I was still keen to get out to the bank so decided Monday afternoon/evening would be a suitable substitute but with weather still remaining fair I decided that the trotting would be best left for more suitable conditions. That being the case I made my way after work to the small river I've been frequenting recently, albeit to an area I had only fished once before and even then only roving in a few swims. This time would be different and I would attempt to do the entire stretch.
It is always my preference to walk to the furthest end of the stretch and work my way back towards the car, especially carrying the videoing equipment which is part of my fishing these days, which in itself constitutes about half the weigh of my gear. Getting the long walk out of the way first to be replaced with a punctuated ramble back is definitely the more enjoyable way to proceed. So this I did.
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Having not even laid eyes on the majority of these swims previously they were a sight to behold for an angler...overhanging trees, rafts of debris, bends, deep glides. I was in heaven.
The rod was quickly assembled. Link-leger, bread flake, mashed bread and lobworms would be my mainstay with maggots and pellets at hand as a backup.
Unfortunately all the promise did not come to fruition and I fished 4 or 5 swims without even the merest knock on the quiver tip or any interest in the baits. I consoled myself that this was to be expected in the blazing sunlight.
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By this time the sun was beginning to set and the river came alive, small fish topping seemingly everywhere.
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I moved to the next swim where the flow in a deep pool was punctuated by a tree on the far bank. There was immediate interest in the bread flake here and after a couple of tentative plucks a small chub was banked. With nothing further for the next five minutes I pressed on.
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With that I moved on with just about enough light remaining to find my way without the use of a head torch, settling into a tight swim where there was just enough room for an angler, his rod and camera.
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With the minimum of light and disturbance a piece of breadflake was flicked into the darkness, followed, once again, by some tiny balls of mashed bread. I sat there in the gloom, watching my rod tip which was illuminated by a small torch, contemplating how any fish could find a piece of breadflake in the blackness. Just as this thought crossed my mind the tip twitched and pulled round. I struck and happily connected to another chub of decent proportions whose fight in the camera light did justice to its stature...however before it could find sanctuary in the maze of tree roots protruding into the water at my feet it was safely ushered into the landing net.
I fished another swim for a few minutes but by this time it was getting very cold and I had stayed longer than intended. I had really enjoyed a productive session and was happy to make tracks for home.
Tight lines
Nic
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