Fighting Fit Fatty

Landed at the river late but with the determination that I would give Andy's Torrix another test with a hard fighting Barbel. The warm weather is still holding and although recent rain has increased the depth of the Avon by a good few inches no colour has been added to the water. With confidence high I cast the pellet/pva combination into a known Barbel holding spot and waited for the inevitable bite. Maybe it took longer than I expected but when the bite came I wasn't quite ready, daydreaming or thinking of work maybe. I lifted into the fish, struggled to gain control and just when I thought I was winning it became snagged up in an area that is usually clear. Steady pulling wouldn't shift it, different angles proved fruitless and releasing the pressure in the hope the fish would swim out did nothing either. By now it was obvious the unseen adversary was long gone and I pulled for a break. Bugger!!
The disturbance seemed to have put the rest of the fish down but in an unusual show of determination (for me!) I sat it out well into dark. Normally the draw of the 'local' would have me long gone by the time another chance came along but I was adamant I was not going home a blanker.
Finally the rod hooped round and this time there was no way the fish was reaching the snag, it tried its damnedest mind. I had forgotten the thrill of playing fish in the dark, feeling the way without really knowing where the fish is and then the flash of colour in the head torch as the battle is almost won. In the end I did win, not a long fish but it was as fat as butter and fighting fit. Weighed it in at 7lb 11oz, took a quick photo and then had the thrill to watch it again in the head light as it slowly sank down the depths back to its watery home.

An Indian Summer Evening

When I arrived at the river late afternoon it could have been the middle of July not early Autumn. Blazing sunshine from bright blue skies, temperatures in the high teens, the swifts flitting across the surface taking in as much of the abundant fly life as possible.

Coots and Moorhens busying themselves above the (despite resent downpours) crystal clear water and weed growth still in abundance. I was in no rush to cast as I planned to be there until nightfall which is now at a much more convenient time for a family man. I lightly baited a swim before Tazzy and I wandered the bank to check if anyone else was wetting a line. Just the one chap way downstream and the conditions meant he was having a blanking time.
When we did finally start fishing I chose a deep hole feeling it might give me the best chance of a few fish. The targets were Barbel on one rod and Roach on the other, rumours abound of a recent two pounder taken from the stretch and I know they can be had from this area so there might be some merit in it. It is several years since I last had one of that size and I have a yearning to try and repeat the feat to prove it was no fluke.

It took a while but eventually the first bite of the session materialised. A decent scrap on light gear had me wondering as to the identity of the unseen adversary especially when it buried itself in a ball of Canadian pondweed that was between my swim and the main flow. I probably should have removed the obstacle prior to fishing but it did not matter as I managed to bundle the whole lot into the net including the still unseen fish. I unwrapped my prize and should have guessed really, a sneaky Chub of about three pounds.

Once the sun had dropped below the horizon the action hotted up ever so slightly as more Chub took a liking to my pellet offerings.

All very similar in size but a lot easier to land with the weed removal completed.

Finally on my last cast (as I could not see to rebait and had forgotten my head torch) one of my targets came to the net, not as big as I had hoped but a respectable 14oz specimen. I am sure the catch rate will increase as soon as we get some more typical Autumnal weather.

Parish Games Bridesmaids

We didn't get the best of draws, the river was low and clear, conditions too bright-all excuses that were discussed over a pint post match. I can honestly say we did however make the most of our opportunities. The annual Parish games fishing match, the once a year where I dip my toe in the strange world of match fishing.
The fishing was tough, in fact it was worse than tough. Dry nets numbered well into double figures so the fact that every one of our team of three caught something meant we were in with a chance at the end.

I contributed a meagre 7.5oz made up of three Perch, some blade Roach and a solitary chublet, all caught reasonably early on. As I say tough going but I still enjoyed it! This bag of monsters gave me fourth in my section. Ady also finished fourth in his section and Don caught a credible 2lb 5oz to give him second in his section and third in the match overall.

2017

As a team we finished second overall for the third time in four years-consistent!! Next year is going to be our year........

2015

2014

An Avon Evening

4lb 9oz

Not quite sure why I look so miserable having just caught a cracking summer Chub weighing over four and a half pounds. This was the third fish of a highly enjoyable evening spent by the Avon. Not a long fish but it had a good girth, probably been feeding on all the pellets I had baited up with.
Martin was already ensconced himself in the fast water below the weir when I arrived so I plonked myself in the next peg, a slow moving area that I thought might throw up a few surprises. My two pronged attack consisted of pellet on the right and half a Roach on the left in the hope that a few predators attracted by the abundant fry life would take advantage of an easy meal. Two small Pike fell for the approach in the early evening but as the light faded the pellet rod started to come to life.
We decided to give it ten more minutes and truly at last knockings the pellet rod hooped round as a decent Barbel tried to make its escape. In the darkness it felt like a good fish. I had no idea exactly where it was in the river so stopping it snagging me up was almost impossible. It managed the inevitable but thankfully the weed was sparse and I managed to cajole it back into open water.
Finally I was able to slip it over the net with Martins help. In the gloom I thought it was a double but the scales revealed it fell a bit short of the mark. Anyway it capped off an enjoyable couple of hours by our special local river.

9lb

The Annual Shark Trip

The sun rose as we trundled down the M5 on our way for our annual Shark trip off the Plymouth coast. Two aborted trips last year both lost to the weather has us keener than ever and there was no fear of mother nature stopping us getting out this year.

As always we were aboard Sea Angler II with Malcolm Jones, one of the most experienced and trusted skippers in the area. This year he had a first mate on board too although Robbie did seem to be more there for company rather than work but he did mash up the rubby-dubby as we steamed out to our drift. The (not so sweet) smelling mixture of Mackerel, bran and oil used to attract the toothy critters to our mackerel flapper hook-baits.

The sharks have been about in numbers this year and within minutes Nath was into the first shark of the day. Year on year shark numbers seem to be on the increase and the variety also seems to be getting more varied, Porbeagles are getting more regular and Threshers have been spotted. In future years it may be possible for us to even target Tuna and other Pelagic species.

What followed was a procession of Sharks at regular intervals weighing up to about forty pounds.

Just after lunch a fish took the bait on the drop and as line screamed from the reel I realised that I was attached to a much more substantial fish. An arm aching battle ensued, several times the shark was brought alongside the boat, Malcolm grabbed the leader but each time the shark wrestled away and I was forced to haul her back to the surface.

Eventually she was dragged onto the side of the boat, holding her down the trace was unclipped and the hook removed.

Three of us lifted her into the boat. She measured 66 inches to the fork of the tail and had a 33 inch girth which equated to 90lbs in weight. The girth squared multiplied by the length divided by 800 equals the weight in pounds. As accurate as it gets on a boat!

A quick couple of photos with my new pb and she was returned to her watery home, hopefully the only thing that was hurt was her ego.

We still had time for a few more fish including one which I battled on a spinning rod and fixed spool reel which was a lot of fun before we steamed back to port. Sixteen sharks landed between us made for a fab days fishing and all that was left was a night out around the nightspots of Plymouth.