Apart from the fact that the reservoirs are still filling up, the drought over the summer now seems a distant memory. Autumn came to a rather abrupt and dramatic end as well, more so in some parts of the country than others.
Last week the in-laws down in south-west Wales were subjected to the "Pembrokeshire Dangler", a meteorological phenomenom (try saying that after a few) that can occur at this time of year due to a combination of the weather and relatively warm sea temperatures. Cold north winds are funnelled down the Irish Sea picking up moisture as they go and then dumping it on the land, in this case as heavy snowfall - cue lots of pictures on social media, severe weather alerts and travel disruption. Didn't have it so bad in Nottingham but made me realise how changeable things can be this time of year and how important it is to make use of any weather window.
I couldn't have timed my last session on the small brook any better as less than 12 hours later the rain had swept in sending the levels shooting up again. Could see a similar opportunity coming this week, the only difference being that the temperature was now in single figures rather than low teens. It also happened to coincide with me being up in Ripley, so once I'd finished up at work I shot down to Derby. Was settled into the first swim by 3.30 PM, having baited up the usual spots with some free offerings. Last session the bites had been instantaneous, so after swinging a lump of cheese paste out onto the crease I sat with my hand hovering over the rod handle. However, apart from a couple of tiny knocks the tip failed to register any proper interest and after a 15 minute soak I wound the bait in to find it had been whittled down to virtually nothing.
Moved into the next spot but again had to wait before the tip eventually tapped a couple of times and I struck into thin air. Recast but had no further indications, but then wound in to find a minnow impaled on the hook so at least something was feeding! The sun had long disappeared benind the hill by and it was getting very gloomy, so I upped sticks again as a flock of redwing flew noisily overhead. Had made the mistake last time of leaving it until it had gone fully dark before dropping into the pool below the footbridge, so hadn't really been abe to see where I was casting to. This time I was able to drop the lump of cheese paste right on the crease formed by the willow on the far bank.
Started getting little regular taps on the quiver tip so struck to find a mint, little chub attached. He must have been just sat on the bait munching away as the hook was well down and needed the forceps. Put him in the landing net to recover and to stop him going and scaring his mates and cast out again. A couple of minutes later, tap, tap, tap and another chub was in the net. Again, retained him rather than putting him back and cast out to the same spot again. Tap, tap, tap and a third fish was drawn into the net with token resistance, although it turned out to be the biggest of the night. The late, great Tony Miles had a theory that the biggest chub in the swim always let his smaller, less-experienced brethren investigate the hook bait first and as long as you were able to remove these with minimal disturbance you would eventually be in with a chance of catching the big one. Took a quick snap of the three amigos before sending them on their way this time.
Did have one final cast, but wasn't expecting anything else after that to be honest and so it proved. Just shows the line line between success and failure - three casts in the right spot had produced three fish in less than fifteen minutes. Packed up and headed back to the car with the temperature dropping rapidly. Hopefully if the rain holds off the Dove or the Derwent will be fit for a grayling session at the weekend, but we'll see.
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