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!
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