Short and Tall Stories

Sunday 16th May, 10:30 - 12:00. Oxford canal at Cathiron. 16C and sunny. Light NW.

During a few sherries with my fishing pals on Friday night the conversation eventually turned to angling. When I say eventually, I think the topic might just have cropped up before any of us even sat down.

The claims, counter claims, boasts and assertions grew taller as the evening progressed and our spirits soared, but it was a story much shorter in stature which Danny recounted that caught my imagination. He said whilst fishing on the canal when a little younger his float kept drifting up against the brickwork of a bridge due to the constant shifting of water, and that whilst up against the bricks he'd caught a number of ruffe or miller's thumb. I can't quite remember which species he said as I was er...... distracted, yes distracted, at the time. As he said this my brain lurched into action and I made the appearance-based connection between the small spiky creatures of the canal and the gobys of the seaside rock pools I spent hours hunting as a kid. What he said made real sense.

Saturday was mostly spent wondering whether the noise children made was usually that piercing or whether I was for some reason more susceptible to it that day.

Sunday a plan was hatched.

My eldest and I rode out the six miles to the canal past Brinklow. I had the top two sections of a whip, a fine bristled sliver of a pole float and a few red maggots with me.

We gave the first spot we came to a go and I fished right up against the bank. It was around forty centimetres deep down the edge.

Not much upholstery on that seat.

I fish. She takes the pictures.

Assorted boaters and dog walkers looked at me first, then like they felt sorry for my daughter.

No bites in the first spot. Back on the bikes and 'To a bridge!' was the cry.

We found three likely looking bridges in close proximity to each other clustered around the newly constructed Brinklow marina. No bites here either but some lovely brickwork!

At the third spot and entrance to the marina I had my head decorated. One captain of the waves commended me on my 'fishing helmet'. Sea-dog!

I didn't have a bite in the fourth spot either but still reckon the theory holds water.

I haven't fished this stretch of canal since I was a kid but with my new found appreciation for zander am certain the marina and entrance will be worth a go once the new infrastructure has had chance to settle in.

Cheers.