14/08/2020 - Back in freshwater

Managed to get to Friday afternoon before I'd had enough of work for the day - a hard negotiated hour's access to a virtually deserted office (very weird) to do some essential scanning and printing, followed by collating and filing back at home. I hate admin at the best of times, but it had been building since March and needed to be done. However, my brain was numb by three o'clock, so I downed tools, stuck the float rod, chesties and bag of bits in the car and headed to Bridge Tackle in Long Eaton for a pint of maggots. A little while later, I was standing thigh deep in the Derwent, running a stick float down mid-river. It had been overcast all day, but the sun had decided to come out just as I was pulling my waders in the car park, so the cool water felt like bliss after a very hot walk upstream. Unfortunately, in contrast to my previous visit, the river was also very low and like tapwater, with the gravel bottom clearly visible across to the other bank. Was therefore surprised when the float disappeared first trot down, resulting in a nice dace. 

Added a few roach, chub, perch and bleak before bites started to slow down, presumably as the fish started to get spooked. I had also bumped or lost a few fish on the way in, which couldn't have helped. A change from the size 16 barbless Kamasan that I was using to it's barbed equivalent seemed to solve that. The kingfisher on the far bank on the other hand didn't seem to have any trouble nailing his supper - there was plenty of fry in the margins for him to go at - and at one stage I had a noisy fly-by from two of them, mates or rivals I couldn't tell.

Gave myself ten more trots down without attracting another bite before I walked a bit further upstream to the weir to see if the fish were up in the oxygenated water. Was also keen to see how it looked in low flow conditions. However, with all the flow funnelling down the far bank and causing a big back eddy on the near bank, complete with the slowly rotating, bloated corpse of a dead frog, it wasn't really conducive for trotting. 

A bit further downstream I forced my way through head high Himalyan balsam, buzzing with pollen-dusted bees, to find that the river had split around an exposed gravel bar with the main flow going to the right. By standing on the end of the bar and running the float down the slower water to the left of the crease formed when the river converged, I had a few more chub, dace and a bonus brownie.

Again the bites dried up after a bit, so I walked back downstream only to find that the next spot I had got my eye on, a nice run along the edge of the far bank trees made possible by the lower water levels, had subsequently been occupied by a barbel angler. Had a quick chat, filing away the information gleaned, before moving a little further downstream to try the pipe bridge. However, here my maggot hookbait was getting mullered every trot down by either tiny chub or bleak, something I soon got fed up with! 

Finally, as the light began to fade I found myself on the gravels where I was able to wade well across mid-river and run my float down close to the far bank, picking up more chub and perch in the process. 

Ended on the best perch of the day before heading back to the car, picking up the cans and food wrappers left by the youths that had been jumping off the footbridge when I had arrived. Nice one lads!