Mike's Water Log

Let it snow....

2010-12-01T12:06:00.008Z

Only an inch or two by first light....

It seems too short a time since we last had a snowfall of such proportions. We moved house in the last lot only to be snowed in for a couple of days afterwards with up to sixteen inches more of the stuff. Not that we minded - it gave us a break to square the cottage. Yet here we are with November still not ended, temperatures dropping to stay at around freezing during the day and well below that during the night. Altnahara in the Highlands recorded -20 and -10 has been fairly common across the UK.

It does, however make for some pretty scenery and walking around the estate today with the camera proved lucrative enough as far as Chocolate Box photography is concerned.

My wife was saying how much she loves the sound of the crunch of footsteps in the snow and it really is an evocative sound. The sound and sight of snow takes one straight back to one's childhood. I wasn't brought up in the UK but West Germany until my teens and snow was certainly not uncommon over in Europe where my father was stationed, being further east. So snow for me is a direct memory link to my formative years, sledges, thick gloves and hats being requisite from November to February.

The Holly is full of berries this year...

Our bird feeders are taking a severe hammering. We're having to fill them up on a daily basis with a scattering of seeds around the base to feed the pheasants, robins, pied wagtails and other visitors that can't or don't like getting up to the feeders. I haven't seen much sign of the rabbits, though the squirrels are as abundant as always. I suppose all the wildlife struggles at this time of year, so we're glad to help really.

Foraging Forays.

2010-11-11T16:33:00.015Z

Mainly Parasol Mushrooms

Parasol Mushroom, Sweet Chestnut
Field Mushroom, Hazel Nut
Chantrelles, Rose Hip
Ceps, Walnuts
Boletus mushrooms, Rowan Berries
Horse Mushrooms, Elderflowers
Amathyst deceivers, Elderberries
puffballs, Sloes
Chicken of The Woods, Blackberries
Wild Garlic. Sorrel

The above list are most of what we've picked up in the woods over the last six months or so. Obviously care is needed when foraging - there are many pitfalls for the unwary, uneducated or merely hopeful. Certainly when picking mushrooms extreme caution should be excercised, there are a dozen or so mushrooms that can kill and several dozen that can cause severe gastric upsets. If you're not 100% sure - then don't eat it, don't even pick it!

Horse Mushroom

The same goes for some of the flora that can be foraged. There are many members of the potato and carrot family that can kill or at the very least cause severe illness, so again, make sure of what you're picking. There are many brilliant books available - try the River Cottage series on mushrooms, Hedgerow and Seashore for information, humour and recipes.

Sloes, chestnuts, hips and walnuts

But we've made chutneys, jams and jellies galore, sloe gin, bramble vodka, rosehip syrup, risottos, omlettes and eaten the nuts au naturelle, so to speak.

I would encourage anyone to get out with a couple of good books and have a good look around. It's fun, educational, healthy and free!

Bewl

2010-11-01T19:08:00.002Z

Harry and I met again at this large Kent/East Sussex reservoir hoping for a change of luck and as I now live less than a mile away, it seemed churlish not to have yet another go at the pike that have eluded me thus far. Harry's had a couple including a lovely upper double - I usually catch trout!

This time we took deadbaits with us as well as lures - actually that should be well dead baits, as I'm sure they were not the freshest baits by a very large margin. However they worked, Harry, they worked.

The Autumn colours were as wonderful as always at this time of year and spotting the red maples amongst the yellow and gold birches, chestnut and beeches was a real joy, even more so as the day was bright, calm and mild. The reservoir, however, did not look as pretty being lower than I can ever remember seeing it before. With all the rain we've been having lately, one wonders where the water has gone.

I was the first to catch after a couple of hours drifting and casting. We anchored up in a quiet spot, cast out a bait rod each and proceeded to cast a few lures around the boat keeping an eye on the floats as we did so. After almost an hour my float disappeared and the resulting 5 pound jack was as tatty as any I've caught before which leads me to wonder about the viability of Bewl as an ongoing fishery.

We then spent a few hours drifting and trolling and although we found many interesting features - we found no fish. I had one pull, from a trout probably, and as we settled back into the earlier, lucrative swim, Harry had a take on a small plastic which resulted in a small jack - but at least we both caught.

The shame of it was, as always, that just as things started to look up, we had to get back, the boat needed to be at the jetty by 4 pm. However, the fly anglers could stay out until dusk - another hour or so of fishing. I think our money is as good as theirs....

Accidents will happen

2010-10-30T18:24:00.010+01:00

Since we've lived in the cottage - we moved in January this year - we've had a plethora of accidents, incidents and happenings on the road alongside.

Although we live on the A21, we are shielded by trees which means the traffic is a quiet woosh and we don't hear the bangs and smashes that occur up and down the road. Usually, though, we see the cars pull up onto our drive, or the flash of indicators - sometimes even the police, ambulance or recovery truck.

So far we've had a young man who smashed his wheel and didn't know how to change it, a delivery van in a ditch, several lost drivers, a rear end shunting and, just last month, a deer hit. AS yet no-one has been hurt (except the deer) but we don't relish the next few shunts and scrapes.

The delivery van was an interesting case in point; he was delivering some items for my wife's business when he reversed into a ditch whilst turning. I towed him out with the Defender and he delivered his parcels. Then he drove into another ditch! Out with the Land Rover again.

The last incident with the deer was naturally a sad event as a wonderful large buck was killed. However, it wasn't wasted. The guys who hit it were on their way to a shoot and Steve, a colleague of their's, pulled up in his Nissan truck and three of us loaded the buck into the back. Later that evening he turned up with a shoulder of venison for me and two duck he'd shot that day. Very nice. I've since been on a couple of shoots and met some wonderful characters.

Fishing again!

2010-05-27T19:06:00.009+01:00

I dunno! No fishing for 6 months, then twice in 5 days! Another friend, John Dashfield - from the same breakfast meetings - invited Phil and I to fish a little lake just a mile or so from where he lives. John is a md keen c*rp fisherman and has fished all over the country for his prey. he's caught fish to well over 30 pounds and has an almost scientific approach to his angling. He was winching his baits across the lake today, to ensure that they were in exactly the right place. He has far more patience than I.

It paid off. He caught the only carp, whilst Phil and I contented ourselves with catching roach and bream on the feeder and float. I used the float for a couple of hours in an attempt to see what else was in the lake, but I only caught bream and only up to a pound or so. I had a carp run on the boilie rod, but it went straight into a snag and came off almost imediately.

So I sat taking photo's of the mallards and a mayfly as it drifted past, in between the rain showers and catching up on gossip with John and Phil, good company both.

John returned a few days later and caught a fourteen pound mirror, but he's sure there are 20 pounders in the lake.

I might have to go back!

Fox Cubs

2010-05-23T14:41:00.009+01:00

I was walking through a thick Sweet Chestnut copse at the back of the cottage about a week ago. These thin trees used to be coppiced and grown tightly together so that they would grow long and tall, then they were cut as hop poles to be used on the Kentish Hop Farms. Now they struggle to grown as they are so dense and yield little in the way of fruit in the autumn. Ongoing work on the estate is creating clearings here and there in order to diversify the wildlife.

Anyway I was walking through one of these areas at the back of the cottage when I spotted something moving ahead. At first I thought it was a couple of rabbits, but realised they were walking not lopping along. My next thought was badgers, but I soon realised that they were fox cubs. By this stage I had pretty much scared them off so I vowed to come back and tog them if I could. By the way togging means photographing, it's just quicker to type.

To get close I had to walk the long way around the den to make sure I was down wind and then sit with my back against an oak tree to keep as low profile as possible as possible. When the fox cub appeared it seemed not to see me and was relatively unconcerned. It seems they have great hearing and smell, but the ye sight is not so good. Then, of course when you have a photo of one cub, you then want a picture of two together, and although vermin, they were very cute.

One evening, as Franc and I sat waiting for the cubs, we were granted the sighting of two Fallow Deer. They spotted us immediately, but stood watching us warily as I tried to get some photo's of them through the foliage. It was our best sighting so far.

Corporate Days

2010-05-22T17:49:00.001+01:00

Yes, fishing - on a fishing blog - and it was absolutely fantastic to dust off the rods, brush off the flies and shake the cobwebs from the reels.

Phil Sharnock, a friend, invited me to a Salmon & Trout Association organised day, an annual event held at a local Trout Fishery and attended by 20 or so souls of varying ability. It was a bright and very warm morning and would end up as the warmest day of the year thus far. The water was exploding with tadpoles, clouds of them appearing from the weed like an oil slick, not that trout like them - they must taste horrid!

Having arrived later than most, I chose to fish in a bay for the first hour or so without a touch. It was obvious that the fish were in the deeper water at the dam end, and as soon a spot opened up, I jumped in. I had a fish fairly quickly - a fat 3 and a half pounder - taken on a slow fished gold head damsel, and half an hour or so later I had another on a deep nymph.

It was soon time for a rather wonderful lunch - heavy on the carbs and wine, but nevertheless a welcome time to sit back, relax and listen to some tall tales, mostly from Phil and Glyn Hopper before returning to the warm sunshine and another fish taken very deep and slow.

I won a Swiss Navy Tool (!) in the raffle, but I have to say it was an enjoyable day spent in good company and I am indebted to Phil and the STA for their hospitality and to Glyn for the local information.

Cheers fellas.

Togging and Blogging

2010-05-20T22:04:00.001+01:00

All the photographs on this posting were taken within just two or three days - it's amazing how when you start looking, you start seeing! As Franc and I continued to walk around the estate, it seemed that we only needed to name what we wanted to see and it would appear. We mentioned that we hadn't seen any grass snakes - we found 4 and a lizard! We then said that we hadn't had any clear sightings of deer and then two showed up whilst we were waiting for the fox cubs. (see my previous blog.)

Since we've been living here we have heard the Tawny Owls (both sexes) on a regular basis, but we had never seen one. I've had a few brief sightings of Barn Owls as they quarter they fields near the castle, but nothing clear. Tonight, as Franc was working, I went for another long walk around to the back of the fox den, but they didn't show. As it was getting dark, I stood at the escarpment and looking around I saw a fluffy shape high in the oak tree. After a brief scramble, I managed to get within 15 to 20 feet of the bird which had no intention of moving or acknowledging me in any way. What an amazing sight. The bird didn't move as I flashed away, barely opening an eye in disdain as I quivered and quaked 40 feet above the ground.

I took some photo's with flash as it was pretty dark by now, but there it was - a clear sighting of a Tawny. Brilliant.

It's difficult to contain myself at times. I'm fortunate in that Franc shares my wonder and enjoys our long walks around the estate. She wouldn't touch the snake or slow worm though, but she is pretty good.

Blurrds!

2010-05-15T12:37:00.008+01:00

The woodpecker above is a regular visitor to our new garden (I'm not sure how long I can keep referring to it as new, but there are just so many changes on a daily basis that makes it feel as if we only moved in yesterday) and I've tried to capture it on camera for a while now. It hasn't been at all easy and this part of photography has always proved to be problematic for me.

I've been attempting to photograph birds for many, many years. The results have been less than stunning. I'm never close enough, never patient enough and certainly not technical enough to produce some of the results that my colleagues on Pike&Preditors Photography forum do. As you can see from the diversity of quality on this post, my results have been very hit and miss.

Just occassionally though, as with the buzzard photo, a lucky shot comes along and the result looks marginally impressive. Obviously with the bigger birds, the problem of nearness to the lens is reduced slightly, but most big birds are just as shy as their smaller brethren and they tend to stay even further away.

The garden shots here show that we do have a diversity of species to watch; nuthatches, tits including the willow tit two pictures above, pheasants, jackdaws, tree creepers, robins, chaffinches, jays, woodpeckers and the ubiquitous blackbird. There are so many to see that I'm hoping to improve my patience and thus, my portfolio of unblurred birds.

Wonderful

2010-05-03T18:20:00.006+01:00

Black faced lambs

We went out for a long walk yesterday in persistent rain and found a few new trails as well as rescuing a silly sheep that had got its head stuck in a fence. So today as the weather was mostly dry, but chilly and windy, we walked those trails again and made a few wonderful discoveries. Well, I say wonderful - they are for us. We're loving living here and each new discovery fills us with amazement.

We found more wild garlic, some more wild apples and acres of bluebell glades, but amongst all those I spotted the dryad's saddle fungus on a tree and was so intent with focusing the camera on it that I hardly heard Franc's excited voice. She had found a wood full of wild orchids, the early purple and there were dozens of them in among the bluebells, wonderful to see. They could easily be confused as off colour bluebells, or a variagation of them, but the leaves are very different, and on much closer inspection, the flowers are so intricately patterned as to be nothing like the bluebell.

Early Purple Orchid

The rain stayed away, although by the time we got back home we were windswept - several squalls had come close to giving us a serious soaking - and sat down to a welcome cup of tea and a bowl of home made Butternut squash soup, with wild garlic sprinkled in. Mmmm. Then, as an added bonus, two fallow deer graced the back edge of our garden, dissolving into the woods before I could get my camera. A wonderful day.

Dryad's Saddle - inedible, but pretty.

Wild Garlic Soup

2010-05-03T18:03:00.005+01:00

Wild Garlic or Ramsons

Most soups, certainly the vegetable variety, start with the base - the more delicate the main ingredient, the later it is added in the cooking process.

The base for most of my soups starts with frying some finely chopped onion until it's soft but not very brown. You can use oil or butter - I use a combination of both to stop the butter from burning. Then I add any other ingredients that need frying off; garlic sometimes, though not this time, leeks, ginger or chilli. This time though it's just the onion and then I add a litre of vegetable stock, some chopped potato, chopped carrot, celery and parsley. At this stage I also add the seasoning. I use vegetable stock because my wife is vegetarian, but I still prefer it over chicken stock in this delecate dish anyway.

After the soup has simmered for 20 minutes or so I add the chopped wild garlic leaves and cook for another ten minutes or so. Then I liquidise the broth to form a nice thick soup. To keep the green colour, add some cooked peas at the food processor stage, a vibrant green is maintained.

Serve with some drizzled cream and some chopped raw wild garlic if you wish. A crusty loaf is almost a must.

Green

2010-05-01T10:19:00.008+01:00

To some, this is a magical time of year, to me it's the second prettiest season, but magical - definitely! One day we walk along a certain path and the beech buds are brown and drab; the next day the lush green leaves have crowded out the bud cases which litter the floor, a precursor to the footfall softening piles of beech mast to come later in the year.

The hawthorn, well behind the blackthorn blossom, is suddenly set to flower any day and the bluebells, green for so long, now carpet the glades and clearings with a purple carpet of hazy hue. It truly is a magical time of year.

We've seen deer through the woods and the first Canada Goose waddled across in front of us as we walked past the castle yesterday evening, waiting for his flock to turn up and fill the estate with their raucous hooping calls. He looked magnificent, his black head so glossy as to catch the last rays of the evening sun.

There's a lot of blossom around and it will be interesting to see what fruit grows from the myriad flowers that surround our cottage. Some of them are known, some can be guessed at, but some are going to be a surprise. We think damson, maybe plum and wild cherry, but as this is a very old estate we could be in for a missed guess or two. There is a wonderfully old walnut tree and the horse chestnut not 100 yards from the cottage is already weighed down with the spikes of hundreds of thousands of flowers.

We know there is also hazel, elderflower and elderberry, the ubiquitous bramble, and sweet chestnut, but we've also discovered a bed of wild currants down by the stream and a possible crab apple or two. It's too early for 'shrooms to show themselves, but we remain very hopeful of a bumper crop this year.

Presages Of Spring

2010-04-19T20:37:00.019+01:00

Having moved house in the middle of all the snow in early January, we are now starting to see the arrival of spring and every day we experience a child-like excitement at every new discovery, every green shoot and every new wildlife sighting.

Our old house was huge and situated in the middle of town; we've swopped it for a tiny cottage in the middle of the country set in 780 acres of mixed woodland and parkland. With Bewl Bridge just a mile away as the trout flies, we seem to be in the middle of a world bereft of human interference.

It's absolutely marvelous.

So the year moves on apace and the bracken is starting to raise its head through the leftover leaves in a green halo of furled hairiness. Cock pheasants are calling to their wives with a flurry of blurred wings and the nettles are already taking over the wooded dales and marching through the undergrowth. Soon the bluebells will all be open - a deep purple carpet through the woods, the anemonies and primroses a forgotten memory as April makes way for May.

The Marmalade has been jarred for later in the year and this week both nettle and wild garlic soups will be made and frozen to be remembered later in the season; a starter for late Autumn lamb or November's Herring dishes.

We've already had the wild garlic in our breakfast omlette and found a cauliflower fungus in the wooods. We've seen deer, woodpeckers and most nights our sleep is ushered in by the hoots and shrieks of the Tawny Owls.

In the garden we have spotted tree creepers, nuthatches, lesser spotted woodpeckers, several variety of tit, fallow deer, pheasants and all the usual suspects. It's been wonderful to sit out among the bats as the sun drops over Bewl and Venus and Mercury sit above the sunset for an hour or so after dark.

What has also amazed me is the surprise we feel when we identify the trees around us by the buds that burst into being almost before our eyes. Horse Chestnut and Wayfarer Tree. Hazel, Sweet Chestnut, Wild Cherry and Crab Apple - all within 100 yards of our back door!

Then of course there is the availabilty all around us of firewood, the future anticipation of blackberries, rosehips, rowan berries and a multitude of mycelium (that's mushrooms to the uninitiated), not to mention elederberries, hazel nuts, sweet chestnut or Sloes.

It's going to be a good year.

A Day To Be Forgotten

2009-11-25T18:28:00.018Z

Before the squalls came, the sun shine was blinding.

Since my last entry, the weather has been unrelenting. Rain has swept across the country on a daily basis accompanied by strong to gale force winds which have wreaked havoc. Overnight, here in the South East, the winds reached 50 - 60 miles per hour and rain fell out of the sky.

Paradoxically, this morning dawned bright and clear, the wind now just a stiff breeze and so I met Harry once again at Bewl Bridge for another attempt at pike fishing on this, my nemesis water. The levels were so low that it was difficult to believe that so much rain had fallen over the last 10 days that the rivers all over the country had spread across fields and roads causing mayhem and heartbreak to all those who were flooded, some for the third time in four years.

And the sun shone blindingly, the breeze causing a courderoy ripple on the reservoir.

It was to be another bad day. No-one caught anything to our knowledge. We trolled and cast our way up the usual arm and spent almost the entire day there exploring some wonderful features and trying a vast array of lures. In an attempt to fish as close to the bottom as possible, I was using about 5 ounces of lead on the trace and eventually I got snagged, good and proper. I hauled and hauled while Harry moved the boat into various positions in an attempt to free the tackle.

Eventually I pulled whatever it was virtually to the surface - I could see my trace, but not the spoon which was down the side of the boat and hidden from my sight. The boat moved, the rod spun in my hand, my finger slipped off the trigger guard and the rod was gone! It sank quickly and with no line out we had little hope of retrieving it although we tried, Harry losing a spoon and trace in the process. Whatever was down there had claimed my rod for good!

The sun stopped shining, lightning lit the western bank and thunder drowned my naughty words. The second nasty squall of the day blew through like a non-stop express train through a village station blowing leaves, birds and hoods all over the place.

Harry hates hoods.

They hit you in the back of the head when you don't need them and blow off your head when you do.

I hate Bewl. Still, Lumby will be happy, I suppose - I need a new rod!

After the squall

A Touch of Wind and The Gripes

2009-11-18T17:31:00.017Z

Finally - a days fishing booked!

Unfortunately, the wind strength was such that the lads at Bewl couldn't allow us off today. We've had 50 - 60 mile an hour gales, with trees down and debris all over the roads. Our annual sortie after Bewl's pike would have to wait at least a week.

So...Little Chef then.

After a hearty (read 'pricey for what it was') breakfast we decided to head towards Maidstone and a lake we hoped might throw up the odd jack and keep us at least a little sheltered from the hurricane that was sweeping across the South East.

We settled in side by side in a large swim and set out our pike fishing stall. Fortunately for me, everything still seemed to work after a hibernation of fourteen months or so, but oh! did it feel good to be back!

Due to the effects of the wind, we cast out legered baits; mine were about 10 yards or so out to the right, just about under an overhanging willow, and about forty yards straight out in front; Harry cast similar distances. The weather, although wet and windy, is still very mild with temperatures well into double figures - warm for the winter end of November.

Harry and I then had our conversation about this blog and Harry feels somewhat hard done by as I seem to demene his captures, even calling the only pike we caught at Rutland 'tatty'. But to put the record staight Harry has caught a nice upper double and lower double at Bewl - I caught Rainbow Trout. Harry always catches at Rutland - I don't. Harry catches more than me at our Sussex Reservoir even with his bait hanging in mid air! Harry is tidier than me, more technical, his reels don't look like they've just been dug out one of my compost bins and he experiments more than me.

But today, I caught the fin perfect, olive skin backed, creamy buttery bellied, ONLY fish of the day.

It took the herring fished close in and forgot to fight until it hit the net.

Oh, and I brought nicer cake than Harry.

Absence

2009-11-01T11:27:00.005Z

It's been over a year since I last added to this blog.

2009 has been difficult due to deaths and serious illnesses in the family and with close friends.

Still, I have managed to complete my time on the PAC committee and have spent most of the year making jams, chutneys and using everything from my extensive vegetable and fruit garden.

This was mostly down to the acquisition of an extremely large Freezer from a generous client who was selling his shop and had an ice cream freezer just for me - the stickers are still on the side.

It has meant though, that I have been able to freeze all sorts of things - except fish! No trout fishing at all this year, even when we went to Scotland in September, but the foraging has been good.

Franc and I have had mushrooms almost at any time we wanted. We've picked wild plums, blackberries, hips, sloes, crabapples, chantrelles, ceps, field mushrooms, oyster mushrooms and sweet chestnuts, to name only a few.

This month, I'm going fishing!

Autumn

2008-10-08T15:17:00.006+01:00

After the wonderful scenery, the wildness and the emptiness of Scotland, it was a little strange to be back in the heart of the commuter rat race, fishing for, what effectively, are farmed rainbow trout.

I have to say though, that the scenery here at this local trout fishery is magnificent. The lake is set in a bowl, the surrounding sides of which are covered in woodland, and it is this bowl shape that protects the fishery from the brunt of the wind. From the lodge the view is spectacular as the trees surrounding the lake are starting to turn their autumn colours and the skies are beginning to herald the onset of the darker months. The sun is lower and the light more angular, enhancing the striking colours of the turning leaves.

The fishing too can be wonderful at this time of year; the fish seem to realise that the harsh months are just around the corner. Today though, the weather was kind and placid, the morning and evening chill displaced by the warm daytime sun. The breeze too was benevolent in its warmth and gentleness, sometimes just putting enough of a corduroy ripple on the water to entice the fish to feed on, or near, the surface.

I intensely dislike using lures when trout fishing, I always have. I feel that, having spent the time with fur and feather poised over my fly-tying vice until my eyes water and my back creaks making imitation nymphs, bugs, beetles and flies to be a pretty near copy of the original and down to size 18s, it’s a shame to throw that all back in the fly box and tie onto the tippet, something, which in effect, is just a gaudy imitation of nothing! Don’t get me wrong, fry imitations do have their place, especially this time of year, but I always prefer the smaller copies of naturals to the large and garish.

Today was no different. I started with a damsel fly on the point and a black beetley fly (a diawl bach, in fact) which would have been fishing just below the surface. In fact, it was the damsel which took the first fish after two or three casts. It was only a fish of about a pound and a half but it was a start.

I had a pleasant afternoon, although Harry lashed the water to a foam for only one fish, I caught six, including a chunky 6.02 and a four and a half pounder. Later on in the afternoon as evening approached, the fish moved up to just sub-surface and a twinkle midge immediately did the trick for the penultimate fish, but most were taken a foot or two down. It never fails to amaze me how small you can go down to in hook size to catch, fish were taken on size 10 long shanks (the damsel) right down to a 16 (twinkle midge). I also caught three rudd on the dropper fly, one of which was splashing around whilst I had a trout on the dropper.

I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon, I always enjoy this time of year, but when the weather is kind the days can be very special.

Rutland writings

2008-09-22T18:21:00.005+01:00

Harry's tatty jack

The annual PAC visit to Rutland took place today and Harry and I, having learned from our excursion last year, stopped off for breakfast on the way, thus missing the mad rush and the lodge prices.

I had to laugh again at the sight of Neville running in his over trousers in his usual manic attempt to be first off the quay and onto the water. Why he thinks it’s so important to be the first away is beyond me, but if it keeps him happy…

Harry and I found some interesting features again, on a different arm to last year, but even though some of the lumps and bumps on the bottom looked very fishy, nothing was tempted from the water. I did have a follow from a lovely looking Perch over some tree stumps. The water was clear enough to see the fish flaring its gills as the Ernie reached the surface, before sinking away, fading into the depths like a spectre in the mist.

The day was much better than the windy, rainy day we experienced last year, but it was still a day of changing weather. Cloud, sun, showers, but not much in the way of wind was the order of the day and it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that we encountered a fish.

We were drifting slowly along when Harry quietly said “I’ve just had a follow, Mike.” We continued to drift over the spot and a while later Harry was into a fish on a spring dog copy. It was a tatty looking jack, and it just about destroyed the cheap lure, which probably is a moral in itself.

And that was it. Others caught, but most didn’t; there were two twenties and a handful of doubles and jacks, but the real fish defeated us again.

Still, there’s always next year.

Scottish Magic

2008-09-06T18:09:00.001+01:00

Some of my fondest fishing memories are inspired by various sorties into Scotland, and in particular, the Scottish Highlands. I have seen so many wonderful sights there in the past, so many pleasurable little events that seem to occur on a daily basis. The wildlife is more predominant and much more accessible than in Kent, the roads more sparsely filled with cars, rivers and lochs less fished and much wilder, but catching anything large is much more unlikely.

This trip proved to be just as enjoyable, with just as many sightings and breathtaking moments, some wonderful walks and hikes, but certainly the fish proved harder to come by.

My fishing in Scotland is predominated by catching trout in the summer and pike in the winter months, although, in the future, I may wander into the mysteries of salmon fishing and the expense involved with trying to catch the fish that I’ve seen on many occasions in my times by Scotland’s myriad rivers.

Staying in Abernethy, it seemed churlish not to fish the River Nethy, unfortunately, both my trips resulted in two blanks with only one lost fish and a wasp sting to show for my efforts. Incidentally, I have only ever been stung by a wasp once before in my life, and that was on the beach in Deal when I was twelve; this week I was stung three times on three different occasions, reacting quite badly each time with two swollen arms and a lumpy thigh. Including the bee sting last year, I have now been stung four times in 12 months. Perhaps global warming is effecting even the smallest of insects, turning them into grumpy, malcontent beasties with a grudge against us all.

Which reminds me – we took the Mother in Law along this time too.

I managed to winkle out a small trout on the river Beuly for my nine year old nephew Harvey to inspect while we were having an alfresco lunch on the bank in bright, warm sunshine without a breeze or a ripple on the water. That was another wonderful part of this holiday – the weather! The rest of the country was languishing in days and days of unceasing rain, but we had warm, dry and settled weather for the most part, and the few showers we had occurred over night.

I had another smallish trout in a remote stream in the middle of Sutherland, about twenty miles south of Tongue, again whilst having a picnic lunch and a brew from the Kelly Kettle. I just had to show the Mother in Law and Franc the beautiful colours and markings of a true wild trout. A few minutes later we were awed by the spectacle of a Golden Eagle soaring over our heads just a few miles further on. What a wonderfully wild sight that was. The King of British birds just a few hundred feet away from us, wings spread riding the mountain thermals in search of hares, rabbits and other small mammals. Just about the only time the use of the word ‘awesome’ is eminently justified.

One, misty, autumnal morning during the fortnight, I fished the Spey near Broomhill and managed a more respectable fish that provided supper for my wife later on that day, after a boat trip on a local loch provided a couple more for the Mother in Law. It was whilst fishing the Spey and the Beuly that I caught sight of the Salmon heading up river and showing themselves tantalisingly to me on their way. The best glimpse I had was of a fish porpoising out of the water in silhouette just 10 yards from me as I looked upstream into the sun.

My loch trip provided a mixed bag of weather conditions; sunshine and flat calm, a wind change, stormy overcast skies, but, fortunately, no rain. If anything, I could have done with a more consistent breeze and without the change of wind direction. Even so, I caught 8 lovely trout, two of which I took home for supper as I previously mentioned. These fish are mainly 4 or 6 to the pound, but with the occasional half or three quarter pounder showing. There are monsters in here, there are always monsters; that’s one of the reasons we fish – the dream of a leviathan – yet it doesn’t matter if the fish are all small. Fishing is not just about the catching, it’s about the space, the nature, the dream. Fishing, for me is a multi faceted enterprise – I hesitate to use the word ‘hobby’, it seems an inadequate concept – and I love its complexity, its simplicity, its frustration and its joy. But best of all, the most enjoyable, the most fulfilling, the simplest and the most satisfying part of all my fishing is whn I’m fishing in Scotland.

Charity Day - The Kelly Twins

2008-08-04T17:52:00.005+01:00

Earlier this year, Mark Barrett set up an auction on the Pike and Predators web site in order to raise money for a charity for one of the forum members. I placed a bid and managed to obtain a day with Tim Kelly in his boat on the Thames around Snetterton, just a few minutes from my daughter’s house. Our original plan was to fish for the elusive Zander and Perch and although we tried for them, it was the pike that were predominant through the day.

I met Tim in the car park at 5.30 as the mist was beginning to drift in upward spirals and the day brightened. We immediately launched the boat after some frantic trailer manoeuvring on Tim’s part, and made our way to one of the many weirpools in the area. It turned into a lovely morning and I was surprised at how much the sun shone through the water into the weirpool. The river was a lot clearer than I thought it would be and the sun glinted off the spoon as I retrieved it to the boat at a considerable depth. Tim was into some jacks almost immediately, but it was some time before I started on my catch card.

We caught fish in the weirpools, along the banks; we caught them trolling and casting and we had an awful lot of fun trolling small hornets to catch some perch. Unfortunately, these turned out to be smaller than we had hoped for. However, they were still fun to catch among the pier legs, cabbages and jetties along the river.

We had a shore lunch in a local hostelry which went down delightfully and allowed our clothes to dry after a short, sharp shower had caught us some distance from the pub, and I found Tim to be a great person to chat to. He seems content with life and was having a laugh with his wife on the phone which is always a great sign for a keen fisherman. Being self employed allows him to choose his time on the river to a certain extent and he seems to enjoy company, choosing to fish with friends, rather than alone.

I chose to fish with Tim, because he’s a successful lure angler. I put this success down to his focus, his knowledge of the water and his dextrousness with the boat. His ability to cast and retrieve lures while controlling the electric motor, keeping the boat in position was remarkable and enabled me to fish without having to worry about where I was. I found myself casting and taking for granted the fact that I would be where I needed to be. Tim would turn the boat and say ‘Try over there Mike.’ Or ‘Just by the cabbagy goodness…’, and, sure enough, most times we’d get a hit.

Tim easily outclassed me in terms of numbers of fish catching at least double the number that I did, but it didn’t matter, I had a wonderful day, I caught fish and I enjoyed Tim’s company immensely.

I also caught the biggest fish of the day.

Drifting

2008-03-05T09:54:00.005Z

Having been persuaded to do so by Harry at last night’s Thames Gateway PAC meeting, I turned up at the lake with my Pike gear on a brilliant, bright sunny afternoon to find that he had already caught two jacks on the west bank.

He’d caught one on the bottom and one on a drifter float, so I unloaded the car and moved the pile of tackle (where does it all come from?) into the next swim, to Harry’s right, putting two rods on the ledger and one on the drifter. One of the legered baits was popped up and one was flat on the bottom in an attempt to cover all the bets, but they were only just beyond the margins, about 5 or 6 yards out, whilst the drifter was set at around 8 feet and allowed out to about 50 yards. The water here is deep, about 8 feet in the immediate margins, shelving down to a pretty uniform 16 feet or so about 10 – 15 yards out. There are shallower areas, but I think that the pike follow the shoals of bream around and they seem to patrol from 30 yards and beyond.

I was drifting a half herring, and at about 3.30 or so I was retrieving this bait when I spotted a pike following the half herring all the way into the margin. The water is incredibly clear and I watched as the pike lost the bait as it sank below him for a second. He seemed to have a puzzled look on his face – I swear it looked like that – but as I lifted the bait into his vision again he grabbed at it, almost gently, and held it in his jaws for a second or two. Then he turned it and as he did so I lifted into the strike. It was interesting because I could see the moment he had the hooks where I wanted them and when I landed him the hooks

were in the scissors and the roof of the mouth. Good stuff! The fish weighed about 5 or 6 pounds and went back immediately it was unhooked.

About an hour or so later, the drifter float was about 50 yards out when the float slid away to the right and out of sight. I lifted into the fish which initially felt larger, but alas, inexplicably came off after a few seconds. They don’t seem to mind drifted half baits, which given the clarity of the water, had bothered me at first, but maybe we credit the fish with a little more discernment than they perhaps have.

That was it for the day, we both packed up at dusk although next time I may stay on into dark.

First of the Year

2008-02-27T07:00:00.005Z

I don’t know why I didn’t go Pike fishing today. I suppose I believed it to be warmer than it was, or perhaps I was over optimistic about how far the year has advanced. Or maybe it’s because I’ve not been fishing for so long, I’m out of touch with everything!

Anyway, it was a disaster!

Literally!

Last night Britain had its biggest ever earthquake; 5.3 on the Richter scale and about three chimney pots fell down and one cat was awfully anxious!

It was on the news all day…

It took me forever to get all the gear ready – it hasn’t been used for a while – but eventually it was all in the car and I was on my way. I fancied a spot of feeder fishing and I thought Harry did too, but he turned up at the lakes with his pike gear! We started on the small lake and tried there all morning, but I didn’t have a touch on maggot or worm, not even a nibble on float fished maggot either.

So after lunch Harry and I moved to the front lake to pike fish with the drifter floats as there was a nice westerly breeze. But although we managed some nice drifts we caught nothing. The water was exceptionally clear even though we had rain earlier in the week and Harry spotted a low double in the margins which he managed to scare off before he had a chance to tempt it with the tiny smelt he had brought along.

And so the day ended with neither of us coming close to catching anything but it was good to spend time on the bank and to chat with Harry again.

They're out to get me!

2007-10-31T19:17:00.001Z

It was so nice to be back in Holland to see our friends, have a few drinks, some nice food and then get up early to go fishing! The journey across the channel was tiring, too for some reason, and I had a nasty, niggling headache as I carried the gear along the bank before first light. However, last night was pleasant, staying with Renita and having a nice meal just opposite her apartment. Unfortunately Patrick has to work all weekend, so we’ll only be seeing him in the early morning or late night.

This morning was damp, from heavy dew, although the mist was soon wafted around by the slight breeze as I set up in the same swim as last year. There was a significant difference this year, though, in that the reeds that edge the side of the river as it opens into a larger pool of probably 4 or 5 acres haven’t been cut down yet, so I placed the rod rests in the water to the right of the wooden platform.

I don’t like platforms much; I feel as if they’re just waiting to crumble beneath your feet, trip you up or send sufficient vibration into the water to scare the fish for a reasonable distance into skulking on the bottom in a non-feeding torpor. I’m probably wrong, but I do think that platforms are out to get you.

The first of the two rods was cast, without float, along the reed beds ahead of me as the river opened up. The bait was half a herring. The other rod was fitted with a float and cast as close as possible to the reeds, to the right of the other rod, into the river proper, this with smelt on. There seemed to be some flow on the river this morning, culminating in me lifting this latter rod high to lift as much line off the water as possible. At seven thirty, though, just half an hour after setting up, the herring rod was away, but after a brief sensation of head shaking weight, it was off. I cast out again, replacing the herring half with another, and on setting the rod down, the float from the second rod began its dance.

With the mist still swirling around me, I managed to quickly chin lift the 4 pound (or so) jack, quickly unhooking it and returning it, barely lifting it from the water, when the alarm from the first rod sounded again. I lifted into the fish which instantly went into overdrive, tearing line off the clutch and taking the rod into a serious curve. It was a good fish, but how good? It certainly fought well, barely giving up as it was swept into the net. I was fairly non-plussed to see that it was about 8 or 9 pounds, although on weighing it became a fat 10 and a half pounder, it was such a good fight, I was convinced it was an upper double, but the scales or the tape measure don’t lie, and neither did my eyes. Weird!

I stayed busy though. I had cast out the second rod and started on a brew, nursing my worsening headache, when the mackerel on the ledger rod was taken, the alarm emitting a series of bleeps, rather than a continuous, full throttle run. Again I lifted into the fish, and again it felt heavy, but not as hard fighting as the last. It weighed almost sixteen pounds! Just goes to show that some instincts in fishing can’t be trusted.

I then had a hiatus for an hour or so, which gave me time to arrange the photographing of the larger fish, the chance to have a complete cup of tea and the opportunity to clear up the swim, before landing the final two jacks, the largest eight pounds or so.

Soon, the sun had risen high enough in the sky to cast its full warmth upon me, making my brain boil even more, so it was time to clear up and clear off for a well deserved catch up on sleep and a quiet afternoon reading a couple of good books.

A Touch of Autumn

2007-08-25T17:34:00.001+01:00

Another overnighter, with a few different approaches in an attempt to tune some of the rigs that I’ve been using. I’m afraid that the fishing this year has taken a back seat, with work being so busy – both mine and Franc’s. And if we’re not working, then we’re decorating the flats or trying to keep on top of the garden with all the rain we’ve been having. Later on in the year we have a trip to Holland and the States, so it’s not going to get better for a while.

I always get the rods out first, especially here, as three can be fished, but I usually only cast two, leaving the third to do some plumbing around. Then when the rods are out I’ll set up the Shelter and everything else, then when all is shipshape, I’ll make a brew. The weather was definitely heading towards autumn, with this being a Friday and the only day for about the last 10 that hasn’t seen rain, there was a distinct chill to the air.

My daughter, Laura-Anne turned up around mid-morning, bringing some ginger cake, shortbread, sausage rolls and scones – all home made of course. Harry turned up too, no doubt homing in on the smell of cake. We all had a nice long chat though, Harry staying longer than LA, and he seemed to be yearning to get beside some water himself – he’s been busy too.

And so the day passed, with nothing happening on the fishy front. I cast the rods out ready for the night: pineapple boilies, fake corn and special luncheon meat being the baits for the purpose of attracting the bream or tench. I am, of course after the female bream, but have so far only caught the males, identifiable by the tubercles that cover them and make them look so tatty. Tonight was to be no different, and, unfortunately, the tench failed to show again.

At around 2.30 am, with the mist swirling and my breath a huge plume of vapour in the suffused moonlight, the first bream of six and a half pounds was brought into the net. I was shocked at how low the temperature had dropped. I was sleeping in a tee shirt and shorts and gasped as the cold wrapped around my naked legs as I weighed the fish.

At 5.30 am another bream of 6.10 was on the bank, this one having taken the meat, the first fish the boilies. It was still very misty, but gradually, the sun pushed it’s way through and the morning began to warm up as I packed away the gear, stowing it in the car, and leaving the rods until last.

Going back...

2007-08-02T19:04:00.000+01:00

It’s been over six years since I fished this lovely looking pit in the heart of the Kent countryside. I had a short Bream campaign at that time, which culminated in some nice fish up to just short of the nine pounds mark. It’s a hard water, but it’s one of those lakes that always looks just the part. Lilies, lush overhanging trees, clear water and an abundance of wildlife make up the pretty, micro environment hidden away in a motorway junction. Of course, there is no escaping the traffic noise, even at night the motorway, just some 300 yards away over a small rise, can be heard droning away like a nest of angry wasps.

That aside though, there are some nice bream and tench in here but they are very hard to come by, so I’m not after expecting much. It will be nice to spend the odd night here despite the noise from the traffic. The carp in here grow very big too – into the thirties by all account, and there’s always the possibility of a chance encounter with them.

I arrived nice and early, hoping to get three feeding spells in and set up two rods while I did some plumbing around with the third. From the past campaign I knew that the prime feeding area for the bream was about 60 yards out in the middle of the lake where the bottom seemed a little harder and the water is about 16 feet deep. As for the tench – well I picked out some spots around the lilies and one spot under the tree away to the left.

I made up a dozen or so goody bags of pellets in PVA and fired a few out with the catapult. Two rods were semi fixed leads with hair rigged fake corn on a neutral buoyancy rig and pineapple boilie, the third rod was set up with an in line maggot feeder filled with red maggots and with two pop up hair rigged casters on the sharp end.

At seven fifteen, just after I arrived, this last rod was away with a very typical bream bite making the bobbin jump around like an epileptic flea. After a short and unconvincing fight a tatty looking male bream of 6 pounds ten ounces was in the landing net. It was still covered in spawning tubercles and was, unfortunately, well below the average size that the bream are reported to be. But these are, of course, male Fish and it’s the females we’re looking for.

I’m sorry to say that that was all that came along. Through the night I had a few jerky sort of bites that may have been line bites or maybe the feeder wasn’t heavy enough. There are a lot of eels in this water and, apparently, mitten crabs, but whether that latter rumour can be substantiated or not, remains to be seen. There are rig refinements I will need to look at next time, as well as researching some alternative baits. The other two rods with boilies and fake corn, remained completely untouched, so a rethink may be called for.

Overnighters

2007-07-07T20:19:00.000+01:00

I’ve never actually achieved a comfortable overnighter in all my years of fishing and so I’ve kept away from them to some extent. I don’t like bivvies per se, preferring open fronted shelters because I don’t like the seemingly total detachment from fishing that close fronted bivvies provide. I’ve never worked out how to sleep comfortably whilst fishing and get up the next morning without feeling like death warmed over.

Until now.

There’s a trick to it all you see and I’ve missed that trick right up until last night. You just need the right stuff but you need to use it the right way.

For example: you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag, you sleep on it! That way a bed chair is infinitely more comfortable and with a Trakker Sleeping Bag cover over the top, there is absolutely no need to sleep in winter bib and brace and winter jacket. Therefore sleeping is easier. The other option previously was to try to sleep without wearing winter clothes but freeze to death; those days are over now. Last night I was snug and warm for the first time, and although the bream didn’t let me get much sleep, it was much much better than previously. The other plus, of course, is that if you sleep in a sleeping bag, the getting out of it can be a nightmare when you’re in a hurry. With the Trakker cover, you just shrug it aside and jump out. Well, perhaps not jump…

I decided on the F*x Evolution Brollie X with groundsheet and winter wrap. Lumby had mentioned the Aqua Brollie System, but I think I wanted something a little more substantial and something that could be used for a couple of nights, if necessary. I also wanted some thing that was quick to erect, and a brollie would have achieved that, but the Evo is pretty fast when you get the hang of it. It’s light to carry and open fronted. I haven’t tried the wrap for it yet, and there was no need for it last night. The temperature dropped after dark, as the sky cleared after a grey, windy day, but I was warm under the Trakker. All I could catch over the twenty-seven or so hours I fished were bream. Most were around the three pound mark, with the biggest at about 4 and a half. I caught them on boilies, pellets and plastic corn (a first), but of the Tench, nothing was seen. If I tried maggots, I couldn’t get away from the small rudd. I used my usual simple rig – through bomb and short kryston hair rig – as casting is only short distance here, and put one in the middle near the pads and one fairly close-in to the margins. I used goodie bags filled with pellets and boilies and fired a few freebie bags to the longer-range rig and threw in a few handfuls for the nearer rig.

The average size of the bream in the past has been around five pounds, but these larger fish didn’t show at all. Just the small ones – at ten to two in the morning and a rude awakening at quarter to five, as well as at all other times!

Pixie Dust

2007-02-02T17:15:00.001Z

It's been a dour start to the year, especially after the wonderful catch on Boxing Day. I'd had a couple of morning sessions in January with nothing to show at all and I was conscious that the season was running out. As it turned out, we had some pretty extreme weather leading up to the end of the Season during which the rivers were totally unfishable, and to cap it all, the EA in their supreme incompetence emptied the river for the last two weeks of the Season as well.

However, this morning dawned grey, but exceptionally mild yet again, with air temperatures up to 12c, but with water temperatures around 7 1/2c. It was a still day without a breath of a breeze and a little drizzle later in the morning did nothing to dampen the softness of the day. I walked the long walk to my favorite spot, armed with rods and deadbaits not knowing that this was to be my penultimate morning on the river before seasons end.

I started at the far end again planning to walk back towards the car, and put one bait out amongst the overhanging trees, the other on the far bank. Within minutes the float in the trees was dancing it's dance and I immediately lifted into the fish, even before the float moved off. I like to strike as quickly as possible in every case. If I miss the fish, then fine - it was a small one anyway! But I hate having to deal with deeply hooked pike, not because it's difficult, it actually isn't very often, but because it's unnecessary. That's also one reason I like to fish with floats where practical, it's much easier to see what's going on.

Anyway, I didn't miss the fish - it was nicely hooked in the front of the mouth. It weighed fifteen pounds on the button and as I finished weighing it and was ready to put it back, the alarm on the other rod blipped and the float fell flat on the water - I was in again! I quicly put the fifteen pounder in the weigh sling and lowered it into the water whilst picking up the rod and lifting into the fish. The first fish fell to smelt, probably my most used and therefore most effective deadbait. But this fish had taken sardine. I like sardine. They are cheap, easily obtainable and smelly. But I've not caught much on them. Strange but no matter how much I use them, other baits like mackerel and smelt seem to be more efficient at putting fish on the bank. I have loads of confidence in them though, I just know they've got to work!

This one did!

The fish put up a powerful fight, using its' weight against the rod. This was Lumby's other rod the P1, and its 2 3/4 test curve coped really well with the weight of the fish and the powerful surges it displayed. But it slipped into the net eventually - the biggest fish I have ever landed for myself. I couldn't lift it easily either, so I didn't. Instead I left it in the net, in the water, leaned over the bank and unhooked the fish in the water. The capaciousness of the net allowed it to fold over the fish's head which kept it quiet. meanwhile, I phoned Franc and asked her very nicely to walk down to take the photographs. She very kindly did so and I have my first brace picture after 19 years.
Oh, the weight? Well, the fish took the scales to 26.04 and I was very happy with that. Another personal best. I praised Lumby's rod on the P & P Forum as the first fish on the P1 was a twenty and the third fish on the BB350 was a twenty. In fact, so far I have only caught doubles on both of them. they do seem to have turned my fortunes around. I received many nice comments about the fish and a bit of mickey taking about the fact that it's twice thirteen pounds.

Dave Lumb reckons he sprinkles his rods with pixie dust.

I believe him!

Beating the Boxing Day Blues

2006-12-26T17:59:00.002Z

Frankie was flying off to Madeira this morning with her friend Jo for a week, so in keeping with tradition, I decided to walk down to the river with just a lure rod and one bait rod.

It was mild with a still, quiet atmosphere as I trudged the long walk to my favorite, out of the way stretch. No mist to speak of, but overcast and placid. It was Boxing Day and I hoped that this far down, the river would be peaceful without too many dog walkers or children.
I started at the far end, putting out the deadbait rod whilst I cast lures around trying to drum up some interest. I intended to slowly make my way back to the car fishing different areas as I went. After an hour or so casting under interesting trees and bushes I hadn't had a touch on lures or the deadbait so I started to move back towards the car.
As I got towards the middle of this stretch I put the bait at the back of the river, where I had seen a fish strike back in September, and continued to lure fish. On checking the float in between casts, I saw it bob and dance before steadily moving off. I picked up the rod and lifted into the fish, which had taken a smelt, and, after a short but spirited tussle managed to get the obvious double into my small landing net. I really wasn’t geared up for catching fish, so you can see what mind set I had when I set out this morning! all I had was the lure bag, smaller net (with telescopic pole to navigate the steep banks) scales and no pike tube. It was to get worse!
Anyway I managed to get the fish onto the bank and weighed it in the net. At 14 pounds six ounces it was my biggest UK river fish believe it or not. After more than 14 years of fishing this river, I had finally caught a decent pike!
After carefully photographing and releasing the fish, I put on another smelt and cast the bait back out to the same place and carried on lure fishing. After half an hour or so I again moved the bait this time to the tree stump on the far bank and twenty minutes later I was in again. This fish weighed nearly 11 pounds and so was my second biggest fish from this river. I was having quite a good day. I put a half mackerel back over by the stump and continued lure fishing, but the pike float bobbed again within minutes and soon I was into another fish which ripped away on the strike, before I could gradually coax it back. It felt like another good fish, and it went on another short but very powerful run. When I finally saw it on the surface, I thought it might be a 20 and then panicked about landing it! My smaller net was seemingly inadequate for this fish! However, I managed to get its head in and then as most of its body followed I quickly lifted it onto the grassy bank.

It was another personal best! My biggest pike and biggest fish from the river. My second twenty pound fish in 3 months! I was very pleased as the pictures show. I could not measure the fish and had to weigh her in the net, but to have three doubles from the river in one day including one twenty was too much. I sat down finished off my coffee and had a couple of smokes trying hard not to smile inanely at the scenery.
I caught nothing on the lure rod all morning, but maybe I enticed the pike to feed or maybe it was just a good day for feeding pike – who knows?
And I christened my Lumby BB350 rod too.

First Twenty (Going Dutch)

2006-10-29T22:02:00.000Z

Well, here we are back in Rotterdam as Franc is working with our good friends in the city for two days. I decided to fish the River Keen just outside Strijen in a spot I found in May. I wasn’t sure if I could fish with three rods or not, so, setting up in the dark, I put out two rods with deadbaits which had been carefully transported across the channel, France, Belgium and Holland. These included some lovely fresh Herrings I bought in Deal and froze immediately. They were the freshest herrings I had ever seen, still pink and bright eyed.
Nothing actually happened until about 9 o’clock when I had a take on a half mackerel float legered against the reed bed opposite my swim. The fish fought well and was soon hand landed. I weighed her at 15.12 and was chuffed to bits with her. She was my second largest fish to date after all and so I was very pleased. I had a couple more takes from the same place over the next hour or so and lost one fish, but the bites do seem to be quite twitchy, not exactly screaming runs.

In the meantime, the other, legered bait had also been receiving attention of a twitchy nature, but at about 2.15pm I leaned into one such take and hooked a fish. The bait was half herring fished as far as I could cast (not far in the wind) up along the reed bed toward, but not reaching, the overhanging trees. She fought well and stayed quite deep and as I netted her I felt she could be a twenty pounder. At 21.03 I was so pleased I could have done a Gord Burton and yelled Yeeee-Haaah at the top of my lungs - but I didn't! I sacked her and carefully to allow both her and me to recover for half an hour or so. A nice Dutch couple came along at about that time and took the photographs for me before I gently slipped her back. She had been nicely hooked in the front of the mouth but I also removed another treble from her gill rakers, so obviously others fish here for the pike.I had no more takes at all in the afternoon, so I packed up to drive back to the hotel, very pleased with my day’s fishing.

The next morning saw me back at the swim before first light, setting up in the dark again. Remember though, that in Holland as the closks don't go back in the winter, it doesn't really get light until about 8am at this time of year. This early start was made all the harder due to a late night out in Rotterdam with René in a lovely cigar bar. I was suffering a bit. The wind had switched overnight and was blowing a lot stronger into the reed bed where I caught the fish yesterday. As yesterday, nothing happened at all until after 9am, when I had a run on float legered sardine against the reedbed, right on the corner. These fish do seem to switch on at a set time here. It was another double at 12.03, a long lean fish and completely different to the next I was to catch an hour or so later.

After no activity for a while I cast the legered half herring into a small depression in the reed bed to my right and almost immediately had a run which resulted in a short stocky pike of 11.12.
So in a day and a half’s fishing I had four doubles totalling some 61 pounds in weight, an average of 15 pounds per fish. Not bad, Mikey, not bad at all.

Fat, fit and fiesty

2006-06-21T12:39:00.001+01:00

I thought I would have an early morning piking trip along this top part of the local river. Franc and I had a walk along here a few evenings ago and I saw some fry jumping near an overhanging bush, so I thought I would investigate.

It was drizzling and overcast for the first couple of hours, but I started with a slider jerkbait going on to try the Sossy Perch, but the first fish, a very nice Perch of around two pounds or so came to a shad soft plastic in firetiger. It took on the drop and from the area where I saw the fish swirling the other evening. A nice fish, and very welcome at that hour of the morning.

I walked right back along to the lock without so much as a knock, trying various lures, spoons and plugs, until I was actually standing on the weir bridge. I cast up river with a Shakespeare Big S and had a savage take, but the fish came off. I thought it might have been a jack, because it felt ‘toothy’ but on the next cast it hit the lure again. My 'toothy' jack turned itself into a lovely Chub of three pounds; a fat, fit and fiesty fighter that capped off my early morning jaunt very nicely, thank you. So not a bad morning in all, but no Pike, which is a little strange for such a jack infested river.

Dutch Intermission

2006-05-27T12:27:00.003+01:00

Franc is doing a couple of workshops over here in Holland for the weekend with a friend. Whilst here we are staying with Renita in her flat in the middle of a delightful little village called Strijen. This morning I ferried the girls into Rotterdam and then drove back to the village to do a little fishing.

There is water everywhere in Holland, but right outside Renita’s flat there is a river called the Keen, which flows towards the Holland Diep, but back up stream there are some delightful stretches, with lily pads, bends and a deep bay which I’m looking forward to fishing later in the year.

I had my new sneaker rod from Dave Lumb and was chatting to a Dutch guy who fishes this part of the river in the village itself. While we were talking about the fishing, I had a take, just after changing from a Rapala to a Storm Wildeye Perch soft plastic. The fish fought well on the new rod, and it was good for several firsts.

First Pike in Holland, first pike on a soft plastic, first on a multiplier and first on Lumby’s new rod. Excellent! I would say it was around 8 pounds, but I didn’t weight it. Ramone, the Dutch guy did the honours with the photo’s. She slipped quietly back seemingly none the worse for her brief encounter with the outside world and I continued to stroll upstream.

Once you're through the town part of the river, the reed beds are more extensive and I tried casting along most of these as well as alongside the lily pads that were beginning to show ready for the summer.

Although I fished on for some time, trying out a lot of new lures and fishing in the big bay, I caught nothing else. The sun has come out, though and the day was bright and clear, it would have been nice to start a little earlier but there you are.

From Little Acorns

2006-02-15T21:55:00.001Z

In 1989, just as my first marriage was coming to an end, and my fishing and music career were about to be curtailed, I found a very small drain that was to produce a couple of personal bests and several nice double figure pike. All of the above events were unknown to me in 1989, which is probably just as well other wise I might just have done something really stupid. (as if throwing away a perfectly good marriage wasn’t stupid enough) But that’s just water under the bridge now, if you’ll excuse the pun.

Ray and I had found this little stream in a part of Kent, near the coast and if I forget to give it a name, I’m sure you will forgive me for the oversight. It was scarcely 10 feet wide and in some places only 18 inches or so deep. In the summer it was barely fishable, with thick blanket weed on the bottom and chick weed on the top. Oh, and did I say it was gin clear?

But in the winter we discovered it was fishable and contained pike, (actually I think Ray discovered it) and whilst giving it our second go with lures Ray caught a fat fifteen and three quarter pounder. I caught a four pounder!

But in January of 1990, I fished for two hours on a hundred yard stretch of the water to catch 9 fish - three of which were doubles - on Tobys and Kuusamo Professors. Now, none of these fish were larger than 11 and a half pounds but, of course, at the time I knew that there were larger fish to be caught, because I had seen at least one in Ray’s arms.

Over the years as my fishing moved away from this part of Kent, I managed to get down for the odd session, taking a few more fish up to 8 or 9 pounds or so, and one more low double, but I never really fished it hard. This season though I wanted to spend just a little more time here and my fourth short session took place on Wednesday 15th February.

I had completed the hour and a half drive in the rain and howling wind to arrive at the venue at first light. As I emerged from the Jeep, the rain stopped, but the wind just kept on trying to flatten everything in sight.

I climbed over the bridge to find the water high from the rain, and the wind was pushing hard in the direction of the flow. Hiding behind the big oak trees that lined this side of the stretch, I managed to avoid most of the wind, but a 2 oz bomb was required to keep the float legered joey mackerel static on the bottom. On the other rod I decided to trot along the flow with a smelt, off the bottom.

On my second leap frog, the trotted float stopped midstream just hanging in the water and I thought it had snagged on some weed. As I was about to lift the rod to free the bait, the float bobbed!

Isn’t there just something about that moment? Like your first kiss or the first time you see a great movie. For me, it’s even better when you make your own floats; it’s an evocative moment, full of anticipation, hope and satisfaction.

It was a five pounder!

Still it didn’t matter; a fish is a fish is a fish. As I was returning this one, the pencil float on my other rod, stood firmly to attention. Isn’t there just something about that moment - when your pencil stands firmly to attention..? Well, never mind.

Anyway, slipping back the five pounder I watched the float carefully, but it didn’t move again, not a twitch. I leapfrogged this rod a little further upstream as I re-set up the trotting rod. Within five minutes the pencil ducked beneath the surface hanging there in the flow. It seemed the fish were taking the bait, but not moving off with it at all. I gave it a couple of seconds and then leaned into the fish, which, I’m ashamed to say, did not fight at all, really. She hung in the flow, just a rod length out, putting a nice bend in the rod, but I handed her out relatively easily.

She was 37 1/2 inches long with a girth of 18 inches. Fat? I’ll say so. And at 16.04 she was also a personal best. Now, I know what you’re thinking: '16 pounds is that all?' But after 17 years and hundreds of Pike, the biggest were always, and I mean ALWAYS 13 pounds something. Last year in Scotland, 12 fish in a morning, biggest – 13.06. Bassenthwaite, biggest 13.08 and so it goes on. But finally, a sixteen pounder and from this delightful little stream in difficult conditions and after travelling 72 miles in the dark, with a wind and rain storm trying to put me off.

Life doesn’t get much better than this does it?

Oh, and it was on a home made float, with a home made lead and a home made trace.

Perfect!

Scottish Red Letter Day

2005-10-28T18:34:00.000+01:00

I had a look around this lovely looking loch yesterday on an overcast day, but with a little bit of wind. I did a bit of casting around and found that the south west bank was very shallow and also very weedy. This morning, a very slight breeze was blowing into the North East bank so after a quick sniff of the air on this side of the loch, I decided to fish here, initially, with the intention of moving to the South West bank if the fishing was slow.

I had a streaming cold which had been incubating for a few days and didn’t feel up to much walking, or even fishing, but fortunately it wasn’t necessary; I just walked from the car park and set up on the beach. The water is deeper here maybe dropping off to 6 or maybe 7 feet further out and the bottom seems less rocky and weedy.

Anyway, I set up the first rod with one of my home made floats with a small sliding leger weight and cast it to the left of my swim, a smelt chosen for ease. I put the rod on the buzzers as it was misty and still quite dark, but I always use buzzers as well as floats whenever I can. I was setting up the second rod, the buzzer from the first started to bleep intermittently. I couldn’t see the float very well in the gloom, but I leaned into the fish which tail walked almost all the way to the bank and eventually turned into a 6.12. I was very pleased to catch straight away.

Within an hour I had a second on the leger rod I think, and I believe I lost the third which ticked me off a bit. Don’t let them tail walk, because that’s when the hook pulls. I reckon that I had four fish in the first hour and a half and certainly by about 10 I had had half a dozen, from about a dozen runs or dropped runs. I had also had the two biggest by this time. Throughout the day I lost 4 fish, none of them felt very large. I caught on popped up baits, drifted baits cast to striking fish: I had two fish attack the baits on the way in and finally, I caught a six pounder on a Kuusamo Professor. There were fish everywhere and they were striking near the surface as well. I learnt a lot today and I caught fish on herring tails and heads, mackerel, whole and halves, smelt popped up and legered and eel section produced some too, but not as many as I expected. A real red letter day!