Every day's a school day...

Mist rising beneath a captivating sunrise at Chantry lake.

By coincidence more than design, my fishing this year  has taken me on a path of discovery. At any given moment I might not have seen the wood for the trees but sometimes, taking a step back to reflect allows the bigger picture to be seen...

Sunset on 'Fiveways', Ashmead.

In March I received an invitation to join a friend on the banks of Ashmead and fulfil a long held ambition to fish there. The reading I had done to prepare for my 3 day stint sent the mind boggling, but nothing could prepare me for the intimidating labyrinth of channels and pools of the wetland's carp fishing Mecca. 

My intention was to be invisible; for the carp to be completely unaware of my presence. To this end, casting was largely replaced with commotion-less delivery from my homemade baiting spoon constructed from an old Silstar match pole specially for the occasion. Where it could not be avoided, a single, accurate cast with the lightest possible lead would have to suffice and not be moved, unless by a fish. In spite of my best efforts to merge with my surroundings and fish effectively, my time at this formidable venue came to an end with my net still dry. I was fortunate however to witness one of Ashmead's finest carp, Moonscale, caught by Chris Shute. 

Chris Shute with 'Moonscale'.

By the time the rivers opened for the new season, I was champing at the bit to wet a line in running water once more. My local stretch of the Bristol Avon has high banks and is largely overgrown by the time June comes around and so one can access long runs of water that most anglers cannot reach, simply by donning a pair of waders and getting in to trot a float. My first few trips of the summer were spent this way and I took great pleasure in catching a good many chub on light vintage tackle. 

A Bristol Avon chub.

On a few occasions I used more stout, modern gear to present static baits, intended to attract a better stamp of chub - or even one of the Bristol Avon's elusive barbel, and stayed out into the night in the hope that the cover of darkness might induce more confident feeding. The plan came together in the shape of this 6lb 2oz chub -  a new PB for me and a new club record. Over the next few trips the bites dried up in this spot and so I explored in search of deeper water (I did not fish during the extreme heat of the summer but even when it passed, I suspected the fish would have sought cooler climes). The Bristol Avon certainly appears to be in fine fettle, but the effect of the resident otters, whom I have witnessed on multiple occasions, is apparent and so a degree of despondence sets in after a while and my attention veers to other venues. I do have a growing affection for this river though and will surely return soon, perhaps next time in the hope of a large roach...

My PB chub at 6lb 2oz.

Having not been able to access the moat for almost all of 2021, and the summer of 2020 culminating in a session of a lifetime, catching a beautiful net of specimen crucians all beneath a homemade quill on the lift-method, I was desperate to pick up where I had left off. I've written in more poetic detail about this experience, and about the moat in general, in my contribution to Crucian Renaissance.

An unforgettable day's fishing!

Try as I did however, the crucians this season were not forthcoming. Perhaps a year of dependance on naturals in the absence of anglers had created a tough situation for anyone trying to persuade them to deviate from this food source. Regrettably, having managed to coax one to take a single maggot on my first visit of the summer,  it successfully shed the hook just as I attempted to draw it across the net. There is seldom time to grieve such losses at the moat however, as distractions are always forthcoming. On this occasion a brace of fine male tench provided consolation in the last few casts of the session.

Two tincas!

For the next couple of trips, I focused more on carp and, under the watchful eye of one of the resident foxes, managed to winkle out a few gems. The moat is the ideal place to make effective use of the baiting pole that I had fashioned initially for my time on Ashmead: it allows you to place bait accurately beneath overhanging branches, close to lilies or in gaps in the weed - all of which are abundant here. Furthermore, I don't usually leave the house until the kids are tucked up in bed, and so by the time I've driven down to Hampshire, it's quite late at night. The last thing I want to do is alert the fish to my presence and so gentle, accurate placement of my rig and free offerings is a tangible edge.

My biggest carp from the moat: 23lb 4oz.

With the summer quickly fading into the realms of distant memory, it occurred to me that I had renewed my ticket on a beautiful little syndicate water just across the border in Somerset and had barely fished it. So a spontaneous decision to go into the back garden lamping for worms one night and an early alarm the next morning facilitated a joyful few hours catching perch after perch beneath a charming bobber made by my good friend Graeme Pinkerton. 

Though completely transfixed on the float and temporarily transubstantiated into my childhood self, it was still impossible not to be distracted by the activity of the carp all around me. A large white mirror encircled my float whilst others crashed beneath branches overhanging the bank opposite. In spite of my previous lack of success with the carp here, which could be explained by my lack of effort, I had now acknowledged a new imperative. I thought back to my approach at Ashmead and remembered my aim to be invisible to the carp. The spot on which I wanted to place my bait was out of reach for my baiting pole and so a cast was unavoidable. This pool has quite a silty bottom so my concern was that my whole rig might bury itself too deep to be easily found if my lead was too heavy. Since attending a talk with Frank Warwick a few years ago, I have tended towards very heavy leads; not for their casting ability but for their hooking potential and since I've started using the baiting spoon I have been able to minimise the splash they cause completely. On this occasion however, 1oz leads were the perfect compromise - just enough to reach the spot first time, little enough I believed to lay atop the silt. My only question was whether I would get a good hook hold but faith had to be placed in the sharpness of the hook and the mechanics of the rig itself. I remembered also Trevor Sturgess, whom I met at Ashmead, describing the carp using the weight of heavier leads to shake off the hook and so a little more confidence in my strategy was warranted. 

I need not have had any doubts! On the stroke of midnight, my reel screamed to life, announcing a connection with a very angry, zealous carp. I had heard from other members of the syndicate that the carp here are 'unstoppable' - I can see why they have that reputation as the initial run had incredible power. I had to steer the fish, encouraging it to kite wide, rather than stopping it but even when in open water, surge followed determined surge. I was surprised then, when such a small fish eventually came to the net. I dread to think how I might have fared if I had hooked one of its bigger siblings! Nonetheless, I was absolutely made-up. 

Whilst I have managed to continue to fish intermittently over the last few years since my children were born, my experiences on the bank have, until recently, been shorter and more fragmented. As a result I have found it hard to connect the dots or consider a story of any meaning to recount in this diary. However, since my trip to Ashmead this year, I feel that each trip has unlocked another piece of a puzzle, teaching me something of value that I have been able to apply in successive trips. 

There are still pieces missing of course; inconsistencies in my approach and by extension in the rewards that I reap. And then there are the pea-soupers; times when everything seemed spot on and yet the plan did not come together. Surely though, this is what fuels the fires of obsession, and keeps many of us coming back again and again to figure it out!

The Milky Way above Chantry Lake.

 

Looking back at 2018

My syndicate lake in the autumn.

Finding a balance between work and family life can be tricky enough at the best of times but throwing an obsession with angling in to the mix and a series of unfortunate events and circumstances to boot can make for an even harder task. I will spare you the details of my complaints but suffice to say 2018 has been a difficult time but the solitude and serenity provided by even the shortest tarry on the bank has been greatly appreciated and served a valuable therapeutic purpose.

My first winter since returning to the West Country was cold and at times, hostile. The River Frome provided some respite from the working week where hours spent driving in dismal darkness topped and tailed days of relentless challenges. The Frome, even in the bleakest days of winter, seemed to be teaming with life and from this I took solace. Time has not been my friend for some years now but as I have found in recent years, by cheating myself of sleep I could be set up on the bank, ready to trot a float or watch a quiver-tip just as the first semblance of sunlight scouted ahead of the horizon. The simplicity of fishing here itself was good for me, a perfect antidote to the complexity of problems faced elsewhere. Over the months that followed, I enjoyed a consistently satisfying stamp of roach, dace and some fair chub to boot - even when a carpet of snow adorned the patchwork fields that surrounded the stretch. This snow did not prevent the fish from biting but when it caused me to turn my car over on my way to work with my rods still in the boot, my river fishing was put on hold for a couple of weeks until they could be retrieved and consequently the last knockings of the season were missed.

Chub and Roach caught on the River Frome and my mondeo shortly after I rolled it on the ice.

Whilst the rivers were still closed, my friend Jake took me for a short session on his syndicate lake on a quest for a carp. It was quite an interesting venue with very little in the way of visible features. Thankfully, a carp gave its whereabouts away by topping out of the water while we were setting up and so this mid-water location became one of our baited areas. It transpired the topography of the lakebed was akin to the inside of an egg box with belligerent boulders towering up from the silt, making for a heart rendering battle when early in the evening a powerful fish took off with my maple nut popup. I could feel the line rubbing against the rocks and pinging free one by one, each time causing me to think the fish was lost until the slack was taken up once more with another valiant bid for freedom. I have only targeted carp twice in earnest this year, both were successful and coincidently, Jake was fishing in the adjacent swim both times causing me to see him as something of a lucky charm!

My biggest carp of 2018.

A few weeks later the seasons had changed dramatically. It was only the beginning of May but felt like the height of Summer. It was an honour to have been invited on a very special social trip to Charlie's Lake near Ashford, for my friend Shaun's stag do. The camaraderie and banter was top-notch throughout the whole weekend, as was the fishing. Thankfully, everyone managed to catch at least one wels catfish which was our intended quarry. My own catches started small and progressively increased in weight resulting in this 30lber taken from tight to snags on the far bank. In all honesty, I don't think I have ever had my string pulled so hard! However, once away from the submerged branches of the tree I had cast to, the open water in front of me was free from hazards, meaning it was just a case of holding on and hoping the fish would tire to the point of submission before I did!  

New PB catfish at 30lbs caught at Charlie's Lake.

Sunrise on the syndicate.

I had joined a small syndicate myself, not far from home with the hopes of catching a few of their newly stocked crucians, or even one of the fabled original stock if I should be so lucky. It turns out I was not lucky at all. Over the whole summer, I did not catch even one here, though had one on the end of my line a couple of times before embarrassing blunders betrayed my success. This lake was a tranquil haven, devoid of other anglers almost every time I visited however I was kept company by a carnival of animals; badgers, tawny owls, kingfishers, swallows, deer... all popping past to pay their respects! Eventually, I put my ambition for a crucian from this water aside and targeted the perch. I caught a number of good fish, both with a worm beneath a traditional bobber and also on a more modern approach with rubber lures fished on a very light drop shot rod - the latter of these two methods producing the best fish of the summer for me.

A chunky drop-shot caught perch.

I was fortunate in the summer to be invited back to The Moat to fish for a few days. This venue is special for numerous reasons but the quality of the crucians here is right up there. So much so perhaps that the characterful, dark carp that inhabit the same waters are often overshadowed. However, I am equally keen to target both whenever I am fortunate enough to visit.

My previous trip had seen me catch some tenacious tench and a very credible crucian but all in all was a tough session with each bite being hard earned. This time though was quite the contrary. Several carp were taken each night and at first light and a couple of crucians each over 2lbs made my mornings along with others lost and a variety of non-target species for good measure.

A dark mirror caught at night at the moat.

One of the things I am enjoying in my fishing these days is the fluidity I have acquired between traditional and modern methods. In fact, I no longer see them as separate entities: it's all just fishing! I will happily fish with cane or carbon, depending on my chosen tactics and often will combine the two. The moat lends itself especially well to this in my opinion.

A cane caught cru'.

My last trip of the summer was with my dad who was keen for us to do some sea fishing from Chesil Beach. In a way this brings me full circle, as this is exactly how I got started. These days, I don't really own a lot of sea tackle and so had to improvise - a carp fishing rod pod combined with storm poles from my brolly became my tripod and my spod and marker setup became rudimentary beach casters. It all held up well, in spite of my doubts and the fact that it was put through its paces by a vast variety of species including gurnard, whiting, dogfish, mackerel and others which could certainly pull hard such as conger eels and thornback rays, was testament to its adequacy. A couple of fish were taken for the table, all the rest were returned. It was great to get out with my dad again - we always seem to leave it too long but have a great time whenever we do get our act together. 

Once I returned to work after the summer break, my fishing resumed its previous form of short early morning sessions at the weekends. The object not being so much to a catch fish as to catch up with myself in a moment of quiet.

I have certainly managed to get on the bank more frequently than last year, when being a new father brought my angling to a standstill for a time, but aside from a few overnighters,  I have only fished during the day on two occasions - all the others being no more than a few hours at dawn each time and so with this in mind, I am quite pleased with the fish I have caught and the experiences I have had. I am already very excited about some piscatorial plans for 2019 and can't wait to be able to share them with you as they transpire. Until then, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Tight lines,
Richard.

Beach casting with my spod and marker rods at Chesil Beach!

Looking back at 2016

Carpe Diem; a good motto to live by and certainly one that has seemed all-the-more relevant to me of late, especially where my angling is concerned. 2016 has been a year of impossible demands, soaring highs and crushing lows but that is life and it must be acknowledged that without the challenges there would be little ecstasy in achievement. 

The challenges I have faced have led me to be more proactive in my leisurely pursuits, including my fishing and as a consequence the shape of my angling has changed, resulting in more opportunities and more varied experiences than I could ever have hoped for.

The first moment of significance was a day on the River Itchen with good friends Matthew and Colin. They were keen for me to experience the joy of a grayling on a cane rod and whilst this meant little to me prior to this excursion, the sensation of the connection through this medium simply cannot be put into words and has since become a focus of fanaticism. With some sterling guidance in a stunning setting, several 'ladies of the river' were seen.

Whilst I do enjoy long session carp fishing with all the associated trimmings, aside perhaps from the blinkered outlook and laddish antics, I have found it much easier snatch short sessions early in the morning or late at night on the Kentish Stour. The stretch I used to frequent in pursuit of barbel is in a sorry state owing, at least in part, to gross mismanagement and sadly also, the other anglers who fish there. For this reason I have spent most of my time elsewhere on the river and have enjoyed some good chub, roach, gudgeon, bream, perch and pike, very often without seeing a single soul.

I have to thank my dad for my love of angling. He introduced me to sea fishing, his preferred denomination of our sport, when I was young and we have relished every opportunity to get out together since, messing about in boats or blanking on the beach - it matters not. These moments together are important bonding time and angling the perfect medium. These days, sadly, they are few and far between. This year however, for his 60th birthday, we made a concerted effort and arranged a string of angling adventures; punting in the jungle at Bury Hill, beach casting from Herne Bay, carping on Broadlands Lake and the highlight, coincidentally also the most epic haul, fishing for thornback rays off the coast of Dover in March. I can't claim it was difficult fishing, though timing the strike was critical to hooking the fish successfully but these hard fighting creatures really were fun to catch. Now we are back in the habit of booking in 'bank time' or even 'boat time', it would be a crime to let it slide once more.

Come spring all I could think about was tench fishing. I was blessed with a couple of days on the banks of a new water at Easter when I made sure this was my sole focus. I fished two rods with black-cap maggot feeders and a maggot clip on a simple hair rig and took 20 tench over the session. They started around 4lb and progressed to 5, 6 and eventually a 7lber before the end of the session. Most fish came at night meaning I had hardly any sleep!In spite of this being a highly successful tench session, the real highlight had to be the surprise capture of this 22lb common carp which picked up the big ball of maggots intended for a tinca! Incredible fun, if not a little hair-raising at times, on light tackle... I have only returned to this venue once since this session to try and track down some more big scaleys but missed the one chance I was given. I'm sure this lake has incredible potential - it is certainly not fished very much so who knows what is in there. However, over the summer months I had other venues to focus on.

It was my absolute pleasure and privilege to be granted to opportunity to fish on two occasions this year at a very special venue known simply as 'The Moat'. The first visit was for a day in July and was somewhat sweet and sour  - the venue cast something of a spell on me, I was totally in awe but the fishing was more challenging than I had anticipated. I was targeting crucian carp and had forgotten just how finicky their bites can be. I was over-gunned and complacent. On my second visit, this time in August, I had more time to play with and was able to relax into the experience and, with the benefit of learning from my previous experiences, make the necessary adjustments to be successful. I targeted carp by night resulting in two stunning mid-doubles on simple ledger tactics. During daylight hours I fished for crucians again this time slightly scaled down, fed less but more frequently and was less hasty on the strike and, though the first day passed without a bite, on the second I was rewarded with a commendable crucian taken on a small piece of bread flake fished beneath a quill float I made. 

The moment was absolute magic, compounded further by the fantastic friends who shared it with me. On my return I was compelled to write about my experience and am proud to say an abridged version of my blog about this trip has been included as a 'Reader's Story' in issue 8 of Fallon's Angler - a super quarterly publication with the subheading 'a medley of piscatorial prose'. To see my story in print alongside angling writers such as Chris Yates and Kevin Parr, truly is an honour.

The rest of the summer was spent chasing carp on a venue I had not fished before this year. I took a trip or two to figure out how to catch here but once off the mark had a reasonable string of catches until the end of the summer when they seemed to dry up a little, though I was not alone in this. I had signed up to club that hosts this venue in addition to the ticket I have held for the past 7 years or so as I had become frustrated with rammed lakes and the agro I had experienced on the bank last season and needed to have a break from all that. During the summer I was able to get out mid-week which on this new lake often meant I was the only person fishing down there! Whilst it is not a patch on the beauty of Fordwich and the fish I caught, not as big and brag-worthy, it was a pleasure to find some solitude and still be having fun catching carp. I am still debating whether or not to keep this ticket on but it certainly did me good this year!

Most of the autumn I have spent fishing for perch either with float fished worms or using light drop-shot or jig tactics. I have been fortunate enough to find some prolific spots on the river. The longest I have fished in one sitting is 3 hours and have always caught a few but sometimes in excess of 40 perch in a session with most fish averaging an estimated 1/2lb - 1lb with no discernable distinction being apparent between methods. A friend has had some whopping-great perch from a still-water venue and commended live-baiting tactics as a way of singling out the bigger fish. I am yet to try this approach but can't help feeling that this might not pay off on my stretch as the fish caught on lures, which are effectively impersonating a live-bait, have not attracted bigger fish than the float fished lobs. I can only conclude that either the larger fish are not present or I have not been lucky yet. It is however, no hardship to keep trying!

Occasionally, when they have been showing, I have put a larger jig on and targeted pike. I have had a few decent jacks like this one but am yet to have the opportunity to go out with deadbaits on a frosty morning to try for anything bigger this season.

In late November, I travelled up to Hereford to fish the River Wye for barbel for a weekend. On the Saturday I fished alone and met up with Tony - a friend first met at the moat, on the Sunday.

It was fortuitous to have been without company on the first day as I fell victim to the steep, slippery banks on more than one occasion, as did my camera! It was bad enough taking an involuntary swim so I was grateful to have been spared the embarrassment of doing it before company. I did however catch 2 fighting fit, fin perfect barbel - the first weighed in at 5lb and the second returned without a fuss. I also had several decent trout on both days though no barbel showed on day two, probably owing to the frost the night before. Tony winkled out a lovely chub and we enjoyed some mince pies and a natter!

I don't think I have ever before caught such a range of species within a year - certainly not by design and so this feels like something of an achievement. I have enjoyed my fishing so much more also by focusing on the experience above the end result. 

I am going to be a dad next spring which I know is going to completely change my life. It is already giving me so much to look forward to! Who knows how much fishing I will be able to do once my baby girl arrives but where there is a will, there is a way and I believe my proactivity this year has formed healthy habits which will certainly give me a good chance of wetting a line whenever possible.