And Thus It Endeth

I spent last night pondering whether to fish for pike or chub/barbel on the final day of the season. My mate was going to alternate between cheese paste and lob worm. In the end I decided to fish for pike as I'd finished the season last year with one at the same venue. We were surprised to find only one car there when we arrived. We wandered down to the bottom of the stretch to begin our assault.

I fished all the classic swims. Slacks behind trees, along side dead and dying vegetation, undercut banks, etc. with out a sniff. Not even a dropped run or chewed bait. Oh well. My mate took a tiny perch first cast then proceeded to spend the next couple of hours throwing swimfeeders into every snag in the river. during the afternoon a few more anglers materialised. Around four after several missed bites he managed a half pound chub, again on worm. We were now discussing whether to stay until dark despite the rain. The problem was solved for us when he received a phone call requesting his presence at home.

As I've said before I still wonder why I keep taking part in this last day of the season ritual. Despite the occasional shower it was quite a pleasant day out apart from an hour spent fishing in the vicinity of a rookery. Those things make a real ear grating racket. There was also a fallen tree by one of the gates that caused a bit of grief as you had to just about crawl under it. I attempted it with the ruckseat on my back and the handle got snagged giving my mate a good laugh as I tried to free myself. I didn't attempt this on the way back.

Ten days to go before the start of the trout season. Lets hope the rivers have dropped sufficiently to allow them to be fished in a reasonable manner.