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!
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