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.




 

Penultimate Day of the River Season

I'd been informed the Derwent looked to be at a reasonable level, so headed down there. My mate couldn't make it today so I was on my own, or self-isolating as everybody calls it these days. Sure enough it didn't look to bad when I got there. My initial intention was to fish some slacks below the weir, but it was tanking through and there was very little slack water. Another angler was catching roach and grayling on the feeder in one of the deeper slightly slower swims.. After a bit of a natter I returned above the weir to fish the two slacks I'd fished last time I was here.

After a bit of plumbing around a float legered roach was drop in the downstream slack. As I was setting up the second rod the float disappeared and I was into a powerful fish. After a bit of a protracted  battle when it got into the main current it was in the net. 106cm and 19lb 2oz a nice start to the day. Comparing photos when I got home showed it to be the twenty form the previous visit here. Had it spawned, or had it struggled to feed during the floods?

A little while later the first of the heavy showers passed over, so up with the brolly. The angler from below the weir appeared, apparently the speed of the current ha increased massively and even a heavy feeder was been swung round in to the snags. We assumed the sluices by the weir had been opened. This also caused the down stream slack to change shape and the upstream one to shrink. When I went to reposition the upstream bait it was snagged. Having wrapped the braid round the handle of the pliers I proceeded to pull, but instead of the hooks bending as they usually did the braid parted at the knot to the wire trace. Not something I like to happen, but it was Friday the 13th. Nothing else happened until late afternoon when the downstream float popped under. Again I contacted with something heavy, but everything went slack. On retrieving the rig the wire trace had parted. Measured against a new trace it appeared to have gone just at the upper hook. This is 40lb Carboflex, a wire I've never had problems with before. I've had 7 strand stuff from various manufactures fail before, presumably from kinks, but this stuff is very very had o kink. Hopefully with the hooks been barbless the fish will be able to dislodge it.

Tomorrow is the last day of the river coarse season, my mate and myself have yet to decide what to do and with it been a weekend we suspect there may well be  a few others fishing. There seems to be a group of people that only fish the rivers on the first and last days of the season and always seem to be in the best swims. Quite why I've taken part in this ritual for so long I have no idea.

How High's the Water Mama

When I got up I checked the river levels. The Ouse was still falling, but way upstream the tributaries were slowly rising. At 3m up I knew i was still within it's banks and that it would be fishable provided it didn't rise too fast. By the time I'd picked my mate up and was heading towards the river it was starting to rise again. The rain that had swung across during the night was coming out of the dales already. When we got to river things didn't look too bad. We'd already discussed tactics in the car. My mate had decided to wander along dropping a bait in any slacks. Whereas I'd decided to head to where I knew there'd b a couple of large slack areas near the confluence of the two rivers that generally produced a pike or two, and on occasion considerably more. I left him at the first inviting slack and headed upstream.

Plumbing up showed the upstream rod would be fishing at around four fathoms and the downstream rod nearer five. A sardine was flung into the upstream slack. While attaching a lamprey to the other rod the float boobed about before disappearing. I wound down to nothing but a missing sardine. Quickly replaced it was dropped back in the same slack. The lamprey down stream of it in another slack. A phone call from my mate to tell me he'd already had seventeen million branches and a swimfeeder, but no pike. It seems a lot of the slacks were full of debris from the previous flood(s). The lamprey float then bobbed about before sliding under. A strike hit something solid, very solid,. A bit of pressure and up came a length of branch. Out went the lamprey again. The river was now rising at about two inches an hour and the slack appeared to be getting smaller, but all that had happened was it had moved as increasing amounts of water came down the Nidd. Around eleven thirty the sardine float bobbed and disappeared. I contacted with with a feisty little jack that temporally snagged it's self. At the net one of the hooks snagged at the front, but a bit of wiggling the net got the little beast in before it spat the other hook out. A nice little fish of 70cm with quite a few leeches on it. The river was now rising a bit quicker and required a bit of adjustment of the depth the floats were set at.

By lunch my mate had arrived having taken a few more branches and a foul hooked chublet. He reckoned the bait must have landed on it as it was hooked in the back just ahead of the dorsal fin. The wind was now rather gusty and every now and then showers of catkins would fall from the trees making quite a splash as they hit the water. While boiling water for tea I managed to set fire to the handle of my cool bag which I was using as a wind-brake. After lunch we tried a few swims upstream, but they too seemed to be full of rubbish. so we returned back to the big slacks. My mate fishing one downstream of me where he lost a little jack at the net. By mid afternoon the river had risen a couple of feet and was rising quicker. The slacks we were fishing were now disappearing and we were now struggling to hold bottom, even with 4oz leads. We decided to call it a day. Just after we got packed up a large limb broke from a tree and landed in the river in front of where I'd been fishing.

Looks like the end of the river season is going to be another damp squib with the rivers virtually unfishable. On the way home we discussed the idea of heading south into Lincolnshire or somewhere, but it would have been rather a short session as he had an appointment first thing in the morning. We decided to to see what was happening with the levels in the morning.

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Two Familiar Faces

The grass was white over with frost and the air filled with the smell of chocolate, from the factory formally known as Rowntree's, as I set off towards the river. I'd decided on the Wharfe as it was less than a foot up. The Derwent was going through like an express train, apparently. The Nidd was too high and the Ouse was at an awkward height. By the time I got there the sun was out and it looked a pleasant day. The river was surprisingly clear, this meant I could see the river bottom. This was odd as on my last visit I was stood in two foot of water at this point and now, with the river one foot up, it was only a foot deep. A whole new gravel bar has materialised as a result of the floods. I found similar results in half of the swims I'd visited. The river bed has been well and truly re-sculptured. Looks like I may have to sit in the middle of the river while barbel fishing next season.

The first swim I fished was a classic pike swim, according to the books and magazines. Slack water behind a tree on the inside of a bend. Float legered  roach and sardine were the offers. One at the bottom of the ledge, one on the top.  When I got my phone out ot take a picture of it I found it had died and no matter what I did it rrfused to start up.After an hour and a half with nothing to show I moved on to a similar swim further upstream with similar results. The same result also occurred in the third swim. After a spot of lunch and a rethink I moved on to a fourth swim. This time I dropped the roach in to a deeper spot besides an over hanging tree. The other rod was changed to a running leger and lamprey. This was flung across the river into the faster current on the far side.  The pike I'd foul hooked when grayling fishing was from a similar swim upstream, so why not.

While sat waiting for a bite I was approached by a familiar face I couldn't initially place. It turned out to be Mark Barrow of Beneath British Waters fame who was looking for some wet wipes to swim in or something. It's nice to meet people off the WEB. We had a brief discussion on sewage outfalls, angling, etc. before parting. Despite been distracted from the rods no runs occurred. The fifth and final swim was the one I'd foul hooked the pike in.  The same tactics as the previous swim, but with the float rod downstream in a little slack. While waiting for a run something otter/mink like swam across the river downstream of me. I did try to film it but as it was too far away really all I got was a bit of the wake. It then headed upstream along the bottom of the bank. Once opposite me I could see it was a mink. I quickly disappeared into the some tree roots when a spaniel appeared with it's owner and was not seen again.

Not long after the baitrunner on the legered lamprey began clicking before moving off at quite a rate. My strike contacted with something which felt like a log or branch at first, but then shook it's head a few times before coming adrift. A slightly serrated lamprey was retrieved and recast, now oozing more blood. Shortly after the float started to head towards the tree. A quick strike and a heave resulted in a small jack thrashing on the surface before becoming snagged on a sunken branch. By the time I'd made my way down to the snag the jack had come adrift. From the other side of the snag the hooks came away quite easily. Another roach was put on and dropped in the same area. There both baits sat until nearly dark.

Three more sessions available before the end of the river season. The rivers are slowly dropping so hopefully I should be able to find some pike somewhere. The problem now is the fact that pike appear to be spawning so may well be tightly bunched up and vast lengths of river basically devoid of pike.

I managed to get the phone going again when I got home. It would appear the battery has failed, or half of it anyway as it now holds only half the charge it should. With the Chinese factories shut down due to Covid-19 this is not the best time to get a replacement battery. I was on the look out for a new phone anyway.

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Ground Baiting for Robins

Thursday's fishing trip, originally planned some time ago, was a bit of fluff chucking for pike on the A & C Navigation with a couple of other people. By this time an area the size of Lake Windermere had flooded along with several roads in the area. Although it didn't affect the canal as such it was decided to stay away from the area as we were really just unnecessary traffic that the emergency services could do with out. Pock canal was over it's banks. The rivers that were back within their banks were tanking through and any still waters we had access to were surrounded by trees, so his little adventure was postponed.  I decided to head to the gravel pits for a spot of dead baiting. The pit had filled up nicely now despite that the water was remarkably clear. I decided on a corner swim that scrams predators, but which I'd avoided due to it been very shallow until now. I wasn't sure if the bright sunshine would cause problems though.

Tactics to start with were a float fished roach near tree roots to my right and a headless sardine out in front near a dead weed bed. Some chopped sprat was also thrown about to foot from the roots in the hope of tempting the pike out from among them. An hour after I'd cast in small fish scattered near the sardine rig. There seems to be two distinct feeding periods here, although you can get the occasional run at any time. The first is around midday until two and the second around five. Sure enough, just after midday the roach rig moved away. A quick strike was called for as it was heading towards the tree roots. Nothing, the only marks on the bait were from the hooks slipping. Swung back out to the same spot the float moved parallel to the trees the moment the bait hit bottom. This time I contacted with what felt to be a small fish. Then a big fish. Then a branch. Then up popped a dinky little jack apparently hooked in the belly. The front hook was in it's mouth, but the rear one had snagged it under the belly as it had turned. Quickly unhooked an returned. Another roach was tossed out to the same spot. A while later, just as I was tucking into lunch, the float bobbed about, but nothing came of it. In the mean time I'd moved the sardine further to the left where there was a bit of ledge.

Another angler had popped down who'd been fishing the estate lake for pike, but blanked. There had been several people piking but nobody had had a run as far as he knew and nor had they on previous occasion he'd fished there. I had heard anglers had tried night fishing for pike, but with no real success. Not sure what's going on there as the pike are still present. Fish are seen scattering and those fishing for silvers report pike attacks or follows. Meanwhile it had all gone quiet at the gravel pit. No sign of any fish activity at all. There was though a marked increase in water fowl since last week and now I'd finished listening to the new  Fly Culture podcast a robin took up residence to the right of me and started singing. It quietened down when I put a little pile of groundbait out for it.

Just before five the float by the tree roots bobbed about before moving away. What felt like another little jack turned out to be bigger than it fought and felt heavier than it looked. At 80cm and 8lb 7oz it was quite a chunky little fish. Another angler that had popped down was quite surprised at the weight. I assured him I'd checked the scales recently as a couple of previous fish had weighed two pound heavier than they'd looked. Just after he left the float above the sardine appeared to move. After giving it a Paddington style hard stare it disappeared and a strike momentarily contacted with something which nicked the sardine. I put both rods back out for the last rather cold hour, as the sun had now dropped behind the trees and the breeze had got up again. Nothing else happened, even the robin had given up singing.

It had been quite a peasant day in the sun, despite the chill breeze. A couple of anglers popping down for a look and a chat helped the day along as well. There are one or two spots that may well fish better now the level has risen to it's normal winter level and the pike appear to be packing on weight ready for spawning.

I must sort out starting the action cam. I keep setting it to photo mode and not video mode. I also need to make sure it's pointing in the right direction. One bit of video was just white out as it was pointing straight at the sun.

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A Couple of Right Logs

With local rivers still well up it was back to the gravel pit again. The water level there is still rising, it was up another 6" or so. With this in mind I attempted to fish a swim that needs that level of water to work. The problem with it is that it it's at the windward end of the pit and the debris tends to get blown in there. The first couple of casts produced a couple of sunken logs. The third produced a lot of bubbles from a very large branch before the twig I was connected to broke away.  I moved to another swim, but the problem here was debris piling up against the line. I then moved to the swim I was in last week.

Using the same tactics as last week I settled down and continued to listen to The Yorkshire Gent podcast. All remained quiet. No sign of any fish activity at all, but a couple of geese came crashing in at one point. Having had some lunch I was just boiling some for a cup of tea when the baitrunner started to scream . by the time I got to the rod and struck the fish was two thirds of the way across the lake. After the initial charge I thought I'd lost it as it felt like a branch I was winding in. Once it got near the bank it woke up and tangled it's self rod the line from the other rod before coming to the net quietly. Thankfully it was hooked in the frint of the mouth and the barbless hook came out with ease saving me from untangling the mess before unhooking it. A tidy looking fish, bar one scar, of 74cm and 6lb 8oz.  That was it for the day. I did move to another swim and fished until dusk.

If you look at the video you can see the steam coming from the pan as I didn't turn the stove off when the run occurred.

What state the rivers will be in as we approach the end of the river season I've no idea. I've even booked the fourteenth off work to fish the last day. Quite way I don't know as it usually ends up being a bit of a let down.

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It's A Sign

Back to the gravel pit for want of anywhere better. Where to fish was answered by the splash of panicking roach in one corner of the pool. As I was setting up another shoal broke surface in a panic just to my left. Clearly a sign. A headless sardine was dropped over to the right where the first shoal scattered and a roach to the left where the second shoal scattered. There they sat for quite some time save the occasional twitch from me. Another angler had turned up to fish a bit of bread punch for roach and was doing quite well. His catch included a couple of roach/bream hybrids, something rarely seen in this pit.

Around twelve the float above the sardine bobbed and shot away about two yards. I struck into nothing. I retrieved a slightly chewed bait which I tossed back to the same spot. Five minutes later the float above the roach did the same thing and again I struck into nothing. Back it went to the same spot. Ten minutes later the sardine rig performed the same trick. Cursing to myself  I popped the somewhat chewed sardine back to the same spot having injected a little oil in it. A little while later the roach angler popped over to say he'd had a pike lunge at a couple of fish as he retrieved them and his swim had died. I thought maybe that would be feeding time over and that I would have to wait to dusk for another bite.

I could see the other angler catching again when, around one thirty, the float above the roach bobbed. I struck straight away and contacted with something solid that came in like a wet blanket, until presented with the net. At this point it made several short runs as it tried to avoid the net before seemingly giving up. A healthy looking fish which kindly spat the hooks out in the net. At 85cm it weighed in at 10lb 1oz. Apart from a well healed scar on one side a very tidy looking fish.

I stayed on until nearly dark, but that was it. The chap fishing bread had quite a nice haul of pristine looking roach and hybrids all around the 3-4oz mark.

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