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.

 

Nostradamus 2012/ A very carpy winter...

The end of life as I know it has been foretold and whilst the true believer does not fear death, any mere mortal inevitably clings to the life they have known with a sense of desperation. I am now counting the days to the very opposite scenario, a new life - my own daughter whom I cannot wait to meet and yet since Christmas have felt the necessity to fulfil something of an angling 'bucket list'.

Winter is seldom as I remember it as a child: Toboggan rides, snowball fights, those blue Parka jackets with orange lining and faux-fur hoods that every school boy wore in the 1980s and the disappointment of another weekend I could not fish at Lake Shearwater because it had a thick lid of ice on it. I never thought I would crave the cold but warm winters are not conducive to pike fishing and so as soon as the frosts first came I was out looking for esox lucius.

My first few excursions conformed to the cliche of the modest jack that was 'this big' by the time I spoke of it and of course tales of the behemoth 'that got away'. Minutes past home time frequently accumulated, spent with frost bitten fingers, mentally conflicted between the perceived shame of an unproductive trip and the trouble I would be in when I arrived home late. I have a habit of giving a 'final countdown' from 1 - 60 after which I am obliged to pack up but during which, if I have a bite - or any indication that could possibly be perceived as a bite, then the countdown must start again. On this occasion I had completed this ceremony faithfully without even the most tenuous excuse for a nibble on my float-fished sardine and so dutifully picked up my rod to reel in, which in doing so agitated the bait slightly and suddenly the float slid away... 

A 15lb Pike from a stour valley stillwater.

Grayling are synonymous with winter and regarded perhaps comically as a commendable quarry for carp anglers during the colder months. Last February I made my first pilgrimage with Matthew to the River Itchen where I was baptised into the cult of cane. Such fun was had with the 'ladies of the river' that we seem to have made it an annual fixture. Once at the waterside we went our separate ways until our mid-morning donut was due. "How many?" he asked - "Three" I said proudly "you?" - "Thirty!". Thankfully I didn't hold on to the embarrassment but continued to enjoy the day losing lethiathans and landing littler ladies, untangling birds-nests and admiring a hunting marsh-harrier. 

My mornings most weekends begin with a couple of hours at dawn, trotting a worm beneath a bobber along the jetties and between moored boats on the River Stour watched over by hungry and highly-opportunistic robins, redwings, blackbirds, song thrush and this not so koi kingfisher.

This has spot has been a tranquil haven for me, providing necessary escape and solitude until recently as it has become overrun with pike anglers clutching at the last straws of the season. By no means is this a criticism but in order to maintain my enjoyment, ever mindful of the sands of fishing-time slipping through my fingers, I opt not to compete.

As the season draws to a close, my tickets approach expiry and the wriggles and kicks visible on the surface of my wife's incredible baby-bulge become evermore violent, I know that each trip may be my last. For a while at least. I assign myself one last mission to catch a carp from one of the gravel pits abundant in this part of Kent.

I spent Saturday morning swimming with my wife, which is the only form of exercise she can really do at this stage of pregnancy, then on to mothercare and boots to buy the remaining miscellaneous necessities in preparation for our daughter's debut. By the time we were done and my gear was loaded into the car there was an hour left of light. Once at the lake my eyes strained to make out far bank features and after tentatively casting a lead towards intended spots only to find a multitude of overhanging branches I decided I had time for 1 cast per rod before dark- at a push and so put the rigs on and confidently pinged each rig precisely into position. That was a first for me!

Making use of landmarks on the distinctive treelined horizon I fired free offerings out in the dark with my catapult, a wild shot in the dark if ever there was one!

As I nestled down for the night beneath an almost full moon, the onset of sleep was intermittently interrupted by line-bites - encouraging to know that carp were chasing around after their widely scattered supper. The witching hour was announced by the tone of my alarms, a bite which dropped back rapidly as the fish took the bait away from the reed bed it had been kissing since sunset.

 As I lifted this glorious common carp out of the water I realised it was bigger than I had first thought in spite of its feistiness. As I held the scales aloft the dial turned to 20lb 12oz. 

"20, 12" I said aloud. The implications of this ominous number began to dawn on me as I recollected Nostradamus had predicted that the world would end in the year 2012. Could it be that my angling might also end with this 20-12 in accordance with the prophecies of the many wise sages coupled with anecdotes of their own parental experiences? 

Thankfully, Nostradamus was wrong!

Could do better?

Early morning at Longshaw Farm

The opportunity to fish for four consecutive days presented itself to me this week along with the conundrum of where to go - given that a great number of my favourite lakes and the River Stour are inaccessible and even unsafe due to the recent flooding. I opted in the end for 2 ticket waters and 2 days on one of my club's lakes.

My first day ticket was Mansfield Farm Lake. I had never been there before and had heard mixed reports but apparently there is a good head of carp (though the sizes of which are hotly disputed), crucians, tench, silvers and even sturgeon. The variety of species got me quite excited. I decided to target the carp with one rod fishing ledgered meat and on the other rod I float fished maggots and corn alternately for whatever might come my way.

Throughout the day I had about 20 small roach on maggots and nothing on corn. I had a good run on the ledgered meat and connected with what felt like a carp briefly before the line went slack. The weather was better than forecast and so with the sun beating down on my corner of the lake in the late afternoon I decided to throw a few mixers out to see if anything would surface. Nothing happened at first but just as the light started to fade and the bait had washed up against the bank came that all familiar slurping sound. I was straight on it with a freelined mixer and managed to winkle one small carp out before the light had gone completely. 

I am disappointed not to have caught any of the other species that reside in this lake. I am in two minds about the place but will return in warmer weather to see if I can improve in this regard.

Next was Longshaw Farm, not my first visit - in fact before I joined CDAA I was here all the time. My last trip to Longshaw was in November 2010 when all my clubs lakes had lids on them as did most lakes in the area but Longshaw is largely immune to ice thanks its water pumps. On that day I had 2 fish, an 8lb common and a 17lb 8oz Mirror. I was fortunate enough to have forgotten my camera that day - I say fortunate as forgetting my camera forced me to do what can only be described as a 'selfie' with my phone and produced my favourite of all my angling photos.




It was no where near as cold this time, although there was a very chilly breeze rushing through the valley. When I set up on the big lake I was the only one there, a contrast to the middle lake next door where a match was being held. I've never fished a match, nor do I ever intend to - as the composer Bartok said 'Competitions are for horses not artists' and though I've not exactly got my angling down to an art yet, I am trying!
It amused me to watch the exodus of anglers pushing their barrows to their swims at 9am and the simultaneous shuffle of their poles when the starting whistle sounded thirty minutes later.

The swim I chose gave me access to a causeway between two reed beds within which there were plenty of carp nosing around evident by the reeds constant twitching. I cast one rod inside this channel and the other to the right, both sporting chunks of meat in front of an in-line lead.

Just before 10am the rod in the channel received a fantastically confident take from a very hard fighting common carp which weighed in at 11lb 4oz. This however, was my only fish of the day. I didn't even get another bite which is unusual in my experience of Longshaw. Perhaps it was the temperature or the time of year. Perhaps it was the  other anglers who moved in either side of me adding more pressure with the increased number of lines towards the same feature. I don't know. Either way, I enjoyed my time here. It's a very comfortable and well maintained fishery with good facilities and a wide variety of species to target across 4 lakes to suit a range of angling preferences. I look forward to my next session here...

I spent much of Friday in this position.

Birch Lake was my next stop. I arrived at 8:30am on Thursday and was the only person at the Littlebourne complex. Half an hour later my friend arrived and we set up opposite each other so that we could both fish the end of the lake towards which the wind was blowing. It was very cold and, having only just returned to normal levels after flooding, the water was a horrible chocolately brown. This time last year I fished here and had considerable success which I wrote about here. Therefore I could be forgiven for anticipating more of the same from this session.
A morning of showers extended well into the afternoon and no bites were forthcoming. The weather improved later in the day but my catch rate did not.
I snoozed until midnight when I discovered that my feet became warmer with just one pair of socks than they had been with two! With toasty toes I would have been able to sleep right through until morning if it hadn't been for a rude awakening from my bite alarm at 3:40am which kept up its jazz-like phrasing, disjointed and irregular, until I arrived at my rods and then stopped.
This was all the excitement I was going to get within this 36 hour session. I tried meat, pellet wrapped in paste, bread (boilies are not allowed at this venue or infact any of the venues I visited this week) but nothing provoked any interest from the fish. My friend had no joy either.
As I moved off several white vans were coming down the path bringing the next batch of anglers to try and conquer what is normally not a difficult water but one that on this occasion left me absolutely stumped.

So as I reflect on the last four days I feel like the tranquility has done me some good but am slightly baffled as to how I could have disturbed the peace with a few more fish but, I suppose, that's what will spur me on to try again. It's not a sport of certainties but certain possibilities. That's why I love it so much.

The sun setting in the field behind Birch Lake.

Looking back at 2012

This has been an interesting year on the bank for me. I have attempted to rationalise my approach, particularly to carp fishing, and have reaped the rewards. This blog has undoubtedly been a significant part of that process of reflection. However, whilst I have enjoyed some success on still-waters, my luck has not always been so good on the river. Here I shall look back on some of my best catches and worst failures and contemplate their respective causes...

Company on a quiet session...

Carp

I have made a concerted effort to simplify my approach as far as rigs are concerned as I felt that when trying out the latest rig to be featured in the magazines all the time there are far too many variables to keep track of and far too much to potentially go wrong.

However, I have paid much more attention to feeding. Although I can't claim yet to have all the answers I can vouch for the benefits of casting and baiting accurately and constantly to the same spots rather than my previous random whim approach which was very hit or miss. 

My carp from Fordwich came as a result of spreading 20mm baits over a slightly wider area with a throwing stick - the logic here being that I felt the carp at Fordwich are a little more cautious than the other lakes I fish and may well think mountains of bait dumped by the spod load are slightly suspicious. This seems to be working so far...

18lb Common - Best from Stonar in 2012
Fatfish boilie and pink fake corn, June.

13lb 7oz Common - best from Birch Lake, Littlebourne in 2012
'Zigged' crust 1ft from the surface, March.

10lb Common - first carp from Fordwich ever!
'Matrix' snowman rig, August.

Chub and Barbel 

I do enjoy catching chub and a good thing too as they have really made pests of themselves when I have been targeting barbel!

I have found a few spots where small shoals congregate and some are pretty much common knowledge. I have seen them swimming over my bait, the rod arches round and somehow as I pick it up I find that the culprit is a pesky chub. Of course, each time a chub is caught the barbel are spooked for a while at least. A friend who catches a good many barbel has advised me to 'sit on my hands' when the rod is twitching, let chub and eels suss out the trap and clear off and wait for the unmistakable run of a barbel. I really have tried to heed this advice but even with shorter hook-links I find fish often hook themselves.

Although I must confess to getting a little depressed with this situation it has led me to think very carefully about stealth, line-lay, bait, presentation, colour of the water, water level, temperature, air pressure, time of day etc much more carefully. Until the fish start coming in I cannot draw conclusions but the process has started at least and in the mean time I have enjoyed some good chub. Early in the season I took a friend from work out a few times in the hope of helping him catch his first chub. He had a fair few out while I waited for barbel. It was a real pleasure to help him achieve this ambition.

One of my better chub this season just under the 4lb mark.

My friend Marc with a chub just over 4lb!

A nostalgic compilation of tales from a bygone era.
Some poetic words from Chris Yates and Bernard Venables
but an otherwise dull read and not much use to the
modern day barbel hunter.

In other news...

As you may have read in Bream: a little dream, I have somewhat changed my attitude to Bream as a target species though I must admit still find it frustrating when they shoal in on bait intended for something else. I have also had some fun catching carp on the centrepin. I went out for tench a couple of times and caught fish up to about 4lb which was fun. 

This colourful combination of maize and pink fake corn,
combined with hemp and breadcrumb squeezed round a method feeder
has never failed to produce tench for me!

A tench from Pump Lake, Littlebourne which fell to the rig pictured above.

A couple of days float fishing at Grove Lake produced some nice roach, small carp, tench and gudgeon. 

The highlight of a day float fishing at Grove:
a small gudgeon which reminded me of my childhood
fishing experiences.

Feeder fishing on the Worcestershire Avon in October resulted in several eels, bream and dace. A couple of short sessions feathering off Whitby pier rewarded me with over 20 mackerel and a few Coley. The mackerel have been divided between the dinner table and pike fishing. I've not fished the Stour for pike since last December when I caught my PB of 13lb but have had several jacks in Fordwich Lake to 6lb on the bait I caught in Whitby.

I have had several jacks like this 6lber on ledgered mackerel

I also started preparing my own hemp and maize. This is considerably cheaper than buying it ready to use from a known bait manufacturer (I paid £15 for 25kg!) and has many advantages besides. It is important to prepare baits correctly though to ensure they are safe to feed to the fish. Would a blog post on how to do this be useful to anyone?

A great discovery this year was bulk buying unprepared maize. 

Whilst all fishing is enjoyable, I think it is important to do a variety of styles of fishing throughout the year to break the monotony of long campaigns for one specific species. Also, sometimes it is possible to care too much about achieving goals and just turning up and having a laugh can be very therapeutic indeed!

Next steps...

I am very pleased to have improved my carp fishing on two waters I had previously found difficult. However, now I must ask if there is a way of specifically targeting larger carp as all the fish I have had from these lakes have been below 20lb. Perhaps that is just down to chance? I don't mind catching fish of any size but I am intrigued to find out if a small tweak to my tactics might produce something bigger.

I intend to continue my quest for barbel into 2013. Perhaps then I shall be able to work out where I am currently going wrong and start getting some fish on the bank again?!

Please feel free to comment on this or any of my posts. I'd equally love to hear if any of this has been helpful or if you have any advice to offer me.