A Tale of Three Rivers.

A bit like a matchman practises on a venue before the big day, I've taken to practising catching my target species on local rivers. Although a pb shaker might not be on the cards I find the confidence it gives me carries over into the days on those 'special places' where something extraordinary is truly possible.

To prove (to myself) I could still catch chub and dace I spent short sessions on the upper Avon before travelling South to fish for three days solid.

I was rewarded well with chub on the Warks. Avon catching half a dozen fish in quick succession in my first proper after-work foray of the year.

5 of 6. Biggest 4lb 8ozs at the top.

Full of anticipation Jeff and I then headed South well before the crack of dawn to start our three day event on various southern venues, starting at the Lower Itchen Fishery.

This was my fourth visit to this river and it's starting to feel like home. I could just as easily imagine myself on the bank as I could down at Lucy's Mill on the Avon for example.

Last time around the short hooklink maggot feeder provided me with a pb grayling of one pound fifteen ounces and a string bigger fish so it was straight to the top of the fishery for me - to the upper limit peg where I'd caught before, and out with a feeder.  

There was far more water in the river than previously and times were hard up there, apart from a couple of trout and a kelt there were no grayling to be had.

A wiry kelt.

I moved steadily downstream during the course of the morning, pulling out the float rod where necessary and gravitated to an area which is the bottom end of the upper coarse beat where the river splits.

Far from flogging away, I became absorbed with running a float through a couple of swims, studying the nuances of the current, the shotting pattern on the line and lost count of the number of trout, seatrout and small grayling I was catching.  Slightly overtired now, I was firmly in the zone of semi-reality where the fishing and surroundings conspired to make it physically impossible for me to stop fishing! I missed my lunch appointment with the others, I totally emptied one pool of at least a dozen fish but I hadn't had a decent grayling yet. Without food, sleep or drink (which I'd left in the car) how come I was feeling this good!?

Time was ticking on and so certain there must be some decent grayling in one particular run I sat down again and put the feeder out.

A depression in the river bed.

Within the hour I'd had a grayling of one pound ten, two at one pound eleven and one at one pound twelve ounces, proving again that the feeder shouldn't be overlooked for the bigger fish.

The move downstream for the remainder of the evening resulted in chub, an eel, and loads more trout. No roach or dace for me today.

The following day saw us at a nearby pool fishing for roach. The results were uninspiring and as such I don't have any photographs to share. I caught plenty of roach throughout the day, perhaps thirty or more in number but didn't encounter one of the hoped for specimens. I weighed one fish in at twelve ounces early doors to 'get my eye in' on weights but didn't exceed that weight for the remainder of the day.

Our third and final day (and my third river of the week) saw us on the Dorset Stour hoping for chub. In my head I'd committed to fishing the waggler even before we'd arrived and so I found a suitable swim and started to feed maggots whilst I set my rod up.

I caught two small dace and minnows-a-plenty in the first hour.

The next strike met with a more solid resistance.

The fish was heavy in terms of weight on the line but it wasn't charging around looking for cover as a chub would. This had me guessing it's identity.

Playing it like a massive pink meringue in a puff-ball skirt. 

I was on a very fine 2lb bottom and so played the fish very, very gently.

It started to come upstream of it's own accord.

Jeff who was now with me speculated: barbel, bream even?

Once under the tip the fish caught sight of near bank reeds and made a heavy dive for them.

We could both now see the unmistakable shape of a fat chub in the water.

6lbs 6oz Stour Chub.

At six pounds six ounces it was a new pb for me and provided me with a very warm glow. Jeff takes a good photo, we all know that, and when he's telling you to, "Hold it a bit closer to you, it looks flipping massive!", you know it's a good fish.

After the capture and return of this fish I went for a walk along the stretch and had a chat with Yoda.

About twenty minutes later I returned to my peg, fired out a pouchful of maggots and ran my float through again and almost immediately received a bite which again saw the rod hoop around and a fight commence. After being on for only twenty seconds this fish slipped the hook and that was that for this peg.

I've saved the best until last as usual though.

Whilst on the canal this week I hooked a fish I must have spent about fifty quid chasing a couple of years ago whilst engaged in another fishing competition.....

A Bloody Ruffe!!

Here are our Top 5 - % of record weight challenge scores this evening:

Cheers.

You and Me!

I've been playing around with a new design tool today and have created my first interactive dashboard.

It allows you to enter a weight for each species using the sliders, then works out what your top five fish are in terms of percentage of record weight.

I have entered my target weights for each species this year, now it's your turn to predict what you'll catch and see how we measure up!

Remember, it's only your top five fish which count towards your total so target the worthy species in your plan!

Follow the link to have a play and click on 'Me vs. You.swf' to access the flash file:

Me vs. You

Cheers.

Dace Mechanics.

Apart from a trip to a commercial after perch I've mostly been working and looking after my children recently.

The perch trip was a week or so back and before the recent drop in temperature set in. I had to break the thin ice in the margin to fish the peg I wanted but the sunshine during the day was warming and the ice had almost completely receded come afternoon.

I caught one handsome perch just short of two pounds which fell to my float fished lob worm. Throughout the day I had  a number of  sharp dips on prawn which I put down to roach after I eventually caught one or two. This got me thinking whether small 5mm pieces of chopped prawn under a light float might not only be a good roach bait but also a way of discriminating in favour of the bigger fish. Some experimentation needed here I think.

A nice perch.

A robin, a stick, two rods, some ice and my boot.

With another trip to the famous Itchen in the offing later this month and with dace on my hit list I wanted to get some practice fishing with a maggot feeder today. Maggot feeder fishing can be a frustrating style when your tip is constantly bouncing and vibrating around but not resulting in much by way of fish. Most silver fish love a maggot bait and on the Itchen as with other rivers they offer you the chance of hooking grayling, dace, chub and roach. All worthy targets.

The first swim I picked on the Avon this afternoon was a dud. I gave it an hour but without so much as a tremble I couldn't  resist a move. Further downstream and in a spot well known for it's winter dace population I lobbed out my maggot feeder and waited. The watery sun carried a little warmth but the day was still icy cold.

My intention was to get amongst some bites and then chop and change hooklength, size of hook and number of maggots in an attempt to bake a dace cake with a winning recipe.

Within twenty minutes of my move I had the first rattle. Totally unhittable. My opening gambit was a ten inch hooklength with a barbless eighteen hook and either one or two maggots.  Amongst the rattles the tip would occasionally lurch round and spring back perhaps three times in quick succession. If I was quick enough I would catch the fish (mostly dace with the odd roach thrown in) but my hit rate was pretty poor.

I increased my hook size to a fourteen barbed carrying two or three maggots. Surprisingly the number of maggots on the hook didn't make much difference to the number of bites despite the hook looking conspicuous when carrying only two grubs. In amongst the trembles was the odd lurch round again but unlike with a barbless once pricked the fish were much less likely to get off. Having said that I caught less on a bigger hook.

I shortened up my hooklength to only four inches and put on a barbed eighteen. The trembles now became jags and the lurches were promoted to sharp tugs. My catch rate improved somewhat but it was the final alteration which made the most difference of all....

I used pliers to squeeze the barb down slightly in an attempt to reduce the amount of force required for it to prick the fish, but left enough of it protruding to still do it's job. This upped my catch rate again. I still had the wobbles and trembles to contend with which were caused by gudgeon and smaller dace - I know because I caught a few of these by accident when I picked the rod up to wind in - but if I sat those out there would eventually be a firm pull. Firstly the fish was likely to be on when I picked up the rod and secondly it would weigh four ounces or above.

Approximately four ounces was the lower weight limit of the fish I caught from the 'proper' bites I received and I believe their weight was their downfall as the force of them shaking their head when feeling resistance was enough for them to be pricked down to the tiny barb... and subsequently caught.    

I had perhaps half a dozen dace which I weighed in at five ounces and began to think I was not going to better this.

5oz Dace.

As dusk approached fish started to top all over the river and caught a six ounce fish quickly followed by one of seven ounces.

7oz Dace.

The fish pulled my spring scales round to 200g, and because they are metric I have a conversion chart from grams into ounces sellotaped to the back of scales for reference.

It's only this evening when I double checked my conversion that I see how tight this one is:


200 g = 7.05479 oz 

Oh well, at least I wasn't trying to weigh this slight fish on 50lb digitals or who knows what the answer would have been.

Cheers.

Where To Go?

Choosing where to go fishing  at this time of year can be problematic. The inevitable 'daylight hours remaining' calculation follows every look at the watch before setting out.

My family responsibilities over with for another weekend I found myself standing in my garage staring at my fishing gear - my mind in a whirl working through the various probabilities of an afternoons sport.

The long shot venues are called up, ranked into some sort of order and then placed alongside the knowns of venues involving firmer likelihoods of catching. We've had some rain round here recently so chub on the river or perch on a commercial were doing their best to come out top of the pile.

It doesn't help matters when other bloggers are writing about glimpses of monster pike or river roach which would shake most personal bests.

My new found affinity for perch saw through this time round and I was soon in my car heading for still water.

The wind was noticeably strong whilst driving but unmistakably keen on the pools. Tearing at the waters surface there were bubbles collecting in the windward margins.

I put out two light quivers on alarms in an attempt to fish beneath the howl. The nearby power lines were singing and swaying in the force of the westerly.

I hooked a perch here a couple of weeks ago which took line from the reel and when it rose to the surface had my adrenalin pumping good and proper. As I drew it towards the net I had a good view of the fish and knew it was the biggest perch I'd ever hooked. Well over three.....that could be a f........the fish rolled one last time and my float rig fluttered up into the air. I sat shaking and ruing my luck for the next half hour.

Although the sunken lines of the quiver tips and alarms did get beneath the wind I was plagued with sharp jagged bleeps and tugs which I couldn't hit. As the afternoon wore on the wind subsided a little and I swapped one of the rods for a float set up. As soon as the float rod was out I started to see the subtle touches and lifts which the quivers and alarms were previously hiding.

I caught two perch on the float as the light started to fade, the biggest 2lb 5ozs.

Not quite the monster I was hoping for but proof to myself (if any were needed) that I probably enjoy float  fishing for perch so much because it's float fishing, not perch fishing.

Cheers.    

Here We Go Again Then..

The net results of our Bloggers Society AGM at a local alehouse early in the New Year were twofold.

Firstly and most importantly, we uncovered an equation which Einstein himself would have put his moniker on, namely: Jeff Hatt + Alcohol + Fresh, cold, oxygen rich outdoor air = The wobbliest legs since Bruce Grobbelaar. That said, Jeff and all of the other band of merry men provided excellent company throughout the night. I think we may have struck upon a new tradition.

Of slightly less significance was that in an attempt to narrow the field this year we would adjust the rules of the 2012 fishing challenge so only the top five fish of each competitor will count in the final reckoning. Still sticking with the percentage of record weight theme but enabling people to hone their angling targets rather than having to try for all species.

Consequently I burned the midnight oil last night and have rejigged our shared score sheet so only our top five catches will now count. How I cursed Google docs for not allowing non-consecutive cell references to form a named range.

This years score sheet looks like this:

2012 Top Five % of Record Weight Challenge.

As you can see we already have some early scores from the bank from those willing to brave the cold weather we are currently experiencing.

I've managed a couple of outings in spite of the four letter word which begins with a 'W'  - and for me that's 'work' and not 'wife'! - and have had a scraper decent perch and chub to show for it.

A 1lb 12oz Perch and it's smaller relative caught on the same worm.

A 10oz Roach which took a liking to a fat lob. 

4lb 1oz Chub, best of four fish from the upper Avon Sunday afternoon just gone.

Great to be back outdoors.

The funniest thing I've seen so far this year however is when Jeff and I took a trip to a local commercial in search of big perch. Not having a bait tub into which I could lend him a few maggots he started to take a look into the many bins around the lake to see if he could find a suitable receptacle. Seeing him root through the bins was amusing enough but you should have seen the stuff he was pulling out!

There was obviously a match on the day before and in no time at all he had amassed an emporium of casters, pellets, groundbait and so much other high quality fish food he was forced to become choosy about which bags to keep otherwise he'd have never carried it all.

The bait which made the cut.

Now that's what I call ready made bait!

 It just so happened we weren't after carp on the day but it could all be stuck in a freezer in anticipation of a chub session don't you think?

Finally, I've consulted the charts and have determined that come February 10th I'll be able to leave work, be on the bank in the light and have three hours fishing of an evening without encroaching too heavily on dawn 'till dusk club rules. Here chubby chubby.

Cheers.

Done and Dusted. Home and Hosed.

Our bloggers 'Percentage of Record Weight Challenge' drew to a close when Big Ben struck and the fireworks started.

I for one thoroughly enjoyed last year, so much so I think it's going to be one of those years I look back on fondly for many years to come.

I remember when as a newly wed - and before we had kids - the wife went with friends on a summer holiday abroad  for a week. You'd think with the house to myself I'd settle onto the settee and reach for the remote but that just wasn't the case - I was never at home! My routine that week was to leave work as soon as humanly possible, fish until fifteen minutes before the Indian take away closed and pick up my order on the way home then repeat the following day. I've never seen as many cartons and foil trays as when I tidied the house before driving to pick the missus up from the airport. Good times.

Fast forward fifteen years and I find myself separated, with time on my hands and working for a company being wound-up and which was consequently slowing to a stop after the British government decided Forensic Science wasn't it's thing. I had the maximum holiday quota and also flexi time at my disposal and I am proud to say that three weeks before my exit I still owed my employer over a week of time! Holy shit did I go fishing last year.

'You can have too much of a good thing', is only partially true. Yes there were two weeks at the beginning of June when I'd become tired of stillwaters and had a lay off until the rivers opened, but that was when I was in the thing, amongst it, immersed in it and I needed the air. Now I've started a new job working for a company which is soaring rather than nose-diving and which requires attendance until well after sunset during these dark winter months I'm hankering after a second shot at those two weeks in June so I can fill them with hooks and line.

With all that time on my hands it's no surprise I won our competition. I warned all those who attended my garage party and meeting at the pub last year they were stuffed. Three competitions, three years, three first places [he says trying to stoke up the others].

The Final Scores.

I'm pleased with my nine personal bests across the year, but saddened by the lack of form from some of my local waters, and especially the Warwickshire Avon itself.

We have a bloggers AGM / Piss-up arranged for this Saturday night so let's see if there's a thirst for a similar type of competition next year. Perhaps, perhaps not.

One thing is for sure, I now have my feet firmly back on the ground and fear I won't be able to commit anywhere near as much time to fishing in future and at the end of the day, time is what it's all about.

Make the most of it.

Cheers.

Keith .J

Ladies And Rocking Horse Manure. Part Two.

How long does it take you to get bored of Christmas when you're a kid? 'Never' is the answer.

A day out on the Lower Itchen Fishery is the coarse angling equivalent of Christmas day and this was my third annual trip to the fishery.

Our party of eleven arrived in dribs and drabs and by the time I'd pulled up Sash the organiser was already at it after roach in the mill pool.

Greetings taken care of I took up a position opposite him on the mill race and threatened to show him how it was done. I fed loose red maggots and followed them down with a 7xNo.4 dome-top stick float. Third run through and strike followed bite and the line was tight.

The fish didn't offer the writhing fight of a grayling nor the zig zag jig of a roach but held steady and deep in the turbulence. The verbal abuse from the other side was only just audible above the roar of the water. "What's he mucking about at?", "Swing it in then!".

Well I couldn't 'swing it in' as although this was no monster it was taking some shifting on light tackle. After a couple of minutes a small barbel rose to the surface and I scooped it into my net. Not only was this my first river Itchen Barbel but also my first ever on a float! Only a pound or two in weight but a good start to my day. What a place this is.



River Itchen Barbel.

Unlike previous years my plan this time was to start at the bottom of the fishery and work my way up to the top, focussing on coarse fish in the morning and then grayling in the afternoon.

After the barbel from the rapids I tried a few other likely spots as I shuffled upstream, had some bites and bite-offs but didn't put a fish on the bank.

The river changed character as I wound my way upstream. Deep pools and bends were replaced by shallow glides and gravel bottoms.

I'd had a few grayling up to a pound by now but then I was reacquainted with a dark depression. And what a beautiful depression it was! A croy placed in the middle of a long shallow straight forces water away from the near bank which in turn gouges out a depression in the river bed. With fast moving water above and below it the depression just screams fish. I've fished this spot on each preceding visit and it has never let me down.



A fine depression if ever there was one.

I put out a handful of maggots above it and they sped over the dark area of water, descending as they went. Immediately I could see a group grayling darting up from the river bed, plucking the maggots from mid water before disappearing again.

Fishing at full depth yielded a couple of small fish but it was apparent from what I could see there were some better specimens amongst the group.

I scaled down my hook length from 3.2lb to 2.6lb and replaced my size 14 hook with a size 18 Drennan super specialist. I removed all my dropper shot from the line so my bait would fall naturally and set the depth at about eighteen inches.

I could now swing out the float along with a handful of Lane's finest and all the grubs moved along as one group. This tactic was an instant hit with better grayling after grayling falling to my rod. If I put two maggots on the hook they would be left alone. If I ran the bait through without the free offerings it would be left alone, but if I baited with a single maggot and a dozen freebies I caught every time.

This proved valuable information for later on. The result of my temporary depression was a grayling of one pound four ounces.

1lb 4oz grayling.

A few conversations later and after a hurried lunch of six, yes six, sausage rolls and I was on the upper limit of the beat.

Faced with deep swift water and a short run I switched to a maggot feeder approach. I wanted to give this technique some room to breath and so got comfy in my chair as though I was staying a while.

Double maggot on the hook brought a number of small grayling and then things dried up. Remembering the behaviour of the bigger fish from the morning I scaled down to a smaller hook and single maggot.

It took a while for my next bite to arrive but it was worth the wait. A writhing tussle resulted in a new personal best grayling of one pound fifteen ounces.


I didn't mess about with fancy photography as I wanted to get the fish back into the water as son as possible. Thankfully, after a worrying few minutes with it lying belly up in the net it righted itself and kicked away.

1lb 15oz grayling.

I followed this up with a four pound one ounce chub, a troot, and a second best grayling of one pound fourteen ounces. Maggot feeder works then.




A troot, aye. (geddit?)



A chub hooked on the blind side.

Second best Grayling.

1lb 14oz Grayling.

The old enemy time was marching on and I could sense the end of the day just around the corner. Having achieved my grayling target and then some I decided to move back down river to finish off the day, hoping for either an even bigger grayling or better still a roach.

I persevered with the maggot feeder on a slow bend as it had already yielded my two best grayling ever, but the minnows were rife down this end and the light quiver tip vibrated continually.

A proper bite out of the blue saw me drawing a splashy silver fish in to the net. Closer inspection revealed a pristine dace lying in the folds. I'd long written off catching one these!

It weighed a very satisfying eleven ounces - a second personal best for the day - and buoyed my spirits and enthusiasm to new levels.




11oz Dace.


I left the fish in my net for ten minutes or so whilst I tried to contact Danny and Jeff in case they wanted to see it but as they were now on the mill pool section all I succeeded in doing was filling Danny's phone with missed calls and unanswered texts as he couldn't hear the ringing.

With the light fading I thought I'd stick my neck out and go for a hat-trick and so out came the bread feeder for roach. I had a few indications but couldn't connect with anything other than another chub.



Last light.

 I met up with the others near dark where we'd started our day and stories were exchanged.

Reflecting on this trip, I've concluded that what I like most about fishing the Itchen is the way it responds so quickly to effort and guile. You soon know when something isn't working and there are so many fish in the river they readily let you know when you're doing it right.

My efforts and concentration across the day were rewarded by two new personal bests. I loves the Itchen.


Here is the challenge scorecard today:

Cheers.