Sky's the limit

Quick car park bash yesterday after a break in the foul weather, Id planned river but as time was short just an hour on the waggler with corn.

Here is ol' red fin again, I'm sure it's the same fish given the flat belly. Much better on 3.2 lb  straight through in a float rod.

After tea walk with the Little Un's under a lovely blue sky.

I sensed an even better sky once they'd gone to sleep, not enough time for a trip to the dace canal to get some reflections in but back on the field above and a 180 degree turn: 

In my youth we'd have more of these harvest skies and moons as the stubble burning went on for weeks, sometimes enriched by the body of some poor unfortunate gleaner caught in a gin trap perhaps?

Take me to the river

They said a river ran through it. They also said build it and they will come. They also said the Prodigal Son will return, and the fatted calves would be slain. More of which later. Possibly.

Meanwhile I had some unfinished business to attend to over at Farmer Giles' homestead. Barely a breath of wind but ominous skies, got to be worth a potential soaking for a couple of hours behind a waggler on the long bank. Fortunately a higher wind, imperceptible at ground level hurried this lot over without as much as a drop of precipitate. Just as well as the Commander in Chief takes a dim view of smelly wet gear drying round the house. Don't even start her on hemp being cooked in the house...

As usual I took too many just in cases as it is a pic'n'mix kind if water unless you are singularly minded. So, first things first and  standard down the edge (or just past the ledge) wafter thingy over the last of the garden centre pellets. Fishes for itself with the odd recast. Or I could eulogise over 4 wraps, lead (droppable of course) thudding down, trap set waiting for the Delk to absolutely melt. Whilst I waited for the 7 quid with battery cheapo thing from Go Somewhere Vaguely Not Inside to let out  a strangled incontinent burble I set about creating a mini mountain of tangle reducing bite inducing pva mesh bags and some lovely smelly groundbait, cunningly designed to draw in a shoal of dustbin lids. And a bait water to bring  a semblance of order to the proceedings. Whilst doing so I managed to sit on my landing net handle with the inevitable splintering sound you'd expect given my bulk. Oh bugger.

. 

Black magic

Neat, neat, neat. Ish.

I'd not even got the bin lid enticing black magic balled up before I was called into action by a tench that had picked up the wafter and been stung by the size 6 and  it took a fair while, even with cod gear to entice it into the false haven of the stink net. Insert stock caption *absolutely nailed in the bottom lip*. 

Once balled up and added to haphazardly with pellet, corn and hemp occasionally the pedal bin lids and their bastard hybrid half-siblings fair beat a path to the stink net, having been rudely interrupted sipping in 2 or 3 grains of golden goodness just dipping the dotted down float a nads under the jacuzzi froth on the otherwise still surface. All made their presence known on the responsive Drennan Waggler rod and most of them whatever their parentage were around this size, save a few blades and roachlets. Happy days indeed.

Another tench joined the party, this time on the waggler gear so took me on an impressive tour round the estate so to speak, spooking Farmer Giles' peacocks on the way. Cue comedy picture of tench and bait, the ring pull acting as the hair etc etc. I know, I should have used special Dynamite corn at £2.99  a tin, sorry chaps LIDL basics at 37p a tin for you lot. 

Last but not least what I'd really come for and qualifying firmly s a bin lid for sure. Sporting reddy purple  lower body fins which is a thing for some of Farmer Giles' dustbin lids I've noticed.

Not something I've seen on other waters.

Back to life at BureBoi Villas and the  much travelled Prodigal has returned from the Metropolis, he hopes not for long, us not so much. It took a steadfast bunch of fellows to deliver his library ahead of him. The weather, which has been mostly foul abated briefly for a colder than hoped for lunch al fresco with the whole BureBoi contingent and more sitting around the fatted calf for the first time since lockdown.

My fatted pig and cow offering

And a rather more rarefied and absolutely meat free offering from one of the Northern Powerhouse  Duo.

Rivers I hear you say, what of the rivers? Well as you can see I trimmed down the just in cases and set off yesterday, initially with the intention of finding a few shaded spots to trot or trundle through. Not  a pellet or method feeder in sight.

I arrived at the very head of the beat to see a fellow member  setting up for some fluff flinging and by the time we'd stopped mardling my time was limited so through the stile on to the broad stretch just below the road bridge, with not an inch of shade. But lots of fishy activity. It's a bit of a swing or swoosh out to the main flow past the eddy and cabbages but there is a reasonable run with some depth and if you hit it right there is usually a shoal of jewelled fishes waiting for a delicately presented bait with shirt button shotting. But it's cack-handed me and as it's not a run off the rod tip  swim it's usually two or three reds being dragged along behind a 5 AAA avon with the heavyweight bulk bunched down just above a micro swivel and a number 6 tell-tale as I can't see or manipulate a number 8 shot these days.

Anyhoo and first trot I thrilled the gathering crowd on the road bridge with a firm sideways strike, trapping the spool of the pin with my right thumb and batting the fish back up against the flow with showboating side stain as the fish thumped in the flow as only a roach can. I expertly shipped out the  3 meter (slightly cracked) landing net pole and dipped the net just as the roach turned against the reversed  eddy flow and drifted back into the not stinky net reserved for such river princes. To tumultuous applause and flashing phones (no popping flash bulbs these days) from the gathered masses, social distancing right out of the Discovery and Audi windows.

And so it continued, slowed only by the odd slipping float rubber and occasional wayward swoosh out (deffo not  a Wallis cast) and plenty to interest the gallery and walkers by. This being the biggest crowd pleaser.

Which looks a little less pure bred (fin positioning)  on the other flank. No that bothers me in tke slightest.

You know the roach have backed off a bit when the dace move in and  a stream of  these followed before my interest began to falter and was piqued by something far more sinister.

Somethings sinister to be more accurate. Given away by the white flashes on their main claws was a nest of signal crays at my feet .It was quite amusing dropping a bait in close to see how they approached it, hand lining definitely the best way to get them in at such close quarters. Next target of the Little Uns they tell me is a bucket full of these "lobsters". Just like crabbing they said on viewing the Whats App stream.. 

Once the roach and  the dace back off it's the turn of the gudgeon. This unfortunate gonk was briefly the intended afternoon tea of a small brownie that eventually let go. I did toy with putting it out round the  brickwork of the bridge, a likely perch hole indeed (as confirmed by the fluff flinger) but also judged it as not quite the done thing in front of the the dwindling gallery.

Red handed

In amongst the delightful couple of hours with the Little Uns on the whip l also had a few hours on the waters edge over the weekend. The big wind on Saturday was hammering into where I fancied, and with rain threatened I took the easier option of the Royal Box. The Black Bream ground bait smelling far more appealing than it looked. Intensely sweet and chocolatey. With some golden grains and oily hemp. I'd post some fabulous scenic oily slick shots but Farmer Giles would be firing up his Reaper drone to exact horrible revenge.

I started on the method feeders again, quickly getting "blooded up" by the sticky spicy sausage pellets.

First decent fish was this very game tench that really pulled hard in it's efforts to evade the proffered stink net. not sure what caused those uniform v marks. Perhaps the Preppers in Oregon were right after all about that Gulf War Coalition  Zionist UN New World order bollocks after all....

 

Mucked about with a waggler rod for a little while, pleased that I did as had this nice bream on the golden grains, one of the ones with a St. Peter's thumbprint. A very solid fish indeed.

I'd had  a skimmer that tried to get in the pads, and I  soon found out why, when  I slipped it back a very large pike snaffled it with an impressive swirl. There  a couple of units in the pond, which have spawned the usual myths of bulls being pulled in by the rings in their noses and poor unfortunate carps anglers getting their hands bitten off as they fill their regulation Trakker water buckets.....

Down to my last method feeder full of damp pellet and just one rod left out and  a proper take and a decent scrap made me think of tench at the very least. Surprised to see a slab of  a bream roll at the stink net, very decent indeed. Sadly it flipped itself back in off the mat whilst I readied the weigh sling, one of the bigger ones and pushing 9 lb I'd say. Not even a phone snap as back up.

Sunday and a change of scene. We only have one official canal in Norfolk, some of which is being restored and it does hold some lovely fish, and to be honest I don't fish it enough. It was still quite busy, with swimmers, paddle boarders and this very noisy and very purple weed cutting contraption.

The spot I was fishing is a large pound above a recently gentrified mill with a spillway and a lock. As evidenced by the contraption its quite weedy. I started close in on double red maggot and it wasn't long before I had some interest other than the fry attacking the lock shots.   Some lovely deeply coloured roach (I checked the dorsal/ventral fin alignment) followed

and a couple of perch as well.

I'd been firing some maggots a bit further out as well and saw some boils so went out amongst them, first fish was  decent enough to take line until it shed the hook, and the next confirmed my suspicions as a lovely rudd hit the net. Scale and fin perfect.

I wasn't really set up to fish properly for spray wag and mag and short of bait to so I couldn't hold them for long. Interesting enough to want to go back for a proper go once the kid are sort of back at school. Back short and with the last few maggots hit into a small shoal of dace, which I wasn't really expecting.

Start them young

Still the summer holidays (ha Covid ha) and I thought I'd take the Little Uns fishing whilst it wasn't cold and raining and somewhere they'd catch from the off. Into Dangling Indirect to get another whip and a pint of reds then off to see what we could catch. 3 metres to hand, perfick.

Float dips, whip lifts and  a fish straight away, for both of them. Roach, skimmers and what they thought were hypers....got done by a tench too. But no pike, they so want to catch a pike. One day at a time girls, you've got to earn your stripes.

Maggots are fascinating.

And guess what, after a bike ride the next day, Dad, can we got fishing again? Of course we can. Best one was this perch which Littlest Little Un netted all on her own, like a pro. Less Little Little Un even held the catapult the right way round

Best of all later on  they got to see a dead rat, spot a pike from a bridge and see a train, very very close up. And learn about the birds and bees, well actually cows and bulls. He was an impressive chap to be fair

Boxed in

My thoughts are turning river wards, especially after this rain. Quick stop off along  the Well Creek just to get the running  water juices flowing. or in this case mostly ponded canalised juices trickling. Definitely seed baits time though I think I will be loading the charabanc with a whip, bucket and perch gear for the odd half an hour dangle

Just downstream of Marmont Lock

Middle Level Commissioner weed cutting in full swing.

Speaking of rain I had those festering nets and mats to retrieve before the impending hurricane struck  so hot footed it down with a couple of just in case rods in the back of the charabanc. I settled for the Royal Box as it gave some room to spread out the stinky things to dry off a bit more.

Farmer Giles compliance unit approved rods on bucket shot.  And that's the perchy bucket for my Fen raids, I've got an aerator unit for then.

Bang on the church bell chimed 8 o'clock I had  a double churn. The right hand one felt breamy , the left tenchy so I dealt with that one first. A lovely male again, I hope that's not a cormorant mark.

And on the right one of the greeny gold hybrids, which punched up to it's weight and more. Flash has made it more silvery.

I had twigged the Robin Red were feed pellets and the Spicy Sausage were multi-use and they certainly worked better in the flatbeds.

Getting dark by 8.30 and this last bream, which  did make the rod nod a bit hastened my packing up routine as it spat the yellow peril pineapple wafter off the hair.. And of course made the stink net and smaller mat wet again. Never mind.

Turned out wet again

Rain, lovely lovely rain. Except when it sneaks up on you. Mustn't grumble though, I've banged on about it enough.

In the Royal Box  just on 5 pm and only the waggler and corn over pellet for a change. The usual  skimmers, hybrids and roach, all netters. Very entertaining. Then the big boys and girls moved in and pulled the string a bit. A perfect male that  pushed the 2.6 Bayer Perlon bottom to the limit.

Doughty and dour resistance from these two bin lids. Both 6.03 as it happened, one a lot shorter and fatter than the other.

Pink livery on this one. Perhaps it's the after effects of troughing on all the Robin Red that's going in.

6.30 pm and  it all got a bit gloomy. Very suddenly. Thunder bolts and lightning. Very very frightening. And rain of biblical  proportions. Stair rods?  Nelson's Columns more like. I have mountains of festering bream stinking mats, slings, nets and cradles to retrieve from under the bushes when it stops..... 

Make it snappy

Dad and lads in the Royal Box so I schlepped round to The Lawns and Plan B. Two method feeders and a ginger beer. Of course.

I'd bought Robin Red pellets as no Spicy Sausage in Dangling Indirect but don't think they were really intended  to be dampened for a method feeder as they set like concrete. Anyhoo, one better bream managed to snare itself. Too hot to weigh it, even at 8 pm so just a coupe of quick mat shots but 7 plus if not 8 I'd say now on reflection.

Lads shared a bream and a tench and I was in a kingfisher flight path so bang tidy all round. The resident identikit duck kept landing on the backs of a trio of mooching grass carp. Most entertaining.

That was Wednesday. Yesterday and  lot of today  were /have been 12 degrees or more cooler as a  haar, or sea fret has taken up position over the Cromer Ridge. Still very humid though.