Trot or not

Big bucket of bread and pastes and some left over just in case red maggots. River coloured (not sure why) which might get some of the zoo creatures  out of their day time tucked away haunts. Long time member had fished all the way up with the only indication a quick jag jag whilst we pondered on the future of  'our' river.  Binned that idea and left the bread in the charabanc and back down to Noddy Bridge with a slimmed down trotting bucket. I've struggled in the Noddy Bridge swims  this season for some reason but a few dace  rising had me sat down above the confluence with the trusty 15 footer and pin. A few dace a way down the trot but the lurking pike was making them wary. Shallowed up  and ran down a shortish near bank glide below the feeder emptying at my feet. Bingo. Dace a trot, and all sandpapery males, bar a couple of chublets and a roach.  Just thinking about heading home when a pike finally grabbed a fish as I struck. Powerful fish and I could see it was a mid double at least. Just thinking about emptying the landing net when it spat the mangled dace out.

Last river day and the bread bucket and by now a meagre tub of maggots were heading off to the new river. Bloke trotting the main pool so I settled for the sandy run. Bites in a yard square zone before. the flow whisked the stick float away to a waiting gudgeon or minnow. The shallower faster riffle adjacent to the sandy run meant for some decent struggles and rod bendage when I hooled a 'silver'. Which I did for as long as my meagre maggot supply lasted.

The usual 'kept a few back for a net shot' shot. Cormorant damage very evident. I'd been 'basking' in shorts but the bib and braces were  deployed before driving a couple of miles down to the Parakeet stretch

The bucket of bread was deposited in a few likely spots along two bends. I'd just made my first cast, the flow taking up the bow and imparting a nice curve to the tip when a stocky man in joggers lurched past. I'd expected him to be tooled with a lure rod, no net and a handy plastic bag, 'sponsored' by a well known mobile two letter mobile network provider but he had a very big dog, a long lead and a seemingly limitless supply of stones in his hoody pocket which he hurled in as if they were nuggets of very heavy Warby Orange almost precisely where my gentle handfuls of white gold were probably still fluttering down to the river bed.. I took a risk and hurled a stream of invective his way. The large head phones on his bonce must have been noise cancelling as I had to get in front of him to get his attention but with a shrug of his shoulders he carried on on his way down the river.

No point going home so I fished diligently down.  No parakeets but an equally noisy mischief of around 15 magpies made up for their absence, watch on by two more reserved elders. Yaffles abounded too.

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As the sun dipped  roach began to roll and I had an intense period of roachy twitches, jags and one sharper pull almost at my feet. I only has a packet of wide gape size  6's in my  big coat pocket (the air temperature had plummeted) and even reducing the size of the flake failed to convert any bites. I'll do a proper roach recce or two in the autumn. My evening ended with a small swim bait perch trailing line (no wire trace) snaring my main line.. Another find.

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Rollers on the river

Big, big winds, 45-50 mph in gusts and plenty of flying limbs. Piking the only option. Low rods and hunkered down. Pike Pro lifters being shoddy and crap I had to rely on my sardines to do their best against weed and crays. In the event two dropped runs and a bucket full of crays were my lot

The jury is out as to whether this 3 miles of lovely lowland river I've fished and haunted for 35 years will now have to be a cloak and dagger Forbidden. Gamekeeper turned and all that/

(Almost) Fished out.

Not much time left on the rivers and not much desire to turn to the stillwaters yet. A very short  and then a longer trip back on the new river resulted in two not hit plucks. Low, clear and too bright perhaps? Spent some time watching a pair of parakeets and tree creepers over my not moving much quiver tip. 

More fruitless trotting on the Church bend and Pastons before beginning a vey belated baiting campaign further downstream.

I needed some bites so back to the pub stretch on the new river.  Bites a plenty if I found the right trot, not that easy given the low river  and gusting wind. The deeper spots  holding fish but the streamy run below the better ones lurked on a clear sandy run.

Perhaps because the pesky minnows preferred the deeper spots.

I inadvertently tipped the better roach, dace and a chub pushing a pound back I'd kept back for a net shot so these will have to do. Quite why I prefer gudgeon (and ruffle and bleak) to minnows I don't really know. I guess you at least know there is something on the hook.

Big winds so piking on sturdy short bank sticks today. We have sort of found out we've lost our stretch of my very local so a last push before it's gone. Something will probably turn up, it usually does.

Head above the clouds

The Loafer was booked to be ghillie for Bully but the forecast was for rain later so I got down to the rolling hills of Devil Dog and Roses Round the Cottage Door Land an hour or so earlier and headed up past the pre-baited spots into new territory for me. An abundance of skylarks and the occasional peep and brilliant azure of kingfishers.  A chub day today. 2SSG or less in contrast to the bank-topping of the last trip down. Meadow sodden but green. Water clear and a mean down-streamer. Second swim and only a brief shifting of the lead to note and I was eyeing up the next good looking spot.  Everything tidied up and rucksack on my back. Rod last to be picked up and a fish pulled back hard. Decent scrap but no netting dramas. A bit more of a struggle to pull the net back up the bank than I was expecting. No wonder, it was an absolute belly buster all you can eat breakfast of a chub. 4lb 10oz of prime Essex (cast landed this side of territorial waters) lard. 

So good I posted it twice....

I could have packed up there and then and had a last couple of hours on my 'new 'river but when the fish are feeding you don't turn chances down. 

I was contemplating life on this nice bend when a strange tapping on my left ear with the aftermarket white tip of a Fox Specialist 12 foot 1lb tc rod announced that the Loafer had arrived and not long after Bully bought the rain with him.  Wet through in minutes. My temper worsened by the appearance of  a small dog that ran off with my weigh sling, it's owner totally oblivious.  No recall at all.  Another 'I didn't see you there' excuse. 10 minutes of trying to get it on a lead them another 10 trying to disentangle it. When she had she dropped the sling at her feet  and of course the dog picked it up again

Headed back to the car with the intention of dumping the mountain of wet stinky tackle and bread slop in the boot and come back down with a flask of soup  to watch the Loafer expertly guide Bully to a netfull, the rain stopped as I got to Dead Cormorant swim and I seized the opportunity to winkle this smaller feller out  all bronzes and coral pinks.

The rain retuned with a vengeance so I headed back up the steep steps to the charabanc . Got up to the village and the top of the cloud was down below.   Steak for tea so a wet but happy day in the end.

Marsh chub

Been thinking a lot about a stretch of my 'new' river.  Bang between a sprawling estate, a massive health and science park and a busy trunk road. It's free for a start.  I selected a parking spot where I'd have at least a chance of watching the local populace jack the charabanc up on bricks. A grey overcast day, perfect for wily old chub but not for leaving the big coat in the boot. Which of course I did 

High flood bank and  extensive marginal growth, finding waderless spots a premium. Settled on a pair of bends as far up as I could walk and  fed some white gold in a few likely spots. Flake on a size 6 wide gape, first swim only one tremor. Second swim missed 2 bites in quick succession. Third, lost a chub as I was contemplating where to net it. Annoying but at least hardly a barren fish less desert. Dropped down a bend on to this longer straight and  after a good scrap the chub did what chub do best, transferred the hook to a reed stem. I did swear a lot.

Next cast  and bingo, No way was I going to loose this one and in the onion bag it went. Lovely thick set fish and well received by passers by. I was so chuffed  I even forgave their dog for trying to snaffle my cheese roll.

The big coat and thoughts of a stripped down charabanc had me hurrying back with plans to warm up and drive the short distance to the park stretch  for some short rod trotting but I had a urge to drive back to the village stretch below the next mill. Someone was in my intended spot so I set down a respectful distance above and set about some stick and pin work with the usual pair of red grubs in a size 16 wide  gape spade end. Gudgeon, roach, chublets and a minnow were the rewards for finding the sweet spot, dace too including this very gravid fish.

Last trot and much sturdier resistance in the strong pull and I would of sworn it was a chub if I lost it unseen. Once I saw it was a roach I was determined to net it. A battled scared warrior with cormorant and or otter damage. I  had wondered if my lost chub from the previous session here was a roach as I'd seen vivid red fins as the hook pulled and that was bigger than this.

Oh and I found another bodged rod chucked in a bush. This time a rather gaudy NGT drop shot rod.

The early bird

The early bird catches the bigger rudd. On Monday anyway. I'd headed up to the away town stretch hoping for some Fen Gold but things conspired for a later start and though the tip rattled and jagged round, often on the drop the corn/worm and feeder only produced not or barely netters. Rudd of course, roach and a solitary skimmer and silver bream, both bait size. The one big rudd I contacted with snapped the hooklink.  These are the best from what would have been a fair netfull if I'd kept them all. Nice, but not as big as I had hoped for.

Plenty of predator action and  the small silver bream I had liphooked on a circle hook and legered down the edge near where I was swinging fish in didn't last too long as this plump Fen Tiger had the baitrunner fizzing. Put up a nice scrap on the lighter rod (1.5lb tc) much to the delight of the passers by. Are you going to eat it etc. A smaller roach came back with distinct signs of zander attention though I didn't hear any indication from the non-fizzing baitrunner.

I was bookended by two blokes who had travelled nearly as far as me, Epping and Sawbridgeworth. They had caught a much better stamp of rudd to nearly 2lb early doors but then had similar to me. An absolute nightmare of a journey home with diversions and tailbacks made worse by a timescale imposed by heavy Facebook traffic about a new-fangled angling club app that was supposed to make re-joining dead easy but had lured many members into joining for the current season instead. The pub, once I'd got there was full to more than overflowing with bewildered old buggers like me waving their phones with the folding card holders about in despair, or more often than not the floral covered tablets of their accompanying wives as the old buggers  can't use a 'pooter' or one of them smart thingies. Smugly turned out that I'd done my early bird application properly, even with a sideways mug shot. If only I could download and listen to one of The  Loafers excellent podcasts. Find Backwaters-A Podcast for Real Anglers where ever you download yours from. Unless you are a linear listening Luddite like me.

Gonks

Rain petering out so rod out of the boot for  a quick trot. Dace, roach, chublets (one better chub lost) and a whole nest of gudgeon. Good for the soul.

Another cracking away day

Bring yer wellies was the Loafer's instruction. As we walked down The Tunnel it became clear why. The river was spread over a fair bit of Essex and Suffolk and still spilling over the bank behind us onto the flood plain the whole day. Kept most of the dog walkers and ramblers away.

Unusually I had settled into my swim 

and was fishing well before the Loafer had set up his long trotting rod. Fishing shorter than last time in this swim, two chances came and went before one of the horrible black plague surfaced in the swim and off took to a volley of fecks. Didn't put the chub off this time and even I couldn't miss the next vicious stab round of the quiver tip. A lovely plump chub in the onion bag.

Several moves later we were back in the original swim and after dismantling Mandelson and Mountbatten and the scourge of VAR the Loafer got a bit of his mojo back and retackled his totting gear and was soon rewarded with his first chub of the day, way down the trot with a big lump of Wharby Orange.

I caught up with him again a bit further down, another chub on. Mind the stinking black death he said. One less of the ravening horde. Dreadful things.

Another cracking day Loafer. I'd commented on the general composty nature of his van earlier in the car park. Check this out.

He generously handed me a decent wrap to eat on the way home from the bowels of the van. Wrapped up and everyhing. Half way through ramming it greedily in my cakehole I detected a familiar whiff. A real live muck heap stinking brandling.....   

                                                                                            

Diversion

Something possessed me to get the pike rods out yesterday. Which I haven't done for ages. Up past our stretch and some nice looking bends.  4 buzzards wheeling and mewing over that copse. Kestrel food sharing courtship behaviour too on the floodplain behind me. Very mild and no wind. Gloomy though.

 

Standard lowland river tactics for me, one deadbait down the margin to twitch back and one upstream across to twitch back diagonally then move down. Both under a float. Popped up one sardine, and one on the bottom. Given the evidence in the otter middens I feared crayfish trouble but thankfully none. Second lift and twitch on the upstream rod sparked a pike into action. Not big by any means but good to break in the new pike rods now I have moved the broomsticks on.

Some more pikey doors opened for me today for when the non-tidals are in the fields and I sense my enthusiasm for them returning. Chub tomorrow however.

Back end beckons

One day of no rain forecast for Saturday so headed back to The Pastons to see if I could find the roach. First trot and the float buried. It's pacey here and the fish felt a bit better than it was but still a lovely roach. I was sitting by an otter midden and the discarded clacky claw seemed apt to add a touch of red to match the eyes and fins.

That was it, tried  holding back, running through at current speed and dragging and under shotted float to no avail. Moved up twice and found a few smaller roach but my trip ended when a passing Bruno knocked my big green bucket with bait, floats, shot, scissors etc. into the river. Luckily the camera strap got caught in my chair and my camera didn't follow. Bruno didn't need to be on a lead apparently as it had good 'recall'.

Pissed around Monday doing 'things I should be doing on my day off'. One thing I probably wasn't expected to do was have a pint in the Goat. Very nice it was too.

Which only served to hastened the soaking I got as soon as I got the gear out of the charabanc up on the Church stretch. No bites but some useful local gen on pike and better roach. Home to get everything dry again  

Much better forecast for Tuesday so packed some scaled down kit including the new 10 foot rod on Aconite Meadow and the even more diminutive Brook way past Newmarket. Certainly  more water on than last time but not a raging torrent  and Bruno's noisy bredren only barked for 10 solid minutes  before buggering off. Took a a little while to find the right zone for a few hungry dace to home in on the double reds. A longer trot and  the strike met much firmer resistance. Chub on and every trick and dodge it knew failed and I bought it back above the net once I saw those slobbering chops to let it drift in. Must of coughed up a full handful of red maggots. Not a bad chub at all. 

Off to the Brook, and a never ending stream of curious half term kids and I was able to catch nearly on demand for all of them. Apart from a tiny pale chub and a tiny roach in the first spot it was bank to bank dace, teasing the float down the edge of the faster water. Smaller ones in the slacker inside of the bend.  None really needed netting but lovely fresh fish all of them. Many sandpaper rough  or pigeon chested and plump. The backend is certainly only just round the corner. Did loose one unseen better fish. Perch or chub?

Here are the best of  bunch all from a six/seven yard trot.

Fantastic afternoon with the sound of fast running water, the chatter of birds and excited kids and the sweet smell of oxygenated water. The 10 footer stood up well for the tight surroundings, the old 3.2 lb Floatfish is getting stripped straight off the reel. Shite.