Well, it’s been a mixed Christmas and new year, the joy of seeing family tempered by the profound sorrow of my mother in laws illness. Trying to balance the duties a father with young children must fulfil at Christmas with looking after mum and trying to work has left no time to angle, the stress levels being at maximum, and then some! So, I resolved that today I would fish, just for an hour between tasks. Shortly before Christmas a good friend of mine contacted me to say he had caught some splendid perch from a small stream just a 20 minute drive away. As it happens, I have driven over this stream innumerable times over the last 9 years and only once had I been tempted to stop and look. On that occasion, in high summer, I was greeted by a weed chocked, sluggish stream that was virtually devoid of water due to the summer heat and if that was not bad enough the whole place was crawling with teenagers, cans of stella adorned every bench and the noise levels were such that ear plugs would have been as essential as bait. With some trepidation, I stopped to have a second look today, as it turned out, this was one of my better decision’s! The stream was transformed, gone was the weed chocked river bed, replaced by swiftly flowing current across polished and gleaming gravels, a plethora of dark looking bends framed by Willow and Alder, a small Pike held station under the access bridge, a Kingfisher chirped in alarm as I walked along the footpath, dazzling blue against the river in the strong winter sunshine. Also gone were the teenagers and along with them the discarded tin cans! It was I believe the great Jim Gibbson that highlighted the direct correlation between volumes of litter and newly descended testicles, here then was the proof of that theory. A pinch of maggots are dropped mid river, the float follows down a swift glide that is no more than 12 feet across, perhaps a foot or so deep, the water driven between the remnants of the reed beds that choke the summer stream. So often, the first fish is the greedy Chevin, so it proves today, a pound and a half of brassy greediness diving hard for the roots of the reedbed before coming to the net with that cavernous mouth agape. The photograph is pure Minter, must remember to get the reel in shot! And what a reel, a JW Youngs affair purchased a couple of weeks ago from its previous carefull owner, well know float maker Andrew Field. Coupled to the reel is a piece of cane that has stealthily become something of a favourite, a go to for small streams that has in recent weeks landed a tiny Gudgeon and a double figure Pike with just about everything in-between. Purchased for a relative pittance, the rod, a Sealy octofloat, was bought to be that bit of cane left in the car for trips such as this, the opertunisic dash and grab after work, the stealthy lunch break warrior, the rod that gets abused…. Writing this, I realise that something has changed with the Octofloat. Some of my recent trips have been planned, and I have not reached for the nobler Chapman Hunter, nor have I troubled my B James avon. Without realising, the humble bargain buy has worked its way into pole position, the cuckoo in the nest now fledged and making its way in the world. I can hold this rod all day, the handle the perfect length to pass around the body when chasing a crashing Chub. The line pick up on a longish trot is superb, quick enough to embarrass the swiftest Dace, the rods action divine with enough power to have dragged a double figure Pike to the net on a tidal river with just a 3lb line. In short, probably the best £50 I ever spent! A new swim, the river again coming through a reed lined shallow run but then dropping into a deep pool with a right angled and undercut bend, Roach methinks! The first 2 a small, 2oz at most but so welcome on a river that, like most semi urban stream, has had more lows than highs. The next one is 1lb 10oz, a stupendous fish that carries the characteristic girth so typical of this rivers larger Roach. Not anywhere, not the Kennett or the Frome, the Itchen or the Thames have I ever encountered such thick backed Roach. I am running out of time, I have to make my way back to the car, the short trip already beyond expectations, the woodpeckers chuckling call noisy at my back. One more swim to try, I left it to last so good did it look, the river just as swift but slightly wider, 20feet maybe, and of around 3 foot deep. More delights, Dace, lots of them, 6oz apiece, then a better one that is maybe 10oz, could it get any better. My last 2 trots answer that question, the king of fishes, the Gudgeon, complete my short stay. It’s the Itchen for me next, I wonder if while standing on those hallowed banks my mind might just wander back to a jewel that my ignorance has seen me ignore for far to long! Pictures to follow, all from today.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 17:05:23 +0000
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