Bream Broadcasting Corporation

Needed head space so checked out the  cow situation on "my" meadow  before  a possible roach session tomorrow then onto Golden Pond. And with this view 5 minutes from home on a warm late summer evening why wouldn't you?

Rut, routine or simple expectation? Same rod rest holes, same bait, same approach. Not always the same fishy result but that dip of the float, strike and up off the seat to the right to keep the fish out of the pads has me coming back for more, and often. And whilst it is still baking hot this is always in the bag. Can't beat a bit of ginger. Good with a full flavoured gin or a voddie too.

First dip of the float and I wasn't quick enough to thwart the smallish mud pig as it yomped through the pads. Unfortunately the line was being pulled through one stubborn clump and the inevitable happened. I did eventually get every thing back apart from the puddle chucker. A fiz of tenchy bubbles, I pulled a fresh rig back over it and boom. Clear water this one but the tench decided to let go just at at the stink net. Three missed bites then a decent mud pig which I thought had cleared the pads but sadly not.  I had two bobbing floats in the pads and the third to watch . Headache time. And more stink to add to the net and mat. Five loads of snot in fact. Happy days.

Just need to rig up the camera to get some action shots against that fantastic sky. Or a ghillie.

Dog days?

I really fear for our watercourses at the moment, it's like John Creasy's The Drought. Found some water in my beloved river  between three mills, and as well as a nest of tiny gudgeon and some small but immaculate "big" shouldered roach I had a couple of fish that needed a net.

This perch came from a bridge that was playing host venue to the World's Pooh Stick competition and was a good stretch for the 3m landing net pole. "What lovely red fins". Someone had been watching Mortimer and Whitehouse Go Fishing.

Up above the middle mill for the last hour and plenty of dace and just one of what I was looking for.

And, given that calling out someone to open a gate on a Bank Holiday Monday might incur double time said gate was opened at 7.30pm (this being Saturday) and probably leading to a near dry out.

Nice with water in for sure.

Somewhere with less and less water is Golden Pond so it's making the most of what might not be there soon. Price of an extra 1000 homes?

 Glowing  tench as the light shone through the gill cover. My eyes were sweating it was so hot.

 A battle scared old friend that had travelled from it's usual haunt at the dam end.

And a pair of fresh (er)  young things as the sun dipped behind the treeline.

This and that

Ponding it as usual on Saturday, and of course a trio of bream , of varying shapes and sizes. And all set off like scalded cats before giving up. As usual. In reverse order...

Cracking lunch today for a full house of the tribe and more cooked by the Metropolitan Elite.

Then  I found  a few gaps in the weed for a few dace and a solitary gudgeon on the pin. And a tiny chub.

Croc'o'deeel

Fished into the teeth of the wind, well it was warm enough so why not. Not easy to see the bites but picked up two fish anyway on the Source under a puddle chucker.  A lull.

First was this gorgeous yellow bellied tench. Lean but not mean. A real tail slapper of a fish.

Then a big surprise and one I am still not sure how I got into the net with the 5lb line intact and on a stepped up waggler rod. I usually have the 42 inch net set up in case I get a big mud pig and when I saw the head like a dustbin over the net cord I was rather pleased I'd set it up.

If the pike had had the body to go with the head and at the back end of the season the scales  might have nearly gone round fully twice. As it was 19.04 was registered and taking off the net that came to 17.08. One of the Golden Pond crocs with an eel's body. Couldn't see any traces in the throat. I guess they don't have much depth to swim in and they do take quite large goslings as a common place thing.

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The usual three

Out in the big wind yesterday but found a semi-sheltered spot back on the dam and winkled out  a trio of bream close in on the puddle chucker float.

Getting bored of mat shots so had a quick one on the self timer. Will think a bit more about it next time...... and that's me being neat and tidy.

Loafing

Loafing. Ask Lord Lite of Thorrington about that. AKA the Essex Scribbler. Anyhoo, it goes something like this. Work (well perhaps not  in his case) but make sure you smell many, many roses along the way.  It certainly involves some of this:

Essential fuel: Grey Seal coffee just yards from the roaster

Essential viewing: work by David Cowdry. The perch one is even bigger, and with an even bigger price tag (and a red sold sticker).

Essential grounding: the simple beauty of an intimate chalk stream, in this case the Glaven.

And of course fishing, and where possible at last knockings: because there will be wine on your return.

Back on it.

Not long been back from the Northern end of Majorca with for some of the time 7/9ths of the BureBoi Tribe.  A few trials and tribulations along the way as well as lots of moments of joy.  It was a relief when we touched down into Norwich International and only had a short drive home. I'll collect my thoughts for a fuller blog update shortly.

Touched earth with a quick bream on Sunday evening.

Had a couple of hours yesterday, it turned out in an absolute dinger of a cloudburst, alongside a busy road with constant spray from buses and 38 tonne lorries so I got as wet as I have been when fishing for a long time. Strangely the last two times have been on Golden Pond as well though in colder and more prolonged conditions and far more miserable.

It seemed the injection of fresh water had woken up the Pond and I had three tench and  two bream in short order. This time from the marginally deeper dam right close in and as a result the rod was hooped over magnificently.

One of the ones with  a hint of grey and pink on the underparts. Somewhat hiding its maleness with the merest hint of  enlarged pelvic arangements.

She has been in the wars for sure.

The camera settings were all wrong for the biggest fish, a male far bigger than I'd of expected from the Pond, again with  a damaged rudder and this time testosterone  crazy pelvics.

I quite literally bailed out after this bream, I could have stayed an hour and  a half more and cleaned up but the thought of getting a mini mountain of wet stuff, including me, in the car and home and dried out by wine o'clock was too much to contemplate. You can see my offering to the fishy gods round its mouth. Any bits of spat out boilie or pellet go well back into the fish's mouth in recompense.

I did bring back a very cheap bottle of whiskey, just right to toast those gods once more.