Wednesday, 17 March 2010

It's Oh So Quiet......

Tuesday 16th March, 16:30 - 19:30. Ryton pool with Jeff Hatt. Mild 11C on arrival but with a chill in the S wind later on.

It's a period of transition at this time of year on more than one front. The weather is on the up but the countryside is lagging behind in following suit. Trees are still bare and the water is presumably warming slowly. The fishing season has transitioned from moving to stationary water but once again it's not yet a summer idyll, the bubbling and rolling has yet to start in earnest.

Signs of warming water were prevalent at Ryton pool as the breeze blew last years leaf detritus across the surface. I may have mentioned this phenomenon at Ryton before but as the water warms respiration on the lake bed creates tiny gas bubbles which collect under the remains of last autumns sunken leaf litter. The tipping point comes when the bubbles lift the detritus layer resting on the bottom to the surface where it either hangs or is blown across the lake to the windward corner.

I haven't moved my tackle into summer mode either and as I had a quiver rod already set up I worked around it. I soaked some pellets in water and added ground vitalin and planned to feeder fish from the point on the roadside across toward the island.

As it turned out my groundbait combination was the consistency of cement when in the feeder, not even emptying with a sharp tug after five minutes in the water after casting.
Smells gooooood but solid

I ended up just using it as a thin top and bottom plug and filling the middle of the cage feeder with dry pellet. I still had to give the rig a sharp tug after the cast to jettison the contents. Anyone thinking of building a nuclear bunker in the near future contact me for the recipe.

Jeff started on the sand bank

The fishing was slow and I had only a couple of twitches and a slow draw around dusk, neither of which I connected with.

I chuckled to myself as I shouted "I keell you" in a thick mexican accent whilst catapaulting pea sized stones at the group of tufts which started diving on my bait. It's been over six months since I shouted death threats at wildfowl in a thick south american accent and I'm amazed how much I've missed it. Don't worry all of the stones fell short of the birds but had the desired effect of driving them away. Better that than me hooking one.


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