Forecast for weekend was more May than March with a forecasted daytime high of 16 degrees on Saturday and a degree higher on Sunday, so a session had to be on the cards. Decided on the Dove near Turbury, normally reliable for a few grayling.
The only possible fly in the ointment was the wind, and as it looked marginally less breezy on Saturday I got a pass out from the wife until lunchtime. Therefore got up nice and early and was heading West on the A50 as the sky was just starting to brighten in my rear view mirror. Parked up next to the river just as the sun appeared over the horizon, got togged up and then walked upstream through the low mist still covering the fields. There wasn't a hint of any breeze at this stage and the surface of the first glide that I dropped into was as smooth as a millpond. Had a nice grayling early on - a fat hen fish over the pound mark - but then had nothing else over the next hour, despite searching the length and breadth of the swim.
Therefore decided to head upstream, but as I did so a lure angler turned up, so had a quick chat (always looking to gather a bit of intel) before leaving him to try the swim I'd just vacated. Followed the same drill in the next swim and had another nice fish and two smaller ones as I slowly made my way down the glide. My lure-fishing friend turned up at this stage and sat and watched me for a while he had a cup of coffee. Exchanged catch reports - he'd had a couple of jacks - before he headed off futher upstream. He'd only gone a couple of minutes when the float disappeared and I struck into a good fish that shot downstream. Unfortunately I never got to see it as there was an eruption in mid-river, the rod hooped over and then everything went solid.
Whatever I had hooked had been in taken in turn by a decent pike that just sat holding station in the middle of the river. Every so often I felt a thump through the rod, but I could do nothing with it despite giving it full welly with the Acolyte and eventually the inevitable happened and the 3lb hooklink gave up. Felt a bit bad as I'd not only lost a good fish, but I'd served him up on a dinner plate for a hungry pike! Not surprisingly this killed the swim.The breeze that had been forecast was also now making itself felt, blowing straight upstream and making presentation so I decided to head back to my first spot. On the way I bumped into my friend - again, he' d got designs on the swim I'd just left - so I told him about my recent encounter and he hurried off with a nod of thanks and renewed enthusiasm.
Had a few trots throught the first swim but again the stiffening breeze was proving problematic so, with no more bites fortcoming I started to walk back to the car. On the way I spotted a short little run down the nearside bank that was also sheltered from the wind, so dropped in for a couple of speculative casts just as a chap showing an expanse of arse crack plonked himself down in the swim directly opposite. Second trot down and the float buried, resulting in another nice chunk, which piqued the interest of Mr Builder's Bum. Next trot down the float disappeared again. Felt a fish briefly before it came off. Wound in to find one of the maggots had folded over onto the hook point. Doh! Not something you really want to happen on a day when bites are at a premium. Gave it a few minutes longer, but I was on borrowed time by now, so reluctantly headed off.
Again, it had been hard work with just half a dozen fish in almost five hours. Running out of time to turn it around!
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