Friday, 24 August 2012
Saturday, 18 August 2012
After my last few trips and much pondering, wondering where the fish might be hanging about and all those likely looking, sumptuous spots that are full of features which us anglers are drawn to, I decided that on my next trip I would head further upstream. After spending some of the evening time having a good feel about with rod and lead, I found a nice deep, near margin spot, with a lovely overhanging feature, I decided to place a single Hinders Crab and Krill pellet to this spot and heavily glug it in some Anchovy plus, just to give off an attractive slick and to slow down the ingress of water into the pellet.
My other thoughts were very much preoccupied with trying to accurately place a bait to the spot pictured above. There is a dense jungle of pads,cabbage patch and other snags, thick enough for various waterfowl to stand on, eventually I decided to go short of the main area, the idea being to intercept any Carp cruising up and down the weed line, just a single 30mm pillow shaped, black snail bait, with a small stringer of 4 boilies was placed to the outskirts of this area. I rather fancied this low bait approach.
|The consummate angler|
Just myself and the frequent call of two very good anglers, the Kingfisher and Heron, the former passing me by before perching itself in the nearby tree on more than one occassion, perfect.
It was a still, humid evening, a trail of red left in the sky and wispy clouds, probably one of the warmest I have fished this season, just t-shirt and optimism needed. The movement on the far bank began after 11pm, the sound of clooping, synonymous with carp, perhaps feeding on freshwater snails and other insects. Part of my mind began to whisper to me with words that I didn't wish to hear.
"Preoccupied on naturals Mark, or perhaps your bait placement is not close enough to them?". I realised that I had turned round and placed my invisible other half as if he was there in front of me and we had conversed some, it has always been my way of processing my thoughts and ideas. I must admit I have had anglers walk up to me in the past, looking slightly bewildered and wondering just who it is I'm speaking with, not the easiest thing to explain either, but there you go.
My near margin rod started receiving, numerous fast bites, I did consider Crayfish, but had been told there was not any in this particular stretch, but on my previous trip I had spotted two in the margins, so knew of their existence, the fast bites continued, before finally falling quiet. it was an hour later when the butt of the rod leapt out of the rear rest, swinger and baitrunner coming alive, I grabbed the rod with some urgency and was immediately met with a dogged resistance, that made five long hard runs, one of which was an attempt to get under my marginal bush, eventually the flank of a fighting fit Barbus appeared through the surface, glistening gold and looking fresh as a daisy.
By 9am I had my last fish, a small Chub, once again to the same rod as the Barbel. The sun was out along with Bees and other insects, but it was time to pack up and head for home, the enjoyable contrasts of angling, something that I certainly could not live without.
Friday, 17 August 2012
Sunday, 12 August 2012
The last few days have been very hot, so with that in mind I decided to head out and fish a late afternoon overnighter, back on that lovely stretch of the Thames, a place that has taken a firm grip of my fishing head.
After the last trip at the weir pool, I was contemplating to giving it another go, but I had yet to try any of the lovely spots that are much further downstream. After another look to reacquaint myself with the various swims, I decided to fish a small bay area, where the depth sloped from being shallow to eventually dropping away to form the near margin ledge, a lovely spot, replete with a lovely dense bush to my right, which covered a lovely area off the main flow.
So that was the plan, one rod out near marginal ledge and the other out to the far bank margin. I don't tend to use pellets as much, but I decided to put the closest rod out on one and heavily glugged it in Anchovy plus oil. The other on a black snail boilie wrapped in a little paste. The afternoon passed by in the company of a friendly heron, whom had taken to making frequent visits at a nearby muddy pool in the field behind me.
What was left of the sun eventually slipped behind the nearby trees, leaving a red sky with wispy cloud dotted about. As I made ready one of the rods, the last of the evenings boats chugged by, a polite wave shared by angler and boat owner alike, mine one of relief, he was at least being thoughtful as he plodded by. It was a lovely night, a heavy dew eventually formed, followed by a misty veil that seemed to roam the fields, its shape morphing and twisting, from one field to the next.
Sounds of owls and the shriek of vixen were heard as they called into the night and the odd rabbit sprinted about behind me, my pellet rod and one I favoured for some interest began to tap slightly, before the indicator lifted slowly to the top, a light strike was met with a steady plodding resistance and a fighting fit bream of 6lb 4oz was slid into the waiting net.
I did ponder if I should take a picture or not, it was in lovely condition, I decided on the former and a quick shot was taken, back it was slipped, rod re-cast and a cup of rather stewed tea was poured from my flask. One more slow bite occurred and I connected very briefly with what felt like another bream, before it slipped the hook.
Morning broke, mist lacing the water, the thames looked wonderful, but unfortunately it was time to pack up and make for home, my head well and truly filled with more food for thought.
Saturday, 11 August 2012
|A place for an angler to those themself|
Well as you will be aware, I have been spending my spare time trying to figure out a stretch of the Thames that is new to me and one that is certainly giving me plenty of food for thought and head scratching, in fact my hair loss is currently going very well and I don't think I will be needing any just for men dye anytime soon. This stretch is just packed with so many good looking swims, each one making you stop and want to wet a line, each spot whispering the promise of an unknown leviathan, it's certainly an enjoyable predicament to be confronted by.
I decided to head out, with one thing in mind, fish the weirpool overnight and see what I could attempt to suss out. I arrived at my swim at late evening, the sun pleasently warm, complimented by a rather blustery wind. I opted for the boilie only route, both baits well glugged and placed out with a thick mixture of vitalin and birdseed wrapped around the ledger weights.
one was placed out to the right and an inviting slack, just away from the open weir gates, the other being placed to another slow area on my left side. The evening sun set and the full moon appeared and in doing so created an almost surreal atmosphere, one that added to my feeling of optimism.
But the night was a quiet one, with just one fish and my first from this area, a Bream of 5lb 7oz, a quick photo was taken and it was slipped back.
Very nice to catch and it put up a nice account of itself compared to its stillwater cousins, but it would have been nicer on lighter tackle and not what I am using, which is more beefy and primarily aimed at the Barbel and Carp.
As I'm writing this I have come back from another trip, my head thoroughly scratched again, ideas running through my head and another plan of action being considered, I can certainly think of no better place to search these multitude of garden paths, maybe I will eventually find that secret garden, one that I'm sure exists somewhere along this stretch, maybe I have already found it, because this place has such timeless beauty.