The rain at the weekend put paid to any plans of adding to my tally of Trent grayling. Having confirmed their presence last winter I had been keen to see whether they had established themselves any further and had got any bigger.
However, that will have to wait until next winter now - providing that they've all not been washed downstream and into the Humber that is! Instead I was yet again watching the weather forecast and checking the river levels in the hope that there would be somewhere fishable come the 14th as I'd already booked the day off work in anticipation. On the day the local "lowland" rivers like the Trent and the Derwent were still too high for me, although I suspect that the barbel anglers were probably happy enough given how mild it was. The Dove, however, by virtue of it's flashier nature had recovered far more quickly and up at the top end of the catchment it was virtually back to normal winter level.
I therefore had a leisurely breakfast before heading west once more, hopping briefly into Derbyshire before heading over the boundary into Staffordshire. Arriving at the river I thought I'd made a mistake as at first glance it looked to be far too coloured, but it turned out to be a bit of an optical illusion. A closer look confirmed that there was indeed a bit of colour but I could easily make out the gravel bottom from up on the bridge, so I breathed a sigh of relief and went and got togged up. The club section here is only short, consisting of a single field, and has a limit of two rods at any one time. Whilst all of it is easily wadeable in the summer, there's really only two swims suitable in the winter for trotting that offer easy access into the river combined with a decent, unhindered run.
I was therefore pleased to find that I had it all to myself again and dropped into the first spot, literally sliding down the bank like a big, fat otter and into the footprints that I'd left behind last session. Although the river was only a few centimetres higher than last time, there was noticebly more flow, so I put a couple of droppers of maggots in at the head of the run before I started fishing just to make sure that I had some loosefeed on the deck. If I had a tenner for every first cast grayling I'd have a few quid by now as the very first run through with the float resulted in a fish that dogged about in the flow putting a pleasing bend in the Acolyte. From then on it was steady if not as prolific as last time with the fish coming in bursts, much like the rain.
With my Sundridge bait apron finally biting the dust I'd bought a boilie bag for my maggots that I could hang around my neck. The only problem is that it doesn't have a lid, so during the showers I had to clasp the bag shut by holding my arm across my chest like Napoleon! Would account for the funny looks I got from two teenage girls on the opposite bank, although when they got upwind of me it was obvious that they were smoking more than just tobacco. In between the grayling, I was again troubled by out of season spotties, although I felt a little less guilty knowing that the trout season was only 4 days away, but still encouraged as many of the buggers to unhook themselves before I had to put the net under them!
The dipper was active again, flying up and down the river several times, as was the red kite soaring lazily over the coppice by the bridge. Was also distracted by loud call from the trees on the opposite bank at one point and a quick check with the excellent Merlin Sound ID app revealed it to be a nuthatch, which I eventually spotted before it disappeared higher up into the branches. By lunchtime my interest was waning and my stomach was growling. The bites had tailed off and instead of moving to a different spot I decided to call it a day, consigning the remains of my maggots to the river in a final offering. Finished with 25 grayling and 15 trout, although the bigger fish eluded me once more.
Can't say that I'll look back upon this winter with too many fond memories as yet again so many plans fell by the wayside, mainly because of the weather. Oh well, time to regroup, sort out the tackle and tidy up the man cave now!