Six Sessions, One Post- Close Season Catch Up

Recently it has been a bit of a struggle to find the time to fish and when I have managed to get bankside the results have been poor. I cannot find the motivation to write about fishless sessions or ones involving tiddlers so hence the blog has been quiet.

Several weeks ago I took some floaters to my favourite Carp venue. The avian life were extremely interested in my offerings, especially the goose and swan pictured and I struggled to get the same response from below the surface. One missed bite was all I could muster and I went home cursing our feathered friends.

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Session Two and some very inclement weather gave Tazzy and I a proper soaking.

The cold rain made the sport sporadic to say the least. I was targetting silver Bream but only managed a few small roach and a couple of Bronze Bream and nothing special to boot.

Session Three was good fun, got the fly rod out and chased the Carp in the local puddle. Two small battling Commons landed made for a pleasant evening distraction.

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Session Four was a blank chasing Tench, the weather was still quite chilly and I don't think the Tincas had woken up properly from their Winter slumber. Even Tazzy looked bored that day.

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Session Five and the fly rod came back into play. A social evening with the big man at the picturesque Lenches lakes chucking bits of fluff at rising Trout.

The warmer temperatures have made the fish more active and I managed a brace of Trout up to 2 1/2 pound. The first one fell for a black gnat type pattern with buoyant white wings (I must learn the proper names of these things!), the second a large grasshopper type thing, it was getting dark so needed something big that my old eyes could see in the gloom.

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Session Six saw me back Tenching but this time on a red hot day in glorious sunshine.

The Carp were thrashing around in the margins obviously starting to get amorous and they gave me a constant barrage of line bites making it difficult to tell if I was getting actual bites. The Tench were conspicuous by their absence and after five bite less hours I was beginning to get frustrated.

Finally I had an unmissable run and after a bit of trouble with a weed bed I slipped the net under by far the best fish I have caught this year. A stunning female Tench pulling the scales down to 9lb 3oz. All the frustrations of previous sessions forgotten with one fish- gotta love this sport!!

Bleak Outlook

I am currently in the process of setting up my own business and add to that three kids, three dogs and various other animals in the menagerie and time is short.
I did however find myself with a couple of spare hours yesterday afternoon. The kids were off swimming so I grabbed the fly rod and headed down to the local river to see if I could get a rise.
The sun shone brightly, the river was crystal clear but there was plenty of fly life, daddy long legs mostly. It seems to be a particularly good year for them this time around. When I walk the dog at day break there is literally swarms of them in the fields.
The river had plenty of fish rising, mostly tiddlers sipping small black gnats off the surface so my best opportunity seemed to be a tiny black spider pattern tied to a size 18.
I caught plenty of fish and missed plenty too, the odd small and I mean small Dace and quite a few Bleak. I was never going to break any records but it was exactly what it was meant to be, a bit of fun in the short bit of time I had available.
Goodness knows when I will have time to wet a line again.

Fly Fishing-the Right Way?

Despite my love of fly fishing I have not touched my fly rod for over six months, holidays and coarse fishing taking up most of my free time of late. This wrong was put right yesterday when Nick and I met up for our annual fishing day. Living 143 miles apart we generally try to fish somewhere equidistant between us but this time we ventured a lot closer to my home as we met at Bushyleaze fishery on the outskirts of Lechlade in the heart of the Cotswolds. I thought I might get a bit of a lie-in but whilst lay in bed I got a text from Nick to say he would be an hour early. Cue panic and rushing around the house gathering gear and flask as quickly and quietly as I could so as not to wake the kids.

I screeched into the car park two minutes after Nick had arrived. On the advice of the nice bloke selling the tickets we made our way to a sheltered bay in the corner of this stunning gravel pit. The fish were there in numbers as 'ticket man' had informed us and we could see plenty of 'bows rushing around in the crystal clear water. 

We cast several damsels and lures at our adversaries but they did not seem interested. 

A pair of brave cygnets came right up to our bank edge having no fear whatsoever of the the pair of funny looking humans waving wands around.

Their parents showed absolutely no concern that their children were right next to us when normally they are much more protective of their young.

An hour or so had passed with no takes so I decided it was time for something different. The Trout were breaking the surface all over the place and having chucked a dry dragonfly pattern at them with only one aborted take I realised they were actually feeding on a hatch of much smaller flies, dark in colouration. I attached a small scruffy looking home-made gnat and within seconds had a take from a battling Trout of about three pounds. It is so much more exciting fishing dry flies than just pulling lures though the water. A proper way to fly fish.

With that Trout despatched and in the bag it didn't take long before I fooled another. In the meantime Nick had also changed to a similar fly and we ended up with a double hook up. The fun had really started and Nick went on to land another two before Lunch.

Whenever we are on one of our fishing days we like to do things properly so we retreated to a local public house and stuffed our faces with 'three cheese' ploughmans(or is the plural ploughmen?) and a couple of pints of Ale.

There were several other anglers fishing the lake and we knew that when we eventually returned our swim would be taken. We were not wrong as there were four anglers crowded into our bay plus two others in a boat. They were all blindly stripping lures and had only had two fish between them. It pays to not have a blinkered approach to any type angling, experiment and you can reap surprising rewards. 

We searched the rest of the lake but only spotted a few other fish and our half-hearted efforts went unrewarded. The lunch had taken its toll and our motivation had seriously waned.

I satisfied myself trying to take photos of flying fish which is not easy but I managed a couple of decent shots.

The BBQ was lit when I arrived home so the Trout were gutted, wrapped in foil with butter, garlic and parsley and chucked onto the hot coals. Fresh Trout, delicious.

Tourists-not for the Purists

'I'm sure Izaak Walton would approve of pig-sticking a pellet fed farmed Salmon on a Dog Nobbler, sounds like fun' came the text message. 'Not one for the purist' I replied, but surely fun and enjoyment are what fishing should be all about. So there we had it, it was booked. Nick and I on our annual fly fishing trip were off to Palm Springs, a little puddle in the Leicestershire countryside stocked with farm bred Salmon. Neither of us have ever landed a Salmon before wild or manufactured and these fish are definitely the latter but a catch, any catch would be a personal best.
The website states that it is not the same as traditional Salmon Fishing(understatement) but it is the best chance of catching an Atlantic Salmon on rod and line(true) and that they fight as well if not better than their wild relatives(doubtful!).
I was the first to arrive, met the owner Ben who was very helpful and stood aghast brew in hand watching big fish leaping about all over the place. It looked like it was going to be 'shooting fish in a barrel'. First impressions can be deceptive.

With hindsight I should have taken more photos of the leaping Salmon but I was so desperate to feel the tug from one I concentrated on the fishing. Strong tackle was the advice proffered on the website and I set up my 8weight fly rod with a fifteen pound leader. Ben told us the most productive method was a dark fly, as big as you've got fished slow and deep. I took this on board and started with a black bodied, maribou tailed gold fritz headed lure.
Nothing is ever as easy as it seems though and during the next six hours we tried every lure in the box. We retrieved slow, fast, deep, shallow and all the while the Salmon splashed and leaped. It felt like we were being teased and taunted. Nick lost his temper and on several occasions he shouted profanities at our tormentors.
Having been through the box once I re-tied on the black maribou fritz and skimmed it all along the bottom at a pace so slow it was almost static. Was that a touch? I thought it might have been or maybe the fly just caught some weed but then the weed started to pull back-it was a fish! Sadly it didn't stay attached for very long but at least our spirits were lifted by this lost unseen adversary. I recast quickly, waited for the fly to sink to the bottom and then started the retrieve, figure of eight, extremely slowly. It became obvious that this was what the fish wanted and another took the lure. This time however it was properly hooked, one leap, a few surging runs and before long it was beaten. Not a monster at 5lb 2oz but a stunning fin perfect pb silver Salmon, it really was in excellent condition.

Now we knew exactly what the fish required I gave the exact same fly to Nick and although it took a while eventually it worked for him too and he hooked up to his own hard fighting fish. Our patience had been awarded and he landed his own Salmon just a bit smaller than mine but again another perfect specimen.

We fished on for about a half hour but that was it for the day, quite pleasing that there was a certain symmetry to it.

So our first ever Salmon apiece. I am sure that we will not be rushing back there sometime soon but we came to the conclusion that you have to try everything once-purists might not agree!!

A Fun Evening with Carp.

"Fancy stalking a few Carp on floaters for a few hours". "Sounds like fun lets do it, I'll bring my fly rod". "There's no room to cast but we will catch um under the rod tip so give it a go". "See you later then"
That was the text conversation between Martin and I earlier in the afternoon and we met up at Warwick racecourse later that evening.
As the light started to fade we baited the margins with floaters and waited to see where the Carp turned up. The fly rod was loaded with *8 floating line, a six foot 8lb hook link and a glued-on dog biscuit on a strong size 12 hook. Before the first lips started breaking the surface and sucking in the free offerings. Most of the action seemed to be around an overhanging willow, full of snags including a dead tree that had several branches reaching out of the water like a zombie climbing from a grave.
I cast amongst the free offerings and waited. Several fish avoided the bait turning away at the last moment which was both exciting and frustrating at the same time before finally one waddled into the swim and fed with abandon, mopping up everything in sight including my bait. A solid strike met with the hoped for resistance and all hell broke lose. The fish made an immediate bee-line under the willow searching out the dead tree snag and inevitable freedom. I grabbed hold of the line and held on with all my might, the dead tree swayed as the Carp got really close but my luck held and enough pressure was exerted to turn the fish back into open water.

With the rod taking on its full curve I now had control of the fight and before long the net was slipped under a feisty 12lb 3oz Common, my biggest ever on a fly rod.

The commotion had ruined the swim so when Martin pointed out another fish feeding in a reed bed further down the bank I jumped in there.
The fish itself was not visible but the swaying reeds gave away its position all too often and I dropped a biscuit in the vicinity. It didn't take long before a big pair of lips came up between the fronds and 'gloop', my bait disappeared. Again no mistake on the strike and the fish on feeling the hook made a bid for freedom. In fact it made several runs that I was powerless to stop, only being able to slow it down by clamping my hand on the drum of the reel. The 'netsman' tried his best but to knock it off the hook but eventually the fish rested in the folds of the net after what had been a good ten minute battle.

Another common this time weighing 15lb 2oz, another fly rod pb, (rosettes for everything Jeff!)
I know I should have worn 'camo' but we did take the compulsory stare at the tail shot!

Why??

Lenches Lake Trout Fishing

Top lake catching the sun

With limited time available and the local Warwickshire Avon still out of sorts my best option to get a fishing fix was to grab a fly rod and head down to the Lenches Trout lakes. The Lenches is a pair of crystal clear spring fed lakes complimented by a stunning Scandinavian club house where the proprietor serves up free tea and coffee plus bacon sarnies at a small cost. It is packed full of photos and tackle and has a unique character of it's own, a civilised place to begin a fishing session.
My 'go to' fly for Winter stillwater fishing is a homemade gold headed red lure with a marabou tail and today once again it did not let me down. First cast I felt a touch but the fish must have grabbed the tail, third cast and I hooked into a small Rainbow. It put up a spirited fight on the light gear but I won the battle and netted a near 2lber.

Winning fly on the rod handle

My lack of confidence meant I only bought a three fish ticket and in just over an hour I had filled my card, the killer fly accounting for all three, the second fish even taking the fly on the drop. "It's too easy" I told the chap back in the clubhouse. We chatted about all things fishing over a complimentary coffee and I decided to up my ticket to six fish, it was far too early to go home yet.
I changed fly to a cat's whisker to make it more of a challenge and it worked, no bites, just one follow that ended in a refusal. The clouds dissipated as well which did not help.

A better day than forecast

After a fruitless hour the fish seemed to suddenly switch back on and two more were netted in quick succession both around the two pound mark. Time was marching on and I was just beginning to think of packing up when the line tightened and I struck into a very angry fish. It set off on a run unlike all the others stripping the fly line almost to the backing before I managed to turn it. Without me knowing a knot had formed in the fly line at my feet which luckily slipped through the rings and from then on I had to play the fish at distance trying to avoid it making other runs against the knot and risking a snap off. Eventually I started to gain the upper hand and pulled the knot back carefully through the rings and  down to my feet, thereafter making sure that it stayed there no matter what the fish did. With an aching shoulder I finally landed the best of the day weighing over three pounds.

Ticket filled for the second time that day and it was home time. Fishing 'itch' satisfied for another week but still desperate to get back on the rivers if only it would stop raining!

Fishing friends reunited

Crystal clear 

I am not a big fan of facebook but it is occasionally useful for keeping in touch and finding old friends. I had not seen or even heard from my old fishing buddy Nick Hammond for more than 15 years and it is almost 20 years since we last fished together so you can imagine my excitement as I pointed the car in the direction of Avington Trout fishery and a rendezvous with my old mate and some big Trout.
Avington fishery is an intimate complex of three shallow lakes, chalk stream fed with crystal clear water giving superb visibility and wonderful stalking opportunities. It is located in the stunning grounds of Avington Hall just outside of Winchester and is stocked with some absolutely gorgeous Trout, excellently conditioned full tailed fish. On site there is a well stocked tackle shop, gutting and cleaning facilities and a cafe bar.
The fishery opens at 8am and despite the 80-90 mile journeys we both arrived at virtually that time on the dot. We purchased three fish tickets and went for a recce round the lakes chatting away and spotting fish. The water was so clear that Nick joked it would be easy to just foul hook them.
The far end of the middle lake was teaming with fish so we started there and and within a couple of casts my companion shouted across that he was in, hooked perfectly in the dorsal! His claims of accidental fell on deaf ears considering that it was his idea only moments earlier. His protestations of innocence continued throughout the fight but as we landed the fish it become the source of mickey taking for the rest of the day. That aside it was a good start to the day.

He had caught it on an orange lure so I changed to the same fly, which Nick pointed out was ridiculous as the fish had not taken it properly but it worked and the next cast I landed a 6lb 14oz caught fair and square in the chops.

The rain had started so we took shelter and over coffee caught up on events over the last two decades. Between the ages of 11 and 17 we had virtually lived at each other's houses (when we weren't fishing-which was a lot) so it felt quite surreal chatting away after all this time. Once the rain had passed we went back to the fishing, I took the next fish and we decided to slow down, we had all day and didn't want to bag up too quickly.

Nick fished on while I went for a wander, with only one fish needed for my limit I went in search of a biggie, and I found one patrolling the far margin. It would have to wait though as a pub lunch was calling, far too civilised!
On the outskirts of the estate is the Bush Inn and I would thoroughly recommend it, fine ales, lovely food and a nice beer garden bordered by a babbling chalk stream.

I plumped for the Stilton Burger.....

Nick went for Gammon and duck egg.

With bellies full we returned to the fishing, I found the big Trout which was now named Walter ( If you have not watched 'On Golden Pond' then do so) and started stalking it while Nick fished further along trying to foul hook anything. Mid-afternoon and he put another on the bank, this time it was mouth hooked.

Meanwhile old Walter got spooked by my amateurish casting at him and skulked off to hide so I landed one of his smaller mates.

Nick finished off his limit not long after and that was the end of the action, a brilliant days fishing and we vowed to not leave it as long until next time!