Chublet a go go

Germany consigned to the bin and a hour or so to kill so off to the Mill for a trot or two, if I had chesties I would have packed them to get over to the run behind the fast push but I didn't so perched on a tank trap block  and did the best I could. 

Still on the 2 swan chubber and two or 3 red maggot on a Kamasan B560  #16.

Had these lovely chublets before the tiny dace took over then back home in time for wine o'clock.

Sunday, Sunday

After Saturday's no-event curry the Commander-in Chief's melting brisket with a rich deep gravy restored the balance and I headed off to the Next Nearest  a very contented Bure Boi. Waggler or bust since I hadn't yesterday with mostly two grains of golden goodness on the Kamasan B560 #14. A warmish but stiff wind meant I had to work to keep the bait steady and lots of regular feeding over an initial balling in of my remaining Black Bream were required to maintain interest. It's a good depth 3 rods out and might suit the slider, certainly with bigger hookbaits. One to ponder on. Deep enough for even these still just about skimmers to make me reach to flick off the anti reverse.

Several kingfishers were active, those brilliant halcyon turquoise darts streaking across the pool and a lone tern, very white looking (sandwich tern perhaps). One hovering bird caught my eye, seemed much larger than a kestrel but the guide books tell me nothing else hovers so it must have been. This narrow winged damsel did stop briefly for it's photo.

The bream (by now not skimmer sized) started to feed in earnest and seemed to do so in increasing size order.

I'm sure this fish was one of a run of a run of red or red blemished pectoral finned ones I had over  a couple of weeks this time last year and the biggest of the bunch today.

And if they got there first a few roach joined the party, and I saved the best for my last, last, last cast. 

.

Saturday continued.

I had  a short pass out after my Cromer wander so headed off to the Next Nearest to use up some odds and sods of bait. As I  passed a surprisingly empty meadow  I realise I could have had a few hours on the pin  as the usual pool diving yoots were absent.  Anyway, the Royal Box was out so settled  into a gap in the purple loosestrife, and almost instantly regretting my decision to leave the waggler rod in the pantenchnicon as the rain stopped, the wind died away and the sun broke out.

Method feeders deployed an under arm swing out with  a tempting flouro thingy pressed into 3mm pellets, which I've just about got the hang of dampening then dusting with groundbait for a perfect consistency. The Devils Work.

I guess the fish were wearing their Devil deflecting amulets  because  I mostly looked at these,

whilst waiting for these to dance. Which they did fitfully in the end.

A couple of young guns graced the stinknet, all bright and freshly scrubbed. I also had a mass of silvery fry along the lines as they stretched out  to the feeders.

And just one pondering, slob like elder (and  a bream.....) that got the grin to camera routine as I had a nearby lens man.

Actually a still fresh looking male with spawning tubercles and a lovely buttery glow. Pushing 6 we thought but not really one to get the Korum digitals out for. 

These pads and rushes were alive with damsels, darters and dragonflies but all too fleety to capture.

Home in time for  tea from a much vaunted Sri Lankan eat away outfit. Sadly the only flavour detectable in my chicken rice and potato curry was a hidden cardamom pod  in the last forkful of ok rice .

 

 

Saturday came

Largest Un, a Little Un and me went for a whistle stop tour of Cromer When Saturday Came, mostly because he's not one to dawdle. Not even for a sit down coffee. So me being sulky bought him one to walk briskly with but not for me. The sossidge roll he bought us was nice though.

Cromer styles itself as the Gem of the Norfolk Coast. It might be but on a drizzly grey day you have to squint though a few dusty windows to find anything barely resembling a glimmer. Window cleaners seem to be in short supply. Guess in these covid ravaged times businesses must be on their knees and have no spare cash or credit to hand.

Being a gem on a coast as you'd imagine the sea is never far away,  often just round the next corner. A very unfriendly, even cruel sea at times and yesterday it had spat a lot of dummies over the prom wall. Sand and quite large pebbles were being tidied by the municipal cleaner so as not to offend the thronging hordes.

What hordes? Not much thronging in evidence. 

Clear throng inducement going down here. Still not quite getting the hang of indoor beer drinking yet, especially the apps and QR code malarkey.

I did find  a couple of gems in this lovely tucked away bookshop guarded buy a Little Un.

Doubt you can go wrong with a Gierach, The Eric Taverner and W.E Barrington-Browne peon to an Immortal Trout has the most delicious old book smell, I can picture it in an old book cabinet with leaded windows, bought out to read with a briar pipe on the go. I don't have a briar pipe but I'm sure I've got an old baccy tin somewhere though the tobacco smell might be infused with the smell of crayons. Dalrymple promises practical tips, plain talk and angling inspiration for the open-minded sportsman. It had better, coming out the most expensive at £4. 

Love looking at/into courtyard gardens, this one just yards from an amusement arcade. I know where  I'd rather be.

This honeysuckle must smell gorgeous in the evening. I didn't pan round to the less fragrant bus station.

Cromer  means crabs right?

 

Merchant of Spice

Turns out there wasn't even a half pint of revivalist maggots left, and they needed some oomphing up so I sprinkled in some turmeric and headed off with somewhat limited expectations given the meagre freebies I had. Still, in for a penny and all that and I found a couple of pockets of fish in my hour and a bit before dusk. The penultimate long dusk before the slow descent back into winter. Mostly dace but a gudgeon and its likely predator added a touch of variety, all to the chorus of barking deer and chinking blackbirds. I'm sure the otters were lurking nearby too. Caught orange handed, like a 40 a day man.. 

A little gonk.

It's nemesis. Deffo get that gonk in its gob.

Waggle Dance

I'd fried 2 pints of maggots on Wednesday in that blast furnace heat, and though I've revived about half  a pint with about the same froze down and with Noah like predictions for wet weather for a fortnight, plus twitchy key holder opening sluices decide not to top up my maggot supply for the only forecast dry day yesterday and head for a nearby still water that's just reopened its creaky gate hinges after a post coital lay off. And speaking of pints, no not the honey influenced Waggle  Dance, but a pint of Woodforde's Wherry, with crisps (no scratchings I'm afraid) called me to stop on my way. 

The clouds hung low, heavy with menace but I chanced it with just shorts and tee, with an auxiliary hoodie just in case, as I reasoned a few less bits to dry off it it did rain. A changeable on and off breeze kept things sub humid at least. I'd loaded the kitchen sink into the pantenchnicon as I was couldn't be sure what swims would be available as the  trend is for far bank fishing which potentially cuts off several spots at times for the close in merchants like me. But, as hoped the Royal Box was free and only one way to go, corn under  a 5 AAA peacock insert waggler over  a bed of Black Bream with hemp and corn top ups. Hindsight told me I should have added pellets to the top up but I didn't.

Lots of floating debris following the recent heavy rain and wind did hamper presentation at times but first chuck in and this chunky hybrid put up a good show before being hustled into the stink net before it became pike fodder.

A couple of roach, and then an unseen opponent that pondered off purposefully before shedding the #14 Kamasan B560 but not leaving any tell tale snot or scales for ID purposes. Next bite again seemed to produce a decent bream like response but something sowed seeds of doubt and these were amplified by a series of pings down the line as the line slipped off the dorsal, only one thing does that, a mudpig.  An indeed as it broke the surface  big scales were visible, and the only question was whether I could cram the plodding old warrior in the stink net before it really woke up. I did but only then felt its bulk as I struggled to hoist the net up and into the cradle mat. Bearing spawning wounds it required some skin treatment before I quickly dampened the sling and zeroed the Korum Digitals. 17lb 1oz(or as the current fashion 17 and ozs. Yes really. That is how you have to say it now). Surprising what a decent actioned rod, 3lb line and  a small (ish)  hook can cope with if you are careful.

A flurry of roach  an da few skimmers followed some needing the net too. Magical fishing, on the drop or just after the shots steadied the float on the bottom. Lifts or slowly dimpling under (dotted down natch).

The bubbles belied bigger prey and after this hybrid they showed up.

Tench of course. And boy did this pair of angry males put up a fight, rapped knuckles and every thing. Weighed the first and it didn't quite make 4lb (3lb 15oz).  Punch way above their division. Not as pretty as the females, the grunts of the family. Almost wrasse like sometimes in shape, much dumpier.

Had to retie a hook which had bent straight after an eventually  fruitless battle with an aerobatic pike with sweet teeth, low doubles I thought, certainly not the ever present furloughed unit after my roach and skimmers under the pads, and decided to move the shot up and go for the roach on the drop rather than  mix more groundbait, it was getting chilly and spots of rain in the air so wanted a bit more feed and cast action before my 5pm curfew.    

No bigger bream, guess they might have hung around more with pellets in the mix but there's always another time. 

 

Rivers are on.

I'm afraid dawn starts are behind me for a while yet at least and work needed finishing so I was glad of some dappled shade once Id' reached the river and readied the simple loafer rig, in front of me was a shallow pool and crystal clear waters, urban but lovely.  I had some turning maggots to use up so a fair few casters were floaters which gave a good indication of the amount of fish in front of me as they were picked off some quite a way down the pool as well as in front of me. 

A tight fishing station tucked by a bridge, but enough clearance to wield the 15 footer and enough flow, when it got a bite less chance to take line of the pin. Most fish came from close though and if it wasn't for the pesky radar eyed ducks I could have picked out individual fish. Here are the first couple of fish of the 2021/22 river season and most were at least of this stamp.

Not all the roach were  classic silver, I  had several with a much darker body colouration, quite carp like in colour with dark red fins, but bright red eyes and a longer shape. There are rudd here but not sure really about hybridisation  

Dace too, but today not as plentiful as the roach.

What I'd hoped for though (secretly) were a few brownies and I wasn't disappointed. I really did lose count. Fabulous colours and markings. A joy to behold.

The ducks finally drove me crazy and I sought a brief respite with a corking pint of Abbot at the Hempton Bell. It barley touched the sides, and not a pub to serve food so it was my only one. Shame as it was spot on.

I'd had enough of the blistering heat so just poked about for the rest of the afternoon town to country down the valley.

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