Knowing rain had swept across the dales earlier in the week I'd been keeping an eye on the river levels. The problems was the spot I'd hoped to fish was midway between two gauges and I'd not fished it for some years so the information from the gauges wasn't overly meaningful. The other problem is that the levels are only given every twelve hours and a lot can happen in that time. When I looked this morning the river hadn't risen much and nor had it at the gauges further upstream. The other thing the gauges don't tell you is what colour the river has turned. As it tuned out the colour wasn't bad, but the river was now rising fast. In fact it peaked just after lunch nearly a metre up from the early morning level according to the graphs. Which matched my observations on the bank. I'd have probably been better barbel fishing than attempting to trot for grayling. The fact it was still rising meant it was un-wadable as well. In fact I'd never wade a rinsing river, especially the Wharfe. This limited the swims I could fish. Still there were plenty of Snowdrops to admire as I wandered upstream looking for fishable swims.
I was astonished when the first trot through, intended to check the depth, produced a fish. A MINNOW, in January, a bloody minnow, and it wasn't a fluke, a couple of trots later and I'd got another one. In fact it was as bad as summer for them, it seemed no matter where I fished a minnow would eventually turn up. I spent the rest of the day trying to avoid them. In the swims I did avoid them I also avoided any other fish as well. Deep, shallow, fast, slow, and various combinations there of, they still seemed to turn up. If I put three or four maggots on they just chewed them, but didn't hook themselves. Nor did anything else mind you.
Half way back down the length I spotted a rather large pile of earth on a bank, behind which was what looked like a badger hole. They had obviously been busy get ready for the forth coming cubs.
Despite only catching minnows it hadn't been a bad day. I'd been sheltered from the strong winds and learnt a bit about the levels at this point compared to the levels at the gauges either side. So all was not lost as I'd got a new January species. I can't remember ever catching minnows in January before. There again I can't remember a January this warm either.
I was intending to fish further up the Wharfe, but other matters had delayed me so I compromised. I'd not fished for grayling here, but had caught the odd when trotting for dace and a few others had told me of good catches when you find them. By the time I'd got to the river the sun had poked it's head out and I would be facing straight into it. My clip-ons, along with the action cam and neoprene socks were still at home on the kitchen top where I'd pit them to remind me to take them with me. There were half a dozen red kite sailing about on the chilly downstream breeze as I got to my swim. I spent a good while trying to get a photo with the phone, but just couldn't get close enough to get them. There were, though, a few snowdrops fighting their way up through the flood debris.
The tactics were to be the same as yesterday. A size 18 under a 3.5g loafer as this works well in swims between two and six foot and easy to adjust the depth of when roaming. This time I got the correct reel with the lighter line on. Bait was red and/or yellow maggot(s). A lot of people recommend red when fishing for grayling, but I've found days when yellow has worked better. I started off fishing a quick run down the inside. When this didn't produce I waded out to a deeper run further out. This produced a little grayling to double yellow maggot. I then waded back to get my landing net as trying to bring fish to hand with a 15' rod is not always easy as you lose some control as you raise the rod towards vertical. Three more, of the same rather small size, followed before things went quiet. The next swim produced nothing after half an hour so I stopped for a spot of lunch and to warm my toes up.
After lunch, in a different swim i again tried the faster inside line for a while before wading out to fish the faster current near the far bank. Second trot down I was in and it was something heavy. Initially a steady wind of the reel had it coming towards me hugging the bottom. It then headed back down stream, slowly and deliberately before kitting across the river. It had to be a barbel as it headed behind a downstream willow. I assumed it was now snagged as it didn't want to move. I paddled back across the river and then downstream past the tree to find it satin a patch of dead vegetation. I could see the double maggots next to the stripey tail of a nice double figure pike. As I inched towards it it started to move again, as it did it transferred the hook to the vegetation and swam off. It had shown me how far the Greys rod could bend, but I don't think I could of landed it even if the hook had stayed in. It had sum some thirty yards down and across with out me having any real control over it.
I paddled back to the swim as I couldn't get back up the bank behind the tree. despite all the cuffuffle, or maybe because of it, a pod of grayling ha moved into the swim. Slightly large than previous and preferring red to yellow. Eight fish followed over the next three quarters of an hour. I was one of those swims though. Half a dozen trots would go along OK, the next half dozen would pick up leaves or twigs from the bottom. I gave up when it went quiet and I could no linger feel my toes. Also the sun had dropped behind the trees making the breeze feel even colder.
I must say I'm quite pleased with the Greys. The tip is soft enough to stop grayling being bumped off even though I was using barbless hooks. I'll have to have a go with a heavy, five or six swan avon to see if the tip collapses when striking, but that's for another time.
After a brief interlude, due the car problems, it was back where we left off. The last trip to the Rye saw a very coloured and rising river. This time it was falling, slowly, the colour had dropped out, but it was still tanking through and bit high than I would have liked. The intention was to christen the new 15' Greys rod, so trotting with a pin was the order of the day. Everybody knows Murphy's Law - If it can go wrong it will go wrong. There's another related law, among many, that states - given a binary choice, 90% of the time you'll pick the wrong one. This is often seen when people look the wrong way up a one-way street. I have to TFG pins, today I picked the one with heavy mono on instead of the one with light mono. With the way the Rye was flowing, though, it didn't make much difference as I would be using a 3.5g loafer. The next cock up was the action cam missing from it's case, which is no surprising as it was still plugged into the computer charging up. and I'd forgot to put it back in the case.
As I drove down the farm track to the top of the stretch the fog seemed to get thicker. Despite the lack of sun it wasn't necessary for the big coat. Trotting red maggots down the first swim produced a couple of bites that resulted in a chewed maggot. Eventually after several missed bites a tiny little dace was hooked. As that was all that appeared to be in the swim I moved on and on and on. The next few swims produced nothing. The first trot in one of the slower deeper swims had the float heading back towards me. As I stared at it trying to work out what was going on it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to strike. This met with solid resistance which stayed deep as I wound it back upstream, but turned to acrobatic fun as I attempted to net it. A rather nice 11' trout which had put a good bend into the new rod, the soft tip of which dealt with the acrobatics very well.
With the new rod christened I head on downstream, but didn't get another bite until I got near the bridge. where a reasonable sized dace was grabbed by a pike just as I got it to the surface. I didn't even feel the pike it went straight through the line. I took the hint and packed up. The fog had now lifted and the temperature was dropping as well. I'd have liked to christen the rod with a grayling rather than a tiny dace, but the trout put a good bend in the rod so not so bad. The new car also got a good splattering of mud so now looks more like a proper fischenwagon. Tomorrow I think I'll have to go somewhere with a bit more form on the grayling front.
Before I left I had a wander over the bridge and noticed what looked like an attempt to reinstate the original ford. It was, however, something to do with the remedial works that are been carried out on the bridge. It appears they picked the wrong summer to attempt this as the river has been in flood more often than not.
In the tackle shop, yesterday, I was informed that the Rye and Derwent had fined down were fishing well with a few grayling coming out of the Rye. As I had a fifteen foot Greys Toreon Tactical Float Rod to christen the Rye would be ideal. I wouldn't normally fish the Rye with a rod that long as it's only a little river, but it needs christening and a grayling would be I nice way to christen it. I knew it had rained overnight and had noted the rivers had risen slightly, but I wasn't expecting them to be mud flows when I got there.
I decided to give it an hour or so trotting maggots through the fast, slow, shallow, deep bits, or various combinations of the afore mentioned. The first thing I did was remove the bottom four inches or so section of the butt. This means there is nothing sticking out beyond the elbow. I'd tried it with and with out at home, with a reel on, and there was no discernable difference to the balance. The rig was a three and a half gramme loafer with a three gramme olivette stopped by a small swivel and three number six shot with another number six as a marker hot just under the float. A simple setup that is easy to change the depth with as I roamed a few swims. I must say the rod is very pleasant to use even if I didn't get any bites to hit or fish to land. I ended up spending two hours wandering about different swims with nothing to show for it. I did see one outflow with water pouring out of it that I've never seen flow before. In fact the ditch it comes from normally only gets slightly damp.
After some lunch I moved to the Derwent fishing the same tactics. The Derwent wasn't as coloured as the Rye initially, but coloured up later in the afternoon. I worked my my up towards the weir fishing some of the deeper swims as I went. Apart from a twig I had nothing to show by the time I reached the weir. The river had continued to slowly rise, but wasn't a bad colour below the weir. I had done well here in the past with the river around this height. Not long after getting to the weir I had my first bite, which resulted in a blown maggot. The next cast I thought I was into something small. It turned out to be a stone. The hook had snagged an old caddis case. Just as I was thinking of moving I got a couple more bites, which I missed. The I has little gudgeon, which flipped off the hook as I lifted it out of the water. Nearly christened the rod. I had a couple more chewed maggots over the next half hour before heading back downstream towards the car. Tried a bit of stret-pegging. in a couple of swims, but again failed to elicit and attention from fish. By now it was starting to drizzle and the river colour had turned to muddy beige. I took the hint and headed home.
It wasn't the height the rivers had risen to, but the colour they'd turned that was the problem and the speed they'd turned to mud coloured. All the fields near the rivers had standing water in them as the ground now appears to be saturated so any rain just runs straight into the river. I'm going to have to change my days off from work as the reports I get seem to indicate Tuesday and Wednesday fish better than Thursday and Friday.
Final day of the Christmas New Year holidays, before returning to work tomorrow, and I head down to the Nidd mouth on the Ouse or as I call these days - The Nun Monkton Ferry Terminal. I had been avoiding it as it had got a bit silly with number of anglers down there. A bit like Whitby pier at mackerel time. When I arrived there was only one other angler and he was on the other bank. As you can't fish the beach any more I opted for a swim just upstream of it, having dunked my net in to make sure I could reach down the now sheer bank. The floods of the last couple of years have cut away the lower part of it.
I plumb around and found the deeper hole at just under three fathoms downstream where I plonked a float ledgered mackerel tail. Upstream the edge of the drop off was around two fathoms and here I placed a float ledgered sardine. The sun had now come out so it was off with the big coat. I had, however, left the clip-ons in the car which was a fare walk away so I just squinted. After an hour I got my first run, on the sardine, but after a short fight it came adrift. It was just after twelve, just as I'd got my cheese & broccoli pasta prepared, that I got another run again on the sardine. After a fare battle and a few seconds of it getting snagged I had a fish which despite it's length felt a bit light. It weighed in at 6lb 4oz on too sets of scales. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the other float moving away. I lowered the jack into the water in the weigh sling/sack and latched into something a bit more vicious. Again I after a fare old battle I had a fish in the net, but not after a bit of a struggle at the net when it attempted to get behind it. It nearly had me in though. As it made another run my boots had broken through the mud crust and I was down to wet greasy stuff. Dropping onto my arse stopped me going in. This fish, although not much longer than the previous, weighed in at 11lb 3oz. I nice way to christen the new net, the extending handle of which had allowed me to fish this swim.
As a Christmas present to my self I'd bought one of those chest harnesses for the action cam and had been attempting to film the action. From the results I need to sort out the angle of the camera and remember to clean the lens. Most importantly I need to know whether it's switched on or off.
Half an hour after the previous fish I got another run on the sardine. Again a battler of a fish that came adrift at the net. A small fish with a noticeable dark mark behind it's head. The sardine, which was elasticated, was reasonably intact and tossed out again. Less than a minute later the float was away and I made no mistake this time. In the net was the very same fish. The mark at the back of the head was a bunch of growths. I've been told by a couple of people that it's a cancer, but I've had no confirmation from any sort of expert in this area. It also had a couple of growths around it's mouth, but otherwise seemed to be in good health and put up a fare scrap.
The next run came to a mackerel head that had replaced the tail earlier. Although I wound down to something it failed to hook. The head came back basically intact so was tossed out again. The sardine float jittered about occasionally, but I put this down to the wind, which had picked up, and the increase in debris floating about. When I wound it in at the end of the day it was well and truly chewed looking suspiciously like crayfish damage. I've not heard much mention of crayfish in the Ouse at all but I'm not sure what else it could be.
It was nice to get back into some action after a string of blanks and the pike here tend to be quite hard fighters, it is barbel country after all. Back to work Saturday so it'll be five days before I can fish again and grayling could well be the target.
As I arrived at the Ouse another angler had just unloaded his car and was heading down to the river, I soon followed. We both wandered about for a while. Not all the swims were fishable due to the height of the water. Some some were just a mud slide into the river, others could be fished but were too high up for my new telescopic landing to reach the water. About half the swims were fishable, so my plan o fish for 60-90 minutes in each swim seemed OK. Having carefully navigated my way into the first swim with the help of my trusty storm pole I discovered a new problem. The sun had appeared and was shining straight at me and would be for a couple of hours and I couldn't see a thing. Back to the car for the clip-ons. At this point half a dozen more anglers arrived and spread themselves among the remaining swims which put the kibosh on my original plan. Still the swim I was in was a classic pike swim as shown in all the books and magazines. A large slack next to a side stream.
A float fished half mackerel was placed by the up stream over-hanging tree and a headless sardine near the crease caused by the small stream entering. I moved them about every hour or so. Around two I got my one and only run, on the sardine.. The fish, which didn't feel or behave like a big 'un, dashed about all over before coming adrift. As I wound in the remaining bits of sardine fell off the hooks. The mackerel float started to bobble about as I put another sardine on, which resulted in a couple of teeth marks. Talking to another angler who'd been throwing lures about with out success I discovered the other five had left about twelve. Not that it mattered as there were pike in the swim and I felt it was worth staying put. Not that anything more happened. Around half three the sky darkened and the wind got up. I stuck it out until four, when I decide I'd rather be at the top of the bank before it got dark.. It was a lot harder getting back up with the kit than it was getting down.
The lure angler was another piker to tell me he'd rally been struggling this season. I have to admit these blanks are getting a bit boring, but I'd had a little bit of action even if I didn't get to see the fish. One more trip before it's back to work.
With a change of schedule I found the afternoon spare, so decided to have a look at the canal and river to see if they were at fishable levels. I also took a lure rod with me just in case. The water was now off the path by the canal, though you had to wade through 4-5" off water under the bridge and the surrounding fields were full. The edge of the bank was now discernable, for the most part. It was very slippy under foot though. After an hour of sling pike lures about all I'd seen was a couple of 6" perch accompany an 8" lure in, swimming either side of it.
I then went down to The Derwent to see what that was like. It had dropped quite a bit and like the canal the bank edges could be seen. By the looks of it I think the sluices had been opened as it had dropped quite rapidly. I did nearly end up with a boot full when a solid looking area of mud turned out to be a layer of mud on top of flattened vegetation. After 45 minutes I'd had one follow, only seen as a swirl when I lifted the lure out of the water. Not long after I managed to snag my lure while fishing under an over-hanging tree. At first the snag appeared to move, but the line then gave. By the feel of it I suspect it to be a tree limb that's been washed down. That's the price you pay fishing to features on post flood rivers. The problem is, it's always the expensive lures that get stolen by the snags and I'd only bought this one yesterday.
The new decade didn't get off to a flyer and my new net hasn't been christened, but there's still a way to go yet. I'd be a bit more optimistic if every pike angler I've talked to recently didn't keep telling me it's the worst start o a season they've ever had. Going to fling some dead baits in the Ouse tomorrow, that should produce something.
