Thursday 17th December, 16:00 - 19:00. Below the Swan's neck at Wasperton with Pete.
This week's been mental busy for me so it was great to get on the bank again. I was out with Pete and after a Zander from a stretch where I've not really heard of any being caught before. I had two rods out and Pete had one for Zander plus a rod for Chub.
I didn't even get chance to sort my gear out yesterday evening and so had to set up upon arrival. By the time I'd done this dusk had arrived. It was 3C and I was insulated to the max. One piece suit, fleece underneath, fishing clothes and highly attractive 'base layer' - long-johns to you and me.
The missus had our camera on her work do last night but Pete lent me his to have a play with. It's a Nikon Coolpix and I entertained myself for some time mucking about with it.
It has loads more pixies than my camera and the increase in quality in the raw files is noticeable. I think it's the pixies that quickly draw the image of whatever you point the camera at. The more pixies you've got the better. I reckon the battery feeds the pixies and so when the battery is dead the pixies are hungry and cannot draw without more pixie food. Stop me if I'm getting too technical here. Perhaps I should take some time to explain how digicol cameras work on some photo-pro forum tonight. But let's leave it there for now for you simpletons.
I cast my baits behind an enormous tree raft whilst Pete fished on the next peg up.
I stared at my tips intently as the light faded and the betalights began to glow against the skyline. Wrapped up warm it was a great place to spend the end of the day. Zander fishing my style means I don't have to sit on top of my rods as I would if I were after Roach. Once the tips start bouncing I've found as long as I'm on them within ten seconds or so I can convert the bite into a fish before excessive resistance makes the fish spit the bait. To this end I was able to recline low to the ground and out of the wind on my chair looking skywards.
Like the images on the camera my own vision became grainy as the light continued to fade, eventually leaving just the glowing tips of the rods against the skyline.
Neither of us had a bite. I moved upstream of Pete for the last forty five minutes to try and force a change of luck. There had been snowfall earlier on in the afternoon and by six the ground was starting to sparkle in our headlights beneath out feet.
By seven the call of an open fire was irresistible and so we called it a day. Our landing nets were stiff with ice and my car showed 1C as we pulled out of the car park.
Short sharp sessions are the order of the day at this time of year.