Back Again

You should never return too quickly to the scene of a great victory. But of course, we do.

The last session on the big Fenland river had been playing on my mind. I wanted a few more of those rudd. Pure greed.

Bully wanted more too. He made a token effort of saying he was going to try a different area to " find the roach". He soon changed his mind when I said I was going in the same swim for the rudd.

I arrived early and after a slowish start the bites started, quality fish between a pound and just over 2lb.

My swim died after a few hours and Bully started to catch a bit further downstream, an even better stamp with his two best 2lb 7oz and 2lb 10oz.  Incredible fishing.

As the rudd had disappeared for me, I decided to see if I could wangle out a perch or two.

On went a bunch of worms. I was soon getting bites, skimmers and smallish perch and then hit into something bigger. 

I thought bream but hoped perch. An absolute stonker of a perch of 2lb 15oz, well chuffed with that. Next cast and another nice one of 1lb 11oz.

I text Dicky Boy, who was laid up ill in bed, with photos and updates. He was doing his nut, cursing on missing out on a great day. Job done. What bastards we are to our mates sometimes. 

We sat there catching all day and ended up with thirty five big rudd between us, those two clonking perch, plus roach, skimmers and smaller perch.

Another brilliant day.

And yes, we're going to go back for another go next week.

Red Letter Day

Sometimes you need a bit of luck. 

About a month ago me and Dicky Boy were fishing a large Fenland river. We picked an area that we subsequently found out wasn't quite right and at the end of the day I walked about two hundred yards downstream and watched a bloke catch roach one a chuck.

Without being unkind to him, he didn't look a great angler and I made a mental note of the spot.

The day after Bully said he was going to the same stretch.  I told him exactly where the bloke was catching the roach and advised him to fish there.

As it happened, the spot was taken, so he plonked himself a bit further downstream and ended up having a great day with decent sized rudd, with the biggest couple going over 2lb.

Two weeks later me and Dicky returned, in roughly the area Bully fished. Bully is much like Christopher Columbus, in that he doesn't know where he's going and doesn't remember where he's been , so getting the exact spot proved hopeless.

It was bloody freezing, maybe 4 degrees C and bright with a cold wind.

I tackled up a small feeder and cast towards the boats moored on the far side.

A bite first cast. Missed of course, but a sign of things to come. In short, it was an incredible day, where I had over thirty rudd, with nothing smaller than a pound and a quarter, with the biggest going 2lb 9oz. 

The biggest fourteen rudd went 31lb 1oz. The stamp of fish was incredible. 

The fish were ultra tightly shoaled. Dicky was fifteen yards away and didn't have a single rudd, despite having plenty of far bank cover.

For some reason they were packed in and under one particular boat and I was lucky enough to be in front of it.

I gave Dicky a go in my swim and he immediately had two big rudd, both over 2lb. A few yards made all the difference.

Dicky also tried downstream, tight against the next moored boat, but to no avail. It was pure luck we stumbled on exactly where they were.

I phoned Bully and told him what we'd had and he said the only thing he could remember about his swim, was the colour and name of the boat opposite. Yes, the very same one I was facing as we spoke on the phone. 

I ended up with twelve rudd over two pounds, with a couple an ounce under that mark and countless others. 

The best day I've had in a while and something I'll do very well to repeat.

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.