Exploring Old Haunts III

A friend had offered me the chance to fish a stretch belonging to a little club/syndicate on Wednesday. The stretch, a little under three quarters of a mile had been a club stretch many years ago, but when the farm changed hands the new owners were a bit greedy so the club dropped it. It then changed hands again a few years ago and the new owners were more amiable. My friend and a few others formed a club to rent the stretch along with a pond. I was invited when it formed, but felt the cost couldn't be justified. It did produce a few good barbel and chub in the first two or three years, but has since become a bit erratic. This season has been especially bad so far, but a few more chub and barbel have been showing over the last couple of weeks mainly on the slower deeper upstream section.

When I arrived at the car park my friend was already there along with five other vehicles. It was a busier than average day apparently. Two anglers arrived back at their cars as I was unloading my tackle. They'd had a less than stellar morning, a few small chublets to pellet from the faster lower section. The path down to the river arrives at the middle of the section. The faster shallower section to the right and the slower deeper section downstream  to the left. We headed upstream. The three other anglers we talked to on the way up hadn't done much better. A few little chublets and the odd gudgeon to maggot. No sign of any barbel. They all said the same thing, though. They couldn't get the fish to settle in the swim. They'd get one fish then have to wait quite a while for the next one.

All the swims were much of a muchness on this section. Five to six foot deep, far bank trees and marginal weed. We picked the two swims at the top of the section as they didn't look like they'd been fished much being slightly overgrown. Just as we started setting up the first of the day's showers started. I stared with a pellet feeder over to the trees, but all I did was snag a few twigs. The same as the inside line when I tried to float fish it. The centre of the rivers was no better. I moved down to the next swim when the rain stopped.

My mate was the first to catch with a small grayling to sweet corn. I'd tossed the pellet feeder upstream and, after a few trots down, fed the inside line and the far back with pellets and proceeded to trot them a various depths for the rest of the day. Eventually I managed a couple of little chub lets. One from the nearside and one form the far side. My friend added a little to chublet to his grayling. Nothing touched the stationary baits at all, something the other anglers had pointed out. I did, however, cleanly hook a waterlogged bit of  bark that put up a little bit of a struggle. My friend kept apologising for the poor sport and promised me a drink to make up for it. The one problem with that was the nearest pub hadn't reopened yet.

The problem of whether to fish into dark was soon solved by it starting to drizzle and a look at the weather radar showed heavier rain on the way. As we wandered back to the car the only other remaining angler was packing up having added a couple of perch to his tally. The two other anglers  had left earlier having failed to add to there catches. Nobody had blanked though.

When we got back to the car park a large wagon was blocking the lane. Knocking on the cab door failed to produce an answer. As did ringing the number on the cab. My friend wandered down to the farm, in the drizzle, to see if they knew anything. About fifteen minutes later the heavens opened. Five minutes after that a very soggy jogger appeared at the wagon. Apparently the driver liked to go for a run at the end of his shift. My mate arrived a little bit later to tell us that the farmer was going to give the driver a ring. With that drivers phone rang. The farmer had told the driver he could park at the end of the lane over night. He meant the other end and to be fair the driver wouldn't have seen our cars behind the trees.

Music while typing provided by: Downtown Soulville with Mr. Fine Wine

Exploring Old Haunts II

Friday's trip was to a section some sixteen miles upstream of Thursday's. It was on a section I'd fished a long time ago, but from the other bank. This bank, however, has a lot more swims even if they don't appear to have had a lot of use. After a bit of a wander up and down I selected a couple of swims I fancied. The first having a nice weed bed on the inside and a nice tree line across. A bit of plumbing about and a few trots through showed the near side swim to be around six foot and the far side a few inches deeper. A 7BB avon seemed to be about right, maybe a bit heavy for the inside line, but castable to the far side. The intention was to trot sweetcorn over hemp for chub, or the somewhat rarer barbel.

With the weed bed and tree roots providing an opportunity for sanctuary for any hooked fish an 6.6lb Matchline hook length and size 14 Animal hook finished the rig off. Quite a bit of hemp was put in on both lines along with a small amount of sweetcorn.  Third trip down and a bite from a little chublet. Just as I'd unhooked it there was a mighty splash just to my right which made me jump and drop the fish. A two foot section of bank had given way. The section I was stood on seemed to be quite solid, but I had a kneel down and checked for any undercut just in case. I had a few more trots down the inside with a few grains of hemp and a couple of sweetcorn going in each time on both lines, but no more bites. I moved across to the far bank line, casting slightly upstream to a gap in the trees which allowed me to fish as close as possible to the tree line.

Second trip down and I was in, this time to something with a bit of weight behind it. This was the first thing of any size I'd hooked on the 15' Greys and the rod turned form been a bit tippy to bending well down to the butt section. This allowed me to just put my thumb behind the handle of the 'pin and let the fish bounce about trying to reach the tree roots.  Nice chub of 3lb 8oz soon graced the net. Just as I released it another angler appeared. He'd been fishing upstream, but I hadn't seen him on my wanders. All he'd had were a few small chublets and seemed quite pleased I'd caught something larger as he'd not had anything of any size since the start of the season. He reckoned it had not fished well here at all recently., which is not what you want to hear. he also mentioned bits of bank falling away. The next cast down the inside produced another little chublet which was grabbed half way back by what I assumed to be a jack pike. As I bullied it away from the weeds a chub, about the size of the previous one, came splashing to the surface before spitting the chublet out.

It then started to rain, despite the weather app saying there was a 10% chance.  I hate trotting in the rain while sat under a brolly, but I now longer have any desire to get soaked for the sake of a fish or two. Out went the feeder rod with a couple of grains of sweetcorn on the hook and hemp in a small blocked feeder. Recasting every ten minutes, alternating between the nearside and far side swims for one bite. Which I missed as I was pouring a cuppa at the time.

Two and a half hours later when it stopped I thought I'd give it a  few minutes of trotting before packing up a the rain radar showed some more heading my way. Retrieving after the first trip down a bow wave appeared in the weeds and headed towards my float. Speeding the retrieve up it hit the hook instead. One of those pretty and acrobatic little summer jacks. Again it gave the new Grays rod a little bit of a workout and makes me think a decent barbel on it won't be a problem.

I think this stretch definitely warrants a bit more exploring and could fish quite well in flood conditions. There doesn't appear to be the chub that used haunt the place, but maybe as the other angler suggested they're moving back in.

Music while typing provided by: La Confiserie Sonore

Exploring Old Haunts

We all have days when we wonder why we bother, Thursday was one of those days.  I'd decided to go to a stretch I'd not been for years and years. A wander up and down the overgrown section showed there to be three possibly four swims. I decided to start at the top swim. A quick hack with the machete and a flat clear patch emerged about four five foot above the river. I had a cast about with a lead. Even quite close in it was about nine ten foot deep, but snag free. Having sorted the tackle out I proceeded to poke a couple of bank sticks in. As I stepped off the small flat area there was a bit of a splash near the bank. Turning round a bank stick was about to dive headlong into the river. As I went to grab it another bit of bank gave way. Time for swim two I think.

Another hack round with the machete produced a nice comfortable looking platform, again well above the river. Again I had a cast around with a lead, but not before poking a couple of banks sticks in. This time the bank appeared to be a lot more solid. There was an obvious snag to the right close in, but the enticing looking crease appeared to be snag free. A pellet was dropped in down stream on a light lead which rolled under a tree.  A feeder went in to the crease upstream. After five mins I retrieved it with the intention of laying down a bit of feed. It snagged. After a bit of pulling the snag gave way only to land in another snag. Again after a bit of pulling it came adrift only to go flying up into the tree above me. The hook and feeder fell through the branches with in reach. After cutting them off I wound the line in. After reconnecting everything I cast out a bit shorter. Four more feeder full went out with out incident.

On the next cast, however, the feeder didn't seem to reach bottom. Winding in showed it to be snagged, again. A long slow pull and I could see the hook on a branch just below the surface. The snag, though, was now solid and refused to move further. I reckoned I could reach the hook with the landing net if the little shelf at the bottom of the bank was solid. A poke about with a bank stick showed there to be about four inches of mud then something solid. Sliding down the bank I hooked the landing net over the end of the branch and pulled. Almost immediately the sold ground disappeared and I was up to my knees in the water. It transpired I was stood on the other end of the sunken branch. The branch had snapped though, so I wouldn't be leaving a baited hook behind. The next problem was getting out. I could no long reach the top of the sheer bank. I was left with no choice, but to shuffle along and scramble out through the nettles. Not a pleasant experience.

I gave it another half hour with just the one rod before moving to swim three. This swim was a bit closer to the water than the others. After casting a lea about. A feeder was placed upstream of a over hanging tree on the far bank and the light lea was rolled under a tree on the near bank. There they sat for the next couple of hours with out incident, until just before dark when the tip whacked round in usual barbel form. Only it wasn't a barbel, but a jack pike which had hold of the feeder. It was good enough to let go as I brought it to the net..

Not the most productive day fish wise, but I'm now familiar with the swims and snags on this stretch. I did spend some time staring up into and old sycamore looking for the Tawny Owl that was making a racket, but couldn't for the life of me see it.

Barbeling on a Rising River - II

Last weeks barbel fishing on a rising river didn't quite live up to expectations as the river only rose an inch or two. Thursday, though, looked  like the river was going to rise a good couple of foot judging by the height it had risen in the dales. It had already risen a foot by the time I got there. A good sign was the number of anglers on the, preferred, far bank. The next problem was finding a swim. This side of the river isn't that popular as it's a fair old walk from the car. My favourite swim no longer existed. The big gravel bed had moved some 20-30 yards downstream and by the looks of it will be dry land when the river's at normal levels. I did note that there was now a bit of a trench down the inside which could be a good spot if the river got up another foot or more.

Having cleared a spot on the bank just in case I had a wander. Further on I spotted a nice crease about half way across that looked inviting. With the aid of a storm pole and machete I managed to make my way down the precipitous overgrown bank. The descent wasn't helped by the flood debris hiding in the vegetation and the bindweed endeavouring to trip me. Luckily I found a decent size area of flattish bank at the bottom.  It soon became apparent I should have brought my heavier rods as a 90g feeder was required to hold bottom. Once it was loaded with dampened pellets you're nearing the upper limit for these rods. A 25mm halibut pellet soaked in gunk along with the pellets jambed in the feeder so as not to just flow out and down the current, but rather to produce a scent trail.

It wasn't long before the downstream rod started to bend and the baitrunner click, click away. Thinking it was debris on the line I picked the rod up and started winding. It wasn't until I got the feeder to the surface I realised there was a fish on the end. This fish also realised it was hooked at this point and made a couple of short runs before giving up and coming swiftly to the net. I tidy little barbel of 5lb 7oz. It did however have a fish louse on it. A single Argulus is hardly going to sap it's health, so I put it's lack of fight to a bit of midweek apathy. Within twenty minutes of that the water was lapping round my wellies and 90g was no longer holding bottom. A move was in order.

I retired to the first swim I'd cleared. I put one at the end of the gravel bed and, having increased the hook length to four foot, the other was dropped in the gutter upstream. A couple of handfuls were dropped into the gutter downstream. The downstream rod started to bend and the bait runner clicked away, much like the previous bite. This time though it was debris, a fair sized bit of willow that put up more of a struggle than the barbel before coming adrift. Up to mow the debris hadn't been a problem apart from the odd leaf or bit of weed. Over the next half hour quite a bit of big stuff came down. Logs, a pallet and various branches drifted past. The water must have got to that magic height where it picks up the debris dropped from a previous spate.

By now there was a few fish splashing about seemingly feeding on a hatch of mayfly. The downstream rod, now in the gutter, whacked over. Lifting into it it was away at speed. I thought at first I hadn't disengaged the baitrunner, but no it was taking line against a rather tight clutch and it took a lot of line with the aid of the current. It was now very close to the tree roots, but decided instead to head to mid river and an even faster current. Despite me giving it some serious grief it took a good ten minutes to get it near the net. It then spent another couple of minutes avoiding the net. I still hadn't really seen the fish, but managed to persuade it upstream of me and to the surface. Hanging on to the landing net in the fast current while trying to land a hard fighting barbel is never easy, but now I was slipping down the muddy bank. Dropping the rod tip it swam straight into the net just as I lost my grip on the bank and ended up in the river. Thankfully the water wasn't deep enough to overwhelm my wellies. The beastie was not as big as expected, given the fight, at 7lb 15oz.

As a duck and ducklings struggled upstream the tip of the upstream rod dropped back and I was into another hard fighting fish that again hugged the bottom, but didn't put in any long runs. Still, given it was always heading upstream it battled for five minutes before I got it in the net. Another solid fish of 6lb 8oz. It looked like I was in for a good evening, but the river had stopped rising. An angler on the far bank took a fish just as it started to rain. This time heavy enough for the brolly to go up. It rained quite heavily for over an hour with absolutely no action to the rods. The river level now appeared to be dropping.  A large slug hanging onto some vegetation trying not to become fish food. As the rain eased off I started to get a few knocks on the downstream rod. Eventually a chub of around 2lb managed to get the hook to it's mouth. It was now I discovered my phone had just about discharged it's battery and switched itself off.

As the rain had now stopped and the river was obviously dropping I decided to pack up in daylight as it was a bit of a slog back to the car.  Also it's easier to pick off all the slugs that seem to be attracted to fishing tackle when it's been raining. It also seemed others on the far bank had the same idea. In fact of the half dozen anglers I saw when I arrived all bar one had gone as I wandered back to the car.

Apparently I'd done better than most with three fish, so not a bad evening. The battery on the phone is now only holding half charge, so it's either replace the battery on an oldish phone or it may be a good excuse for a new one.

Music while I type provided by Foot Stompin’ Podcast

Barbeling on a Rising River

Due to appointments and things Friday's fishing was to be confined to match hours. 10-4. For no good reason I decided on a spot of barbeling on the Ouse as it had settled to a reasonable level, but was slowly rising. Very slowly rising, it came up nearly three inches while I was there. Since flooding on Tuesday it had dropped 3m, this meant the banks were a bit treacherous, but a reasonable swim was found. The colour was dropping out of the water and pin fry could be seen in the shallows. Sliver tourists were also  about with several leaping clear of the water.

Swimfeeder tactics with 22mm halibut pellets as bait and 4,6, & 8mm pellets as feed. The downstream feeder was dropped under the overhanging tree and the upstream one in a crease about a third of the way across. Several cast were made to each post to build up some feed. It was a rather grim looking windy day with occasional bits of drizzle that never came to much. Like the previous day there was very little bird life about. A flock of noisy sheep broke the silence, along with the occasional military jet. The cackling corvids could be heard but not seen. A heron sailed over at one point, but apart from the odd mallard with duckings and the odd LBJ that was it. Just before lunch a few olives  were blown about and a couple were taken on the surface.

It wasn't until lunch time that I got my first bite. Sandwich in one hand and pouring boiling water into the mug, the tip whacked over then spring back on the upstream rod. At first I thought I'd missed it, but after a couple of turns of the reel I as in contact with something small. It wasn't until the feeder came to the surface that it decided to show it's true colours. Suddenly waking up it dived for the roots to my right turned and headed towards the roots on the left. Another minutes or so of diving about and I had a barbel in the net. A rather chubby thing that weighed more than it looked. I'd have given it 5lb at best, but it hit 6lb on the scales.

Later in the afternoon while watching small fish scatter trying to avoid a large pike the downstream rod started to jag about. A chub around the pound mark was quickly at the surface before been grabbed by the aforementioned pike. After a brief battle it was ripped from the hook and the pike got it's meal. That was it for the day's action.

Just as I started to pack up it started to rain. Thankfully it didn't get heavy until I got to the car. As I loaded things into the boot I realised the landing net head was missing. Donning a waterproof jacket I trailed back to the swim, but couldn't see it. Retracing my steps back to the car I spotted it a couple of yards from the car, hiding in the brambles. I think an orange sleeve may well be better than a foliage green one.

Litter Free Barbeling

Thursday I decided o do a bit more Barbel fishing, this time on the Derwent. Expecting the river to be up and/or tanking through I didn't take the float rod. I was somewhat surprised when I got there to see the river nearly at usual summer level and flowing through at at normal speed. It still had a bit of colour in it though. The next thing to great me as I went though the gate was the NO LITTER signs. A sign that really shouldn't exist. There was, however, next to no litter in the field as I wandered down to the swim.

Simple running leger rigs with halibut pellet hook baits were the order of the day. Free offerings were catapulted in and also small mesh bags of 4-6mm pellets. The upstream rod cast to a crease and the downstream just beyond the weeds. Apart from the odd rattle, there they sat right up to dark. I did get a couple of sharp pulls but failed to contact with anything. Given that a couple of other anglers were catching the odd Chub around the  pound mark I'm blaming them. The Chub not the anglers.

A very quiet day, made even quieter by the lack of raptors flying about. There were a few Swifts and some Tree Sparrows, but the only raptor type beastie was a Tawny Owl that flew along the far bank just before I packed up. Normally there are Buzzard and Kites to be seen, along with the occasional Kestrel. There weren't even any cackling corvids about. The most exciting part of the evening was the wander back, in the dark, along the slippy path.