Wednesday 17 July 2019

Ticking over

Had  go on the banded pellet on Sunday, just didn't feel right so on with the golden grains for a few mediocre roach and skimmers and this long old thing. I think there were several down there so must give 'em a proper go.

Golden pond is really feeling the heat of late. Looks quite desperate to be honest but the fish seem in to be in tip top shape at the moment. Three being the norm for a scant evening hour including travel


Morning rations being delivered to the great burghers of Holt. Let them eat sponge...

Sunday 14 July 2019

Rambling on

Had a brief look at the roachy bit the other day. Not much access and lots of weed as you'd expect for the summer on  a neglected river. I think I'll take some floating casters and some bread to see what might  sneak out to have a nosh. More prospecting than fishing.

Meanwhile I have  been haunting Golden Pond on hour long raids. All the usual suspects with a couple of big commons that  never quiet made it to the net.

A skinny tench that had masses of roach scattering onto the  pads as I got it  back through them.

And a plumper one last night. First cast as the pellets softly rained in on it's head.

And plenty of bream, especially as the light values lower.

Monday 8 July 2019

Fallow, no mojo, eels feet

Sciatica has got me the bastard. A hateful but thankfully for me usually transient condition. Coincided with a bit of a mojo draining fallow period dangling wise. A few dace on the stick and  a mean, lean pike that snaffled a tinca bound boilie, fought like stink and bit me off, after I'd dipped the formerly dry net in the pond. And a mumbled aside by the optician about cataracts. Which being a man I chose to pretend not to hear, and he being a man chose not to be more forthcoming about. 

I did drag my sorry arse to Yarco though yesterday as the Little 'Uns were in a show on Britannia Pier. They done good but looked so tiny......

Mind you I need to send them to a  Chinese style Uighur People re-education camp after having trod the same soiled boards as these Good Ole Saturday Night "entertainers".

I fortified myself for 3 hours cramped in a tiny bucket of a seat in at times excruciating pain with a pint of Eels Foot, being as the Carvery was  set on the banks of Eels Foot Broad.

Quite a Boujee crowd, unlike on the Pier. Even a Lilly Allen look a likie. Amongst a goodly proportion of the BureBoi tribe and in-laws.

Speaking of Saturday Night "entertainment":

Wednesday 3 July 2019

Rasta tench

Red, green and gold. Irie. True rastafari. Love peace and tench.

Not sure you'ld get away with this being Ethiopia though.

Monday 1 July 2019

Bang tidy

An early evening window on the pinhead fry filled lagoon saw me twisting a bank stick into the hallowed turf and this time I had the right bait boxes to fit the apertures. Bang tidy I thought for me anyway. But I have seen the absolute carnage of  a mid session  Fletcher's swim  (He of HMP).

Fished corn over hemp and  6mm Spicy Sausage pellet and had a cracking session, starting of with skinmers and hybrids and then the roach moved in. All pretty much the stamp of these two so not bad at all, all netters anyway. 

I also had this somewhat battered old girl. 1.05  but a suggestion perhaps of a once much bigger frame.

I also lost a decent tench which dived for the net and missed, leaving an accusing pigs tail curl where the spade end had been. As Newbie confirmed shortly after, finding me in "his" swim, if you see 'em at the net they sort of count. I had the water splashed specs to prove it. He was on his favoured banded pellet and it was fascinating watching the bubblers homing in on the sound of his bigger 8mm pellet splashing in. He had a good go at the roach too. Which he said were mostly shitting out my pellet whilst eating his.

And of course I've been keeping my end in on Golden Pond and catching mostly (only) bream. It seems a trio in an hour is about right.

A shiny young thing.

A crusty old spawny starburst of  a thing, black as coal when it turned over in the shallow, warm water on the strike.

Last night was even warmer. milky warm in fact and again a trio, from three different parts of the swim, two on the puddle chucker float and one on the swingtip, and a lost mud pig that was about as far away from the net as it could have got so no chance of a sort of counting.

Wouldn't you want to eat that shiny little round thing? If the bait does come off the hair I do the decent thing and stuff it in their pharyngeals before slipping them back. Seems only right.

The unphotographed one could have fitted these two in its big old scrawny frame and not as weighed as much as them put together. The rain has put another couple of inches in and the fish have appeared in the back bay again, truffling in new found riches.

Meanwhile The Loafer has been schlepping round France in his Hymer, bothering Ade Kiddel, eating much de pain croute and chasing similarly middle aged cheese eating surrender monkeys up hills on a bike. And catching barbel.

I only managed a walk and a pint on the marshes with the Boi George, a barbie and a go on the Pogle tree with the afore mentioned Boi George, the Little 'Uns and Stick Man.

Broadside of course (if no Abbot available).