14/03/2025 - A mixed bag to finish

Last week was spent aimlessly messing about, although to be fair the weather was all over the place - cold, gusty wind, bright sunshine, squally showers, sleet and even hail. 

Had a couple of hours on Tuesday soaking some cheespaste on the River Soar for a couple of hours. However, missed my one, proper bite while I was taking arty photographs of the sunset through the trees on the far bank! Then had another short session on the Trent near Beeston on Wednesday to check that the grayling were still there and worth targetting. Managed to catch one small one that at least answered the first question but not the second, which still left me with the quandry of whether to renew my club book or not next year. 

Therefore thought I'd play it safe for the last day of the river season so I booked onto a club section of the River Dove up in the wilds of Staffordshire. The club only allows two anglers on at a time, but I've yet to share it with anybody else and wasn't expecting to this time either, even at the end of the season. Grayling were the target, although the quiver tip also went in the rod sling just in case an opportunity for a chub arose. Had a leisurely breakfast before chasing my own shadow westwards on the A50 towards Uttoxeter in bright sunshine. Caught a glimpse of the river as I dropped into the valley and, as I thought, the banks were empty. Parked up the van, made myself a quick cup of coffee and then headed across the field to the river. 

From the top of the bank I was a bit shocked to see how low it was, the bottom clearly visible all the way across to the far side. Could also see that the gravel was covered with a snotty, brown filamentous growth of spring diatoms. My confidence having taken an early hit I dropped into the river and got down to business. Second trot down the run the avon disappeared and I was into my first, albeit modest, grayling. Confidence immediately restored I carried on, although I had to work hard for the bites, running the float as far downstream as my crap eyesight would allow and periodically taking a couple of steps further across the river to change the line. Had had a few small grayling along with the odd, nuisance brownie when I struck into something bigger that hung out in the current. 

Following a dogged fight I had a cracking dark male grayling in the net that went 1lb 4oz onthe scales. Popped him back and watched him swim off in the clear water, his dorsal fin waving in the current like crimson pennant - one of the best sights in angling. After finally exploiting the width of the river I moved downstream to the next spot. Had a couple of small grayling and a couple of spotties before hooking another cracker, also bang on 1lb 4oz. Looking at my watch I found that 4 hours had flown by, so decided to break for lunch having had a dozen grayling and 9 trout. Whilst the fishing had been relatively slow I'd seen no end of bird life including, two pairs of feuding dippers reinforcing their territorial boundaries, ravens, buzzards, a kingfisher, tree creeper, grey wagtail and a female sparrowhawk that flew straight downstream just past my rod tip. Back at the van I made myself a sausage and bacon cob and another cup of coffee and thought about what to do with the rest of my day. 

Decided to drive a short way downstream to a different club section downstream of Rocester where I'd had some success in the past and would also be in with a chance of a chub. Fifteen minutes later I was amazed to pull into an empty car park - where was everybody? Not that I minded! Made the long walk over the rig and furrow to the first swim, disturbing a little egret and a pair of lapwings in the process. Clambered down the steep bank to a small platform at water level to find a little pile of remains where something had made a snack of a signal crayfish judging by the red claws. Another angler appeared appeared on the opposite bank at this point. Like me he was after grayling and chub, but hadn't had anything all day despite trying several spots, including the run I was just about to fish. 

Not encouraging news and after a biteless half an hour, I moved on. Had a small grayling from a spot I'd not tried previously - a short run at the tail of a deep pool - before moving on again, dumping the majority of my gear in a swim where I'd had a few chub in the past. Managed to find a few grayling in the next spot, catching half a dozen in quick succession but nothing of any size, so with an hour of daylight left I headed back to my chub swim and got the quiver tip rod out, initially casting a black cap feeder full of maggots out onto the crease. After 45 minutes I was about to change tactics when the tip pulled round resulting in a chub of about 3lb that gave a good account of itself in the current. With the light fading, I took off the feeder and replaced it with a link leger with a big lump of cheese paste on a size 6. However, as the sun set on another river season I failed to attract any further interest, so packed up and made the long trudge back to the van. 

Ended up being a reasonable day out, but on the whole it's not a winter season to write home about for me. Oh well, there's always the next one and there's plenty to do in the interim!

08/03/2025 - Still struggling

Forecast for weekend was more May than March with a forecasted daytime high of 16 degrees on Saturday and a degree higher on Sunday, so a session had to be on the cards.  Decided on the Dove near Turbury, normally reliable for a few grayling.

The only possible fly in the ointment was the wind, and as it looked marginally less breezy on Saturday I got a pass out from the wife until lunchtime. Therefore got up nice and early and was heading West on the A50 as the sky was just starting to brighten in my rear view mirror. Parked up next to the river just as the sun appeared over the horizon, got togged up and then walked upstream through the low mist still covering the fields. There wasn't a hint of any breeze at this stage and the surface of the first glide that I dropped into was as smooth as a millpond. Had a nice grayling early on - a fat hen fish over the pound mark - but then had nothing else over the next hour, despite searching the length and breadth of the swim. 

Therefore decided to head upstream, but as I did so a lure angler turned up, so had a quick chat (always looking to gather a bit of intel) before leaving him to try the swim I'd just vacated. Followed the same drill in the next swim and had another nice fish and two smaller ones as I slowly made my way down the glide. My lure-fishing friend turned up at this stage and sat and watched me for a while he had a cup of coffee. Exchanged catch reports - he'd had a couple of jacks - before he headed off futher upstream. He'd only gone a couple of minutes when the float disappeared and I struck into a good fish that shot downstream. Unfortunately I never got to see it as there was an eruption in mid-river, the rod hooped over and then everything went solid. 

Whatever I had hooked had been in taken in turn by a decent pike that just sat holding station in the middle of the river. Every so often I felt a thump through the rod, but I could do nothing with it despite giving it full welly with the Acolyte and eventually the inevitable happened and the 3lb hooklink gave up. Felt a bit bad as I'd not only lost a good fish, but I'd served him up on a dinner plate for a hungry pike! Not surprisingly this killed the swim.The breeze that had been forecast was also now making itself felt, blowing straight upstream and making presentation so I decided to head back to my first spot. On the way I bumped into my friend - again, he' d got designs on the swim I'd just left - so I told him about my recent encounter and he hurried off with a nod of thanks and renewed enthusiasm. 

Had a few trots throught the first swim but again the stiffening breeze was proving problematic so, with no more bites fortcoming I started to walk back to the car. On the way I spotted a short little run down the nearside bank that was also sheltered from the wind, so dropped in for a couple of speculative casts just as a chap showing an expanse of arse crack plonked himself down in the swim directly opposite. Second trot down and the float buried, resulting in another nice chunk, which piqued the interest of Mr Builder's Bum. Next trot down the float disappeared again. Felt a fish briefly before it came off. Wound in to find one of the maggots had folded over onto the hook point. Doh! Not something you really want to happen on a day when bites are at a premium. Gave it a few minutes longer, but I was on borrowed time by now, so reluctantly headed off. 

Again, it had been hard work with just half a dozen fish in almost five hours. Running out of time to turn it around!

28/02/2025 - Hard going all round

Friday last week promised to be a dry sunny day with light winds, so I booked the morning off for a quick grayling session on the Derwent. Didn't reckon with the hard, overnight frost that had me scraping the car windows. 

I just hoped that it hadn't knocked the fishing on the head. Whilst it was fairly bright when I eventually left the house, as I descended into the river valley it became increasingly foggy and the temperature dropped a couple of degrees to below freezing. Got togged up in the empty car park and made my way across the footbridge, which looked like  a portal into another world! The river, however, looked spot on with just a hint of colour. Made my way upstream in the gloom, interested in seeing what re-modelling had occurred following the winter floods. However, apart from a couple of fallen trees it looked pretty much the same as twelve months ago. Dropped into the swim at the top of the section and sent the float down the run. 

After a few minutes I had my first bite but, after a couple of heavy thumps on the rod tip, what felt like a decent fish came off. After that bites proved hard to come by and after an hour in the swim I'd only had three grayling, including a baby not much longer than my forefinger. Moving downstream, the next two spots were complete blanks and so I found myself in a usually reliable swim downstream of the island with little to show for my efforts. The sun had burned off the fog by now and it had turned bright and sunny. Would this bring a change? First trot down the float buried and I had the first decent fish of the morning that gave a good account of itself in the fast flow. Thought my fortune had changed and that I'd dropped on them at last, but had another fruitless half an hour before moving on again. 

Headed to "the beach" downstream of the footbridge and found that the sand bar deposited last winter had disappeared and the swim was now slow, deep and boily, so carried on a little further to a nice walking paced glide. Again, had a fish fairly quickly but then it was back to scratching for bites and after one final fish I'd had enough. Unperturbed I decided to venture back on Monday afternoon with the remains of the maggots. Finishing off work as quickly as possible I was out the door for 3 PM. It was again bright and sunny when I arrived on the bank half an hour later but, in contrast to my last visit, the temperature was well into double figures and warm enough for me to dispense with my jacket.

With time limited I focussed on the swims I'd caught in last time but after an hour and a half I'd only had one small grayling that I'd somehow lasooed around the tail, so it didn't really count. Dropped into the last swim as the light was fading and managed just one more - at least it was hooked in the mouth. Left slightly perplexed and wondering where the hell all the fish had gone! With the pleasant weather continuing into the week I'd also booked Wednesday morning off but, not wanting to flog what was obviously a dead horse, I decided to follow up a lead instead.

Scott in Soar Tackle had mentioned seeing a big pike during a match on a local section of the River Soar so, after scraping 'round for a few deadbaits, I bought a day ticket online and headed off bright and early. The section in question was opposite some boat moorings, so started off putting a bluey into a gap between two barges and a lamprey down the nearside margin. After half an hour without a sniff I leap-frogged upstream and again put one rod over to the boats and the other down the side. 

After another 30 minutes I was contemplating moving again when the float over the far side started bobbing. Seemed to take an age for the fish to commit and eventually trundle off, but when I wound down I must have pulled the bait straight out of its gob judging by the slash marks on the flanks. Doh! Put it back out for a bit longer hoping for another chance that never came, so moved swims once more. As I was doing so a chap stopped and asked how I was getting on and mentioned that a 17 lber had been caught recently just upstream, so at least confirming I was in the right area. Put both baits out over the far side next to a floating pontoon and was again on the verge of moving again when I saw one of the floats bob and then move off. 

Gave this a bit more time and waited until it had built up a head of steam before hitting it but, even then, the resulting jack was only hooked in the nose by a single point of the bottom treble, which promptly fell out in the net. Tried a couple more spots after that, but had no further interest so headed home for lunch. Again, a bit disappointing despite the glorious weather and regularly being buzzed by at least three different kingfishers, probably more interested in each other than in me. At a bit of a loss what to do next!