Tuesday, 18 November 2025

When in doubt the wumms come out.

Unexpected gale, rain then hail. Thermals required. Nearly didn't go but compromised with a spin then worms plan. Took the long walk up to the perch pool for a recce. Looks really fishy up here but no chub that anyone knows about (ripe for seeding with chublets) and I'm sure this is where occasionally seen at dusk roach guy (ugh, that word, why did I type it? was heading with his bag of bread the other day. Anyway, I was armed with the ultra light rod and a tub of lobs for just in case to the pool where I'd had a few trouty nips at the maggots when batting back. Spinning, like swingtipping is something I try for a bit then remember why I don't do it. Wobbling deadbaits at least has a sit and wait now and then option but by the time you've packed traces, cool bag, rod rest, the bigger net you might as well go the  whole two pike rods hog and miss out on the perch and trout. This little feller looked ok in the water and did attract a couple of taps but I wasn't feeling it.




Not a big pool but certainly looks the dogz. 


Out with the tip road and rolling the lobs around with a drop shot weight as I'd forgotten the SSG's 


Wasn't sure if the taps were fish or crays, but a twang round and fish on. No acrobatics but felt trouty and it was. Nothing like the fat as butter fish from last week, this one bore few spots and had been in the wars a bit. However a fish is a fish and if they pull the string then job more or less done. Fecken gumby troot the Loafer declared. I  do think fly fishing is mostly to introduce some level of skill as they will eat anything as it goes past in most cases.
 

A nasty sharp wintery shower seemingly out of nowhere sent me back down the muddy path to  the charabanc early. The levels had risen in the hour I'd been on the pool and I had some wumms left.


Had  to check the next pool below the next mill to earn my season ticket corn, dusk falling as quickly as the temperature and more water coming down now under the bridge so quivertipping on the edge of the eddy with a heavier drop shot weight.


Taps, then pulls, some from the dreaded crays and as the local corvids began to arrive noisily to find their roosts in the Great Wood and the tawnies began to call the strike met firm resistance twice.This freshly minted roach. 


And when I saw the first flash of red fins on this my knees turned to jelly before a spiky dorsal broke the surface. 1lb 15oz of fantastic Bure perch.


Gotta have a brace shot. Happy days..


Sharp frost this morning so out with a book to find a pub with a log fire after a brisk (ish) walk
.













Sunday, 16 November 2025

Storm Claudia? Damp squib perhaps

We have had, like most of the country some serious rain courtesy of Storm Claudia but the land must be so dry the Upper Wensum was just a bit fresher but that's all. A lot the summer weed has gone but the banks are still over grown and a lot of woody debris waiting for  a proper flush through.  Tried the ponded section above the mill, slap bang in the town stretch, a roach first trot then a run of small but lovely coloured wild browns but bites soon dried up. More of a groundbait and and build up bites section perhaps.



Walked down to check below the road bridge and looked bob on for some dace. There were dace (tiny minnows as well)  and roach too. 


Check this three trots, three fish result. Proper roach them. Only a short foray but walking back to the charabanc did see some better glides to fish from from the opposite bank another day. 












Sunday, 9 November 2025

SIze of that

Hoped to recce the perch pool with a few worms under a Loafer hand crafted bobber but  every man and a few dogs were whipping most of the river into a lure induced maelstrom. Found a bend with a bit more depth and a reasonable small landing net full of ok roach and dace, most of which were unceremoniously dumped back in to land this absolute fat as butter unit of  a brownie. It just didn't know when to give up. 5lb 2oz on the Korum digitals.






Tuesday, 4 November 2025

Inadvertent waggler


No into dark sessions this week so the Dream Liner sized chub will have to wait. Monday very blustery so set about the Mill Pool with a fixed spool. Found some farm labourers hand size wiry dace and an acrobatic spotty but the wind was still a nightmare with the shorter 13 footer and the useless 3lb bs Drennan Floatfish and as the school busses began to arrive I moved down two meadows to the respite of the high bricked banking of the Noddy Bridge. Poplar leaves visible on the river bed, no daytime chub to be had here. Back on the 15 footer and pin,  it's usually the nursery pairs of eyes or the afore mentioned big hand sized wiry jobbies here but today I found some namby office worker hand sized and less wiry inbetweener dace  instead, despite having missed a rod ring above an already broken ring (I can't abide not having rods broken down and banded ready to go and I am clumsy. Very clumsy). The timid pair of skittery jittery little grebes I'd watched on Sunday had moved  up, drab little things in contrast to the darting brilliant azure and rich ochre kingfishers.



I'd intended to try the upper Yare today to try and tempt a few more modest chub out of their undercut sweet rush sanctuaries with a constant stream of mash but on the spur of the moment diverted to a stretch of the Bure I've been thinking about for a while with untapped (by me) roach and perch potential. I rounded the first fishable  bend behind the church vaguely hinted at by Bailey in an article (a bit like the rod rest lost by Miller on a bend  and rediscovered 30 years later on at least three different bends)  and saw several fish topping. Decision made. The neatly stacked logs from a  substantial fallen tree,  and as is often the case with tree pools a reasonable depth.


Roach from the off, pretty fish 

and dace too, one with the scale stripped flanks only a perch can produce. My hunch was right.  Several fish in, the battered chubber crafted by the Loafer lay flat. The top rubber had split, producing an inadvertent waggler. Note the respliced middle section and immaculate and complete ringing, courtesy of the excellent rod builder at Gorleston Tackle Centre, where my knackered other Greys 15 footer from yesterday is going tomorrow. 


A few from 45 minutes, with as many again missing the landing net.


Moved down a bit for the last half hour, fewer fish but this lovely perch  might have been putting them off. Some nice looking bends and a very perchy lock pool, camp sheathings and all to explore further next time. Happy days.








Monday, 3 November 2025

Time for a change

Out with the chub rod yesterday and into dark which is something I haven't done for a while. Wind dropped and weed not too bad now.

Bigger  (much bigger) chub on this stretch, the chublets have yet to catch up with them so trying something a bit different with bigger hookbaits, the occasional bag of pellets. 


Third spot and head torch on, twang and nothing developed, next cast tap and pull but missed it. Knowing what swims here could have been a 6 or a 7 but that's just an if. More importantly I enjoyed it, didn't loose anything in the dark and the bites were a confidence boost. Gonna give the pike a go again this winter as well which I've not been that fussed with for the last couple of winters

Saturday, 1 November 2025

Washed up and washed out

Prep


Most of the day to make the most of, no rain forecast and fish reported in the town reaches. Long old trek and an hour had fallen off the clock. If all came to nowt always the pub. Water clear as gin with non existent flow and a nasty swirling wind. Over to the boats, 28 gramme cage feeder holding with virtually no bow in the line. Roach were there, but too big for the perch/zed rod, tiny perch down the edge which might have to do. Rain, lots and lots of unforecast rain, everything soaked in an instant, groundbait now soup. Too wet too pack up, still getting roach on an empty feeder but felt miserable and too wet to face the pub. Chicken soup from the flask was cold and these pies were the most disappointing thing I've ever eaten. Pickle my arse. Ate half of one, the rest in the bin.

Worst thing on these occasions is the mountain of wet stinking tackle to dry off back home.