Back end beckons

One day of no rain forecast for Saturday so headed back to The Pastons to see if I could find the roach. First trot and the float buried. It's pacey here and the fish felt a bit better than it was but still a lovely roach. I was sitting by an otter midden and the discarded clacky claw seemed apt to add a touch of red to match the eyes and fins.

That was it, tried  holding back, running through at current speed and dragging and under shotted float to no avail. Moved up twice and found a few smaller roach but my trip ended when a passing Bruno knocked my big green bucket with bait, floats, shot, scissors etc. into the river. Luckily the camera strap got caught in my chair and my camera didn't follow. Bruno didn't need to be on a lead apparently as it had good 'recall'.

Pissed around Monday doing 'things I should be doing on my day off'. One thing I probably wasn't expected to do was have a pint in the Goat. Very nice it was too.

Which only served to hastened the soaking I got as soon as I got the gear out of the charabanc up on the Church stretch. No bites but some useful local gen on pike and better roach. Home to get everything dry again  

Much better forecast for Tuesday so packed some scaled down kit including the new 10 foot rod on Aconite Meadow and the even more diminutive Brook way past Newmarket. Certainly  more water on than last time but not a raging torrent  and Bruno's noisy bredren only barked for 10 solid minutes  before buggering off. Took a a little while to find the right zone for a few hungry dace to home in on the double reds. A longer trot and  the strike met much firmer resistance. Chub on and every trick and dodge it knew failed and I bought it back above the net once I saw those slobbering chops to let it drift in. Must of coughed up a full handful of red maggots. Not a bad chub at all. 

Off to the Brook, and a never ending stream of curious half term kids and I was able to catch nearly on demand for all of them. Apart from a tiny pale chub and a tiny roach in the first spot it was bank to bank dace, teasing the float down the edge of the faster water. Smaller ones in the slacker inside of the bend.  None really needed netting but lovely fresh fish all of them. Many sandpaper rough  or pigeon chested and plump. The backend is certainly only just round the corner. Did loose one unseen better fish. Perch or chub?

Here are the best of  bunch all from a six/seven yard trot.

Fantastic afternoon with the sound of fast running water, the chatter of birds and excited kids and the sweet smell of oxygenated water. The 10 footer stood up well for the tight surroundings, the old 3.2 lb Floatfish is getting stripped straight off the reel. Shite. 

X marks the spot

Proper rain not due till later. I loaded up the charabanc and headed a quarter of the distance travelled yesterday up the third river valley in my locale. Diminutive in it's upper reaches, thus less likely to flood for long until nears it's bigger sister in the city limits and eventually to the chagrin of  'Careful Wilson' as  described in his Where to Fish in Norfolk and Suffolk takes over the bigger sister's mantle all the way to Breydon Water and the North Sea.

Chastened by my master class in incompetence yesterday I stopped off to pick up a 10' pellet waggler rod to use in tight spots  in future. The river was up but not boiling so plan A below the charming red brick bridge in the chubbier part of the small stretch with a lump of flake on a wide gape 6 and 2SSG on the link. Primed 3 spots with white gold, then  back to the first swim . Missed two pulls and one that didn't develop. Dropped down to this pearler of a swim. Go on, X marks the spot.

First drop in, rattily bite. Dace perhaps? Back out on the X marked spot and rattle, rattle. jag. A decent chub using the current, in the onion bag and up the muddy slope, narrowly avoiding a dunking. A short, fat and fresh fish, this time with no cormorant damage. Lovely ole job.

No knocks in the third swim or back at the first and the rain had set in so I beat a hasty retreat to the adjacent pub for a bit of a treat. Steak, chips and a pint of Edith Cavell. 

Pocket water fishing

Met up with the Loafer way up the A11 in the land twixt Suffolk, Cambridgeshire and Essex. When the gloom lifted slightly the land had an almost Dales like feel, with villages tucked in steep valleys with spate channels running through them. I came most unprepared with a cobbled together 13 footer and as a consequence only caught in fits and starts. Mostly trees and brambles. The fish were in perfect nick, with a rudd/roach brace and the loveliest dace, one or two bearing the sandpaper rough skin and swelling bellies that denotes spawning not far away.

The 'wider' main river

The tributary. 

The Loafer, wielding 'local knowledge' and a 10 foot Lobkin imagined cut down and waders smashed it as per. Chub, roach but mostly dace, the second venue in particular a fish a trot in the bottle green pools and bends, a good 8 feet below the bank in places. Fantastic fishing. If you can hack standing to fish, which I struggle with. Worth the drive when other rivers are in the fields. You can never beat a days fishing with a lifelong fishing mate and always good to knock a self-appointed angling guru off their pedestal. The 5G Theorist: 30 minutes of flat earth shit one wag had it. Cracking day as always Loafer.

ist

New horizon.

Yesterday was bitterly cold.  I looked at Spoons but the river was low, clear and no fish to be seen. Up to Chicken Town. 15 minutes in Bog Shed Door Blue Swing but the cold got the better of my extremities. There were some brownies under Chicken Town Bridge (decent ones too), that chased the loose fed reds but even if the thought of getting my hands wet was unthought-of actively targeting out of season troot was beyond even my pale. A pint and a Blue Light discounted loaded pulled pork fries made the trip bearable.

The 'Man' owed me two and a half hours and as my last job today was a stones throw from a free  stretch on another river (and the dash temp said 8C) the rod stashed in the boot came out no sooner than the out of office went on.

Hoping for dace but not disappointed with these two chub on trotted reds. And the 'Man' still owes me an hour. And look, no gloves required. And got some snowdrops in.

 

Using my loaf (ish).

Rain forecast for Sunday afternoon so unusually I packed an umbrella and headed for the top of the top stretch and worked a 25grm cage feeder with liquid white and alternated flake and three reds. Bites but none hit. Found a few fish for the waggler another day. Didn't rain either.

Minging Monday saw me back on the Pastons stretch and I went trotted flake in the clear water. Bites , but I guessed they were small fish. Double reds proved it. Fish, but no challenge though I haven't had a dace for a while up here.

Hands getting painful, and  a nasty cold wet mizzle. Might as well try the glide before the charabanc.

Looking up the Pastons, the pop of the pollards providing colour in the bleakness.

Downstream was the glide looking as grim and dour as it felt.   

Fair pace, but a steady pace. Bite on reds and the next two trots produced these two beauties, before a massive tangle and freezing fingers forced me off to the charabanc, heater full on. I'll try again, a few yards up stream to get a longer trot in the slightly deeper scour. Small things can make a big difference.

 

 

 

On the straight and narrow

Haven't fished between the Paston family pools for some time now. River fairly full but steady and I wondered if I could find the roach. Bites on double reds from the off , they wanted it low and slow so bite/dragging hard to distinguish. Found one area of the short glide where the Avon went through just right, and picked up three fish in quick succession before bites tailed off.

Moved down 20 yards but only got bites way down (the lurking otter perhaps), hooked just one and what a belter it was.

Enough for me to move down where the bites were coming, and another three roach in fairly quick time before the cold got the better of my fingers with a tawny taking over from a drumming woodpecker in the poplar stand and the corvids gathered for their nightly congregation. doubt many of these have felt a hook before, fresh as newly minted coins. All hail the winter roach.