05/02/2026 - Fed up

Seems to be the case that we are getting increasingly wet winters but this has to one of the worst so far. Every time I look at the weather forecast there is a line of rain icons stretching into the distance. 

Coupled with days where it has barely got light and with temperatures in single figures it has been pretty grim. The local main rivers, such as the Soar, Derwent and Trent have been unfishable for weeks (unless you happen to be a masochistic barbel angler I suppose!), the fields round here being so saturated that any amount of rain just ends up straight in the drainage ditches and down the river valleys. 

Hence why I've been looking at the small tributaries just to be able to wet a line. However, today turned out to be a pleasant change - dry, no biting wind and temperatures scraping double figures, plus the sky, whilst still grey, was at least a lighter shade of grey than previously. I therefore finished work at three o'clock and drove over to the little brook near Derby, which had been fining down slowly but nicely over the last few days. Walked down to the brook, flushing redwings and fieldfares out of the hedgrows and disturbing a group of four herons staanding in the middle of the field, looking like a bunch of old men in grey overcoats with their hands shoved in their pockets. Found the brook running at a decent level with just a tinge of colour, the gravel bottom visible in the shallower runs. 

Feeling full of confidence I baited three of the usual spots with some bits of cheespaste and was settled in with a bait in the water before 4 o'clock. Was briefly distracted by a big, yellow shiny thing that appeared briefly in the sky in the gap between the low cloud and the horizon, but as quickly it appeared it was gone! Gave it half an hour but didn't have a sniff, the only excitement being a female sparrowhawk that ghosted up the brook over the water, veering off into the field when she spotted me. Missed a couple of very tentative bites in the next swim before ending up in the bridge pool as the light was fading. Moulded a fresh lump of paste onto the hook and the swung it onto the crease on the far side. 

Half an hour later I'd not had as much as a tap on the quiver tip and was contemplating my first blank on the brook. Wound in to find the bait intact so just dropped it down the nearside close to the bank. It must have only been in the water for about 30 seconds before the tip pulled round. Struck into a fish that immediately leapt straight out of the water and had me thinking I'd hooked a trout. However, turned out to be a modest but blank-averting chub. Gave it another ten minutes but the sky had cleared, the temperature had dropped and my breath was coming out in clouds, so packed up and squelched back to the car. Need some settled, dry weather so I can get some grayling fishing in but it doesn't look as if we're going to get it any time soon!

20/01/2026 - January blues

It was apparently the most depressing day of the year yesterday, although mention "Blue Monday" to me and it immediately conjours up memories of 1983 - under-age drinking in dingy nightclubs in Birmingham, sticky dancefloors and girls with big hair. 

Saw New Order for the first time at the Tower Ballroom shortly after buying Blue Monday on 12" (original and best version) and remember being in awe of Peter Hook as he pounded out one growling bass riff after another. Happy days! The more modern connotation is a load of old, psuedoscience rubbish to me - just a label on any other ordinary day of the year. However, no getting away from the fact that January has been pretty wet and miserable so far with any glimpse of the sun a rare event. My winter river season has also hardly got off the ground. Lost count of the number of times I've checked the weather forecast and river levels only to have my hopes dashed yet again. 

In the end, with even more rain forecast this week and with conditions less than ideal, I decided to head out for another quick session while I had the chance, so headed over towards Derby after finishing work. Squelched across the waterlogged fields to the brook and had a bait in the water in the first swim by 4 PM. The water clarity was not bad, a nice green tinge. However the level was a good 10 cm higher than last visit, which on a small watercourse makes a bit of a difference. My normal swims were therefore a bit "boily", so a decent lump of cheespaste from my diminishing supply was cast into the quieter spots next to the bank where I thought fish would be lying up. Did my usual trick of being far too hasty when the first bite eventually came, sending the rig flying into an overhanging branch behind me. 

Five minutes spent untangling the mess and with the swim ruined as a result I moved upstream, only to repeat the process. Frustrated by my bad angling and with the sun rapidly disappearing behind the hill I decided to go an sit on the pool below the footbridge. Swung out a lump of paste into the back-eddy on the far bank and had a fast, jabbing bite almost as soon as I'd put the rod down. Left to see if it developed, but the culprit apparently didn't come back. However, when I wound in to recast 5 minutes later I was surprised to find a modest chub on the end of the line! Found that he had self-hooked himself squarely in the top lip and then presumably just sat there. Blank avoided through no skill of my own I kept him in the landing net and recast a fresh bait to the same spot. 

Few minutes later the tip knocked and this time I managed to successfully hook and land another chub of a similar size. Carried on into dark, but the wind had got up quite a bit and was blowing over my shoulder, causing the isotope on the 1 oz glass quiver tip to bounce around and make it difficult to spot bites. Packed up and slipped and slithered back up the hill to the car. Oh well, back to watching the weather and hoping for the best.

25/11/2025 - Like buses

Apart from the fact that the reservoirs are still filling up, the drought over the summer now seems a distant memory. Autumn came to a rather abrupt and dramatic end as well, more so in some parts of the country than others. 

Last week the in-laws down in south-west Wales were subjected to the "Pembrokeshire Dangler", a meteorological phenomenom (try saying that after a few) that can occur at this time of year due to a combination of the weather and relatively warm sea temperatures. Cold north winds are funnelled down the Irish Sea picking up moisture as they go and then dumping it on the land, in this case as heavy snowfall - cue lots of pictures on social media, severe weather alerts and travel disruption. Didn't have it so bad in Nottingham but made me realise how changeable things can be this time of year and how important it is to make use of any weather window. 

I couldn't have timed my last session on the small brook any better as less than 12 hours later the rain had swept in sending the levels shooting up again. Could see a similar opportunity coming this week, the only difference being that the temperature was now in single figures rather than low teens. It also happened to coincide with me being up in Ripley, so once I'd finished up at work I shot down to Derby. Was settled into the first swim by 3.30 PM, having baited up the usual spots with some free offerings. Last session the bites had been instantaneous, so after swinging a lump of cheese paste out onto the crease I sat with my hand hovering over the rod handle. However, apart from a couple of tiny knocks the tip failed to register any proper interest and after a 15 minute soak I wound the bait in to find it had been whittled down to virtually nothing. 

Moved into the next spot but again had to wait before the tip eventually tapped a couple of times and I struck into thin air. Recast but had no further indications, but then wound in to find a minnow impaled on the hook so at least something was feeding! The sun had long disappeared benind the hill by and it was getting very gloomy, so I upped sticks again as a flock of redwing flew noisily overhead. Had made the mistake last time of leaving it until it had gone fully dark before dropping into the pool below the footbridge, so hadn't really been abe to see where I was casting to. This time I was able to drop the lump of cheese paste right on the crease formed by the willow on the far bank. 

Started getting little regular taps on the quiver tip so struck to find a mint, little chub attached. He must have been just sat on the bait munching away as the hook was well down and needed the forceps. Put him in the landing net to recover and to stop him going and scaring his mates and cast out again. A couple of minutes later, tap, tap, tap and another chub was in the net. Again, retained him rather than putting him back and cast out to the same spot again. Tap, tap, tap and a third fish was drawn into the net with token resistance, although it turned out to be the biggest of the night. The late, great Tony Miles had a theory that the biggest chub in the swim always let his smaller, less-experienced brethren investigate the hook bait first and as long as you were able to remove these with minimal disturbance you would eventually be in with a chance of catching the big one. Took a quick snap of the three amigos before sending them on their way this time. 

Did have one final cast, but wasn't expecting anything else after that to be honest and so it proved. Just shows the line line between success and failure - three casts in the right spot had produced three fish in less than fifteen minutes. Packed up and headed back to the car with the temperature dropping rapidly. Hopefully if the rain holds off the Dove or the Derwent will be fit for a grayling session at the weekend, but we'll see.

13/11/2025 - Small brook blitz

Been looking for an opportunity to get out all week on the little brook and having already been thwarted twice and with Storm Claudia on its way it was now or never. 

Luckily it promised to be a nice day with no rain and the strong southerly wind that we'd been experiencing all week dropping off to virually nothing before switching to a colder and less welcome north-easterly. Therefore finished work at 3 o'clock, jumped in the car and set off along the A52 towards Derby. My tackle and bait had been in the car all week ready for a quick getaway and the interior had taken on a fetching aroma of "vintage" cheespaste as a result. Half an hour later I was parked up and yomping down the field to the brook, which looked absolutely perfect - fining down but with just the right amount of colour. Reckoned I had about an hour and a half before it got fully dark so only planned to fish a few, reliable spots.

These I pre-baited with a few small pieces of paste as I walked upstream. As last season, there was no evidence that anybody else had been fishing the brook recently, if at all - too far to walk for most and nowhere to plant a seatbox when you did get there. I'd just got my rod, landing net, rod rest and a small bag of bits as I intended to stay mobile. Watched a kingfisher for a few minutes in the first swim while the loose feed worked its magic and then swang out a lump of paste dotted with some Sonubaits cheesy garlic "lava" out onto the crease. The bait had hardly settled when the tip of my 8 foot Specialist Quiver knocked a couple of times and a hasty and over-enthusiastic strike sent my link leger whizzing past my ear. 

Managed to repeat the feat on the next cast, so sat on my hands and waited for the quiver to properly pull round, resulting in the first chub of the session. Quickly added a second but then started striking into thin air again, possibly due to small fish pecking at the bait rather than swallowing it, so moved down to the next swim having already used up a chunk of my time. Again the action was instantaneous - chub really are so obliging! Added two more to the tally in consecutive casts before snagging one of the little tiddlers that had been bothering me. Had to wait a bit longer in the next spot and again it was just a small one so with the light rapidly fading I headed to my final swim - the pool downstream of the footbridge where I'd previously been stitched up (twice!) by a much better chub. 

Once more, I had a bite straight away but not from the stamp of fish I was after. Carried on as the gloom descended but rather than bring more bites the darkness seemed todiscourage them instead. Packed up and headed back up the hill to the car, puffing out clouds in the beam of my head torch. Hadn't had anything huge but it was nice to get a bend in the light rod and I'd caught more fish in 90 minutes than in a whole series of Mortimer and Whitehouse (Aaaah, but it's not just about the fishing, is it?). Got home the same time as the wife who'd come back from the vet with the cat £1500 lighter after some dental work, x-rays and various tests!  Weather absolutely shocking tomorrow, but looking promising again next week, albeit a lot colder, so hopefully some more smash and grab sessions will be on the cards.

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! 

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.