inches in depth, so it was obvious that the fish would be in the deeper pools. First trot down with the mini bobber and a bite straight away. A minnow. A roach next cast, then another.

Considering how clear it was I caught a large number of fish before they spooked and I had to move on to another spot. The little nine footer was perfect for the overgrown swims. In one place, it was so tight I couldn't even strike and had to wind quickly to set the hook.

One pool produced probably twenty roach and dace, plus a rogue chub that fooled me for a while, thinking that I had a monster dace. Some decent roach, several of which required the net.

Very few snags for a little brook and amazingly I didn't lose any gear, until the last swim when the wind ( my cast was of course perfect ) took my favourite bobber into a tree. It was tantalisingly just out of reach. I was very tempted to take my boots off and wade in and get it.  Old habits die hard.

No really big dace caught, which are rumoured to exist around here but an interesting little session and plenty of fish. Lovely.

The Pits

God, I can't buy a bite at the moment.

A series of totally dead sessions at the                   (allegedly) big perch ponds. I mean not a touch on worm or maggot in good conditions. 

I then blanked yesterday with Cooky, unsurprisingly, on the big stillwater. Not a touch between us.

Today I didn't blank, instead I had four pathetically small perch from one of the ponds in ultra mild conditions. 

Roll on spring, warm weather and ravenous feeding fish.

The misery was compounded listening to a rare Man Utd win and Liverpool losing to Arsenal on 5Live. And that after an Ipswich defeat yesterday. Its a disaaaaster I tell you.

I won't be listening to that little twat Arteta's post match interview either.

In the words of Roger Mellie, "Bollocks".

Somewhere On The Horizon

Yes, its there in the distance, actually not too far away. Spring.

As I unloaded the gear, the first sound I heard was a great tit calling, followed by the drumming of a greater spotted woodpecker, both sure signs that spring is near.

I had nipped out for a couple of hours to The Forbidden Stretch. The river looked absolutely perfect, that lovely green tinge to it and the air temperature was knocking on double figures. I was very confident of a fish or two.

First job was to bait the bream swim, so in went four several hard balls of groundbait laced with maggots, seed and sweetcorn which I'd leave for at least an hour for them to settle and get their heads down.

I walked a bit further downstream to a deep area full of snags and cover. The weird thing is there is only one swim out of four or five, which all look fantastic, that regularly produces fish.

First cast in the banker swim I missed an unmissable bite. As usual.

Second cast I was on the ball and an average sized, perfectly conditioned chub was in the net. That'll do for the chub, I wanted a bream ( yes, really ).

The wind had dropped, I could clearly hear the "chucking" of the fieldfares as they skipped along a line of riverside alders and in the distance I could just about make out the faint sound of a tawny owl.

First cast in the pre baited swim with a tiny cage feeder and I made a silly mistake. I stood up, unzipped the bib and brace and had a pee and yes, mid piss the tip went round.

Luckily I can multi task, so I gracefully  swooped down, picked up the rod and hit the bite, whilst ensuring the the admittedly not-quite-so-powerful-as-it-was stream of urine continued to end up on the bank and not inside my troosers. Netting a slimey bream with your old man hanging out most definitely warranted a photo, but you will probably be glad that it didn't happen.

Anyway, one of about 3-4lb in the bag.

As the light slipped away I had another a bit smaller before packing up and slipping quietly away along the flood meadows bathed in moonlight.

Lovely couple of hours on the bank.

Order ! Order !

Yes, order. Or more accurately getting organised. 

The "day bags" are not a problem. I've got a lightweight river bag, predator bag, lure bag, fly bag, sea bag, etc and don't take, say, forceps or scales from one to another because you know what will happen when you go to look !

No, its the back up gear, spares, rarely used stuff, etc, that's the issue.

I've got loads of boxes but until yesterday there was no system, it was " in there somewhere".

Also, fishing gear was in the house, some in the garage and loads in the motorhome, so I'd often no fecking idea where anything is. Very annoying. 

I spent several hours creating some kind of order and even labelled the boxes and took photos because the order probably won't last long.

This is just a fraction of it.  Everything from pole floats, mullet flies, several hundred feeders, god knows how many lures and 200lb traces for conger. Some of it will probably never be used again, but "you never know".

As an added bonus, I found many things I thought were lost, including a couple of classic home made drop offs which I'll be using before the season is out. I reckon they must be thirty years old.

I also sorted the rods. I dare not count them, but I do know that the spinning rods alone now number a total of ten. Well, they shouldn't bang them out so cheap should they ?

Can't resist a bargain.

No fish were harmed compiling this post.

Toodle pip.

All Change

Two weeks and I've still got the hideous lurgee. It's making me even grumpier than normal.

I've had a couple of poor sessions on the river. I'm having to acknowledge the dream of big, uncaught chub in these two stretches is just wishful thinking.

There's plenty of fish, but considering the amount I've fished it, the number of four pound plus fish is tiny. 

I need the belief and possibility of the chance of a big'un to really enjoy it and keep the hunger going. 

I can travel forty five or fifty minutes to the upper river for a realistic chance of five pounders with the outside chance of a six pounder. 

The down side is I hate driving for more than about ten minutes for short sessions.

What to do ?

For me, usually it's either fish local or have a proper road trip in the camper for anything from a few days to a month. Roll on the warmer weather so I can get out in the van.

Bit if good news though. I've joined a syndicate with four small lakes within a couple of miles of home. They're ( surprise, surprise) carp orientated, but I'm going to have a go for the big ( well, they look big in the photos ) perch that inhabit at least one of the lakes. I've a feeling the other lakes may have a few too.

I'm told they're are big hybrids and decent roach and rudd too. May be a wild goose chase, but they look nice and are situated in a quiet valley away from the great British public. A good job too.

As soon as this very cold weather fecks off I'll give it a go. Be nice to have a change.

Laying Low

Happy new year one and all.

I've been laying low with this hideous lurgee that's going about. It's knocked the stuffing out of me and I've been mooching about like an old bloke. Which I'm not, obviously.

I lay in bed coughing and spluttering the other day. Farting about on the phone, watching fishing videos and I somehow end up buying two more spinning rods which I definitely dont need and some lures. Which also I don't need.

Got a short term boost with the retail therapy from the comfort of my bed anyway.

Felt better yesterday as I watched Liverpool beat Arsenal after Agent Hevertz had sabotaged the Gunners plans. What a bargain, £65 million for a goal shy Chelsea reject. 

River is bank high. That's an under statement, its the highest I've seen it ever. 

It'll be a few days before it's worth fishing.

2024 plans taking shape, lots to do, places to see and fish to catch.

I suffer from cold hands in the winter, especially when I'm flake and mash fishing.

I've started wearing latex gloves which keep your hands dry but don't impede hook tieing and fiddly tasks. It's a total game changer, dry hands and no wind chill equals warm hands.

I don't care if it looks like I'm about to perform a bankside ( should that be backside ?) rectal examination. Try it. The gloves, not the rectal examination. 

The next post may contain fish if the weather gods are kind. Toodle pip.