16/12/2023 - Still here, but it's been a bit of a struggle!

Can't remember a stranger few months - did more sea fishing than anything else during September and October and then work, the weather and illness have conspired against me ever since. 

Did manage a couple of after work sessions in early November on the River Trent, firstly to a free, urban section of the river after my interest had been piqued by a picture of a very large perch taken on a float-fished deadbait of all things. Had a couple of hours with the feeder rod, fishing down the side with lobworm on the hook and chopped dendras and dead maggot in the feeder and whilst I caught a few perch, they weren't of the size I was after. As the light disappeared I took off the mono hooklink and clipped on a trace baited with a small, headless roach deadbait hoping that the deep water close in would harbour a zed. However, half an hour without a twitch on the quiver tip saw me heading home, although I will certainly be making a return visit at some point. 

Second session was closer to home and was solely with zander in mind, a species that is fast becoming my nemesis. Thought I'd cracked it a few seasons ago with a run of fish to just under double figures, but have struggled ever since. Needless to say this session wasn't any different as, despite seemingly perfect conditions, I went home fishless yet again without even the eels bothering me. And then came the rain. What a totally shite period of weather we've had (and are still having)! Never mind giving these storms nice names. I know what I'd like to call them and it's not printable. Eventually the promise of a few, rain-free days resulted in just a glimmer at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately with the ground so saturated the main rivers seemed to be taking age to fall to a resonable level. 

However, higher up in the catchments it was thankfully a different story. Therefore booked a morning off work and headed west on the A50 into Staffordshire with my float rod and a pint of maggots hoping to catch my first grayling of the winter. Parts of the fields next to the river were still ankle deep in water, the ground sucking at my feet with every step, so by the time I got to the top of the section I was puffing like a steam train due to the lingering effects of a "hundred day cough". However, the river itself looked absolutely bang on and after I had regained my breath sufficiently to coax an out of season, but energetic, brown trout out of a small nearside slack on my first cast I thought that I was onto a winner. 

Unfortunately it turned out to be completely the opposite and a bit of a grueller instead. Whilst I stayed mobile and tried as many of my usually reliable spots as possible, I left many empty handed. Where I did manage to tempt a bite it was just from the odd, solitary fish. Didn't help that it stayed gloomy all morning to the extent that I was struggling to keep track of the stick float down the runs and had to change over to one with a larger, domed top instead (although I later realised that I was wearing an old pair of glasses that were at least one prescription out!). By lunchtime I'd just had that one brownie and a dozen grayling to show for my efforts. Called it a day when I failed to buy a bite in my "banker" swim where I'd had not only grayling, but perch chub and dace in the past. Just seemed to have dropped on a day when they weren't having it. Still, at least I hadn't blanked and it had been good to be out and not staring at a screen.

It had also been good to get re-acquainted with the river, which had again done a bit of re-modelling since my last visit resulting in the loss of some swims but the formation of others that will get a proper look at next time. Squelched back to the car, disturbing a buzzard looking for easy pickings in the form of drowned worms. Remind me to ask Santa for some nice clear, cold and settled weather in the New Year!

01/12/2022 - Zander fails and a few paltry pike

Gave myself a couple more sessions to try and break out of the zander rut and for my "lucky" mascot to repay the debt of rescuing him from the floods last winter. 

First one was back on the River Trent. It had hammered down with rain the day before and the river was on the rise, but not too coloured and not yet at a level that was unfishable. Unfortunately what I hadn't accounted for were the floating rafts of flood debris that forced me to fish a maximum of a rod length's out, or risk getting wiped out every five minutes. However, I was still fishing in about 8 feet of water and there was the likelihood that any sensible zander wouldn't be sat out in the main flow anyway. Out of the two rods I was convinced that the one with a lamprey section positioned next to a bush downstream would be the one to go and I had my eyes glued to the tip for any signs of movement. However, as it started to go dark it was the other rod, with a headless roach swung out into open water in front of me, that started nodding instead. 

Wound down and bent the rod into a fish that banged its head a couple of times before getting momentarily snagged up in something soft, but it was quickly out and free again. Reaching for the net I was prematurely congratulating myself for breaking my run of bad luck when the hooks inevitably pulled out! Took a moment before rebaiting and casting out again, but my heart wasn't really in it. The river had continued to rise and when the slack I was fishing started to furiously back-eddy it was time to go. 

Next attempt was on the Trent & Mersey Canal near Burton, usually a reliable venue that has produced zander up to 8lb 4oz in the past.

Weather conditions seemed perfect - mild with not a breath of wind - and the canal was carrying a nice tinge of colour. However, upon reaching "the spot" it was clear from the worn and muddy bank that it had been receiving quite a lot of attention. This was confirmed shortly after I'd put out both rods when a portly chap came wheezing up the towpath and asked me how long I was stopping as he had intended to fish the same swim. Turned out that him and his mates, including "Polski Pete", had been fishing the section solidy since the summer and, whilst they'd had some good zander and pike (which they'd given names to after several re-captures), the last month had been "crap"! Didn't seem to register with him that this was possibly because they'd hammered it. 

As he carried on I could feel my confidence slowly ebbing away and it was nearly at rock bottom when he finally departed with a cheery "I hope you catch something". Fished a couple of hours into dark, changing and moving the baits around, but failed to attract a single bite. More disappointing was that the venue had been discovered and probably sucumbed to angling pressure, let's hope temporarily. For my next session, rather than face the prospect of another blank straight away, I headed out to the River Soar with the pike rods. Again, weather and river conditions seemed perfect. The recent flood had removed the beds of floating pennywort, sending them off to cause a nuisance further downstream, and it was clear that none of the pegs had been fished since the river had fined back down. 

I'd also been and got some sardines from the local fishmongers (cheaper than off Mr Fickling!) to supplement the bait bag, so was feeling pretty confident.

Walked up to the head of the section, flushing a kingfsher and a heron from the reeds on the way, and soon had a sardine and a lamprey positioned in the near and far margins. As the gloom lifted in what passed as a sunrise the sardine developed a life of its own and the first jack soon hit the net. Shorty afterwards it was the lamprey's turn. Didn't have time to put this rod back out again before a fresh sardine on the other rod went off again. Briefly felt a fish on the other end before pulling out of it, although judging by the dithering about with the bait it was probably a tiddler. Still, three runs within the first hour was looking promising. However, as quickly as they turned on, they turned off again! Despite regularly leap-frogging the rods downstream and fishing hard for the next three hours I could only manage one more jack before it was time to pack up for work. 

Think it's time now to pick up the float rod before it gets cold and windy over the next few days. Surely the grayling won't let me down?

10/11/2021 - Zedaches and an unexpected PB!

October flashed by without me wetting a line - more pressing family matters to attend to, followed by a well-earned break in rural France. With things settling down I thought I would take advantage of the continued mild weather and fish some short sessions into dark for the zander. Last seasons zander "campaign" consisted of one trip out onto the cut where I was lucky enough to catch a new canal PB of 8lb 4oz. This time, however, I would be concentrating on a section of the River Trent about 15 minutes from home where I'd had zeds of up to 9lb+ in the past. 

Conditions on the first session seemed perfect - overcast, mild and still. Settled into a previously reliable swim dubbed the "snag pit" and soon had two rods out with a "top & tailed" roach on one and a 3" lamprey section on the other. Was still light when I had a drop back on the lamprey, which had been cast into open water to my right. Wound down the slack and struck into what I thought was the bottom....until it started to move! Whatever it was felt very, slow and heavy and it was intially just a case of steering it away from my other rod and the trees. However, once in shallower water it woke up and there was a couple of big tail slaps on the surface before it shot towards the reed bed to my right. Thought I'd stopped it in time but realised from the grating sensations and angle of the line that it had run through an unseen snag. Slackened off to see if it would free itself, but just kept winding it back into the snag. 

Eventually the inevitable happened and everything locked up solid and I could no longer feel the fish, it presumably having shed the hooks. Pulled for a break with the wire trace coming back "pig-tailed" just above where the top hook would have been. To say that I was gutted was an understatement, particularly as I carried on for another hour and a half without another sniff. 

The following session proved to be a total blank despite renewed enthusiasm and some fresh deadbaits, so tonight was really make or break. Ignored the snag pit this time and instead settled into the next swim upstream, which gave access to a lot more water. Put the roach straight out in front of me and then cast the lamprey down alongside the margins to my left. The bailiff arrived shortly afterwards and we had a quick chat before he took his leave and I settled down properly to await proceedings. Once again it felt a lot milder than forecast, which brought a late plague of midges buzzing 'round my head. Darkness brought some respite from the little buggers, but I'd not had a twitch on either rod until, completely out of the blue, the bobbin on the margin rod dropped off. Picked up the rod and felt the line pulling slowly through my fingers before winding down into what felt like another lump. 

Steered it away from the trees into open water where I was confident that my balanced tackle would do the job and after a couple of short runs and more tail slapping I had the fish on the surface and sliding over the net. I'd not had to use my head torch up to this point, so it was only when I went to lift the net up onto the bank that I realised how big the fish was - not a zander, but a very decent pike. Quickly got it unhooked, into the sling and onto the scales. Thoughts of a twenty briefly went through my mind as the arrow span 'round the dial, but it eventually settled at 19lb 10oz, still beating my previous best by an ounce. 

Snapped off a couple of photos and then had a good look in it's mouth where a recent mark on the lower jaw suggested that this could have been the fish I'd lost a few nights earlier. Let her rest in the net in the margins for a bit before watching her swim away strongly into the darkness. Had no further action, but couldn't have cared less really. Went home in a much better frame of mind, but certainly puzzling over the apparent lack of zander.

17/10/2020 - Like buses!

Going back through my diary I was shocked that my last zander session was nearly three years ago now and the last time I actually caught one was two years before that! That's been partly down to my obsession with grayling, but where on earth does the time go? With the perch proving elusive, I therefore decided that I needed to redresss the balance. Prospects for the weekend looked good so, with the freezer empty, I therefore had quick trip to the tackle shop to purchase some roach deadbaits and contribute to Mr Fickling's coffers in the process. 

Saturday arrived dull and overcast and with no wind so, after working up a sweat in the morning raking up leaves in the garden, I was raring to go. As my last few sessions on the Trent had been complete blanks I opted to head for a spot on the canal that had always been good for a few "schoolies" in the past. Got there at about 5 pm to find the area I wanted to fish was free, so set about getting some baits in the water. I still had to play "hokey-cokey" with a few late boats, including one that did a ten-point turn in my swim. 

This involved judicious use of reverse thrust that churned the water to the colour and consistency of mulligatawny soup and was performed by the driver whilst completely avoiding any eye contact! Eventually everything settled down and I was able to position my head-and-tailed offerings to my satisfaction just a few inches off the far-bank pilings, albeit with sunken rod tips to avoid the constant trickle of leaves floating down the canal. With it being overcast all day and with some colour in the water, I was hopeful of a bite before dark. However, sunset came and went and the normally productive period before darkness passed with just a couple of beeps on the right hand rod. 

About an hour into dark I had just texted the wife to say I was thinking of packing up when the
left-hand rod suddenly stuttered into life. Wound down into a fish that was immediately recognisable as a small zander from the manic head shakes. Unhooked him in the water and left him in the net while I quickly got the rod re-baited and back out again in case he had some friends. Had just taken a quick snap on the phone and popped him back when the right-hand rod went off. Again, wound down to what felt like a similar-sized zed. Had got this halfway back over the canal when the rod I'd only just re-cast went off as well! Bundled the first one into the net, dropped the rod then picked up the other one to feel something much heavier on the end. This fish didn't put up any resistance until it was nearly at my bank and, after a few big headshakes, I saw a long pale shape loom up onto the surface and scooped it into the net, where it dwarfed it's smaller companion. 

Unhooked them both in the water and put the smaller one straight back before having a bit of a breather! When I lifted the net out of the water onto the grass thoughts of a double crossed my mind, but in the torch light it looked long and lean. Scales confirmed a weight of 8lb 4oz - still a cracking looking fish with a big, full tail on it and easily my biggest canal zed. Had to make do with a snap on my phone having forgotten my camera in the rush to get fishing before popping him back. Took a few minutes after that to sort out the rods and get them re-baited and cast out again. Unfortunately, the pack must have already moved on as quickly as they had appeared as the next half an hour was biteless! Headed home at this point contemplating the thin line between success and failure, in this case the few minutes that made the difference between a blank and a PB. Can only go downhill from here!

02/12/2017 - Zzzzzzzzz...and an early morning call

Had two more sessions out on the Trent after the zander. On both occasions the conditions seemed ideal - overcast and ridiculously mild - and, whilst the river was still relatively low and clear, I was confident of a bite after dark. In reality, my confidence was significantly  mis-placed!

On the first evening I moved upstream to fish some deeper water at the junction of the river and the navigable channel bypassing a weir. The feature screamed fish. However, I spent several hours contemplating my feet and my un-moving bite indicators as two deadbaits lay soaking on the bottom, with not even a "phantom" run to pique the interest. 

The second evening was spent tucked out of the way of a howling south-westerly, fishing a deep, near-side slack between two overhanging willows. Popped two deadbaits out and settled down to wait. However, after only about two minutes the tip of the upstream rod knocked a couple of times, then pulled violently downwards as the culprit tried to make off against the bail arm that I'd neglectfully failed to open after casting out - doh! Luckily the offending jack was well hooked and was successfully landed after a short scrap under my feet. My confidence was sky high after that instant result. However, over the next couple of hours it slowly ebbed away until finally, as I packed up after having had no further action whatsoever, it hit rock bottom! With the weather changing and the temperature dropping that was my last planned outing for a zander this year. I only hope that they are more obliging next February/March!

With temperatures hitting single figures, my attention now turned to grayling. At the first available opportunity,  I headed off bright and early along the A50 into Derbyshire to the River Dove to take advantage of falling river levels and a relatively calm and settled, albeit cold, day. Drove down the track to the river in darkness, having mis-judged my arrival time in my keeness to get fishing!

Layered up, pulled on the neoprenes and set off upstream, initially heading for a spot I'd fished with success last season - a long, wide and gradually deepening riffle. Set up the float rod and baited my size 16 Drennan wide gape with double maggot, then quietly slid knee deep into the water. Second trot off the rod tip I had my first grayling, all 5 inches of it! There were a lot of these about - obviously a good year class - and I dropped a couple more off before having my first decent fish.

Over the next few hours I covered as much of the riffle as I could, periodically taking a few steps over to the far bank to fish a new line when the bites dried up and then moving downstream 25 yards to start the process all over again. The fish seemed to be well spread out as it was a case of catching a couple each time I moved and, apart from one solitary chub, it was all grayling. Whilst there was a lot of small fish, I did have a handful around the pound mark that gave me a some fun and games in the current.


When I finally got to the end of the run, I'd had 33 grayling and that single chub. I had bumped or lost at least another dozen, including what would have been the biggest fish of the day just as a chap stopped to talk to me on the far bank (I'm hoping it was a chub!), so was pretty pleased with my first recce of the winter.

Finding out back at the car that I'd got at least three holes in my waders didn't dampen the spirits and I was already planning another trip to catch some more "ladies" on the drive home.

01/11/2107 - Spooky goings on down the river

I suppose I was really a day late, but Halloween was spent giving platelets at the Nottingham Blood Donor Centre, which would have been even more apt had the nurses all been dressed up as vampires. Not to be unfortunately! However, having sourced some suitably-sized deadbaits from Matchman Supplies, I was down on the River Trent the following evening to try and catch another kind of maligned, toothy creature - the zander. 

Headed to an area I'd not tried before, but one with lots of features that I thought would appeal to prey fish and predators alike. Soon had two, hair-rigged deadbaits, heads and tails removed, out in position - one in the mouth of the canal next to where I'd set up and the other in the river down the crease formed at the confluence. A bit later, two chaps with lure gear stopped for a chat, one of them providing some helpful reassurance that the area wasn't known for producing zander!

Not that I was put off, as I've often found that such information freely given is actually mis-information. However, I did concede that perhaps conditions were against me, with a low, clear river and clear skies. Wished them well as they headed off upstream and sat watching the sunset. Was taking a few photos when the drop off on the left hand rod hit the rod rest. Wound down into a fish that came in without much trouble - not my target species, but at least it had saved the blank.

Popped on a new bait and positioned it in the mouth of the canal again. By now the sun had completely disappeared to my right and the moon was rising to my left. The temperature had started to drop, so it was on with the coat to supplement the fleece I'd had on until now. As the moon rose higher it started to cast shadows along the bank and I was contemplating packing up when the drop off on the left hand rod jerked slowly in staccato fashion up to the reel and then stopped. Pulled the line out of the clip and then felt the line pull steadily through my fingers. Wound down to.....fresh air! The bait was still on the hook, but was almost completely scaleless. Cast out to the same spot and the bait had only been in a few minutes when the drop off began its jerky, upward dance once more, but again there was no satisfying weight on the end of the line when I wound down and the rig came back minus bait.


Something down there was taking the mick out of me! Put out a fresh deadbait and hovered expectantly over the rod, waiting for the bite alarm to sound. However, when a couple of sharp "bleeps" disturbed the silence, it was the other rod that showed some indication of interest. After feeling the line pulling through my fingers, I tentatively wound down, desperately trying to feel what was happening on the other end of the braid. However, yet again, my subsequent strike met with nothing and I skimmed an empty rig back across the surface. Put another bait out, but half an hour later I'd not had any further interest and packed up, contemplating a frustrating session. Whilst these "phantom" runs are not a new phenomenon on the river and could be casually attributed to eels, I couldn't help feeling on this particular occasion that I'd been chasing ghosts!

14/03/2017 - The lady, the beast and the snake!

After a quick check of the weather I formulated a plan for my last day on the rivers. Decided to have one last fix of grayling fishing on the intimate little river in Staffordshire I love so much, but with the option of dropping in somewhere on the way home for a couple of hours for something different. 

Dropped in at a tackle shop on the way home from Rothley for the usual pint of "mixed". However, when I got home I found that they'd added dust when I had specifically asked them not to (on previous outings, I had found that dust transferred off wet fingers had gummed up the works of my centrepin). In addition, the measure looked a bit short. Suffice to say, if that had been a pint of beer it would have gone back for a top up! Sieved off as much of the dust as I could whilst wondering how many other times I'd been short-changed. The next morning saw me heading West on the A50. There was already a stiff wind coming from the North-West, which had been a factor in deciding what to do for the day as I knew that the twists and turns and high banks of the little river I was heading for would shelter me from it.  Got to the venue to find the parking spot vacant - that's how we like it! Got togged up, left a note on the dashboard for the bailiff and set off across the fields. A glance at the river confirmed that it was low and very clear, the weed beds that had persisted over the winter clearly visible and the stony bed starting to "green up" with algae and moss.

Got to the upstream limit, set up the rod, donned the bait apron and then settled in at the top of the run. On the second or third cast the float shot away and I had my first grayling of the session. Took a couple more from the run before letting the float travel further downstream into deeper water. The sun had come out by now and was making it difficult to see the float. However, I just spotted it disappear at the very end of the pool before striking into a very different animal indeed. Found myself attached to a heavy, powerful fish that put a proper bend in my Drennan Ultralite. Lost track of how long we battled backwards and forwards, but I began to think that I'd hooked one of the mythical 2lb grayling that were supposed to be present. However, the glimpse of a spotty dorsal confirmed what was actually on the end of my line. Eventually he tired and I was able to admire an immaculate, wild brownie of 2lb 6oz in the bottom of my net. A real beast for the size of river and obviously the apex predator in his own little domain judging by the kype and teeth on him. 

Popped him back, watched him disappear under some tree roots to sulk and then took a few minutes out myself to recover with a cup of coffee. Carried on working the pool for a bit after that, but only had a couple of fingerling grayling, so moved down the next spot. Followed the same pattern, starting at the head of the run before working the main body of the pool, then finally the tail, altering the float as required.         On this occasion I was only taking one or two fish from each spot, possibly due to the level and clarity of the water. In some of the very shallow swims it was amazing to see a previously invisible fish take the bait and then become instantly transformed into mad, gyrating bar of silver when I set the hook. Unfortunately, this probably had the unwanted effect of spooking his mates! 

On the plus side, it was more knowledge in the bank being able to find those spots that worked when the river was low and clear like this. There were also a few fish rising, presumably to some early olives. However I couldn't tell whether these were grayling or trout, but there were enough to warrant thinking about returning with a fly rod later in the year. 

By mid-afternoon I'd got to the large pool where I'd had a few chub and dace in the past. Took a few more grayling at the head before running the float through the main body. Sure enough it disappeared and I struck into a reasonable fish. Whilst I hoped that it was one of the bigger grayling, I wasn't really surprised when Mr Chub popped up instead. Next trot down the float disappeared in exactly the same spot, but this one was more canny than his mate and headed straight for the far bank and into a tangle of tree roots, breaking me off in the process. Fished one more swim, catching a couple more grayling and taking my total up to 42 for the day. It was now 1500 hrs, so I had to make a decision - fish a previously unseen section of the river or head somewhere else? 

In the end I decided to do something completely different for the last knockings of my river season and a couple of hours later I was on the banks of the River Trent with two deadbaits out in the hope of a last gasp zander. As it had been bright and sunny most of the day, I wasn't really surprised that it stayed quiet until it got dark, at which point I had a slow, steady run on the lamprey section on my right hand rod.

Wound down to feel nothing on the end, the bait coming back apparently unmarked. Popped it out again to have the exactly the same thing happen again. Had an inkling of what was responsible, but the next run on the same rod was completely different, the bobbin doing a jerky, staccato dance more typical of the species I was after. Wound down and eventually caught up with the fish, which had run towards me. Felt a decent weight on the end and the tell-tale head-banging of a zed. It came in quite quickly and before I had sorted my head torch out, but I managed to catch sight of a long, pale flank on the surface and got the net ready. Unfortunately, at that point the rod straightened and the lead went flying past my head as the hook pulled out - oh dear, or words to that effect! Re-baited with another lamprey section and put it on the spot once again. However, it was the left hand rod with a roach section that I had positioned off the end of a tree that went next. The Micron beeped a couple of times and the bobbin twitched and dropped off, but there didn't appear to be any line taken. Wound down and had a tentative feel to find something on the end. Switched on the head torch to see a long, thin shape gyrated towards me - yep, a flippin' eel and probably the explanation for the funny runs I'd had earlier. Not that I was surprised as I'd had eels at this time of year from this spot before. Weighed him at 2lb 6oz before popping him back. My end rig had been destroyed in the process and my stomach was complaining, so I called it a day at that point. Just a shame that I couldn't add a "vampire" to the list, but I'v got some closed season plans for them.

26/11/2015 - Snakes alive!

Carried on fitting sessions in for the zander where I could this month, including a couple more trips after work to the Soar and an afternoon on the Trent up at South Muskham. However, despite some perfect (and atrocious!) conditions and a new stock of bait, pickings were very slim and not entirely what I expected. After a blank on the Soar I found myself back on the River Trent in an old favourite swim - the snag pit. The river was up and coloured, but this made the swim even more attractive as it now provided the only slack area off the main flow. I was therefore pretty confident when I cast my two baits out just before dark. Unfortunately, the zander didn't seem to be in an obliging mood. It was well into full darkness and I was contemplating packing up when I saw the tip my left hand rod knocking. I'd cast this one short close to a tree to the left of the swim. Wound down and felt a fish kicking. Didn't feel that big and I assumed it was a small zed until I saw it writhing on the surface in the beam of my headtorch - yes, another eel! This one was absolutely nailed in the bottom lip by the size 6 single and went 2lb 12oz on the scales.

Managed to get a half-decent selfie before popping him back. Hung on a bit longer, but that was that. A few days later I was back, having endured another blank on the Soar in the meantime in absolutely horrible weather conditions. Tim was already in the snag pit, so I went and had an explore further upstream. Again, the river was up and coloured, which limited my choice of swims, but I eventually settled on a slack area behind a reed bed. Put lamprey sections on out on both rods because of the colour in the water and settled down to wait. Had the rod tops up high to avoid a back eddy, so I easily spotted a couple of small knocks on the downstream rod before anything even registered on the bobbin. Picked up the rod and wound down to feel something there - what exactly I couldn't tell. Wasn't until it was in the margin that I saw.....yep, it was another eel! Shorter, but a lot fatter than one I'd had before, and a decent 3lb 10oz. This one didn't play ball with the selfies, which came out looking like I was trying to tie a balloon animal with a cycle inner tube! Fortunately Tim was on hand this time.

Moved swims after this into the bay upstream of Tim. Whilst there was not much in the way of a slack, it was only a slow walking pace a few rod lengths out. Initally put both rods out into open water, but after half an hour with no indications I brought both rods in closer. The left hand rod I dropped in next to a tree. It had been in literally two minutes when the bite alarm signalled some interest. Wound down into a decent fish that thrashed about on the surface in the shallow margins before being bundled into the net. Lifted the net out of the water to find a fat, well-conditioned zander that went 8lb 9oz on the scales.

  

I was pretty relieved to get this one as I was heading for my sixth zander blank. So far, my "zander" campaign has yielded 10 pike, 4 zeds and now 3 eels.....the latter in November! Global warming or am I just a snig magnet??

13/11/15 - Zander, the wilderness sessions!

Back from Wales the plan was to try and fit in as many evening sessions as possible for the zander. A promising report from my friend Tim saw us meet up the very next day on the River Trent near Sawley. He'd had a couple of fish from the same swim we'd fished together at the very end of last season, so late afternoon saw us both squeezed into the "snag pit". Up at our house it was brilliant sunshine and blue skies, but down at the river it was foggy, cold and damp - more suitable for Halloween the night before! Visibility was such that we were casting blind into the murk with no far bank features to aim for. However, Tim was out of the blocks early with a zed of about 5lb before it went dark. Unfortunately that proved to be the only fish of the session, with just a couple of dropped runs and some half-hearted pulls that may well have been chub. Undaunted, we met up again in the same swim three days later. This time the fish seemed even more finicky, but it was my turn to get the only full-blooded run of the evening on my last but one bait. Unfortunately, I lost track of the fish in the dark and it got snagged up on the end of a fallen tree just out of netting range. All I could do was look at it hanging there like a bizarre Christmas bauble! I was contemplating how on earth I could free it when it flipped and managed to unhook itself. It wasn't a big fish, but to lose it through carelessness still hurt (we'll laugh about it later, Tim!). 

The end of the week came and, as I was working down at Rothley again, I returned to the Soar to lick my wounds and hopefully get a fish on the bank. Obtaining more bait had been a real problem in the week. All the local shops had run out of suitably sized deadbaits and promised deliveries hadn't materialised. All I had was a packet of eel sections, a couple of smelt and some sandeels left over from Wales. However, on the plus side, the weather was extremely mild and overcast and, after slipping and sliding down the new access track, I got to the river to find it looking bang on and devoid of other anglers. The sandeels actually looked like a decent bait mounted up with the heads snipped off, so they went on one rod while I alternated smelt and eel sections on the other. My confidence in the sandeel seemed to pay off when the rod with it on started nodding a short while later. However, despite the line fizzing off between my fingers, when I wound down there was no re-assuring weight of a fish on the other end and the hook came back empty. Unbelievably, the rod tops remained stubbornly still after this. It was not until well into dark and just as I was contemplating packing up when the sandeel rod eventually went off again. Thinking this was definitely my last chance, I went through the routine of knocking off the bail arm, feeling the line being pulled out between finger and thumb, before winding down to........nothing. It was a beaten and dejected angler that made his way home that night! 

And then....redemption!

Didn't think I'd be able to fit a session in this week but, when an opportunity arose, I made the mad dash to the Trent at Sawley after work, getting there just before sunset. There was a stiff wind blowing into the snag pit, so I moved 'round to the next swim - bit more sheltered and no snags!  I'd managed to get some deadbaits since last session, so it was a small, whole roach on one rod and a lamprey section on the other. The rods had been in literally minutes when I had a very positive take on the roach rod. Hit a heavy fish and, from the head-banging, knew it was a good zander. When I got it the net I was thinking (hoping?) scraper double, but didn't have time to reflect because the other rod roared off as well! Hit another, heavier fish which made several powerful runs before rolling into the net. Not another zander unfortunately, but a mint, mid-double pike. Left them both in the water while I got the scales and the camera ready as quickly as possible. Weighed the zander first. Not quite a double, but at 9lb 11oz it was a new personal best.

Popped him back and turned my attention to the pike. This turned out to be 14lb 8oz, my biggest this year.

Quick snap and he was back safely as well. I'd literally been on the bank about 20 minutes by this stage, so took a few moments to settle down again and sort out the mess. Thing is, I could have left there and then because I didn't have another sniff! Fishing can be a very funny game......

22/10/2015 - Zander (but mostly pike!) sessions

Had a couple more sessions out on the River Soar for the zander, but you can probably tell from the title of the post that this didn't go entirely to plan! The first was on a navigable section of the river, one I normally fish at the back end for the pike. The odd photograph and snippet of information indicated that zander were present and of reasonable size, but gave no clue as to how prevalent they were. Got there late afternoon while it was still bright and sunny, so found a swim and waited for the boat traffic to die down and the sun to dip below the trees before casting in. Put one bait over to the boats and one down the middle and settled down to wait.

The downstream rod started knocking just as it was getting dark. However, the culprit turned out to be a small pike. This was repeated a few minutes later, only this time I slashed my thumb to bits (again!) unhooking it and then, whilst bleeding profusely and looking for something to staunch the flow, somehow managed to tread on and break my glasses! With no more action forthcoming it was a bit of a disaster, made even worse by the fact that I did my back in a couple of days later and everything - work, cycling, fishing - had to be shelved for three weeks. Needless to say, once I'd got the all clear and had been discharged by the physio, I was itching to have another go, so took the fact I was working down at Rothley for the day as an opportunity to have a couple of hours on the river on the way home. Again, it was bright and sunny when I got to the river, so had a leisurely wander downstream and was pleased to find that "pole position" was vacant. Popped a couple of dead baits out into the usual spots thinking an early bonus pike might be around and wasn't disappointed when the downstream rod started nodding a few minutes later. Turned out to be a nice double of 13lb 12oz that gave me a really good scrap on the feeder rod, going through my other line in the process!

Spent a few minutes sorting out the "knitting" and re-tackling both rods as a result. However, a short while later the downstream rod was off again, resulting in another double of 11lb 1oz that coughed up a dyed, red sprat in the landing net. Had managed to unhook the first one without any mishap, but returned true to form when I caught my middle finger in the second pike's gill rakers - more blood!

Got runs at regular intervals after this, netting three jacks before hooking into another decent fish just as full darkness was approaching. A flying treble caused me a few problems at the net before I eventually had another double of 12lb 8oz on the bank.

Was running out of bait and heading towards last knockings when something tore off with the downstream bait again. This time it was what I was after - a zed of 6lb 13oz. A bit better looking than some of the examples I've had recently with all of its fins intact.  

Packed up after this and headed home. Wales for half-term next, so planning to get some sea-fishing done. After that, more short evening sessions after work and hopefully a few more zeds!

25/09/2015 - An unusual treble

First zander trip of the season on the River Soar and I probably couldn't have chosen less suitable conditions - a low, clear river and a bright, sunny day. There were two others on the section when I got there in the late afternoon - one chap had just set up after the barbel and the other had been chubbing, but had struggled all day. My favoured swim was empty. However, it was far too early to think about putting any baits out, so I messed about with the float rod for a couple of hours, catching bleak after bleak with the odd small chub and dace mixed in. Waited until the sun had dropped and river was in the shadow of the embankment behind me before putting two deadbaits out into the pool. Was getting a few strange pulls and taps on the downstream rod that made me think of crayfish and I was just about to wind it in to check the bait when a couple more determined taps signalled a fish. Not my target species, but at least a jack to start proceedings.

Failed to connect with the next run, winding down and striking into thin air despite the line initially fizzing off through my fingers and the hooks coming back bare. However, when a further opportunity presented itself not long afterwards, the strike was met with firm resistance. This turned out to be a rather empty zander of 5lb 12oz and another one with "frilly" fins, possibly just natural wear from being in the river?

Missed another run after this, but the one immediately afterwards may go a long way to providing an explanation. Responded to a tap, tap on the rod top by opening the bail arm and feeling the line out between my fingers as usual. However, when I wound down and hit the fish all hell broke loose. I was getting such weird feedback up through the line that I thought that I was fighting a fish through a snag on the bottom. The reason became obvious when, after making some headway, a decent eel popped up, gyrating madly on the surface. I'd only just hooked it on the bottom treble and it had then rolled on the line. Took a few minutes to free it from the unholy mess it made of my landing net, but eventually weighed it at bang on 3lb.  

The Soar has turned up a few big eels in matches recently, including one of 5lb 11oz in a Riverfest qualifier (Eels galore on the River Soar). Could they be the reason for some of the mysterious, unhittable runs I've been getting? Apart from completing an unusual predator treble, it also gave me an opportunity to practice my snake wrestling........unsuccessfully!