Monday 19 November 2018

Somewhere down the cray zy river...

Set out fishing under very heavy manners. Middle of the day, bright, cold and the sort of unfriendly wind the black plague (cormorants) croak in on. You cant turn down a couple of hours out though.

Headed way up into Jasper Farhquart country, mostly because it was near the car park. I'd donned the wrap round Polaroids due to the low sun and I'm not sure if it was a help or a hindrance. What I could see through the polarising lenses, and that you can't is a very low, clear river. With conspicuous lack of fishy activity.

Given the clarity, and the fact that I'm very tight with bait I thought Larry and Larrietta could get their third or fourth swim. Not so much blood filled now but  getting honky from the freeze, immersion, impaled by pike, freeze, immersion and repeat treatment.


I kept as low as I could, obviously to avoid spooking any fish present but also to avoid spending ages looking at  a beautifully presented  (decomposing) lamprey section in splendid isolation on the bed of the gin clear river with increasingly low chances of a green shape ghosting up, having followed the scent trail upstream. Now that would be very exciting to watch but having scanned a long way down any pike hanging around was very adept at camouflage. I did see however  just how a quick twitch of  a static bait might (as it often does) tempt that pike that had ghosted up and has been staring at the bait for an age grab it it before it escaped. And that how good a bait lamprey would be for wobbling, especially once it had got past it's vampire luring blood filled stage.


Standard river set up. which when inspected looked (or rather didn't) ok in situ. I gave up on drilled bullets, partly because they often got damaged unseen in the bore, nicking the line but also for ease of changing or removing the lead.  I tried removable sinkers but they often removed themselves. I regularly raid The Tackle Shop site for the longer John Roberts feeder booms (4 inch) as they bought up all his stock when he closed. I guess I could shrink tube the swivel links for neatness but with the Drennan swivel stops and crimped not twisted traces so rarely tangle that I don't even think about it. I go fairly heavy in the leads so the float can stay in place, even with a fair amount of debris  being washed down. I'd like to find some inch and a half polys as 2 inch is too big really on my waters. Then the Essex Scribbler can paint then for me. Which is a long way round saying I ran out of barren, fishless desert without a touch...


Having about an hour left under heavy manners dropped into the bridge pool and a swirling upstreamer fighting against the increased flow through the bridge and feeling several degrees lower in the shade and wind. I'd just turned to attend  the first rod having tightened up the second and noticed it had swung in a fair bit, even with a 2.5 oz lead. Picked the rod up and wound into a fish, small  feeling on the 3lb tc rod, dashing around then off. Larry was a bit scuffed around the hook free area. A jack or perhaps a brownie that had struggled to get the whole lamprey in? I recast then noticed the second rod tapping slightly. Could only be one thing having a peck on Larrietta. Ronnie or Regina  Cray. Thence followed a procession of the red plague. Sometimes double up. I stopped counting and wound in for the last time on 20. Larry and Larrietta, having done their duties were consigned to the maelstrom of clacking claws down there on the bottom of the pool. Ronnie and his Ronnettes? Carefully placed in the undergrowth a little way back to terrify the native fauna, it being an offence to return them to the water and with a fighting chance of them gettig back in after having ambushed  and savaged a herd of muntjac. I wonder why none were present just yards upstream? Perhaps the wedding guests  have very low food miles  seafood cocktails. On the bigger ones the tails were were a good inch plus.




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