02/02/2025 - Lanzarote round up

My friend Rob hit the big "60" this month and to celebrate a group of us headed off for some winter sun on Lanzarote. 

Our base was on the south-western tip of the island near Playa Blanca, so in the weeks running up to the trip I did some research on likely fishing opportunities, with Scott Hutchison's blog here being an excellent source of information. Along with the LRF gear I put in a heavier lure rod and some plugs and jigs to target the bigger pelagic species from the deep water rock marks, althought that would be entirely down to the weather and it was already looking as if it was going to be a bit windy during our stay. Caught the plane from Birmingham at 0900 hrs and by mid-afternoon we were unloading the hire cars at the Villa. Rest of the day was spent settling in, having a quick walk around the local area and then enjoying a few beers watching the sunset.

First morning we had a walk from the villa along the promenade past the lighthouse at Punta Pechiguera and on towards Playa Blanca. The view across to Fuerteventura was spectacular as was the coastline, which was being hit by a heavy swell driven by the north-easterly winds. About an hour later we arrived at the beach at Playa Flamingo, found somewhere to have a cold beer and a bite to eat and took stock of the surroundings. It was a lot more sheltered down at the beach, which is protected by two man-made breakwaters consisting of large rocks and concrete blocks. The arm of the breakwater to the right of the beach looked to be more accessible and provided access to some deep water over boulders. 

Therefore left the others to do some snorkelling and picked my way over onto a reasonably flat rock. Set up a "extended" drop shot rig (see here) with a size 10 wormer hook, baited up with a Gulp! angleworm and flicked it out. Felt it down onto the bottom and started jigging it back. Had a bite straight away and was soon re-acquainted with an old friend from a previous visit to the Canaries, an ornate wrasse, which was followed up to the surface by several of his friends. After about an hour I'd had two dozen, along with a couple of Canary damselfish and a solitary diamond lizardfish. At this stage my friends Rob and Stuart snorkelled round to tell me that they'd seen barracuda, parrot fish, bream and garfish at the end of the arm that I was stood on.

However, rather than risk breaking a leg on the first day of the holiday and with the wind and swell picking up I decided to walk back towards the villa and have a look at one of the big rock pools I'd spotted below the promenade. Made my way carefully down the cliff, dropped my baited rig into the deepest section of the pool...and immediately pulled out another ornate wrasse! Had a couple more followed by a damselfish before changing tactics and tying up a simple splitshot rig to sight fish what looked to be either blennies and gobies sat amongst some boulders in another part of the pool. Turned out it was both as first cast I had a rockpool blenny that was followed by a Madeiran goby, a new species for me. 

Caught half a dozen of each before some rather large waves started breaching the rocks and swamping the pool making it decidedly dodgy to hang around, so I headed back to join the others for dinner - some nice thick tuna steaks grilled on the BBQ. The next day we had an explore of the local area, firstly climbing up and around the volcano that we could see from our villa, Montana Roja, before going on to the salt pans and black sand beach at Salinas de Janubio. 

From there we headed to El Golfo to see the green lagoon at Playa de Los Clicos, before heading into town for a cold beer and a plate of grilled limpets (if eating fish-flavoured rubber erasers is your kind of thing!). Suitably refreshed it was back in the cars and onto Los Hervideros to watch the massive swell smashing into the headland. The following day was as equally full on as for Rob's birthday we drove up to Timanfaya national park. The coach tour around the incredible volcanic landscape was well worth the 20 Euro entry fee and the casual way that the driver threw his vehicle around the corners within inches of viscious looking outcrops of jagged lava provided extra excitement! Suitably entertained we had lunch cooked over a hot air vent before jumping back in the cars and heading back down south to Playa Papagayo.

What we hadn't reckoned with was that access was via five kilometres of teeth-rattling dirt track. However, the stunning white sand beach backed by high cliffs certainly made up for it. Whilst the beach was quite busy with sun worshippers I spotted a track going off to the right and after scrambling down the rocks I found myself perched above a deep gully with a sandy bottom. Starting by casting a Savage Gear Psycho Sprat into the deeper water and then jigging it back parallel to the side of the gully. Third cast I had a confident take resulting in a small Atlantic lizardfish. Had a couple more of these before I let the lure stray too close to the rocks and got snagged up, losing it in the process. 

Switched to Gulp! on the dropshot rig, but this only resulted in one ornate wrasse after another with just the odd damselfish to break the monotony so, after getting snagged up again and losing my rig, I headed back to the beach to see how the others were getting on. Could see shoals of mullet and the odd garfish amongst the swimmers and Rob reported seeing several types of bream near the rocks fringing the bay. However, whilst we were outside of the prohibited period for fishing off Spanish beaches, the additional rule of not fishing within 150 metres of swimmers and divers made me reluctant to chance my arm and risk the wrath of the locals. Therefore contented myself with a quick explore instead before we headed back to the ranch to continue Rob's birthday celebrations. 

The following morning I was up at first light and back down on the rocks near the villa where I found an even bigger rock pool immediately below a large cave that looked like somebody's temporary dwelling judging by the clothing and other items that I could see. Casting my dropshot rig into the deepest section and slowly jigging it back it was a bite a cast. Unfortunately it was virtually all ornate wrasse again and in less than an hour I'd had 28 of the buggers, together with 3 damselfish. 

Rather than use up all of my Gulp! I headed back for breakfast, although I couldn't resist sight-fishing for a couple of rockpool blennies on the way. After breakfast we headed up north again to to walk around Volcan El Cuervo, a virtually perfect volcanic cone, the smooth sides broken by a single gash where molten rock had spewed out to create to surrounding lava field. As a bonus we were treated to the sight of a Barbary falcon hanging in the wind before it stooped into the crater. After that it was on to the caves at Cuevo los Verdes, not actually caves but part of a lava tube formed by molten rock forcing its way out to the sea. After the best part of two days in the car we decided to stay local on the Friday and we all walked to Playa Flamingo again. 

Rather than venture out onto the straight away I made my way onto some flat rocks at the bottom of the headland to the right of the beach. Somewhat inevitably it was the usual wrasse and damselfish that greeted me, so it wasn't long before I was picking my way along the breakwater anyway. Took the dropshot rig off and clipped on a Psycho Sprat intending to give it a proper go with the lures. The wind was coming over my right shoulder, so I was able to cast into the deeper water with ease. After half an hour of thrashing the water I'd only had one small lizardfish to show for my efforts. However, with my interest waning and the thought of a cold beer becoming more and more tempting my lure was suddenly taken with a thump by something that immediately took off at warp speed, bending my HTO Rock Rover double and making the clutch of my reel sing. 

The next 5 minutes were extremely hairy and I expected the braid to snap on a rock at any time as the fish tore up and down alongside the breakwater. Thought it might be a bonito, but as it tired and came up to the surface I saw it was a small jack. I'd not bothered bringing my net, but could see that it had been nailed in the corner of the mouth by the assist hook so swung it up onto my rock at the first opportunity. With a distinctive black stripe over the eye I later identified as an almaco jack, another new species. Unhooked him and then watched him shoot off before carrying on with renewed enthusiasm. However, with just one more small lizard fish to show for my efforts I switched back to the dropshot rig. More ornate wrasse followed and I was on the point of giving up when out of the blue I had a colourful Madeiran rockfish. 

By now I was really in danger of being cut off by the incoming tide, so I quickly packed up and went to join the others for a beer and a plate of fried calamari. On our last full day the consensus was to have a day chilling by the pool. However, I decided to walk along the coast to where a partially built and now abandoned hotel overlooked some large rock pools. The swell that had been bashing the coast all week had significantly reduced and and along the coast I could see a few locals spinning and floatfishing from the rock ledges below the cliffs.

When I got back to the villa I found that a few of the others had gone to check out the other local beach at Playa Dorado. A bit later my friend Jason sent me a picture of the breakwater, which looked far more accessible than the one at Playa Flamingo, so I quickly had a bite to eat, jumped in the hire car and headed over to join them. Was kicking myself that I'd not checked this spot out earlier in the week as halfway along the breakwater the rocks gave way to deep water over sand that looked ideal for putting out a bait rod. Instead I tied on a Psycho Sprat and starting casting out into the open water. Second chuck the lure was taken on the drop by what felt like a small fish, but as I wound it in closer the rod suddenly hooped over. Spent another 5 minutes frantically trying to keep the culprit from cutting me off on the rocks, but eventually saw that I'd hooked a massive Atlantic lizardfish that presumably had sought to make an easy meal of whatever had initially taken my lure.

Popped him back and carried on for a bit, but after no further interest switched over to the dropshot rig. This resulted in a few, much smaller lizardfish before I started getting small, pecking bites and the Gulp! angleworm came back looking like a string of beads. Had an idea of what was responsible and a couple of casts later this was confirmed when I swung in a Guinean pufferfish. Had another soon after, but then got snagged up and lost my rig. I'd gone through virtually all of my drop shot leads during the holiday, so took that as a reason to call it a day. We certainly enjoyed our stay on the island and I had managed to get a few, short sessions in and catch plenty of fish. 

However, the wind and swell had made it impossible to to get out onto the rock marks with the lure rod and I had to content myself with dabbling with the LRF rod in the sheltered spots. The lack of variety of fish was a bit disappointing as I was hoping to add to my tally of bream species, but at last the almaco jack and Madeiran goby were new to me. Cheers Lanzarote!



16/01/2025 - Carpe diem

Finally, some dry and settled weather! When the local rivers eventually started to fine down this week I dared to look forward to getting out again with the float rod. 

It had been a month since my last session and I was getting a bit desperate to wet a line. I'd normally be well into my winter grayling campaign by now, but it had hardly got off the ground with just one session before Christmas. Unfortunately, I had failed to factor in the snow melt that sent levels temporarily shooting up again, knocking any ideas of fishing the Derwent or Dove into touch until next week at the earliest due to family commitments at the weekend. However, another meeting up in Ripley at least gave me another chance to fish the brook, so the gear went in the back of the car together with my shrinking ball of "vintage" cheesepaste. My meeting over-ran yet again but I got everything done and was out the door for 3 o'clock. 

Had left Ripley in bright sunshine, but 15 miles down the A38 it was cold and misty. There were a few, fresh boot prints on the public footpath down to the brook, but once off the beaten track there was no evidence that anybody else had been fishing it apart from myself. Walked downstream from the footbridge flicking a few pea-sized bits of paste into the usual spots as I did so. Settled into my first swim but hadn't had a bite after 15 minutes so with time limited I started walking back upstream. 

Suprisingly had the same result in the next spot, usually a banker, so I was on the move again. Finally got a bite in the third swim, a confident pull round, but managed to somehow miss it, pricking a fish that left an angry boil over the spot where my bait had been a split second earlier and sending my rig whizzing past my ear and up a tree! Sorted out the tangle and gave it a few more minutes hoping he'd come back when realistically I'd missed my chance. The light had started to go by now and the mist had begun to close in, so everything was soon enveloped in a gloomy, grey cloak. Just had two more primed spots to go, so when I drew a blank in the next one I thought I'd been beaten. 

However, the pool downstream of the footbridge finally gave up one of its prizes. Not a monster, but the biggest chub I'd had out the brook so far that did its best to tangle me up in the bankside brambles. Was now pitch black so I decided to end on an high and head back over the fields. Had turned distinctly chilly and by the time I got back to the car my net had frozen solid. Exchanged pleasantries with a lady washing two very muddy lurchers in the layby before heading home. Hopefully I can get a quick session in on the rivers next week. It'll again be a question of grabbing a couple of hours when I can. However, got a "lads" holiday in Lanzarote coming up last week of January, so have got to get the LRF and lure gear sorted! 

13/12/2024 - A mixed bag from the Dove

After constantly checking the weather and the river levels for what felt like weeks it finally looked as if I would have an opportunity to get out after some grayling. The "hump" caused by Storm Darragh was finally out of the way, the main rivers were fining down nicely and it even looked as if the wind was going to behave as well, albeit until the weekend! 

Friday therefore saw me heading south on the M1 and then west on the A50 into Staffordshire. Decided to head to a stretch of the River Dove near Uttoxeter in the hope that it was far enough up the catchment for the level to be somewhere near normal for winter. Got togged up in the empty carpark and made my way across the wet fields, my footprints being the first since the floods had subsided. The river had a nice green tinge to it and, whilst it was still a bit higher than I would have liked, looked perfectly fishable. As I settled into my first swim the first salvos of shotgun fire from the aptly named  "Big Shoot" shooting range echoed across the valley. It always amazes me how the local wildlife have obviously become accustomed to this daily onslaught on the senses.

The flock of geese and the pair of black swans in the field opposite seemed completely oblivious to it all. I had also seen a heron, a little egret and a pair of dippers happily going about their business and as I ran the float downstream for the first time I spotted a kingfisher flying straight towards me. As soon as he noticed me he veered off across to the other bank and as my eye followed him I saw a BIG barbel "head and tail" in mid-river, his erect dorsal fin making him look like a mini shark! However, that's not what I was there for, so I stuck it in the memory bank and carried on with the task in hand, catching my first grayling of the winter season. Surprisingly after half an hour I was yet to have a bite, so I upped sticks and carried on downstream to the next run.

Before I left I flicked a few bits of cheespaste down the near margin as it looked "chubby" and I had hedged my bets and had brought along my quiver tip rod in just in case there was an opportunity. Carried on in the next spot, but struggled for another half an hour before the float finally disappeared resulting in a tiny grayling that did well to get the double maggot into its little gob! Carried on with renewed enthusiasm for a bit longer but to be honest I was struggling to see the float any distance down the swim due to the combined effects of the gloom and the ripple, so was soon on the move again. Next spot was equally dire and it continued in this vein all the way down to the bottom of the section.

With hindsight there was possibly just a little too much water on and it was a bit "boily" to fish the float comfortably, so I slogged it all the way back upstream to the spot I'd primed with my cheespaste. Swung a big lump of paste out onto the crease and had a sit down with a cup of coffee while I decided what to do. A couple of minutes later there was a tap on the rod tip, followed by a confident pull round. The culprit was a fat Dove chub a sliver under 4lb that gave me a good scrap in the current. Popped him back and had a recast, but I was getty itchy feet so quickly packed up and headed back to the car. I'd persuaded myself to go to another section upstream of where the River Churnet joined the Dove in the hope that conditions up there would be better. 

Got there about 2 o'clock knowing I only had a couple of hours to rescue the day, so quickly had another coffee and a bite to eat and then headed to my favourite spot. However, on the way upstream I met another angler with a fly rod who turned out to be the bailiff, so spent 10 precious minutes chatting before we parted ways. Dropped into the river, sent the float down the run preceded by a few maggots and was into a fish before he was out of earshot! Soon had my first decent grayling of the winter in the net. Bumped the next one, had another and then annoyingly bumped the next three fish as well. No issue with the hook, so changed from double to single maggot and didn't have a problem after that. 

After a few more grayling the trout inevitably put in an appearance and I'd had half a dozen out of season brownies when I struck into something a bit bigger that took me all over the river. The bailiff had mentioned that there might be a few salmon in the river at the moment, but when I eventually caught sight of it I could see it was another brown trout. Eventually got him in the net and was amazed by the nature of his markings and how he was almost orange across the back - I'd never seen anything like it. The bailiff came back at this point and was equally flummoxed. I thought I'd caught some kind of hybrid, but a call to my friend Tim from the Wild Trout Trust later revealed that it was just a stockie, the irregular patterned markings and lack of any red spots being the giveaway. 

Carried on until I could no longer see the float down the run, by which time I'd had 13 grayling to just over a pound and 7 trout. Was kicking myself a bit that I'd not come here first having struggled for four hours further downstream However, it's always easier to know these things with hindsight!   

11/12/2024 - Back to the brook

It's becoming a tradition that my first proper grayling trip of the year is on my birthday. Unfortunately, Storm Darragh well and truly put paid to any plans I might have had this year.

However, with a spell of dry weather forecast and with the wind dropping off as well it didn't look as if it would be too long before I'd be able to pursue my favourite species. In the meantime, fed up with Teams meetings and office politics, I found myself yearning for a spot of fresh air, so wrapped up things early and shot over to the brook for a short session into dark. All the gear was still in the car from last time, so there was nothing to get ready. Got togged up and took the less scenic route and slogged along the road rather than slipping and sliding across the fields, so I was bankside in ten minutes, not twenty. Walked downstream from the footbridge priming a few spots with a couple of pea-sized bits of vintage cheese paste. 

I'd decided to travel a bit lighter and leave my chair in the car, but my knees started to make me regret that decision almost immediately after I snuck into the first swim! Happily I didn't have to wait long for the first bite. In fact I was focussing on putting the rod on the rest when I felt rather than saw a sharp tap and instinctively struck. Felt a fish for a split second before it was off, the hook coming back stripped of its cheesy goodness. Quickly re-baited and cast into the same spot hoping that I'd not spooked everything. A couple of minutes later the rod tip tapped again, the strike was succesful and a little chub came splashing to the net. Didn't think I'd get a third chance, so moved onto the next swim. Again, the response was almost immediate, quickly resulting in a second chub. 

Was convinced that he'd have a mate down there with him, so left him in the landing net before making another cast into the same spot. A couple of minutes later his slightly large brother duly obliged and briefly joined him in the net before they both went back to their watery home. Moved on to the next spot and yet again the bait had hardly settled before the tip tapped once and bent round resulting in another chublet. Whilst the biggest fish had barely scraped the pound mark I was really enjoying myself - it was textbook chub fishing in miniature. However, that was curtailed in the next swim! After fumbling a strike when the rod butt got stuck in the long grass I tried a bit too hard with the re-cast and flicked the line over the branch of a hawthorn bush. 

Tried to extricate the rig but just made it worse and had to snap the line, pull the branch in with the landing net and then untangle everything by hand. By now it was pretty gloomy and having forgotten the head torch again I decided not to struggle tying a new rig. Headed back to the car instead, foregoing the last two swims, although I had to retrace my steps after walking about 100 metres without the top section of my rod! Hopefully the weather will behave now and there'll be a few grayling to report next time.

28/11/2024 - Small brook smash and grab

Had another quick go on the Embankment after work for the perch, but decided to try a different spot upstream near the tram bridge. Conditions looked good. The river had dropped slightly and it was mild and overcast. 

Unfortunately, I kept finding snags and after losing several hooks and a feeder and with about half an hour of daylight left I went for broke and headed back to the spot where I caught the 2 lber last trip. However, there was no repeat and I sloped back home without attracting a single bite. Cue bedlam on the weather front. Had to wait until this week for another opportunity to go out anywhere, although things hadn't quite yet settled down after Storm Bert. With the main rivers still too high I therefore had a look at some of the smaller waters on my club books. As it happened I was up in Ripley for a meeting on the Thursday and there was a brook near Derby that fitted the bill and was on the way home to boot. 

I'd fished it only once before in the past, but had managed to catch a couple of chub, so I retrieved a ball of 3 year old cheese paste from the the  freezer and stuck my new light quiver tip rod, bought a couple of seasons ago for this very purpose but as yet untested, and a few bits in the car. Got away from work as soon as I could, but it was after 3 o'clock when I stuck my head over the roadbridge halfway down the section to find the brook carrying a bit of colour but running at a nice level. Went and parked up and then spent 20 minutes slipping and sliding across muddy fields to the bankside. Primed a spot near the footbridge with a few small pieces of paste before carrying on downstream. 

Found the spot where I'd had a couple of fish previously and again threw in a couple of free offerings. Tackle was very simple, a fixed paternoster with a couple of swan shot nipped on the lead link, a 6lb fluorocarbon hooklink to a size 8 widegape with a small Korum paste cage attached with a knotless knot. Moulded a lump of paste around the cage, added a blob of Sonubaits cheesy garlic lava for added attraction and swung it underhand to settle on the crease between the fast and slow water. Reckoned I only had about an hour's fishing before it was too dark to see anything, so was pleased when after just a few minutes there were a couple of taps on the quiver tip followed by a confident pull round. 
Struck into a fish that splashed about on the surface making me think I'd hooked a trout until a small chub rolled into the net. Popped him back, re-baited and swung the lump of paste back on the same spot as I was convinced there would be more than the one fish in there. However, a precious fifteen minutes passed without another bite, so I moved slighty downstream to cover a bit more water.  Put a bait in a new spot close to the base of a tree and only had to wait a couple of minutes after it settled before the tip pulled round resulting in another, slightly larger, chub. Had a recast but another ten minutes passed without a bite and with the light rapidly fading I headed to the swim that I primed upstream. 

Couldn't see much in the gloom so just plopped a bait into the middle of the pool and hoped for the best. The temperature was also dropping rapidly under the clear sky. However, the bite came almost instantly and another small chub came protesting to the net. Got my mainline wrapped around the back of the spool of the reel in the process and by the time I'd sorted this out using the light on my mobile phone it was pitch black, so I packed up and made my was back across the fields and to the car. Had only been fishing for about an hour and, whilst the fish were small, it had been good to get a few bites and christen a new rod. Certainly somewhere to go back again when the main rivers are out of sorts and when I've got more time.

06/11/2024 - A tale of two bites

Spent a few days over in Lithuania at the end of October, visiting our lad in Vilnius. The city is spilt by two rivers, the Vilnia and the much larger Neris, which are home to a wide variety of fish species, including salmon, trout, grayling, asp and nase, so couldn't help peering over the many bridges on our various walks. 

Only a short distance out of the city the surrounding forests are full of secluded lakes and we saw quite a few lure anglers fishing for the resident pike, perch and zander. Perhaps I'll be allowed to sneak a travel rod in next trip! Back home this mild and overcast weather hasn't been good for replensihment of the old vitamin D but has felt distinctly "perchy", so after a rare visit to the office in Nottingham I stopped off at Matchman Supplies in West Bridgford for a pint of red maggots and a tub of dendrabaenas. 

A few minutes later I was parked up on the Trent embankment and walking over the suspension bridge to a spot that I'd last fished a couple of years ago. I knew that I only had about an hour and a half of daylight, but with my Drennan medium feeder rod already set up I was soon settled in at the bottom of the steps. Put the biggest dendra I could find on my size 10 widegape, filled my 30g black cap feeder 50/50 with chopped worm and red maggot and then flicked it downstream towards the bridge support. Felt the feeder hit the gravel with a nice "donk" and started watching the tip like a hawk as based on previous visits I was expecting bites to start pretty much straight away. 

However, half an hour later and despite keeping the feed going in all this time I was biteless, the only distraction the endless procession of university rowers and canoeists. Stuck it out for a bit longer with still no interest, so decided to gamble and move downstream of the bridge. Here the bridge support had created a little slack about the size of a snooker table. Therefore swung the feeder out a bit further hoping it settled somewhere near the far crease between the main current and the slack. After a couple of re-casts the glass quiver tip suddenly jagged round violently and I struck into a decent fish. There was quite a bit of head banging going on, so I thought I'd eventually achieved my target. 

However, that idea was put to rest when a bronze dinner plate appeared on the surface and a Trent snotty rolled into the net. Quickly sorted him out and put a fresh worm out as the light was fading rapidly now, although the diffuse light from the bridge and embankment were just enough for me to make out my quiver tip in the gloom. A couple of minutes later I had another, more tentative bite that I decided to hit. Felt another fish on the end and from the fight was fully expecting this to be another bream. However, when it came up to the surface I saw it was indeed a decent perch that I couldn't get my landing net under quick enough. Got him unhooked and gave him a quick weigh and at 2lb 2oz he was my first 2lb+ perch for a very long time, so was well pleased with that. By now it was getting on for 5 o'clock and pitch black, so packed up and headed back over the bridge to the car. 

Spent the next hour negotiating the rush hour traffic back home! However, if this mild weather continues I'll definitely be thinking about a return.

18/10/2024 - Trotanostering, mugged on the Soar again!

Had about half a pint of maggots to use up courtesy of one of my wife's experiments with her Year 13 class. It had started out as a full pint, so she was a bit surprised when I told her that about half of them had mysteriously disappeared. No doubt there'll be a few bluebottles buzzing around school soon! 

Whilst the Trent and the Derwent were on their way back down after all the rain they were still too high to contemplate fishing. In contrast the Soar had remained pretty steady over the last few days, so I headed down the motorway to Kegworth for a couple of hours after work. As I came off on the slip road I was treated to the sight of a buzzard dropping onto the roadside verge like a stone from his perch at the top of one of the lamp posts before making off with an unfortunate rodent grasped in his talons. Parked the car, walked upstream and crossed the lock, chock full of fallen Autumn leaves. Got to my usual spot to find the river gin clear but still quite a bit higher than normal. The main flow was therefore ripping along the far bank but down the inside it was thankfully much slower.

First trot down resulted in a bait-sized bleak that went straight out on the crease at the tail end of the swim on the paternoster rod. Had added several small roach, chub and dace when the float buried and I found myself attached to something more substantial. Couldn't see it properly because of the floating leaves and foam, but it felt like a decent perch due to the head banging. As it came into range I reached around for the landing net only for the rod to suddenly bend double and the centrepin spin out from under my thumb. Whatever it was had obviously been intercepted by something much bigger that was intent on claiming my prize. As it shot downstream I tried to put the brakes on. However, it was more than my 2lb 8oz hooklink could stand and everything fell slack.

Wound in and had just got a new hooklink out of my bag when the alarm sounded on the paternoster rod and I looked round to see it bouncing in the rests. Rather than a perch, the culprit turned out to be a small jack that tore around the swim before I bundled him into the net. Sorted him out, retackled the float rod and took a minute to take a breath. After a bit of a lull I was back to catching a silver a cast and soon had the paternoster rod out again with another bleak on. As the light began to fade I added a single gudgeon to the species tally. Had given myself until 6 o'clock and when my time ran out I had one more cast. The float had only travelled a couple of metres when it buried and I found myself connected to a heavy lump that just sat hugging the bottom out in the flow. 

Got it moving up towards the surface a couple of times but on each occasion it just went back down again leaving a vortex in its wake. Was starting to think that I'd hooked a rare Soar barbel but on the next try I managed to get the fish up to the surface and saw it was a decent pike. Could only think that I'd hooked a silver fish that had immediately been grabbed. Got it moving across the surface using as much pressure as I dared and it looked as if I might be able to get him in the net before he realised what was happening. However, as soon as the net went near him he woke up and made a bee line for the willow on the far bank. I knew that if he reached the fast water I'd lose him anyway, so gave him some more welly only for the inevitable to happen. 

My float pinged back past my ear into the bush behind me and I watched him him sink back down to the bottom again. Packed up and mde my way back to the car just as it started spotting with rain. That's three sessions now where I've been mugged by pike. Think I'll therefore have to give up on the idea of a perch and come back properly equipped - I fancy a wobbed deadbait, something I've not done for years!