Left it until today for the main rivers to sort themselves out before deciding where I would be heading for another grayling session, this time with the "long rod". Settled on the River Dove near Tutbury and set off down the A50 and into the gloom.
Once again I arrived far too early, so was tempted to pull into the local garage by the sign proclaiming "fresh coffee". Reality was a nasty cup of instant from a girl in her twenties who insisted on calling me "mate" and who had a perma-tan that wouldn't have been out of place on an episode of TOWIE. Weather forecast had been a tad over optimistic as well, with the reading on the dashboard stubbornly refusing to rise above two degrees Centigrade, so I was at least grateful that the coffee was hot! Got togged up and set off downstream into grey, uniform landscape thinking that I perhaps should have brought a loaf and some cheese paste and gone chub fishing instead, especially when I saw that the river was still carrying a bit of colour.
Headed to a swim where I'd done well previously - a long glide with a footpath on the far bank that attracted plenty of dog walkers thereby keeping away the black death. If I was going to catch it would be there. Lowered myself into the river, stuck two maggots on to give them a bigger target to see in the combined murk and poor light and then ran the float down for the first time off the end of the Acolyte. Took me a couple of runs down to get the depth right, but after the third adjustment the float promptly disappeared and I was into a fish! A small grayling came fighting all of the way to the net, to be followed by five more of his brethren in subsequent casts, including a nice male of about a pound. Hmmm, perhaps I made the right decision after all.
Next trot down my strike met with a bit more resistance and thoughts of an elusive two pounder immediately crossed my mind. However, after drawing the fish up carefully and slowly upstream against the flow, I raised the rod to get it up onto the top and scooped the net under a decent chub instead. Swim seemed to die off after that, so I moved 25 metres down the glide and started again, adjusting the depth once more until I was happy that my double maggot offering was just tripping bottom.
Was soon into fish again and put another half a dozen in the net before it went quiet. My right index and forefingers, having been in contact with the back of the centrepin for an hour, were completely numb by now despite my neoprene gloves, so I took the opportunity to warm my hands up under my armpits before deciding where to go next. Headed upstream into the gloom that, if anything, had got even greyer and mistier. Tried a couple of likely looking spots without any success, but my mind was really on another of my "banker" swims. Second trot down in said spot the float disappeared and my strike met with a thump. However, the fish gave the game away by making a determined run for a bankside bush and then a dead reedbed.
I therefore wasn't really surprised to see a black-edged tail rather than a big dorsal fin waving above the surface as I bundled another decent chub into the net. Popped him back and carried on but, try as I might, I could not buy another bite so headed off upstream again. I was into unknown territory now, having not ventured this far before. However, I reached the upstream limit disappointed after finding that there were no more suitable swims. Walked back towards the car, briefly considering whether to drop into the swim where I had started, but decided to head home for a proper coffee instead. Gifted the last few maggots left in my bait apron to a friendly robin before heading back along the A50, the display in the dashboard still showing two degrees!
Had been a bit of a struggle and I had been grateful to drop on those fish in the first hour, otherwise it would have been a different story. Hopefully I can squeeze another session in before the New Year, so Happy Christmas until then!
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