Woeful Wierwood - The PAC Day

Mike and Harry Fishing Again...?

Yesterday, the rain came down by the bucketload; the M25, M40, M4 and M11 all had problems throughout the afternoon and evening, water ran as rivers down country roads and cascaded into reservoirs and lakes all over the south-east.

Yes, as you can probably tell, I am laying substantial foundations in an attempt to excuse the fact that we blanked today on out first Pike Fishing trip of the season. Whether the rain caused the lack of Esox action or the high water temperatures (53F) or the bright sunshine I have no idea but only a couple of fish were caught all day on a water that certainly holds a few decent fish including some very nice perch. 

Harry and I neither saw a fish, felt a fish or smelled a fish - all day - and we tried just about everything. 

Dead baiting didn't produce, neither did trolled or drifted lures. We tried the deeper dam end, the shallower sanctuary end and most points in between, hunting high and low for features that might hold fish - even jacks. 

It is a sad fact that fills me with dismay, disdain and self-loathing, but not much of any of those really,  that I was pleased to hear that almost everybody else had also blanked. No, I'm not really that self centred -  it was just one of those days that for whatever reason know only to themselves - the fish decided to stay away. 

Not much else to do....

It happens, for what it's worth I think it was the large influx of dirty water into the reservoir yesterday that affected the pike and stopped them feeding. But we'll never know will we? I suppose that's part of the fun. 

Fun. Yes, I remember that. 

Dave Mutton drove a long way in the rain to facilitate this event, my thanks to him and his daughter for their efforts and for an opportunity for an early season attempt at the fish. 

Belgian Buns and Bewl Boredom

This was supposed to include a whole Bun...but..you know...

It was the Annual Harry and Mikes' Birthday Bash, but it was just into the second week of October - the vicissitudes of working life have kept us apart - but the weather was wonderful! Blue skies, late teens temperatures, and a light corduroy breeze rippling the lake and gently rocking the boat as we ate Belgian Buns. Yep, I know - shock, horror - Belgian! 

No, really - it was a beautiful Indian Summer Day and it was such a pleasure to be outside. It's been a fantastic summer, long and warm but for the mild temperatures and sunshine to cascade into October is a real blessing. 

Just as well really - because the fishing was a disappointment - apart from the first half hour. 

Expectation was as high as the weather front, although the latter was due to change within 24 - 48 hours and the former before tea time. Fish had been caught all week, trout love the back end of the year as the fry are feeding and if the weather is warm, insect life can be abundant - thick even -  and trout are eminently catchable. Naturally, something went wrong today - but that's OK, the company was as welcome as the weather.

As I mentioned, it started well. We edged out into the bowl and I had a Daddy Longlegs on the point with a black peacock hurl Diawl Bach kind of pattern on the dropper. After about 20 minutes I had a hard fighting rainbow of about a pound and three quarters on, which had taken the Daddy on a slowish retrieve. I sorted that out and bagged the fish, re-cast and immediately had another on the Daddy again. I suppose we could have been forgiven for thinking that we were going to need a bigger boat for all these fish, but alas, the breeze died, the temperature dropped as the forecast low made its presence felt and neither Harry nor I had another fish - or even a touch until late in the afternoon when Harry had a tug, on a damsel, I think.

A Rainbow shining in the sun...

It's like that sometimes - the fish had dropped deeper, moved away or stopped feeding altogether - who knows, but my Birthday gift of a fishing trip and our get together certainly turned an odd afternoon into a pleasant event, and we didn't stop trying, although at one stage Harry said it was almost a thoughtless process - a robotic method of cast and retrieve, cast and retrieve - we had to remember to think - to consider what we were actually trying to achieve, to dispel the boredom and put some effort into our machinations to fool, the trout.

And of course the Belgian Buns were lovely....for something Belgian...thanks Harry.

Indian Summer...?

Heatwave

The thing about Facebook is that you have to put up with quite a bit of inanity. Throughout the Winter people were freezing and moaning about the protracted coldness, the lack of sunshine and the snow. Now, naturally the same people are complaining about the temperature and that it is too hot and stuffy. It's a British thing I suppose to whine about the weather, and in fact an American colleague of mine was recently complimented on her acclimatisation to all things English with the comment that she could "discuss the weather with ease". 

Wall to Wall Sunshine

It has been warm, about 5 or 6 days of 30 degree plus temperatures, and over two weeks of upper 20's. The skies have been clear and my vegetables have been gasping at the end of each long, languid day. I love it though, it reminds me of my childhood in Germany, riding our bikes and playing out all day and the last really hot summer of '76 when I had just left school and worked on Ron Joy's farm for a couple of weeks before starting my brief, 6 year career with National Westminster Bank. With hindsight I would have enjoyed the farm work far more. 

I have to say though, that trout fishing in a prolonged warm spell is not an easy pastime to master; the trout are deep, their appetite limited and their location difficult to ascertain.  And so today proved. We tried a spot of drifting but the wind was just too strong and the fish were at least 15 feet down. We found we were catching up with the flies too fast to reach the depth at which the fish were, especially with the fast sink line. We hooked up to buoys out in the main bowl area and fished with deep, even jigging the team of buzzers in various depths. Eventually, and with some luck I wrinkled out a rainbow on the retrieve at about 15 - 18 feet down, but try as we might, neither Harry or I had another touch all afternoon and evening. It was a tough day, but such is fishing at times - I certainly won't moan about the weather - but I'll probably leave the trout now until September....

The fish were down, the moon was up...

Keeping Score

A flash of  cobalt in the late afternoon sun.

Most anglers can tell you, pretty much instantly, the weight and capture details of their largest fish. These details are embedded in the memory as strongly as the birth of a first child or the last winning of the FA cup by one's football team. (1980, for mine, sadly). Some anglers can go further - telling you more details of their most memorable catches, the dates, home and bait particulars.  Occasionally one finds an angler who can pretty much instantly tell you what he caught on 15th November 1978 and what he had for dinner afterwards. Most pike anglers know who I'm talking about. 

I used to keep a pretty strict diary with all this data itemised, but then I enjoy writing. Nowadays I'm happy to use this blog to capture the essence of the day more than just the bare bones of the results. It has become more important to me to look back on the memories of the day rather than just the statisics. Many anglers would say that angling is more than just catching fish, but sometimes it can take an inordinately long time to figure that out. I really used to enjoy writing about my social trips - especially Scotland - a country that is easy to romanticise and depict in writing. 

Non fishermen often ask what you think about when you're fishing; life, problems, philosophical dilemma, but all I ever usually think about is fishing. How to catch, what on, where. Harry and I pretty much chat about these things all through our sessions together particularly the where, and it's usually late in the day after a few fish have been caught before the topic turns to ' how's the wife?' or 'work ok?' Sad, but true. It doesn't mean we don't care, of course we do, but, well,  we're fishing and that's pretty important too. 

I do tend to keep a mental tally of "Fish versus Mike" as the day goes on. If I catch a fish, well that's one to me, if I get a take and miss it or the fish comes off before I land it, that's one to the fish.  It's not because I'm bored and have to keep my mind active either, it's just an aberration; I've always done it so I always  do it.  It's a funny thing but it keeps my mind active I suppose. 

Maybe I'm weird.  

Harry thinks I am. 

By the way, today's score was 3 - 2 to me!

Baffled, Bemused and Bewildered at Bewl....

The first, and only, Rainbow

....but not because I didn't catch fish - I did!

We were advised on arrival that hand fish were tight in to the bank and about six feet or so down. That didn't make sense to me, as tight to the bank would be very shallow in most areas and in the weed zone. If the fish are close in, they are invariably chasing fry - this time of year the fry are small and usually hidden in the weed.

I decided to stick with my original plan which was to have a floating booby on the point and two flies on the dropper - a bibio and a hare's ear buzzer. This means that a the flies are on or very close to the surface - certainly not 6 feet down. Andy Lush from the Friendly Fisherman always advocates shallow fishing on this reservoir, and he's fished here for centuries!

Harry and I let the boat drift as close as we could and very soon I had a take on the bibio fairly close in to the trees and I finally landed a strong, feisty 2 pound rainbow - the only rainbow trout I was to catch today. I didn't feel the take, really - the line tightened and that was about it.

My leader was trashed so I put on a new one, with only one dropper this time - the bibio - but with my favourite pearly pheasant tail nymph on the point. This fly might sink to perhaps twelve inches or so, but not much more. We were drifting along the bank, but about twenty or so yards out when I put the rod down to pour a welcome cup of tea. As I reached for the flask, the reel screamed as a trout took the dropper again and pulled my rod towards the water. I grabbed at it and eventually landed a nice Bluey of about 2 and a half pounds. These fish are a rainbow trout variation with turning the back of the fish a dark cobalt blue instead of the usual greeny hue and without the rainbow coloration around the gills. 

Easy, this fishing lark. Two fish and not a clue as to how I caught them...

We stayed in the area for a while longer but without success and so we moved a couple of times finally ending up in the Bowl area.

A Bluey...fat and chunky

As we began the drift I saw a fish which appeared to be feeding on the surface; I cast over towards it and as I began the retrieve I had a solid take and another Blue Trout was leaving the water in its attempt for freedom. These fish really are strong fighters, leaping from the reservoir 6 or 7 times during the fight. I nodded apologetically towards Harry, who mentally shrugged his shoulders. We know how it can be; fishing partners rarely catch together - either one or other has a better day than the other. I fished here three times in a row last year with hardly a take or a fish to be seen while Harry netted his limit each time. 

About an hour before it was time to pack up, I had my last fish of the day, another solid, chunky, hard fighting Blue Trout of around three pounds. There wasn't much of a breeze, hardly any fly hatch that we could detect, yet these last two fish had taken the point nymph barely below the surface.

 I think Andy Lush has got it spot on..

Me? I still don't get it!

Fish on....

Spoons

The very best lure in my opinion..Kuusamo's Professor

One of my favourites...and the pike's...

When you catch so few fish, it's important to photograph all of them...

Naturally, we have our friendly rivalries Harry and I, our differences of opinion, our own views on what constitutes a good breakfast or lunch, whether deadbaiting is a better method of catching fish than lure fishing, the efficacies of trolling - but we both agree that spoons are highly effective and efficient lures. In fact, I would lose little sleep if I could only use spoons to lure fish from now on. They are simple, practical and cheap; they can be trolled cranked or worked; they come in a huge variety of colours, weights, lengths and shape but they are all powerfully proficient and potent fish catchers.

Today's spoon of the moment...

When I fish with spoons I work the bait with the rod tip allowing slack line for the spoon to flutter enticingly. If you experiment with a spoon, let it drop on slack line in front of you and watch it as it dances away from the rod tip, flashing in sparkles of iridescent colours as it sinks down. Often takes will come on the drop, so it is important to maintain some contact with the spoon as it sinks to the depth at which you wish to fish it, but as you draw it back jerk the rod tip then give a second or two for the lure to flash before another short sweep of the rod. Many jerk bait enthusiasts employ this method of working the rod tip to impart movement to the lure, it also helps if you try to think like an unwell baitfish if you can.....

Stupid hat day...

 Anyway, we were back at Bewl for a pike only day and as always the fish were few and far between. As the Autumn Colours fell from the trees like russet snow we trolled and drifted our way around a few of the marks we have noted over the years and we both managed a small fish each. Harry employed "Percy" a plug of dubious origin but the effectiveness of which cannot be denied, Percy often produces the goods when other lures fail and he certainly pulled one out of the bag this time..

My fish was caught around lunchtime on the red spoon pictured above and on the drop, as is often the case when moving into a new area. The rod kicked even though the lure was sinking, but this is the effect of the spoon dropping back from the rod, it keeps the line relatively tight and takes on the drop are communicated to the angler most of the time. The fish was a fat jack and maybe the redness of the lure enticed him or maybe it was the flash.

Coffee time - see, men can multi-task...

 It was nice to be out just 5 weeks away from Christmas and with a cold wind corrugating the surface of the reservoir, but with a warm layer of clothing and a flask of hot coffee it wasn't too bad a day. Unfortunately I couldn't stir in the sugar - I didn't have a spoon.....!

A perfect evening for fishing, but not catching....

Sometimes it just doesn't matter; how can you complain when the company is good, the weather benign, the conditions perfect, but the fish absent?

It's Bewl; it's the way it is; the reservoir is a favourite venue, but, for Harry and I, it gives up its fish reluctantly.

Bewl has introduced an "Any Methods" policy. Why, I don't know, perhaps the season's dampness has caused a drought of hardy, all-weather anglers; perhaps the Bewl water powers that be have changed a decades long ethos in favour of an elite clientelle, to an all encompassing, catch-all product brought about by the contemporary fad to dumb down as much as possible as often as possible. Maybe.

Anyway, be that as it may, Harry and I couldn't shift a fish. They were rising later in the evening but neither he nor I had a single take on the fly. Now, we're not by any means experts here, but not to have even a touch is very, very strange. We tried up until 8.45 and we tried just about everything. But it was such a wonderful afternoon and evening that we couldn't complain too much.....could we....?

Bewl - The Drought or Mismanagement?

Since April 5th this year, we in the South East have been subjected to another hose pipe ban. Whether this is due to two exceptionally dry winters or to the mismanagement of the water companies is open to conjecture. Yet the press have not had much to say on the subject, in fact nobody appears to have much to say. 3.3 Billion litres of water is lost every day to water leaks, water bills have risen by, on average, 5.7% this year, and unlike other energy bills - Gas and Electric - you cannot swap between water suppliers. Incidentally 3.3 billion litres is enough water to fill Wembley Stadium three times over - every day!

The water towers almost high and dry

Like most other fisherman - aroung 800,000 of us - I pay almost £30 per year for a fishing licence, but other water users do not. Unlike other water users, my sport has been severely hampered by water extraction, empty reservoirs, rivers and lakes and fish deaths which must inevitably be caused by the lack of water across the South and East. Anglian Water and my local authority Southern Water are amongst 6 companies who have missed their target for leakage repairs last year and previous years.

A huge amount of exposed ground

Since the water companies were privatised in 1989, foreign companies have gradually bought up the vast majority of shares, often without customers even noticing. The Twenty Two companies that make up our Water Authorities made massive profits of £2.2billion in the 2010/11 financial year, with a turnover of more than £10billion. Meanwhile, the impact of rising bills is stretching family finances, with millions of households owing more than £1.6billion, and debts rocketing 130% in the past decade. It is the householder who will have to foot the bill for this year's drought cost too. As a fisherman - I will have to pay twice!

Happier days - when Bewl was full.

Broadlands Fish Kills

I have fished on the Norfolk Broads a few times over the years, but I am not a regular up there. It is however, an area steeped in fishing history and as such one would believe that the Broadlands Authority would have the interest of the anglers of the area at heart, especially as they are a major financial contributor within the economy, both local and tourism.

But fish are being killed and the evidence points to the recent dredging that is still being carried out. Mike Hastings is a friend of mine who lives in the area - check out his blog to find out how we can fight against this incompetence.

His blog is HERE

Bewl

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.

Harry returns his fish

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....

A Day To Be Forgotten

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

Rutland writings

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 lure 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.

Charity Day - The Kelly Twins

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.