08/03/2026 - An unfortunate feeling of deja vu

Despite the loss of that trout I felt quite bouyed up by my last session, so when the weekend came around I decided to do some prospecting rather than play safe. Had rejoined a local club after a hiatus of fourteen years to gain access to some more sections of the Derwent. At that time grayling were pretty rare downstream of Derby and I had concentrated on the perch, catching multiple fish over two pounds up to a best of 3lb 3oz, but with them now widespread in the lower river I was keen to try some new spots. 

However, on this occasion I decided to try a section just to the north of the city centre that was meant to have a track record of producing grayling in numbers. Set off nice and early along the A52 but ran into my first issue when I got there. The code for the combination lock on the gate wouldn't work and after several phone calls and WhatsApp messages I finally got through to somebody from the club who told me that they were in dispute with the landowner over access and that he had replaced their padlock (none of which had been on their website). They did direct me to an alternative access but by the time I eventually got on the bank I'd already wasted an hour. Started walking downstream until I came to a nice run that screamed fish. 

Began running the float down the inside, moving progressively further out into the river. However, after 30 minutes I'd not had a sniff. Had one last trot down before stopping the float at the end of the run but when I lifted the rod I found that I'd got a fish on! Must have taken the double maggot as they lifted in the current. Gave a good account of itself all the way back, but unfortunately turned out to be an out of season spotty rather than a grayling. Carried on for a bit more, but was soon on my way again. Downstream the river was quite uniform and with tree-lined banks, so I didn't stop until I came to a big, open horseshoe bend at the bottom of the section. Again, it absolutely screamed fish with a clean gravel bottom sloping away to where the main flow raced along the far bank but with a nice, steadier current on the inside. Started working my way slowly downstream and had got over halfway around the bend before the float eventually disappeared. 

Struck and thought I'd snagged bottom before I felt a couple of heavy head shakes and the Acolyte hooped round. Was clear that I was attached to big fish as it did absolutely nothing except use its weight, forcing me to slowly draw it upstream against the current, before turning and powering off and easily taking back what I'd just gained. This went on for at least ten minutes before I finally caught sight of the float. However, the fish decided to really wake up and had me frantically wading after it as it shot downstream. Caught up with it again and saw a chance of getting into some slacker water on the inside, so changed the angle of the rod to try and make it kite into the near bank. Just as it started to move in the right direction...the hook pulled out. Needless to say, I turned the air blue! Unlike the fish I lost last session where I didn't really have any control from the start, I'd lost this one just through being impatient. Took a few minutes to calm down before resuming. 

About ten minutes later I repeated the trick of lifting the rod at the end of the run to find myself connected to another fish. Turned out to be another brownie that looked like it had a recent and lucky escape from the Black Death. Fished on for another half an hour but didn't have anything else after this and, having promised the wife I'd take her out to lunch, I packed up still kicking myself. Whilst I hadn't seen that lost fish I was pretty sure it was another big trout. However, it was the complete absence of any grayling that was a bit perplexing. On the way back to the car I did pass a small commercial fishing pond by the side of the river. The fact that it was criss-crossed with wires and tape perhaps told it's own story. Went home with thoughts of returning in a couple of weeks time with the fly rod and chucking around some big streamers...

05/03/2026 - A decent session at last (with a twist)

I've probably said before that grayling are my favourite fish and normally the majority of my time over the winter is spent in their pursuit. I would argue that there isn't a prettier freshwater fish in the UK, with their slender, tapered silver bodies turning to pewter as they get older and bigger, the unique pattern of lines of spots, the delicately striped fins with shades of purple and violet, the large, tear drop-shaped eye and, of course, the crimson and orange, sail-like dorsal fin of the males. 

Having only managed just a couple of short sessions so far this season due to all the rain we've been having I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms and in need of a fix.

 

With the rivers eventually starting to fine down to a fishable level I therefore loaded up the car nice and early and headed west on the A50 into Staffordshire, the rising sun a red disc in the rearview mirror. 

Ahead of me the Dove valley was shrouded in mist and at one stage the temperature dipped to 1 degree Centigrade! However, when I reached my destination the sun was starting to burn through the gloom and it promised to be a fantastic day. The river looked in good nick as well, with the gravels clearly visible off the bridge. Squeezed into the chest waders and made my way upstream to the first swim. The club only has a short section of river here and there are only really a couple of spots suitable for trotting in the winter, but having never seen another club member there I fully expected to have it to myself anyway. Therefore sat for a bit trickling in a few maggots whilst waiting for the sun to climb a bit higher before sliding down the bank into the river. 

Sent two maggots on a size 16 Kamasan widegape on their way under the Avon hoping for a first cast fish. A modest grayling duly obliged and I was off the mark, in fact the next six trots down all produced a fish, including a couple of handsome but out of season brownies. 

Things calmed down a bit after that and I got into a rythhm of trotting and loosefeeding. By 10 o'clock I was bathed in full sunshine and felt like the proverbial pig in shit, not only enjoying the fishing but just being out in the wilds enjoying the surroundings with a dipper and a grey wagtail to keep me company.

When the bites eventually died away to nothing I moved down to the other swim and started again. Fished that spot out and then went back to the car for some much-needed scram, having had 28 grayling, including a cracking male of 1lb 6oz, and 12 nuisance brownies. By now it was 2 o'clock and I had a decision to make - try the swims again having given them a rest or go somewhere else. In the end I opted for the latter and headed further downstream to Tutbury. In hindsight I should have stayed where I was because I struggled to find any fish and was only able to add another three grayling to the tally, although one of these was another nice male. Did have a bit of excitement in my final swim. Had just bumped a fish and decided to have one last cast before packing up. When the float disappeared at the end of the run I struck and nearly had the rod pulled out of my hands as a massive trout jumped about three feet in the air before hitting the water like a brick! 

By some miracle I still found myself attached and hanging on for grim death as it shot downstream. However, no sooner had the thought "I'll be lucky to land this" flashed across my mind the fish suddenly turned upstream and started swimming towards me faster than I could get line back on the centrepin. When I managed to take up the slack I found everything had gone solid mid-river, the line possibly caught around some debris on the bottom. Tried everything to try and get it free but suspected that the fish was long gone anyway and had to pull for a break. Oh well, another one to add to the list of tales of "the one that got away" to bore the wife and kids witless. Despite having had a fantastic morning I was feeling a bit deflated when I got to back to the car. 

However, that didn't last long as I was treated to a fantastic starling murmuration over the coffee factory at Hatton and a stop at the chippie rounded off the day nicely. Hopefully be out again at the weekend.

03/03/2026 - Scant reward

Well, we have certainly had some exceptional rainfall here in the Midlands this winter. The period from November to January has been the wettest since records began, with the long-term average (LTA) rainfall exceeded in every catchment across the region. Locally, the Derwent, Dove and Lower Trent catchments received 155%, 144% and 185% of their LTA respectively. 

Falling on fully saturated soils it only had one place to go! The full Water Situation Report for the Midlands for January can be found here. It'll be interesting to see the February report as there has been no let up since and again I've been scratching around for opportunities. Went out for a quick session last week after the rain had held off all day only for it to start pissing down when I was half way along the A52, so turned back at the earliest opportunity. It also put the mockers on any chance of a session at the weekend, the Trent at Beeston yet again an angry, brown torrent. 

It was therefore a relief to see some dry conditions this week, giving the rivers a chance to fine down and me the prospect of cramming some sessions in before the end of the season. In the interim I decided to head out after work to the little brook again. To supplement my dwindling supply of cheespaste I popped into Stapleford Angling for a few dendras and then headed off to Derby. Turned out to be a pleasant afternoon and the wildlife was certainly out enjoying it as well.There was a pair buzzards mewing overhead as I got togged up and as I walked down the field I startled a pair of brown hares that shot off at such a speed that they would have left Usain Bolt dead in his starting blocks. Last but not least I spotted a female sparrowhawk gliding along the hedgeline before it expertly threaded itself through the trees.

The brook had a bit of a brown tinge to it, but was running at a nice level, so flicked some bits of broken worm into a few spots as I walked downstream. Again there was no evidence that anybody had strayed from the public footpath and the onlly prints I saw belonged to a badger and a muntjack. Settled into the first spot, crushing and releasing the scent of wild garlic from the new shoots pushing up thorugh the soil. Threaded three dendras on the hook and swung it out onto the crease. With hindsight worms probably weren't a good idea given the minnow population and I soon got fed up of the tip going back and forth like a fiddler's elbow as the little buggers reduced my bait to pulp. I was therefore soon in the bridge pool with a decent lump of cheesepaste on instead. 

Had to wait until it was nearly dark for my first bite and I found myself hanging on as a decent fish headed for the overhanging brambles on the far bank. Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough because after a couple of big headshakes everything when sickeningly solid. Gave it some slack to see if it would swim out again, but when I tightened up I could see my line disappearing deeper into the vegetation. Gave it a heave and felt something start to move, saw a brief flash of a deep, brassy flank...and then the hook pinged out! Thought the swim would be knackered after that but still had half an hour, so rebaited and plopped another lump of paste into the hole. Was surprised when the tip knocked again a few minutes later. However, this time my strike met with token resistance and I skull-dragged a small chub straight into the net. Oh well, not a blank. 

Decided to call it a day at that point and packed up as v-formations of Canada geese flew noisily overhead back to their roosts after spending all day at the local golf club eating grass and crapping all over the fairways. It's grayling or bust later in the week as I'll be having a day off and heading up to Staffordshire. Fingers crossed!

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.

08/01/2025 - Before the storm

Despite Storm Guretti rapidily approaching over the Atlantic and weather warnings appearing all over the place, a marginal window of opportunity presented itself for a quick session this morning. 

Had to go to the doctor first thing for a blood test, so decided to see how I felt afterwards. Was decidedly grim outside - only 1 degree Centigrade, grey and overcast - so I was in two minds when I got home. However, most importantly there was little or no wind, so encouraged by the wife ("what's the worst that can happen?") I chucked the gear in the car and set off for Draycott shortly after 9 o'clock. Questioned my sanity as the mist descended the closer I got to the river and with the back end of the car sliding about as I drove down the un-gritted lane from the village. Pulled into an empty car park and saw the river looked spot on - clear and at a nice level, at least 20 cm lower than last visit. 

Got togged up and walked upstream with not even a dog walker in sight and with cat ice fringing the river in the slower sections. Spotted that a resident thrush had been busy judging by the number of broken snail shells scattered around the exposed, cast iron sewer pipe that it been using as its anvil. Dropped into the water in my first spot and had a small grayling on my second trot down, quickly followed my another. I knew from experience that this didn't necessarily mean that I was in for a bumper session as the first couple of casts in a new swim often produces a fish straight away. So it proved, as subsequent bites were slower in coming and after about an hour I moved downstream to the next swim with only 5 small fish to show for my efforts and cold feet. 

Had nothing within fifteen minutes in the new spot, so didn't waste any time and carried on leap-frogging downstream. Picked up the odd fish here and there, but again all small and not in any numbers. Kept tweaking the rig, adjusting the depth and running the float down different lines, but it was changing the single maggot to a double that made the difference, a bigger mouthful possibly more attractive in the conditions. Got down to the sandbar with about 30 minutes left before I had to get back home for lunch. Worked down its whole length without a bite before trying "one last cast". Shallowed up the float and ran it down the inside off the end of the bar. Was taken by surprise when it disappeared, the double maggot offering taken by a feisty little grayling that punched above its weight in the current. 

Had five more in almost as many casts, the last one being the best of the morning, a nice, plump female. Thought it would be a good point to bring the session to a close as I really was on borrowed time by now anyway, so marked the spot as another potential holding area and headed back to the car. I'd had fifteen grayling in total - again nothing huge but better than staring at a screen all morning and then regretting not grasping the opportunity later on. Will now have to see how long lasting the knock-on effects are of Storm Guretti, which duly arrived covering everything in snow in the evening. I've got a new club book for another section of the river further upstream so am keen to do some prospecting!

30/12/2025 - Where did December go?

Answers on a postcard please because I haven't got a clue. Okay, not strictly true as work, weather, illness and the usual pre-Christmas madness have all played their part in me failing to wet a line this month. Couldn't even drag myself to the coast while we were down in Pembrokeshire for the festive period for some whiting bashing. 

Back in Nottingham I therefore decided to force myself out of the piscatorial rut I was in and went and got a pint of maggots off laughing boy at Stapleford Angling. At about mid-day and after a quick look at the river levels I headed off to the River Derwent. Whilst about a foot higher than I'd like, the river had been fining down over the last few days and I was sure that it would be clear and that I'd be able to find some fishable water. Parked up in the empty club carpark and crossed over the footbridge as two lure anglers appeared. Said hello and as they turned right I went the opposite direction down to the sand bar. With the extra water on it was a bit "boily" at the top end, but the flow had smoothed out nicely within 25 yards, so that's where I started running the Avon downstream. 

Second cast the float disappeared, the culprit being the smallest grayling in the river! Still, it was my first of the winter season and had saved a blank, so slipped him carefully back with instructions to give his grand-parents a nudge. However, after half an hour's trotting I had only managed to add two more of a similar size. Nice to see in terms of recruitement but they weren't what I was after, so I headed upstream to the back of the island. The main flow was tonking along the far bank and whilst it was a lot quieter on the inside, the river had done some re-modelling since my last visit and it was really shallow. 

Tried running the float throught the slightly deeper, narrow channels but I just wasn't confident that the fish were there and after a biteless half an hour I was on the move again. Headed to a "high water" spot upstream of the pipe bridge to find a tree had come down blocking access to the swim. However, scrabbling down the bank a little further upstream I dropped into a perfect looking spot with a nice even flow down the inside. Was a bit tight and involved trotting the float under another tree suspended over the river, making me wish I'd got my 11 ft Ultralite, but with about three foot of water off the rod tip over gravel it seemed ideal. Had a fish within a couple of casts - another tiny grayling. This was followed by a dace and another four little grayling before I finally struck into something worthwhile. 

Unfortunately I didn't get to see it as it was off almost immediately, the maggot deciding to foldover onto the hook point at a very inopportune moment. However, the very next cast the float disappeared again and I was rewarded with a satisfying "donk" on the rod tip and a proper bend in the Acolyte. After a short fight my first decent grayling of the winter was in the net. This was repeated on the next cast with an even better fish that made several dashes across the surface for the trailing branches to my left, its dorsal waving in the air like a pennant, while I tried to keep my rod tip out of the trees overhead. The last two fish happened to con-incide with a drop in the light levels, so I thought that was perhaps the trigger for them to get on the feed. However, after one more tiddler the swim apparently died. Walked back to the car in the gathering gloom, bumping into the two lure anglers again and who'd had just the one small jack between them. 

Hopefully that was enough to get my mojo back, but I say to myself every year that it's about grasping those opportunities. Until the next time, Happy New Year!