Had our third trip of the year down to Slimbridge in the van last weekend to meet up with friends. The campsite is right next to the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal and whilst I'd taken some lure fishing gear the conditions on the saturday morning were too perfect for paddle boarding to ignore - completely still and with little or no flow, despite the heavy, overnight rain.
Therefore had a very therapeutic paddle up to Splatt Bridge and back, the canal like a mirror and not another soul about - bliss! At one stage I passed over a shoal of bronze dinner plates, lazily finning just below the surface with the odd one rolling and breaking the greasy surface. Had a thunderstorm and more heavy rain overnight, but generally the weekend was pleasant and mild. In contrast the drop in temperature during the week saw me putting on long trousers for my early morning walks for the first time.
It also started me thinking about some autumn predator fishing. Therefore got work out of the way by late aftrnoon and headed over to Kegworth to see Scott in Soar Tackle for a pint of maggots. Had a quick chat about how he'd got on in the Nationals before heading down to the river. With time ticking on I quickly got togged up and started walking upstream. When I left the house the weather forecast had said that it would be dry the rest of the evening. However the black clouds ahead of me looked decidedly dodgy and made my decision of heading out with just a fleece instead of a waterproof coat seem a bit foolish. Crossed over the lock onto the island and up to my usual swim below the weir.
Not having seen any other cars parked up at the bridge I was surprised to come across a chap sat in the first peg. Turned out he wasn't fishing and was just checking out the river (and just about to smoke the fat joint he'd just rolled for himself). Might not have been his first as he was keen to chat whereas I wanted to get to my swim. After a few minutes I politely made my excuses and carried on up the bank, although I was sure that I'd see him again. Set up the rods and then lowered myself down the bank with the rope, just as the first wafts of skunk drifted upstream. Plan was to fish the float as normal, but then put out a paternoster for the perch at the tail of the swim once I'd caught a suitable bait.
First cast the float disappeared and a small bleak was swung to hand - perfect perch fodder - so the paternoster went out straight away. Carried on feeding and trotting, quickly adding dace, roach and a few wasps to the tally. As I thought, it wasn't long before my new friend appeared behind me asking me how I was getting on. What with the noise of the weir and concentrating on hearing what he was saying I missed the first run on the perch rod, finally registering that the bite alarm was bleeping and turning round just in time to see the rod tip violently bouncing and then fall still. Once my companion had returned to his pitch I wound the rod in to find that the bait and my chance had gone. However, soon caught a replacement bleak that was swung out onto the edge of the slack water downstream once more.
Was a fish a cast on the float rod with a few small chub and a gudgeon adding ot the species count and was in the process of landing a hand-sized perch when the bite alarm on the paternoster went off again and the line pulled out of the clip. Unhooked the perch and got him back as quickly as I could, but when I picked up the other rod and wound down there was nothing there and the hook came back bare yet again. Was getting a bit frustrated as there were obviously fish there, but soon had another bait out on the spot. At this point the heavens decided to open and I was forced to retreat as far under the bush next to me as I could to avoid getting a soaking. Fortunately I could see blue sky following, although it seemed like an age before I could emerge from my temporary shelter.
The dace had muscled everything else out of the swim by now and I was just lifting one out of the water when the lillies in front of me erupted as something made a unsuccessful attempt at snatching it off the hook, leaving a swirling vortex behind them. Wasn't long after that the bite alarm again signalled interest on the other rod. This time I was straight onto it and had the line out of the clip before the fish. Fed some line out and then wound down to feel a bit of weight. From the way that the fish then charged around the swim it was obvious that it wasn't my intended quarry. Wasn't surprised therefore when feisty jack, neatly hooked in the scissors by the size 6 single, rolled into the net. Decided to end the session there - it was raining again and I was getting a bit cold and hungry, plus I was getting concerned whether I'd make it back up the bank.
Managed to do that okay, but the rain had also made the path along the bank slippy and treacherous, so I was a bit cautious making my way back to the car. However, still managed to fall arse over tit, my feet sliding from underneath me despite studded boots - not breaking anything but covering myself and my gear in mud! On to the next one....
Don't need ganja man hanging round when there perch to catch.
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