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?