NBSDB quest continues

Time and weather have not been kind this week, but the rod and big green bucket did get slung in the back of the Charabanc once this week. The river was up, of course but I thought a  far bank run might be ok on the recce  on the way to the thing I had to do. And yes, a Norfolk Bog Shed Door Blue rope swing was spotted. But not the one I was looking for.

Unfortunately on the way back a White Van Man had had the same idea. What now? The Farm Pond was on the way back, and though the trotting rod and a few maggots weren't ideal why not? The small pond looked dour, but one spot had been fished recently. A change in wind direction and a few rises and then bites. As I half expected small but gorgeous rudd. Not ravenous hordes of them. Which is half a blessing. The far bank was high with plenty of scrub in the water and when ever a pheasant or magpie  flew off some heavier splashing could be heard and occasional bubbles so hints of more and better and as I packed in a couple of better swirls. Not perhaps a drive to, but a drive past with  a few pellets to see if anything could be enticed to betray it's presence for future reference

Driveby shooting at Chicken Bridge

I had a longer go after the scaley rod benders, did get a few roach on the drop and some proper bubblers showing old skool stylee in the deep channel to have a think about. Oh, and of course some deffo tench bubbles started once I'd packed up. Got in to hear the result (I'd seen 0-1 earlier) and somehow a sorry arsed Southgate shackled Engerland had scraped through to the Round of 8. (It's not fooken World Series Baseball FFS)

Other than that its been quick rod in the back of the charabanc, everything in my big green bucket sessions on the way to or back from somewhere else. Had an hour on the Duck Pond but didn't  pop in to see if Lord Sugar was in the pub. Did have to cough up a fiver to the newly installed Warden, who was using a very garish set up with little reward.  Think he's there all day, every day so I'll have to weigh up when to part with my hard earned dosh. The cormorants have wiped out loads of  the little scaley rod tremblers and their escapees are getting a bit too big to swallow now, have seen a few roach being caught though which might tempt  the Fen Master away from his vintage press.

One of the inhabitants of the Duck Pond that graced the dampened net and duck cropped grassy sward, all caught virtually under my hideous Crocs, no socks The commons seeming to be doing better than the flatter bellied mirrors.

Checked out the Mill  Pound on Norfolk's only canal mostly to bash a few small swims out, facing wind and lots of silk weed so back with a rake and get  some mash and corn going in. No dace  or bigger rudd but here's a sample of what I wangled out. Perch, ruddlet and a hybrid. Must be some bream in here somewhere

Then there is Chicken Bridge and the search for the Norfolk Bog Shed Door Blue rope swing. Still thinking about a post of chub amongst a healthy bag taken on hemp 'n' caster. The spot looked familiar, and so did the swing. Perhaps he'd put the inevitable brownies back and not in his keep net? Perhaps it was further down and he'd dropped in a few NBSDB herrings? I had had a mosey further down than I'd been and found a few nice runs, seen some minnows and  otter signs. but no NBSDB rope swings. Time was short  so straight to the shady spot with a NBSDB rope swing. This one. Comparisons on my cracked phone screen not conclusive

Anyway, in for a penny and all that. Loads (many, many) of browns, most a lot bigger than this one.

Not so many dace.

And enough mint fresh roach like these to send me happily on my way. quite quickly when  the small holder who must have been pissed about the yoots milling about now school is out and made his feelings clear with a shotgun. Only in Chicken Bridge Town, deffo a Reform voter. 

 

 

Bankside bashing

The river looked brown, listless and moribund. So I went after some scaly rod benders. A bit like small wild river brownies. Lovely to look at with so many variations and pull back a a bit. Trouble is, they are so easy to catch so  you do get a bit meh after an hour or so. Won't stop me  going back though.

Yesterday the river still looked a non rain induced brown but it had a bit of flow and life about it so  l set off for an explore. I've had two consecutive mishaps with already cannibalised so slightly small pawls on my Advanta RVS pin so rather than take a bodge stick through the drum lash up I had a Hyperloop 1000 rear drag 'fixed' on the light as the wind Drennan Waggler rod in place of the heavier Specimen rod. I say fixed, the plastic sliding reel fittings haven't shrunk as much a s the cork handle and I need to deploy  a Two Terriers  patented artisan lolly stick as a shim.

No balsam to bash but plenty of rank vegetation to hack down to access likely spots, not that pleasant in the sticky evening heat surrounded by biting and stinging things and no guarantee of  a clear glide once the river itself was reached. Two spots had a few trotting yards but for now at least no comfortable place to sit to fish on a mat so standing it would have to be. Hadn't bought any bread or hemp to tease them up the glide so bites were coming a little too far down the glide for comfort but I didn't have to bat back when I missed. Dace yes, but enough lovely roach like this one to consider it worthwhile coming back to open a gap about 15 yards down.

Dropped down to the next spot, trotting to cover with a bit more pace. Certainly more dace here, with the odd roach now and then.it went a bit quiet and perhaps this was why. Give me a bit of a tussle as well.

I left as the dew began to fall and the azure kingfishers and damselflies melted away. An hour after wine o'clock said the charabanc cabin display accusingly and the Commander in Chief wasn't best  pleased. Who daces wins

Running water.

It's stopped raining, it's warm and the upper river is running clear. Up to Chicken Town and tuck in by the bridge.  Swing over to the clear run, left to right trot, double reds on a #16 B560 . Float stabs under and first Wensum fish of the season. A dace, perfect

Followed up by a picture perfect roach: getting better.

Several more of each before the inevitable brownies muscled in and I upped sticks. 

I'd spotted a familiar looking bog shed door blue rope swing in a first day bagging shot, looking a bit like a favoured swim a hundred yards down. he'd reported chublets so I wasn't quite sure, I've seen  a couple of 2-3lb chub up here that must have been moved a couple of mills in the tradition of some of the old Norfolk Bois like Housego but haven't caught one yet. Not too difficult a swing over to the darker water but a troublesome tree above my left shoulder. A couple of decent dace and this lovely roach and a few brownies.

It was getting hot in the late morning sun so I crossed over Chicken Town bridge to fish the same swim in the shade of a big oak, with a gentle drop in and  right to left (my favoured) trot down into the near cover. Much more efficient and worth wading through the lurking brownies. Some of the roach were the darker variant with distinctive tail lobes I only ever seem to catch up here

 

along with the more typical river roach like this one.

And obviously a shed load of brownies . But no chublets in the few I kept in the landing net for another bagging shot.

I've ditched the rucksack for these sort of sessions and pressed into service my trusty 'huge' bucket much lampooned by the Loafer so I'm bit more mobile now working back to the car.

Last stop before lunch and three trots, three different species.

Lunch was served by Mr Wetherspoon, cheap, cheerful and very welcome it was too. Handy for a post pint fish too,. I hoped to draw some fish out of the mid river cover (inside full of minnows) but they preferred the fast run and were mostly small rudd like this one. 

My enthusiasm dwindled and I spent the last 15 minutes  seeing how feeding influenced behaviour. To the left the eddy  slowed and  single maggots enticed first rudd then dace being taken almost as soon as they hit the surface,  a few more and some made it down to the dead water and the fish kept coming in from nowhere and were more interested in the maggots on the bottom as I increased the feed and for a while after the bait was gone.  Seeds/small amount of groundbait would certainly held their interest for longer.

That swing and the chub  must be a few bends down....

Seasonal change

The rhodos and flag iris are in full bloom on Golden Pond and the fish have taken on a brighter, bolder appearance too. This pair of boilie munching bream an almost pefect before and after example

What nearly did come after this horrendous monsoon (Golden Pond hasn't been this full for several years) would have made a very pretty picture.

As the rain cleared the float dipped and a tench was on, and what a tench  The darkest of greens and a shockingly custardy yellow belly. Hook pulled and it lay head in the silt, just out of net reach, for an agonising 30 seconds before righting itself and surging off in a cloud of silt and bubbles  3 feet of ancestral silt at the end of the staging so no wading this side of the pond. Never mind. A polite cough from a tucked away swim to my right  acknowledged the torrent of foul language that echoed around the valley. I went home. 

Kicking up a stinca

Carp Dad. Phil Foden catches carp. We want to too. OK then but on the float only.  They do pull back you know. They did pull back, five times. Each carp meant 4 grains of corn to be eaten straight from the bait box. A sore wrist curtailed play. They can learn their trade before going to the dark side. And I'm too mean to shell out on day ticket money, or the journey too often...

I had more serious business to attend to. Tench. And I knew just the place. Yes, bream and mudpigs might get in the way now and then but with a view like this  I could put up with a bit of a sacrifice. And no day ticket. Hour and a bit sessions are my allotted windows at present.

First foray on Golden pond was a bit chillier than it looked above. Not much movement until curfew time and a last cast bite. After a quick surge the hoped for tench turned into  a surrender monkey bream. Unhooked in the net  on the pads to save on a bit of slime,

Next pass out and the stages looked a windy prospect so tucked in on the noisy but wind calmed  road bank, close in to cover. A couple of missed bites on my favoured Source mini boilie and bingo.  A much sterner contest and  a lovely fat tench was resting up in the net. Must be the carp boys feed that's fattening them up as I'm  used to them being long but thin..

Last trip back on the staging saw a bream and a carp being lost just near the net (hook pulls) but the return of  a long lost Puddle Chucker; swings and roundabouts as I'd had the fun bit of playing them in.

 

Norfolk gems

It's warming up and so are the ponds. Lovely to see fish bubbling and early morning mist rising and drifting wraithlike over the milk warm surface. Cow Parsley everywhere and the May Flower turning pink, flowers set to turn to fruits. Except this particular morning in a pea souper along the A47 and A11 and into the Brecks before the sun won. Many muntjacs skilfully avoided. Stand-off at the gate with an interloper struggling with wet pay envelopes and padlock till we went left round the Crabtree Society bog shed (no blue) and an open entrance. The Loafer looked on incredulously.

Fish tight to cover and find holes in the (prodigious) weed was the Loafer's instruction. The indicated spot seemed fishless, the far side of the swim soon bubbling but weed to the surface, luckily a fish grabbed a soft hooker on the drop and I'd got half of what we had come for. A lovely unmarked tench in a ball of hornwort.  Split cane and cat gut? Not for me today.

Pressure off went to watch the Loafer go about his well honed business and this lovely little crucian, the other half of our intended quarry.

I'd found a decent clear patch, big enough for two floats (one peacock and one plastic) so we both fished together for my last couple of hours, eating, listening to cuckoos and the distant Snetterton race track and talking the usual bollocks. Being 60, or being nearly 60 for a start. And Mark E Smith. The man, the myth, the...and catching fish. Don't get much better than that.

My first crucian for decades.

The Loafer stayed on and added another 4 crucians and 6 tench to his tally. Cracking place, cracking day.

Work loomed (bah humbug) but once finished nice family meal out. Perfect.

Another year propping up the EFL

Desperate times down in the basement of pro football at what the die-hards call Cuckoo Farm. It had come down to the last game and just one point needed to avoid the drop into the oblivion of the National League where many frequent visitors to the old Layer Road slowly rot to death. Not a sell out as it was against Wrexham, you'd have thought Cowling would have done a kids for a quid to get the place rocking but then again. The South Stand was full though and it was a wall of Essex Boi sound, gilets, caps and Stone Island all the way.

The U's played what was probably the best game of the season. Sutton were one down on 14 mins and it was party time on 35 minutes when Chilvers (one of our own apparently went on a mazy run down the left before cutting back in on his right foot to fire one low to the keeper's right and his near post. Sutton gave it a good go over at MK Dons getting to 4-4 in the 91st minute. The only time our drummer fell silent was on the 92nd minute when Crewe dribbled one in lamely down the far (North) end to send the Crew fans scatty as it was the point they'd need to secure a play off spot. From the kick off we more or less passed the ball to Crewe for what seemed a pre-planned two minute keep ball ole fest whilst Col U watched from the safety of their half.  Sutton fans would have been foomin. Final whistle and celebrations all round the ground. Funny old game football

Little 'Un is now another member of the BureBoi Col U tribe (we do have two Canaries, a Gooner and a Scouser for balance).

Double bubble

Quick stop on  the Munter Pit on the way home from work. Bloody freezing, bib and braces and the big coat but still felt cold.  More wood smoke, pop guns this time  and "you're not getting any bloody sausages now". A few twitches then the bobbins were away at the same time. Unhooked both in the net to save smegging up the mat. A  pair of male bream, both with spawning bumps, one on the yellow pineapple  wafter and one on the shocking pink tuna wafter. Time to get home, so cold the slimy wet net never got a stink on  in the back of the charabanc.

Everything has gone green

Love early spring. The still low sun backlighting fresh verdant reed, iris and alder leaves. Froths of blossom, even the conker trees are breaking into flower. Shame about the rain, wind and it is so cold this year though. The garden can sod off and fishing is a bit of a chore. Not much to write home about really.

The wood smoke almost autumnal, the shotgun a bit worrying (the mutant water).

I detest this mallard pair who've been about for a few years now on Golden Pond. The male is a nervous bugger, always waiting to be told to do, rather like a Prem linesman. The female is constantly diving on any bait I put in. Hateful things.

Sought solace on a pea green mud pig puddle for a change, this little thing at least put up a little resistance.

Still struggling with the krill and squid, think they've changed the recipe but the cheaper carp pellets seem stickier and hold better in the mould.

 

Made one decent feeder full to fool this lovely hybrid from a different, clearer pond the next day.

 

Munterama. or a face only a mother could love

Given the warmer, drier conditions I thought I'd check out one of my daily commute waters for the odd early finish raid. Small urbanish gravel pit not far from my brownie river.  Still quite boggy and thus a  little uncomfortable to fish but as it was shorts weather things always seem a little better. I had bought the method rods still set up from last year  and some frozen and several times refrozen Krill and Squid method pellets from last year too. Which was probably why they wouldn't mould properly and the wafters were left dangling rather than being buried  in a nice mound of pellet on top of the feeder. I suppose I could have opened a new packet but I didn't. Stingy bugger me. I need to retackle and clean the rods and reels too. Maybe.

Anyway, the pit threw up a couple or three of it's mutant inhabitants. Not a club  to pursue a rigorous and vetted stocking policy. Quite of few of the grass carp they stocked to clear one of the smaller, weedier pits on the ticket seemed to have transformed  into chub.  

This one looked very strangely coloured in the water, but jagged around nicely.  I've just seen that they have stocked a good number of crucians from  a local growing on water. I'm itching to grass then up to the Crucian Association just for LOLs  on Facebook. A page for one eyed swivelling loons if I ever clicked on.one.

And this bream was a shocker. Tiny mouth, and thin as a razor blade

This one was bream shaped but with a very raggedy tail.. Getting ready to spawn more mutants too.