Sometimes you just need to stop, get that car outta that gear...and what better way to press the pause button than by a quintessential English village pond catching little scamps. The cormorants have gone and left a new breeding ground and revitalised stocks. Lighter tactics next time for a bumper haul and a picnic from a wicker basket under the shade of the chestnut tree. And the roach are still there TT......
Monday, 27 June 2022
Sunday, 26 June 2022
Headed for sort of running water for a short session this afternoon on our only local canal, which is slowly being reopened and the large lagoon above the lock, overlooked by gentrification writ large. Quite what the loft livers think of us hoi-poloi cavorting about in front of their very expensive windows I don't know. And the hoi-poloi today included me with my fishing tackle, paddle boarders, organised wild swimmers, a large and raucous hen party and yoots jumping in.
Despite the din, fish were topping in the choppy water in that rudd like fashion and the reeded margins were alive with spawning roach or rudd.
Quick bash on the island and typically no real activity until the curfew loomed. A warm but swirly and troublesome wind so no puddle chucker thus time round. One bumped on the strike and just the one bream before time to go. Which was also hastened by the return of the inept mallard and it's diving and thus bait robbing mate.
No matter, just nice to get back on Golden Pond and to soak up the sights and sounds. I had to to tactfully advise a person with bins, shorts and wellies that standing on the very busy roadside in an attempt to glimpse an apparently very rare downy emerald was tantamount to a suicide bid, I made do with this much safer glimpse of a black tailed skimmer, rareness not established. Shorts and wellies; sort of socks and crocs. And un-ironic bucket hat.
The rhodos and flag iris are now gone over but still beauty to be found.
Brave the hordes of post furlough water sports enthusiasts today on one of my river tickets? Maybe.
Sunday, 19 June 2022
Got an hour in after the rain yesterday, shame I chose the hour the local Yoots came out to play in the pool after their turkey twizzlers for tea. Didn't put the small dace off though. Stuffed with them. Bigger baits required next time.
Plenty of other (slightly) bigger stuff chasing about the whiter water, and mostly these I'd say. No where near as vibrant as their Wensum cousins. Made the ratchet click though (a bit anyway).
Saturday, 18 June 2022
The Glorious 16th dawned with still quite a crocked back and a less than enthusiastic Commander in Chief so I didn't set off till after 8, any chance of any sense of normalcy about my gait firmly abandoned. After a coffee in my normal watching café I arrived by the river to see the whole world feeding the ducks and feral chickens. Good, the ducks wouldn't be in the water. for a while (couldn't be sure about the people, it being an urban spot, with roasting sun).
My go to first day spot was a bit tight but first trot and the world looked a little better, if not my back. And it being the upper Wensum a lovely little wild brownie was pulling the string. Trout are very pretty, and very easy to catch which is why I guess fly fishing was invented to inject some pretence of skill. (A bit like mullet) Even so, I do love catching them, they seem so exotic.
Wednesday, 15 June 2022
As I type this drivel my lower back is in spasm and if I stand up I look like a crab that has shit itself. Strong look but putting my Glorious 16th river plan possibly in tatters. Lakes round me are closed for spawning so that's my go to if I can manage it.
I got out twice at the weekend, and didn't travel far, and if the scenery is like this why would you? I just love being on Golden Pond at this time of the year.
Saturday, 4 June 2022
Boris being booed by Royalists and sightseers as he entered and left St Pauls has been the highlight so far of this week of puff and nonsense. Madge is plainly not well, and Charles if anything looked worse. Back to Boris boos, sadly more fuel to the fire of Nadine Dorries' bonfire of the Beeb and Channel 4. I charitably assume that her assume her swaying like a palm tree in no breeze is due to vestibular problems but there is nowt worse than the fury of a woman scorned is there?
I did wonder why crowds were lined along the A12 as we took the charabanc down to Devil Dog Land to meet the Olds, it became clear as all the assembled Essex Bois, all gillets and flat capped decamped from the boozer we was in to see a very low level pass by the flypast headed down to that there London to possibly say goodbye to Madge for the last time. This picture on the wall of traditional English pastimes made me laugh in these days of the mat police and single species holier than thou nonsense.
As well as catching up en famile presents were transferred from boot to boot as in those dark Covid days and some snap was partaken of.