The world is still turning..

Plenty of insects down at the Mill in the week but not a hirundine in sight  or sound. Wrong kind of insects? Perhaps they like the sort that used to encrust our wind screens and number plates.  

Thought I ought to get back near some water this weekend to see if any had turned up on my patch and whilst setting about the shoal of bream I imagined 10 feet down in front of me I heard an unkingfishery plop, more of  a plip and yes, a martin skimming over the pond line joined briefly by a further two before they retired to a telegraph wire then after some preening away they went hawking over a nearby field. They didn't seem much impressed with the swarms of black midges. Perhaps they are the wrong sort of insects. Hope they don't assume plague and pestilence proportions. 

There were  a few bream out there, and indeed some a bit closer as I had several liners but 3 proper

runs connected with on my standard flat bed set up and this time the pineapple peril out did the tuna pink'un 2:1 before early tea curfew. Bream in stillwater at least don't really fight but the do bend the rod, and plod about nicely. They must be spawning soon surely?

Out in the garden this morning and in the low hanging murk that was carrying spots of rain that sudden wheeling screaming sound of  a squadron of black sickle scythes. The swifts were back. My first of the year and yes the  world must still be turning. The year they don't come back is the year we know we are done for. 

With an improved sense of well being I made the short trip on to Golden Pond and another swarm of midges, no avian pest control but the small roach and rudd were having  their fill. I think the bream were chasing each other in front of me  looking for breamy love which is possibly why I only caught a tench, a bit further out. it took me to, but not quite in three sets of pads, even on an avon rod and 6lb line, before doing a decidedly bream like swimmers roll into the stink net and nearly out again through a large hole in the bream and tench slime rotted mesh.

A lovely buttercup belly and the saddest face you ever did see. They are so grumpy looking. I had to put it in my lovely carpy net to rest up so it looks a bit lost too. Rain stopped play shortly after.

No one likes a blanker

I had a very short window this afternoon so I did  chuck a puddle chucker about on Golden Pond to see if I could turn the mainly half hearted lifts I had yesterday into more positive bites.

I did but I couldn't get then to come closer in the hour and a half I had so my ham-fisted gumby striking only produced this bream scale. Nice and warm though.

Colour me

It has rained in North Norfolkcestershire, twice in fact, which has made the garden sparkle when the sun comes out afterwards. 

I got myself on to my Island Paradise this afternoon down in Golden Pond and despite missing several bites on link ledgered Source I managed to get three bream into the stink net. Water, weed and fish warm to the touch for the first time this year. First few rhodos out too. Think I'll try the puddle chucker next time to increase the chances converted ratio.

The Source of the Nile and The Duck Egg Blues.

The Source. I've banged on about it for ages now but what a bait. I use it in 12mm size and a kilo bag lasts and keeps for absolutely ages as I usually top up the loose feed with 6-8mm pellets, and usually those would be Spicy Sausage as the Source ones are  bit more expensive. I also have the wafters in about 15m.

And such is my faith that's all I used today for a brief excursion to Golden Pond and my Island Paradise. The mallard that has a nest in the bush seems to have deserted her post or been snaffled by a fox or similar. The greylag still sits on her clutch.

The rhodo buds are fit to burst and soon this will be a riot of purple.

 

It was a brief session as I had chores to attend to so just over 2 hours door to door. Two light link ledgers and bobbins today and it was the left hand rod nearest to the newly emerged pods that was the busiest being bent by three scrappy little bream. Small but I'd say fairly old fish these ones. It is really nice to strike an actual take, not simply engage the baitrunner now and then. 

Shorts again today, and the fiery ginger beer to celebrate not turning into a goose pimpled  block of ice.

Quick shot behind whilst Ms Greylag  stretched her wings.

The fourth just on curfew and no need to strike for this one as it was  a proper churner and it was the biggest of the day, perhaps 4 lb. Happy days.

Funny how things work out

I gambled on the shorts and in the end it was the goose pimples on my legs and hands that could have done with gloves that had me scurrying home well before wine o'clock. It's this cold wind that is doing it. Blustery and mean.  It was after 3.45 before I'd got the first underarm swings of the flat beds out to the bottom of the slope I'd found by leading about, and as ever yellow pineapple peril on the left, shocking pink tuna in the right. And the tuna wafters were very popular, but a series of strikes with the baitrunner still in free spool, a branch on the hook and once the wafter stuck in the fins of the feeder left me exasperated. All this time barely a twitch in the left hand rod. I was mulling over a twin tuna attack when  a connexion on the strike and a very feisty performance by this crusty old male bream on the left hand rod changed all that  as you can see by the little glimpse of yellow.

Swiftly followed by a smoother but equally slimy female. turbo charged too. Well. in the context of bream anyway

 

A longer swing out.to cover a showing tench produced one of those right on the money rip the bobbin out of your hand takes and this really was a turbo charged tinca that made for every emerging pad or stand of reeds it could find. About 4 lb, and not an ounce of spawn yet in her. 

A rare and solitary snap off at the spade on the tuna rod to a butt ringer (barbless QM1 so it should be shed quickly) was soon nullified by another take on the pineapple rod and another  bream was on the mat.

The fish were feeding and I had bait but for the first time for a long time I gave in to the cold and was on my way just gone 6, and thanking the quick response of the Charabanc heater to let the heat warm my frozen bones. 

 

Meat means...

I'd planned a foray up the Wensum Valley to chase a few mudpigs. A boilies and cans/tins ban had me searching out some old Bacon Grill to chop up to impale with my bayonet stops 

but I remembered it was a Bank Holiday and I'd likely to be forced to listen to lots of old bois probably in trackie bottoms and vests shouting out to each other across the lake and banging in bank sticks and stuff so parked up a mere 5 mins from Bureboi Villas on Golden Pond. Just mewing buzzards, mallards, greylags and and road noise to put up with. Link legering again with meat on one and mini Source on the other. Korum running rigs and a light bomb due to the silt and the fact that I'd be dropping them on the fishes' heads in about 3 feet of water at best.

The bright sun on arrival quickly became veiled by a general grey and the wind that sprung up was a bit chillier than I'd bargained for so Aldi hoodie deployed. Whilst I waited for the Spicy Sausage 6mm pellets and hemp to work I amused myself by pilling up some chunks of sweaty old Red Leicester some one had left on the bank to occupy the bait robbing mallard duck with her attendant, very respectful and frankly useless drake watching mostly gormlessly while she gorged on the rubbery old cheese.

My attention  turned to the rods and after two missed takes on the Sourcery a bream was  giving up and flopping into the stink net. They don't get big on the Pond but often have lovely colouration, a buttery bronze mostly.

 

I  set  the bobbin on the recast and it was ripped put of my fingers and  a bit more of a tussle had me thinking hybrid until it capitulated, boilie hanging out it's slobbering gob and flopping into the onion bag.

The meat rod was only attracting twitches so I cast amongst the throng and it wasn't long before something was hell bent on heading down to the dam, not a pond pig but a tench, my first for the year. Custard yellow belly and everything. If only they grew into their length on here.

 Another victim of the stink net.

 I really don't think the stink net will last past the autumn, such is the degrading action of several years of bream and tench snot with the odd snig thrown in. I leave it mainly on Golden Pond as even a hint of damp makes the charabanc stink, even with windows open.

This one had a bit of hybrid power when hooked and even a glint of gold  as it flashed in the water just before  performing the swimmers roll but  not when studied close up. Spawn ready.

The wind had dropped though the sun remained rheumy with no real warmth. Well, I call it rheumy, think I must have read it one of Bailey's earlier works. Sort of wearing an old scarf, wrapped up against the ague presaging wraiths of mist and shining weakly.

Time for one more and like most of its net mates it had been bewitched by the Source, a majestic fish getter in my experience. The meat? One to keep in the tackle bag  for the odd run out, a bit like my swingtip  rod. So, 5 bream and a tench, and a most pleasant way to spend a Bank Holiday afternoon and not  a vest in sight. 9 different species now for 2022. I'd like a bass again, and a zed.  

 

Island mentality

Dirk took his shorter White Sox to Golden Pond on Thursday, and even managed to pair up his plimsolls. The Island was free  so of there he trudged. 

                                      

Puddle chuckers and mini Source boilies. Pads not up properly yet and the odd bubblers a way out which gave rise to a problem. I'd spooled up with 6 lb Sensor, tough as old boots but quite heavy which meant a strike at distance meant pulling it up a lot to get contact to hit the bite as it was as saggy as a witches tit. resulting in  two missed bites and a brief contact then off.  No matter. a very pleasant afternoon listening to the buzzards mewing and the greylags jostling for supremacy.  Most of the goslings slip nicely down the gullet of ol'essox, indeed I cant recall any successful broods but some must make it I guess. 

Hot enough for lunch outside yesterday.....enough mayo to make  The Creative shudder.

Then back to the Island Paradise with link ledgers and bobbins, and though you don't gat the almost certainty of the self hook method  feeder approach it it satisfying to hit the take as the bobbin lifts up, and as tighter to the bait the saggy tits Sensor lifts that bit quicker. Quick enough to take two bream and a rather battered (well healed) carp , all silt black mouth and recent hook marks. I never once felt out of control on the 1.25tc Advantas which I'd  decided to use, rather than break down the method gear on the longer Korums. Nice action  too.

Source muncher

It's prettier side

Spawny get.

Dirk Wears White Sox

Dirk may well Wear White Sox but I doubt he wears odd shoes. I think the cataracts are starting to worsen...

As mentioned in my last post I've been mainly bream bothering, in that not much else seems to want to visit my stink net. The spawny old bugger below came to 4 maggots on a  B560 #12, on the waggler in an attempt to get past the small stuff as I suss things out and put an unexpected scrap on the albeit lighter float gear 

 

And this one fell to a wafer and the method. Might have a very  small touch of who's your father about it as I'd been told to expect on the new water. Wonder if they are related?

 

And this lovely thing confirmed it. A very respectable 2lb 13oz. A very different kettle of fish, love how hybrids look and how they fight back too.

 

Back much closer to home today, and despite the shoe mishap enjoyed soaking up some sun on Golden Pond. Slow going but such lovely surroundings making up for it.

Just the one, on the golden grains under a puddle chucker. Fresh young fish as well. Nice to be able to net them in water, not silt. Let's hope the levels stay up, its been heartening to see it saved from extinction. Would be nice to get a tench now.

Burnt offerings

Saturday saw Sheringham invaded by hordes of Vikings and the ritual burning of a longboat on the shore. I was famished having been bream bothering and ordered up a Guac and Mole burger  whilst I waited.

Last scraps consumed just in time as the Vikings were indeed Coming. I don't think they ever did come to this corner of East Anglia, well not until they became Normans anyway. 

Not sure if they burnt their boats either but these ones did.