05/02/2026 - Fed up

Seems to be the case that we are getting increasingly wet winters but this has to one of the worst so far. Every time I look at the weather forecast there is a line of rain icons stretching into the distance. 

Coupled with days where it has barely got light and with temperatures in single figures it has been pretty grim. The local main rivers, such as the Soar, Derwent and Trent have been unfishable for weeks (unless you happen to be a masochistic barbel angler I suppose!), the fields round here being so saturated that any amount of rain just ends up straight in the drainage ditches and down the river valleys. 

Hence why I've been looking at the small tributaries just to be able to wet a line. However, today turned out to be a pleasant change - dry, no biting wind and temperatures scraping double figures, plus the sky, whilst still grey, was at least a lighter shade of grey than previously. I therefore finished work at three o'clock and drove over to the little brook near Derby, which had been fining down slowly but nicely over the last few days. Walked down to the brook, flushing redwings and fieldfares out of the hedgrows and disturbing a group of four herons staanding in the middle of the field, looking like a bunch of old men in grey overcoats with their hands shoved in their pockets. Found the brook running at a decent level with just a tinge of colour, the gravel bottom visible in the shallower runs. 

Feeling full of confidence I baited three of the usual spots with some bits of cheespaste and was settled in with a bait in the water before 4 o'clock. Was briefly distracted by a big, yellow shiny thing that appeared briefly in the sky in the gap between the low cloud and the horizon, but as quickly it appeared it was gone! Gave it half an hour but didn't have a sniff, the only excitement being a female sparrowhawk that ghosted up the brook over the water, veering off into the field when she spotted me. Missed a couple of very tentative bites in the next swim before ending up in the bridge pool as the light was fading. Moulded a fresh lump of paste onto the hook and the swung it onto the crease on the far side. 

Half an hour later I'd not had as much as a tap on the quiver tip and was contemplating my first blank on the brook. Wound in to find the bait intact so just dropped it down the nearside close to the bank. It must have only been in the water for about 30 seconds before the tip pulled round. Struck into a fish that immediately leapt straight out of the water and had me thinking I'd hooked a trout. However, turned out to be a modest but blank-averting chub. Gave it another ten minutes but the sky had cleared, the temperature had dropped and my breath was coming out in clouds, so packed up and squelched back to the car. Need some settled, dry weather so I can get some grayling fishing in but it doesn't look as if we're going to get it any time soon!

20/01/2026 - January blues

It was apparently the most depressing day of the year yesterday, although mention "Blue Monday" to me and it immediately conjours up memories of 1983 - under-age drinking in dingy nightclubs in Birmingham, sticky dancefloors and girls with big hair. 

Saw New Order for the first time at the Tower Ballroom shortly after buying Blue Monday on 12" (original and best version) and remember being in awe of Peter Hook as he pounded out one growling bass riff after another. Happy days! The more modern connotation is a load of old, psuedoscience rubbish to me - just a label on any other ordinary day of the year. However, no getting away from the fact that January has been pretty wet and miserable so far with any glimpse of the sun a rare event. My winter river season has also hardly got off the ground. Lost count of the number of times I've checked the weather forecast and river levels only to have my hopes dashed yet again. 

In the end, with even more rain forecast this week and with conditions less than ideal, I decided to head out for another quick session while I had the chance, so headed over towards Derby after finishing work. Squelched across the waterlogged fields to the brook and had a bait in the water in the first swim by 4 PM. The water clarity was not bad, a nice green tinge. However the level was a good 10 cm higher than last visit, which on a small watercourse makes a bit of a difference. My normal swims were therefore a bit "boily", so a decent lump of cheespaste from my diminishing supply was cast into the quieter spots next to the bank where I thought fish would be lying up. Did my usual trick of being far too hasty when the first bite eventually came, sending the rig flying into an overhanging branch behind me. 

Five minutes spent untangling the mess and with the swim ruined as a result I moved upstream, only to repeat the process. Frustrated by my bad angling and with the sun rapidly disappearing behind the hill I decided to go an sit on the pool below the footbridge. Swung out a lump of paste into the back-eddy on the far bank and had a fast, jabbing bite almost as soon as I'd put the rod down. Left to see if it developed, but the culprit apparently didn't come back. However, when I wound in to recast 5 minutes later I was surprised to find a modest chub on the end of the line! Found that he had self-hooked himself squarely in the top lip and then presumably just sat there. Blank avoided through no skill of my own I kept him in the landing net and recast a fresh bait to the same spot. 

Few minutes later the tip knocked and this time I managed to successfully hook and land another chub of a similar size. Carried on into dark, but the wind had got up quite a bit and was blowing over my shoulder, causing the isotope on the 1 oz glass quiver tip to bounce around and make it difficult to spot bites. Packed up and slipped and slithered back up the hill to the car. Oh well, back to watching the weather and hoping for the best.

08/01/2025 - Before the storm

Despite Storm Guretti rapidily approaching over the Atlantic and weather warnings appearing all over the place, a marginal window of opportunity presented itself for a quick session this morning. 

Had to go to the doctor first thing for a blood test, so decided to see how I felt afterwards. Was decidedly grim outside - only 1 degree Centigrade, grey and overcast - so I was in two minds when I got home. However, most importantly there was little or no wind, so encouraged by the wife ("what's the worst that can happen?") I chucked the gear in the car and set off for Draycott shortly after 9 o'clock. Questioned my sanity as the mist descended the closer I got to the river and with the back end of the car sliding about as I drove down the un-gritted lane from the village. Pulled into an empty car park and saw the river looked spot on - clear and at a nice level, at least 20 cm lower than last visit. 

Got togged up and walked upstream with not even a dog walker in sight and with cat ice fringing the river in the slower sections. Spotted that a resident thrush had been busy judging by the number of broken snail shells scattered around the exposed, cast iron sewer pipe that it been using as its anvil. Dropped into the water in my first spot and had a small grayling on my second trot down, quickly followed my another. I knew from experience that this didn't necessarily mean that I was in for a bumper session as the first couple of casts in a new swim often produces a fish straight away. So it proved, as subsequent bites were slower in coming and after about an hour I moved downstream to the next swim with only 5 small fish to show for my efforts and cold feet. 

Had nothing within fifteen minutes in the new spot, so didn't waste any time and carried on leap-frogging downstream. Picked up the odd fish here and there, but again all small and not in any numbers. Kept tweaking the rig, adjusting the depth and running the float down different lines, but it was changing the single maggot to a double that made the difference, a bigger mouthful possibly more attractive in the conditions. Got down to the sandbar with about 30 minutes left before I had to get back home for lunch. Worked down its whole length without a bite before trying "one last cast". Shallowed up the float and ran it down the inside off the end of the bar. Was taken by surprise when it disappeared, the double maggot offering taken by a feisty little grayling that punched above its weight in the current. 

Had five more in almost as many casts, the last one being the best of the morning, a nice, plump female. Thought it would be a good point to bring the session to a close as I really was on borrowed time by now anyway, so marked the spot as another potential holding area and headed back to the car. I'd had fifteen grayling in total - again nothing huge but better than staring at a screen all morning and then regretting not grasping the opportunity later on. Will now have to see how long lasting the knock-on effects are of Storm Guretti, which duly arrived covering everything in snow in the evening. I've got a new club book for another section of the river further upstream so am keen to do some prospecting!