09/07/2025 - Summer trotting part II (dozens of dace and a bit of improv)

Whilst still windy, conditions had improved enough to encourage me to head out again with the float rod. Had seen off a pint of maggots in my previous session, so popped in to see Scott at Soar tackle just before he shut for the day only to be told that there was a national bait shortage - conditions too hot in the breeding sheds for the flies to lay eggs apparently! 

Luckily he had enough left for a generous pint measure and after renewing my club book I headed down to the River Soar near Kegworth. As usual, only the pegs nearest the carpark had seen any use and the further upstream I went the more overgrown it became, so by the time I had crossed the lock and onto the island I was fighting through shoulder high nettles.  Had a surprise when I got to the swim - the overhanging willow on the far bank had gone, presumably removed to improve the view of the newly installed summer house in the garden opposite. Needed the bank spike and rope to get down into the water, but once installed I started running the float down the foam line followed by a good handful of maggots. 

Missed the first few bites, the maggot coming back crushed, before snagging a fat minnow....but then the dace arrived! Fished the float for three hours and it was literally a fish a chuck. Had fifty fish in the first hour - predominantly dace, with some small chub, roach and bleak thrown in. Second hour I bettered that with sixty-two fish. By the third hour I must have been flagging because I "only" managed fifty-six! At this stage I decided to give the float rod a rest and got the feeder rod out instead in the hope that a better fish might be hanging out at the end of the swim. Swung the black cap out and let it settle but hardly had time to put the rod down in the rest before the tip starting bouncing away. 

Again dace were the culprits, including the best of the session. Was bringing this in over the lilies when a fish made a half-hearted grab for it on the surface. Assumed it to be a small jack but when the water settled I saw a very big perch slowly turn and ghost away out of sight into deeper water. Interest well and truly aroused I unhooked the dace and dropped it into a hole in the pads in front of me. Almost immediately the water erupted as a decent pike shot out of its hiding place, bashing into my front rod rest and waving a stripy tail in the air in its eagerness to grab a free meal! Was in a quandry now as I was tempted to try for the perch with a livebait, but didn't really have the proper gear with me to cope with a pike. 

In the end I had a scrabble around in the bag and found enough bits to cobble together a paternoster rig. Decided to use quite a small bait and it took a while before I caught one I was happy with. Lowered the rig over the lilies and then settled back to watch the quiver tip. Wasn't long before the tip jagged a couple of times and then hooped over. Grabbed the rod and wound into a fish that obviously wasn't a perch, entering into a war of attrition as it shot out into mid-river and then just held station in the flow. After applying as much pressure that I dared I started to make headway and as I got it up to the surface and drew it towards me I could see the bait hanging outside the mouth of a nice pike. Just managed to bundle it into the net before it realised what was happening.

Whilst it had the head and length of a low double it was very lean so quickly unhooked him, the size 6 lodged nicely in the scissors, and made sure he had recovered before sending him on his way. With him hopefully out of the picture I soon had another bait out and again it wasn't long before the quiver tip signalled some interest. This time it was the target species, but was a fraction of the size of the perch that I had seen earlier - the little, greedy bugger! Gave it a bit longer, but with the light dropping and stomach rumbling I called it a day. Had been a mental session and I'll be back for that perch. However, the temperatures for the rest of the week are heading for the thirties again, so I'll probably leave it until it's more comfortable for me and the fish!

07/07/2025 - Summer trotting part I (F*ck off, wind!)

Have never really been in a hurry to get down the rivers bang on June 16th, preferring to let the rush die down first. This season, when I haven't been up to my ears with work, it's either been too bleedin' hot or too windy for my liking. However, with the wife away for a few days I didn't really have an excuse not to get out - better than just moping around the house as I usually do! 

I therefore popped down to the local tackle shop for a pint of "mixed" and headed down the River Derwent after work with the Acolyte and the 'pin. Despite some much-needed rain at the weekend the river had remained stubbornly low. Not quite down to bare bones, but there was quite a lot of gravel and ranunculus showing as I made my way upstream from the carpark. It was also quite windy (what a surprise!) and even better still it was blowing straight downstream, rather than from the opposite bank as hoped. After consigning yet another pair of "breathable" chest waders to the bin I was in a pair of cheapo rubber ones and after slogging along the bank for fifteen minutes it was a relief to get into the river and cool down a bit, although I could already feel the sweat running down my legs! 

The river was so low that I had to wade about halfway across to find a reasonable depth to run the stickfloat down, which unfortunately took me beyond any shelter that the bankside trees had to offer from the frequent gusts. Undeterred I sent the float on it's way and after a few casts had my first fish of the 2025/26 river season under my belt - a decent dace. Added a few more, along with a couple of small chub, but the bites weren't very prolific at all.

After an hour I'd only had a dozen fish, so moved to the next spot downstream, trusting my memory and scrambling blind down the bank throught the rampant Himalayan balsam. Again waded across the river and ran the float down off the rod tip along the trees fringing the far bank. Added a few more dace and a roach, but was getting blown inside out, so moved again in search of a bit of shelter. The next spot was better in terms of lack of wind, but my single maggot hookbait was getting mullered by either fry or minnows and was being reduced to a skin by the time the float reached the end of the run so after just one bleak to add to the species tally I was on the move again. 

Another angler was now in the barbel hole just upstream of the next run that I wanted to fish, so just checked with him how far he was casting down and whether he was happy me dropping in below him. Conscience clear I thrashed the water for another hour, just adding a few more dace. By this time the sun had disappeared behind the trees leaving me stood in shadow and, despite having pulled on a fleece, the gusts across my back had actually made me start to shiver. Decided enough was enough and headed home. Had been a bit of a struggle with only 36 fish over 3 hours. Float control had been an issue and I suppose I could have tried back-shotting, but really I want this wind to do one!

14/03/2025 - A mixed bag to finish

Last week was spent aimlessly messing about, although to be fair the weather was all over the place - cold, gusty wind, bright sunshine, squally showers, sleet and even hail. 

Had a couple of hours on Tuesday soaking some cheespaste on the River Soar for a couple of hours. However, missed my one, proper bite while I was taking arty photographs of the sunset through the trees on the far bank! Then had another short session on the Trent near Beeston on Wednesday to check that the grayling were still there and worth targetting. Managed to catch one small one that at least answered the first question but not the second, which still left me with the quandry of whether to renew my club book or not next year. 

Therefore thought I'd play it safe for the last day of the river season so I booked onto a club section of the River Dove up in the wilds of Staffordshire. The club only allows two anglers on at a time, but I've yet to share it with anybody else and wasn't expecting to this time either, even at the end of the season. Grayling were the target, although the quiver tip also went in the rod sling just in case an opportunity for a chub arose. Had a leisurely breakfast before chasing my own shadow westwards on the A50 towards Uttoxeter in bright sunshine. Caught a glimpse of the river as I dropped into the valley and, as I thought, the banks were empty. Parked up the van, made myself a quick cup of coffee and then headed across the field to the river. 

From the top of the bank I was a bit shocked to see how low it was, the bottom clearly visible all the way across to the far side. Could also see that the gravel was covered with a snotty, brown filamentous growth of spring diatoms. My confidence having taken an early hit I dropped into the river and got down to business. Second trot down the run the avon disappeared and I was into my first, albeit modest, grayling. Confidence immediately restored I carried on, although I had to work hard for the bites, running the float as far downstream as my crap eyesight would allow and periodically taking a couple of steps further across the river to change the line. Had had a few small grayling along with the odd, nuisance brownie when I struck into something bigger that hung out in the current. 

Following a dogged fight I had a cracking dark male grayling in the net that went 1lb 4oz onthe scales. Popped him back and watched him swim off in the clear water, his dorsal fin waving in the current like crimson pennant - one of the best sights in angling. After finally exploiting the width of the river I moved downstream to the next spot. Had a couple of small grayling and a couple of spotties before hooking another cracker, also bang on 1lb 4oz. Looking at my watch I found that 4 hours had flown by, so decided to break for lunch having had a dozen grayling and 9 trout. Whilst the fishing had been relatively slow I'd seen no end of bird life including, two pairs of feuding dippers reinforcing their territorial boundaries, ravens, buzzards, a kingfisher, tree creeper, grey wagtail and a female sparrowhawk that flew straight downstream just past my rod tip. Back at the van I made myself a sausage and bacon cob and another cup of coffee and thought about what to do with the rest of my day. 

Decided to drive a short way downstream to a different club section downstream of Rocester where I'd had some success in the past and would also be in with a chance of a chub. Fifteen minutes later I was amazed to pull into an empty car park - where was everybody? Not that I minded! Made the long walk over the rig and furrow to the first swim, disturbing a little egret and a pair of lapwings in the process. Clambered down the steep bank to a small platform at water level to find a little pile of remains where something had made a snack of a signal crayfish judging by the red claws. Another angler appeared appeared on the opposite bank at this point. Like me he was after grayling and chub, but hadn't had anything all day despite trying several spots, including the run I was just about to fish. 

Not encouraging news and after a biteless half an hour, I moved on. Had a small grayling from a spot I'd not tried previously - a short run at the tail of a deep pool - before moving on again, dumping the majority of my gear in a swim where I'd had a few chub in the past. Managed to find a few grayling in the next spot, catching half a dozen in quick succession but nothing of any size, so with an hour of daylight left I headed back to my chub swim and got the quiver tip rod out, initially casting a black cap feeder full of maggots out onto the crease. After 45 minutes I was about to change tactics when the tip pulled round resulting in a chub of about 3lb that gave a good account of itself in the current. With the light fading, I took off the feeder and replaced it with a link leger with a big lump of cheese paste on a size 6. However, as the sun set on another river season I failed to attract any further interest, so packed up and made the long trudge back to the van. 

Ended up being a reasonable day out, but on the whole it's not a winter season to write home about for me. Oh well, there's always the next one and there's plenty to do in the interim!

25/02/2025 - Beaten up on the brook

Went back to Lithuania at half term to catch up with the lad. Had a pleasant few days wandering around sunny, snowy Vilnius, visiting galleries, indulging in their cafe culture and eating lots of nice food. 

Even fitted in an impromptu cross-country skiing session that turned out to be great fun, if not hard on the arms and calf muscles. Temperatures had been below freezing every day, cold enough for round ice floes, looking like giant, frozen lily pads, to form on the River Neris that runs through the city centre. It was therefore a bit of a shock to arrive back at Luton Airport to find it was 16 degrees! Back in Nottingham my thoughts soon returned to fishing and how I could fit as many sessions on the rivers in the time left available. Looking in my work diary a meeting up at Ripley gave me another opportunity to drop in on the brook on the way home, so the tackle went in the car along with a new, "virgin" ball of cheesepaste, made at the weekend out of the Christmas leftovers from the freezer. 

With the days getting longer I didn't have to rush and was on the bank for 1530 hrs. Baited up a few spots with some bits of paste before fishing them back to the start. The brook was running at a nice level, with a greenish tinge, so I was confident of a few fish. Proved to be case as first cast in swim number one resulted in a greedy chublet. Missed a couple of tentative knocks before moving swim number two. Again, first cast down the side of a tree stump resulted in another chublet that I retained in the net as the swim looked too good just to hold one fish. 

Sure enough, his brother joined him in the net a couple of minutes later. Moved downstream of the tree stump and popped a bait over on the far bank crease. Again, within minutes, the rod tip nodded and pulled round resulting in another chub that, judging by the damage to his tail and gill plate, had survived a recent encounter with a feathered or furred predator. Things were looking good, so I was full of confidence as I moved into my "bogey swim" - one where I was yet to successfuly hook and land a fish despite getting several bites. However, weirdly I didn't have a single touch, althought the bait came back looking as if it had been attacked by something. Crayfish? My final swim was the pool downstream of the footbridge. 

If I was to catch a better fish it was going to be here. Put a fresh lump of paste on the hook, gave it a blob of "lava" and then swung it out into the middle. Again, the bite was almost instantaneous. Struck into a much bigger fish that gave me a glimpse of a deep, brassy flank on the surface before it bored headfirst into some over-hanging brambles on the far bank. Felt everything go solid, so slackened off and felt the line between my fingers. As soon as it started to move again I gave it full welly. However, everything went limp and my rig came back minus hook. Bugger. Re-tackled and gave it a couple of minutes before casting out again. A couple of nods on the rod tip and my strike connected with another decent fish that splashed on the surface before making a bee-line for the near bank. 

Tried to get an angle on it to stop it getting into the over-hanging vegetation but, sickeningly, everything suddenly went slack as the hook pulled out! Luckily any dog walkers had by now disappeared up the field, so they didn't have to listen to the string of expletives that coloured the air. Baited up again in the vain hope that it would be third time lucky, but as the light faded the rod tip stubbornly remained still. To add insult to injury it started raining, so I packed up and trudged back to the car feeling a bit crestfallen. Either of those fish would have easily been my best from the brook so far. Hopefully I'll have another opportunity to redeem myself, although I need the weather to behave itself for the next couple of weeks - not to rain like it's doing now!

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.

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!

20/09/2024 - Trotanostering, back to the River Soar

Had intended to head over the Derwent for my next trotanostering session, but a stiff north-easterly wind knocked that idea on the head. Switched my attention back to the Soar instead where I knew I could tuck myself away around the back of the island. 

However, looking out of the window I was in two minds and nearly didn't go but when I checked the weather forecast and saw the rain at the weekend and the start of next week I thought it was now or never! Was therefore just after 4 o'clock that I crossed over the lock and made my way through the wood. As I got to the river I could that there was somebody in the first swim again. Wasn't my spliff smoking friend from last week, but another chap who had just arrived and put a rod out for the barbel. 

Said hello and carried on upstream past the discarded drinks bottles, cans, sandwich wrappers and fag packets that some idiots had discarded in the undergrowth in the next swim. No doubt that whoever had was responsible had been fishing due to the presence of some empty deadbait packets. However, I certainly wouldn't call them anglers! They'd kindly left the Asda shopping bag that they'd obviously brought everything in so made a note to have a tidy up before I left later. When I got to my swim I saw that the river was a lot lower and clearer than last visit.

So much so that I could clearly see a decent pike sat in the lillies, just keeping station with an occasional lazy flick of a pectoral, but as soon as I lowered myself down the bank and into the river he slowly sidled off in the direction of the willow on the far bank. Got the paternoster rod set up ready next to me and then set about catching a suitable bait. Had three little bleak in successive casts before getting a slightly larger one, which was duly swung out onto the crease. Looked to be turning into a carbon copy of the last session as I quickly added several dace, roach and chub. After about thirty minutes I had my first interest on the paternoster. After a couple of bangs on the rod tip the line pulled out of the clip. 

However, when I got to the rod and wound down there was no resistance. Wound in to find the bleak still on the hook, albeit a bit dazed and beaten up - scuffed rather than with any teeth marks, so probably a perch. Swung him out again and carried on happily trotting away, adding a gudgeon to the species tally. After a few minutes the paternoster rod bounced in the rest again, but then fell still. Twenty minutes later I wound the rod in to find that I'd been robbed and had been fishing with a bare hook, but soon had another suitable bait, dropping this one a bit closer to the willow. Had a flurry of perch on the float rod and it looked as if a shoal had moved in, so when the other rod suddenly ripped off I thought I might have caught my target. 

I soon had that idea dispelled as a spotty torpedo started tearing around the swim instead. What was interesting was that he was accompanied by a much smaller pike that stayed so close to him during the fight that I thought I'd somehow wrapped him up. However, as I drew his companion over the net he turned on his tail and disappeared. Quickly removed the size 6 single from the corner of his mate's mouth, let him recover in the net for a bit, then slid him back a little way upstream. After that commotion the swim died off for a bit, but then the dace moved back in and it was back to a bite a chuck again. Popped the paternoster out near the willow again but this time I barely had time to pick up the float rod before the bite alarm burst into life. 

Wound down not to feel the head banging of a decent perch, but the mad acceleration of jack again. Bullied him into the net - he was shorter but fatter than the first one - got him unhooked and popped him in upstream. When I turned to face my swim the bigger pike that I had first seen when I arrived was back. This time he just sat there and it took a poke with with landing net before he begrudgingly sidled off once more. Didn't bother putting the paternoster out again - there didn't seem much point with so many pike about - but carried on trotting away until it was too dark to see the float. Lost count of how many fish I had, but a single, greedy minnow took the species count to eight. Packed my own gear up and then went and filled the shopping bag left by the morons with the rest of their crap. 

As I passed my fellow angler I could see he was down at the water's edge with his rod bent over. Duly responded to his shout of "can you pass me my net please!" and then watched him play out and land a decent fish. In the net the hoped for barbel transformed into a chub knocking on 5lb. My companion had also packed up and was literally going to reel in when he had the bite so rather than mess about getting scales out I took a few pictures for him instead before he popped it back. 

Was pitch black by now but I managed to get back to the car unscathed this time. Purchased two fish suppers on the way home to placate the wife and round off the day nicely. We'll have to see what the weather does now, but as I write this we've had at least two hours of thunder and lightning and heavy rain. Bye bye summer!

12/09/2024 - Trotanostering, River Soar

Had our third trip of the year down to Slimbridge in the van last weekend to meet up with friends. The campsite is right next to the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal and whilst I'd taken some lure fishing gear the conditions on the saturday morning were too perfect for paddle boarding to ignore - completely still and with little or no flow, despite the heavy, overnight rain. 

Therefore had a very therapeutic paddle up to Splatt Bridge and back, the canal like a mirror and not another soul about - bliss! At one stage I passed over a shoal of bronze dinner plates, lazily finning just below the surface with the odd one rolling and breaking the greasy surface. Had a thunderstorm and more heavy rain overnight, but generally the weekend was pleasant and mild. In contrast the drop in temperature during the week saw me putting on long trousers for my early morning walks for the first time. 

It also started me thinking about some autumn predator fishing. Therefore got work out of the way by late aftrnoon and headed over to Kegworth to see Scott in Soar Tackle for a pint of maggots. Had a quick chat about how he'd got on in the Nationals before heading down to the river. With time ticking on I quickly got togged up and started walking upstream. When I left the house the weather forecast had said that it would be dry the rest of the evening. However the black clouds ahead of me looked decidedly dodgy and made my decision of heading out with just a fleece instead of a waterproof coat seem a bit foolish. Crossed over the lock onto the island and up to my usual swim below the weir. 

Not having seen any other cars parked up at the bridge I was surprised to come across a chap sat in the first peg. Turned out he wasn't fishing and was just checking out the river (and just about to smoke the fat joint he'd just rolled for himself). Might not have been his first as he was keen to chat whereas I wanted to get to my swim. After a few minutes I politely made my excuses and carried on up the bank, although I was sure that I'd see him again. Set up the rods and then lowered myself down the bank with the rope, just as the first wafts of skunk drifted upstream. Plan was to fish the float as normal, but then put out a paternoster for the perch at the tail of the swim once I'd caught a suitable bait. 

First cast the float disappeared and a small bleak was swung to hand - perfect perch fodder - so the paternoster went out straight away. Carried on feeding and trotting, quickly adding dace, roach and a few wasps to the tally. As I thought, it wasn't long before my new friend appeared behind me asking me how I was getting on. What with the noise of the weir and concentrating on hearing what he was saying I missed the first run on the perch rod, finally registering that the bite alarm was bleeping and turning round just in time to see the rod tip violently bouncing and then fall still. Once my companion had returned to his pitch I wound the rod in to find that the bait and my chance had gone. However, soon caught a replacement bleak that was swung out onto the edge of the slack water downstream once more. 

Was a fish a cast on the float rod with a few small chub and a gudgeon adding ot the species count and was in the process of landing a hand-sized perch when the bite alarm on the paternoster went off again and the line pulled out of the clip. Unhooked the perch and got him back as quickly as I could, but when I picked up the other rod and wound down there was nothing there and the hook came back bare yet again. Was getting a bit frustrated as there were obviously fish there, but soon had another bait out on the spot. At this point the heavens decided to open and I was forced to retreat as far under the bush next to me as I could to avoid getting a soaking. Fortunately I could see blue sky following, although it seemed like an age before I could emerge from my temporary shelter. 

The dace had muscled everything else out of the swim by now and I was just lifting one out of the water when the lillies in front of me erupted as something made a unsuccessful attempt at snatching it off the hook, leaving a swirling vortex behind them. Wasn't long after that the bite alarm again signalled interest on the other rod. This time I was straight onto it and had the line out of the clip before the fish. Fed some line out and then wound down to feel a bit of weight. From the way that the fish then charged around the swim it was obvious that it wasn't my intended quarry. Wasn't surprised therefore when feisty jack, neatly hooked in the scissors by the size 6 single, rolled into the net. Decided to end the session there - it was raining again and I was getting a bit cold and hungry, plus I was getting concerned whether I'd make it back up the bank. 

Managed to do that okay, but the rain had also made the path along the bank slippy and treacherous, so I was a bit cautious making my way back to the car.  However, still managed to fall arse over tit, my feet sliding from underneath me despite studded boots - not breaking anything but covering myself and my gear in mud! On to the next one....