Slay the fatted calves, the Prodigal has returned

Our last trip out with Shane the Gentle Giant, back from Canada was on the eve of the first Lockdown or thereabouts when we emptied an Essex estuary of its roker stocks and nearly got caught out by a sneaky ebbing tide flooding back down a newly breached channel. He only just left Blighty with hours to spare before Spaffalot shut us down.

Covid is (for) now just an inconvenience and our naturalised Canuk Gentle Giant Prodigal was back to visit relatives so The Loafer aka The Essex Scribbler and I arranged a day on our Undisclosed Midlands Stillwater. I had run out of fatted calves to slaughter so a pack of LIDL's finest Cumberland sausages and a pint of milk (nearly a quid these days) were stashed alongside the dead baits in the cool bag  and said sausages were later devoured along with some Essex Braaahn Sowce courtesy of The Loafer. He missed the memo about spare mugs so the loving cup was passed round through the day, with quite a mountain of used teabags building up on the retreating shores of the 400 acre UMSW. Tales of yore, and disbelief about the shit show unleashed on us by this cringe worthy Truss administration flowed, and special ire was saved for the Facebook numpties that inhabit the local sea angling and broads angling groups and of course Des Taylor. 

 

Less than half an hour in and The Loafer's sunken float paternosterd lamprey section was attracting some attention and first blood was offered to the Prodigal, more used to walleye than northern pike these days (and he's after Fraser River sturgeon next year).

Note the pathetic toothpick of a rod being brandished by the Prodigal. And that's not perspective, he really is that much bigger than The Loafer and I. Back to the toothpick, very inferior when compared to my sawn off 20 quid jobs. Told you he was twice our size....

I had drop a drop off drop off with no  resulting run and that was that. Oh, the Sacred lamprey had their run out to self macerate  then back in the freezer. We dodged  the day ticket collector. Phew at 25 quid  apiece unbooked. That's 2 and a half  20 quid jobs. And the Loafer ID'd some fellow angling brothers from Eastern climes with his bins from 500 yards, mainly cos they were sitting round a table on picnic chairs 

We're doomed...

 I'll leave this here.

Wonder if the robotic Jeremy *unt will prevail?  And good old Miriam Margoyles.  Well said.

Quick shot

Only a brief outing yesterday, in decent sun just to not be in the house really. River very clear still. Don't see this daisy like plant anywhere else. Unless it is a daisy then...

Just trotting to see what was hiding in the weed for future reference. A few "eyes" that barely troubled the float  

And this immaculate little roach. 

Far more fish in the tidal pool and I'll be back with some corn, hemp and dendros to get through the "eyes".

Appawling...

Saturday afternoon saw me puffing along a rosebay willow herb choked riverbank looking for some gaps and clear water for a few short trots. It was hard  work and I soon got  a tangle behind the spool of the pin. I carefully removed the locking nut and put to one side and set about untangling the newly spooled Floatfish. I heard a ping and luckily the ratchet pawl had dropped on to a bare patch of ground. Working out how to put it back in, and where the circlip should go led to much sweating and cursing and in the end I tackled down and put everything safely  away and  managed in the end to figure it out at home. It has happened  before and I'd cannibalised a pawl which must have been a bit smaller so worked free? Anyhoo I have a spare pin so I've swapped the spool on to the factory spec pin for now..

Sunday was a kids day and we found some nice autumn colour. Fill in flash essential given the low autumn sun. I did have  a quick look at a stretch of river further down and access much easier so I'll  give it  a look in the week before the frosts kick in.  

Short (er) session

Still shorts weather  but the heavy hoodie now required. There were only three mallard today but what pains in the ducks arse they were. Didn't start well as I'd left all my float stops at home and had to hunt round for a smaller loading weight for the puddle chucker so I  could lock it with some no. 1 shot. I did get some loose fed in but not as much as I would have liked and the ducks were constantly pecking at the float.

I tried to soak as much of the autumn glow up as possible and one proper bite led to this bream which thought it was a tench for  a while. Then it gave itself up. As they do

I was on the verge of packing up when some prodigious bubbling erupted almost at my feet. Too good an opportunity to miss so I dropped the little boilie in and the float settled then buried. I'd wondered about a mudpig given the furious nature and size of the bubbles, either way a tench had snaffled the  bait and gave me a right old tear up, mostly in the pads but the 6lb Sensor held firm and I got my prize, a spritely male, all fins and swagger.

Short(s) session

Was thinking about how soon we'd be in thermals and moon boots when winter arrived on Friday in North Norfolkcestershire but Saturday dawned fairer and the shorts were donned for a very quick bash on Golden Pond. Couple of rods out, left and right and a few 8mm pellet and 12mm Source boilies to get 'em on the prod. A pretty place is Golden Pond.

A bit like last trip out elsewhere three chances but only one ended up in the onion bag this time. First take the bream I'd hooked rolled over on the strike and was off, the second and another bream managed to retain the barbless QM1 all the way into that onion bag. 

I'd dipped the left hand rod whilst "playing" the inert snotter and once I'd recast the right hand rod I picked the leftie up to find that something had taken the boilie for a long excursion down the pond but has decided to save me the bother of winding it back attached to their gob.

Given the change in conditions again since I don't suppose this grass snake will be sunning itself again that often this year. Right by my clumsy feet too.

Sunday back in coats and jumpers as this hoolie hit town but it it didn't dampen too much the 40's weekend with thronging clouds and costume makers and hirers counting their hard won corn after a couple of lean years.

Monday and the same streets were empty and throngless just like in early lockdown times which displeased the Littlish 'Uns who had fancied a go on the (two) penny slots.

Pubs were open though.

Caster blaster

Looked at my local river yesterday, now everyone is on the water on stand up thingys and not walking the footpaths it seems everywhere is so overgrown and as for weed cutting.. found some nice spots for trotting "bigger" baits before the hoped for floods and later frosts to keep the peasants away so plans will be hatched.

I hatched a few plans after a late lunch and a longer drive to a sometimes venue down another valley intending to use some of these bonus casters  with a beefed up waggler set up just in case  a tench turned up which they sometimes do. Fed hemp, pellet and caster and some pretty roach kept me going  but then several very irritating mallard turned up and carnage ensued. Constantly swirling round the float and  making me pull at my rapidly disappearing hair. I resorted to using the rest of the casters to feed the mallards off further down the bank and put in some pellet and mini Source and came in just past the pads  with a Source under  a puddle chucker. 

When I wasn't shooing away the foul fowl I was getting little dips of the float and three times the dips became bites. The tench had turned up jut as I had hoped.

Amazing how they head for those pads at every opportunity and really test the tackle, even on a heavier float road and 6 lb Sensor. Carnage of an no-ducky nature and pads floating everywhere hence the net adornment. Mud pigs however seem to go on long surging runs and rarely bury themselves deliberately in the inviting underwater jungle. Just as well as my "big" net had got tangled up and it took an age to get it free to net this lovely old bruiser. I'd heard there were a few in the lake so nice to be able to catch one to confirm it. And weighing at around 6 times the weight of the guessed weight of the tench.  A quarter of a pound off 18lb. Happy days indeed and how quickly the nights are pulling in now.

Back home

Thursday and an early start meant an early finish. I had some old maggots and worms to use up and off to the river I went. Paltry rewards for an hours trotting the back eddy, I tried off the rickety bridge but  a 2lb plus brownie, a 10 foot drop and  a ten foot landing net pole in gusting wind meant disaster. Nice scrap though. I didn't fancy any more fruitless trotting in the wind so drowned a few worms on the tip and magically the "fishless" pool contained perch. Which was  very nice. And I do like the smell of brandlings/dendros.

And these, which wasn't quite so nice but never mind. 

Friday was Fun Fair night as the Commander in Chief was watching an Alan Bennett in a Little Theatre. Lovely evening on the coast and good for a swim too. I didn't go in.

    We didn't go on this. The House of Fun though was reported to have indeed been fun.

Saturday and  I set out my stall for bream. I had to set up in a downpour. Soon dried off in the warm wind luckily. I was on the mini flat beds and had a couple of these pretty just bigger than skimmers and a lovely (male) tench which is what I'd been secretly after. Yellow wafter was the order of the brief-ish  late afternoon. The Pink'un was completely ignored.  Intense kingfisher activity and a few swallows and martins still about.

You silly old Kent

When in Kent drink beer. This is no Shepherds Neame but standard fare for this holiday, whatever Tim Norman can shift for a couple of quid in Spoons.

We did go distinctly more upmarket in Whitstable in the Old Neptune, right on the beach and on a sunny day with a clear sea you could be abroad but it's Kent shite you are swimming in, not Spanish. 

We saw a lot of the sea, and with kids why not. They loved it.  Whitstable, Herne Bay. Margate, Broadstairs, Ramsgate, all with their own charms and often with views of distant Southend and French France  on the horizon.

Margate, fast becoming boho.

Herne Bay, kiss me quick hats vibe

Whitstable with it's black boarded faux Aldeburgh chic

Ramsgate being sub-Dover

Broadstairs was just nice.

Botany Bay was chalky.

We did venture inland to Grove Ferry for a paddle whilst I looked at the river which was rammed with roach.

And Canterbury where I didn't pay 14 quid to walk around the cathedral but did look at the river which was rammed with dace.

A cracking week away.