Sunday, 7 February 2016

Bastard wind

Never mind Bastard Barry. Bastard wind. An absolute howler right up the reach strong enough to take line from the  bait runner. Cold as well. Not that it looks like it here.

Fishing right down the edge, slack line and in the reed mat,  hooks transferring from the fish to the reeds. Move down to the boat house and church.


Float away, knuckle rapping scrap. Flying hooks, twist of forceps and away, splashing me as it went. Probably nine pounds or so.

Instagram reveals night time is the right time for chub below the mill. Big chub. Now, there's  a thought

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