Testing my new toy.

There are countless undeniable facts in fishing, two of which are; 'the anticipation of catching your first fish on a new rod is wonderful feeling', and 'perch cannot resist lob worms'. I experienced both recently! You see last week I purchased me a bargain new rod. Unlike most of my new gear this rod didn't come from either the local tackle purveyor or some discount tackle website. It actually came from Keith Jobling who after a fervent evening of clicking and bidding ended up with five of them if I recall correctly. The rod in question was a Shakespeare mach 2, 9ft wand, and after unwittingly winning most of the rods he had bid on Keith began selling them off to recoup his outlay. Some time ago but whilst chatting over a few civilised drinks one evening he mentioned to me he still had one left and thus arrangements were made for me to purchase the final remaining wand, with the idea that it would be perfect for plundering my local brook in the depths of winter when I can't be arsed to drive anywhere.

Anyway the rod deal was finally done and I found myself with a new toy. Though I am way off using it on the local trickle, the sight of it glistening in our dining room did get me thinking that I would like to give it a go to see how it handled. Previously I had planned to go down to the secret squirrel hole on the canal to do some zander fishing and it seemed a great idea to take this wand along to see if would conjure me up a few nice sergeants.

It was actually Keith who put the idea of free lining worms using its lightest quiver tip in my head, so once the zander rod was cast out I left that to do it's thing and took some time to get to know this wicked little bit of carbon a bit better.

Since seeing how fish had reacted to my baits and rigs on the Itchen a few weeks ago I have obsessed a little on how my baits look and act underwater, and although I would never in a million years be able to see my baits in this latté coloured canal, the idea of having nothing on my line at all bar a hook seemed to my minds eye the perfect low resistance rig. The length of the rod too seemed perfect for this job as well, being only 9ft long. I found that if I sat well back from the canal I could position the rod with only the last foot or so hanging over over the canal. This enabled me to either fish a few inches over depth or actually suspend my worm off the bottom a little. I was amazed to see that the super sensitive tip actually registered if the weight was off the bottom or not.

This was too perfect a scenario to go wrong and soon enough that super sensitive tip twanged once as a perch engulfed the worm, then bent the rod immediately afterwards as the fish moved off. Although the first comers were small by this stretch standards, I can hand on heart say that I did not miss a single bite for ten fish. Then soon enough some bigger billies turned up and Jesus did they pull that light tip round! It took only one bigger fish for me to reposition my rod rests into more of a river stance with the rod pointing into the air slightly to prevent the delicate tip contacting with the bank edge and damaging the tip when a big perch ate my bait.

Even some little zander got in on the action, especially when my bait was off the bottom, though their bites were so different from the perch; they came with zero warning and just hooped the tip round just like a barbel bite scaled down.

Speaking of zander, I had totally neglected my zander rod which had strangely been rather inactive for most of the morning; even watching the float from the corner of my eye it had registered zero interest. When I recast though it went off within five minutes. Zander sometimes flummox me outright. My rig when cast out again had landed literally four feet from where I had originally cast and I know this area is a bit of  a zed hotspot. So I suspect the culprit was certainly in the area of the bait originally and for what ever reason would not go for the little dead roach in its first position.

The first one that took my dead bait was little more than two pounds and came in very quickly. The second one really gave it the big one, shooting all over the canal shaking it's head in fury trying to rid it's mouth of my biting hooks. I did think at first it was a more serious canal zed but once in the net it shrank a little. The savage fight was explained though easily by the size of its tail. 

I don't think I have ever seen such a massive tail on such a small zander. That thing could make a marlin feel inadequate about the size of its rudder. After that though the zander-like perch became rather cagey in their feeding. I did scrape a few more perch here and there, but like most canal sessions for me they last as long as my patience does with the boat traffic and that is not that long.

As for the new rod I have to say that I am over the moon with this little carbon wonder. Not only is it just the right length for near side shelf fishing on the canal but the super sensitive tips are great in close quarters and it also doesn't lack in power for a rod rated to only four pound line.  I suppose in naming it a wand Shakespeare were spot on as it really does fell magic at times and I can't wait to try it out on the sow come winter.

Those maddening darn Roach

Those who have cast a line for a big Roach will already know of the fickle nature by which they can possibly feed, and do not need me to remind them of the maddening ability to pluck a Roach develops around the age of 10oz. With a barbel, carp or pike and their developed methods of capture, angling them has become simple in a way. Simple in that once the finned culprit has the intent of your bait upon it's mind it comes down to a simple choice of yes I am going to eat it or no I am not. Whereas in the case of the not so humble big Roach it becomes a case of sucking, plucking, blowing, spitting and possibly maybe even eating. Add into this infuriating equation a flowing river and a recipe for madness is complete. Oppositely there are those days when like all fishes the big Roach can be as stupid and gullible as an angler in a tackle shop; to be on that bank on that sacred day is the provision of a lucky man, one whom in the past may have stumbled over a pile of rocking horse droppings and landed face first in a patch of four leafed clovers. But for most of us even if we know the location of a sacred shoal and we enjoy angling for a pound of silver in our net, we will have to endure a little madness as payment for the honour.

Having decided that Roach were to be my quarry of the day, I wondered as I drove south in the dark whether if by magic today was to be my day again, as I have had only one other real roach red letter day in the past.

Though before feeders filled with bread crumbs arc across the Warwickshire sky, another darker date stood before me. I do find it hard these days to visit the Avon without a a Zander rod in my quiver. Even if like on this trip I only have a short while to await for that single nod of my rod that might indicate the subtle intentions of a Zander. I still do it.

Early on as dark became light I had two enquiries in quick succession. I wouldn't say I missed them, just that the Zander responsible for both bites had a change of heart at the last moment, and put down my dead Rudd bait for reason only known to them. Although I suspect my pack of frozen glassy eyed fish may have been in and out of the freezer one to many times to be considered fresh.

Done with distractions of the predatory kind I shoved off upstream to the spot I knew I would fish. Ever since my arrival I had been watching it out of the corner my eye hoping no wasteful lure angler would pass through and ruin the whole area searching for a pickerel of a pike, which would probably not look twice at there gaudy rattling lure. 

Winters and floods change the dynamics of swims easily, and this one was changed since I last cast here. The flow is now channelled awkwardly across the centre of the swim and worse the soft biting fish lie just beyond the entire pressure of the  Warwickshire Avon on a small gravel run. The swim will again change when the next flood rips away the barriers accumulated on the far back which on this occasion hinder me. But for today it is just a case of making do.

It takes me a while to figure where my bait ends up on my first cast. Unlike a feeder full of wetted ground bait which sinks fast, a feeder stuffed with fluffy liquidised bread sinks slowly allowing the river to catch it and deposit it much further downstream than a wet crumb feeder. 

It's making bottom at least two metres further down stream than I want it to, so I compensate by flicking it further into the flow and my calculations are rewarded with a bite. Albeit a very subtle one. 

A few more loads of bread clouding through the water gets them in the mood and the tip now dances feverishly as fish pluck at the bread. Then finally a tiny sliver blade wriggles in after the feeder. The hooked fish drives off the shoal and I have to wait a while for the next bite. But once that comes they once again begin to compete.

A proper bite results in resistance on my light rod and a beautiful 13oz roach is landed and my hopes that the red letter day could begin get higher.

After this the madness begins! The shoal is disrupted and for all I can figure are moving round the swim. As the bites seem totally random, I focus as we are told, on one area, and try to hit the same spot again and again which does seem to get them in line a little. They have no confidence but infuriatingly are still interested in eating.
How many bites I strike at and miss grows quickly and my-patience to deal with this dwindles. In the end I find myself hitting good fast roach bites as the tip comes back, and no fish can be hooked when your bait has been spat out.
Luckily for my sanity they push off and the bites stop and now my tip sits still. The thought that a big straggler may still move over the baited area makes me stick around for sometime just in case. Soon enough I move off again down stream to a another choice spot. Here again the bites come quickly and a small chub which is novel in this section for the river gets away in a snag under my feet.

All too soon it is time to go as other engagements press my time. Even though those infuriating fish have pushed me close to the edge, I still wonder when I will be back as I walk to the car.

The game has changed.

I have been out a few times in the last few days and on all occasions the fish have been rather finicky due to the drop in temperature.

Last weekend myself and Jeff visited the Avon early. As we crossed the river in the dark the water surface steamed where it contacted with the cold night air. I would be lying if  I didn't say that I for one thought it was going to be a real special session. But I was very wrong! Nothing fancied it at all. No babs, no zeds, Jeffs roach made a slight attempt at feeding but they never really got into to it.

I was lucky to land one solitary bream a short while after first light which helped me avoid the blank but honestly this not what I was after. All morning Jeff gave a running commentary on the water and air temperature which is where my thoughts on the current fishing situation have come from. With air temp of around 3c and water temp of 10c+ to begin with, both dropped as the sun rose and as it did so did our hopes of catching.

By 9am I had given up on Barbel and Zander and now chanced lobbies into slack clear water for perch. It seemed the drop in temp had affected them too. As the best I managed was a few trembles of the tip. Only a month ago that same worm wouldn't last two seconds on the bottom in the same area before it would have been engulfed by one of  hundreds of tiny perch.

Although last Sunday on the Avon hadn't been a resounding success I wasn't that down about it. We all knew this was coming and so now the game is changing so must we players. For there is no point trying to catch Crucians on frosty mornings. With that in mind I thought carefully about what to do on my impromptu mid week foray. I had hoped the liberal downpour we had on Monday may have added a hint of colour to the river. Then I would have gone after barbel, but it never touched it! My back up was to go down to the land of the giant perch and bag a few two's.

Turned out they too were suffering from early winter lethargy. I moved five times before I got a bite and had been through the whole repertoire just to get that. All our normal spots felt very exposed to me and I wondered if the fish felt the same? so around dinner time I settled snugly behind a tree and fished tight to a rusting old narrow boat.

It took an age for the bites to materialize and the first one looked suspiciously like a crayfish making off with my bait. My slight strike intended to pull my bait from it's nippy claws was met by solid resistance. Not that 'holy shit this is big' resistance but that 'ah crap I've hooked the earth' resistance.  

I hate pulling for breaks but I had no choice. But as I did, what ever I was connected to began to move. I pulled it right into the edge before it stopped when the trace hit the tip ring, then I grabbed the line with my hands. I didn't notice the group of walkers standing close by until one said "what is it?" thinking it was a fish. I knew what I thought it was, but no one wants to hear 'it's a bin bag full of dead puppies'  or 'it's a severed head wrapped in clingfilm' do they? Turned out it was neither when a handle slowly rose through the water.

I had to laugh as I pulled a dripping golf umbrella from the canal and politely asked it belonged to any of them.

Strangely the removal of the brolly didn't ruin the swim, as it's hard to ruin a swim that ain't fishing. Turned out that recovery the stinking silt covered brolly was a sign. When rain began to dapple the surface I thought this is all I need. But things took a strange turn... The rain actually brought bites. The first run on my dead rod resulted in a bait sized Zander and the second yielded a nice plump canal schoolie of 3-4lb which went berserk once hooked.

After this the perch showed, if only for a short while. I landed a couple of pound plus fish in the tail end of the rain. But once the rain stopped the bites to dried up.

This made me wonder. How often do you think you are sitting there not getting any bites when under the surface there are unseen fish within millimetres of your bait that are not prepared to consume it because of some external factor like the weather.

My third trip of this tale was one that has been brewing for a while. I have what can only be termed as a strained relationship with this moody ancient estate lake. Coombe fishery is literally only minutes from my front door and it really has potential to throw up some very special fish... if only you can get one out.

I have seen carp over thirty pounds under my feet, I know for a fact that Zander inhabit this water that are so close to the British record, that one good meal could push them over it and there is so much water that monsters of any species that reside in it may have never seen a hook.

BUT! as I explained to Andy before we went. It is a brutal water that nine and a half days out of ten will do you over and on that half day she tempts you to come back for another nine days of spanking.

The amount of times I have done that sorrowful walk back to the car park and sworn I will never return is unbelievable but here I was again pike rods in hand and a pocket full of hope.

It's not hard to see what attracts me back! She is as beautiful as she is hard.

We did locate some feeding pike close to the slipway that trickles out into smite brook. Their slashing at the prey fish was enough to keep us entrenched for a while but once again coombe gave up nothing of what it had to offer.

My time to bang my head against the brick wall that is coombe was limited today, as I had a prior appointment to attend. One I was in no uncertain terms to be late for! And yet I was late. And yes, I did incur Jacky's wrath for being late.

About three years ago myself and Jacky decided we would like a pet and as we both work long hours it would have been unfair for us to get a dog or cat when we knew it would spend most of it's days locked up in our house. So we got a ourselves a pair of guinea pigs of which Jacky had lots of experience and I had none. Over time I have really grown to love these hilarious little animals which have as bigger characters as they do appetites (very large) Unfortunately one of our pigs called Bubble suddenly passed away a short while ago and I have no qualms in admitting that I for one was heart broken. After a short while, where we let her housemate Squeak settle down, we began to look for a suitable partner for her.

Three year old female Dutch Cavy 

with First floor luxury apartment,

country retreat on lawn and condo in shed 

seeks similar female Cavy or 

youngish neutered male for munchies and friendship

Stinkers may not apply!

It took a while but finally we found one that suited at http://www.rspca-coventry.org.uk/ re-homing centre and after passing the home check we took our little piggy to meet her potential new friend. After a very successful meet we got to bring him home, and here he his:

Blue

And he loves ripping the Angling Times to shreds.

Pest or not?

Q. What makes something a pest?

This was a question I posed to myself as I stood awaiting a run in the dark on the canal the other night.

I myself as I leave the house laden with tackle and a sarnie in my mouth often just say to my beloved "I am off fishing see you later" and therein lies my point. Fishing! I rarely say I am off  eel fishing, carp fishing or Zander fishing. I just say fishing. Therefore all I am making point of is intend to try and catch fish not anything specific.

Now in my own mind I know that there is normally in my day to day fishing some kind of target species that I am aiming for, as I was on this particular session targeting eels, but realistically we can never use one so specific tactic that will only catch one species and one species only whilst avoiding all others, That's probably a good thing to be honest, as how often can any angler actually say that when looking down the barrel of a blank or skunk or whatever you want to call it on a bad day that you wouldn't give anything to catch even the most annoying of pest species, just to feel even the smallest fight of a fish.

But on the other hand when the fishing is good and all you can catch iswhat you're  not looking for, everything suddenly becomes a pest.

The other night is a great example for me because after all of ten minutes one of my rods ripped off and I found that the cause of this monstrous run was in fact not the ten pound eel I was hoping for but a tiny Zander. Now for me the first fish gets a pass because it took away the chance of me encountering old Mr blanky but after two more exactly the same size they suddenly became a pest.

I love catching Zander but when eel fishing they truly are a pain... but add eight pounds and it ain't a pest no more!

The next pest that picked up my 2oz dead roach really whacked off even more than the first three. Now this was defiantly not an eel so technically that made it a pest on this trip.

Pest or not?

(excuse the poor pic. Me the the camera were not on good terms for that one)

As the light faded the next wave of pests came out to play and my rod tips began to bounce like the rear suspension of a car parked in lovers lane. I knew what was going on and it was only a matter of time before one came bankwards.

The crayfish were on the town tonight and boy were they hungry! They took every thing that went in the water, even grabbing baits before they hit bottom. I landed about seven or eight of the horrid little buggers and whilst trying to detach one huge example from my line I caught wind of a rather bad pong. Initially I thought I had stood on a pile of dog walkers surprise in the dark but soon realised it was actually the Ronnie that stank (If anyone has any explanation of why it should stink please let me know) so it was unceremoniously kicked back in. An hour of bounce bounce bounce and beep beep beep and I could stand it no more and left eel less once again.

Somewhere in the crayfish meleé I did however think of an answer to my own question of 

Q. what makes something a pest?

A. We do.

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There was something I meant to share with all my fellow anglers on my last blog but felt that before I made mention of it that it needed a bit more research and Field testing.
On my last few sea trips I have struggled to shift the determined aroma of bait from my hands as it reeks (a fact Jeff off of Idlers Quest a avid sea angler will confirm for sure) and whilst trying to find a hardcore detergent I found this stuff.

And it is brilliant!!! It shifted crab, squid, rag worm and lug worm stink no problem. Having now brought it home and tried it on several flavours and baits including the source which is a renowned stubborn one I feel confident to recommend it to anyone. And not only does it work but the other half will not object to it gracing the kitchen sink unlike a trade size pot of swarfega.

Happy hand washing.



Out for the night.

I just could not resist sneaking back to the canal for an impromptu session Thursday night. It may sound rather mental but I was intending to try and avoid the hoards of perch and try and find maybe a bigger Zander or even try for a hint of eel.

Just before leaving I dropped Andy a text informing him of my intentions. On the way my phone repeatedly rang and although I never answered it as that would be against the law (I wasn't ignoring you Andy) I knew perfectly well it was him. Back at the swim I had fished four days previously I was hurriedly setting up when I saw a figure coming towards me. It seemed Andy had the same thing on his mind and my text had only convinced him to pack the car.

First shot in both our floats went. Me with my first bream from the area and Andy with a nice perch. From the off we were getting bites on all lines. It took a while for my dead bait rod to join the fray but soon enough it went and the first Zander - all be it a tiddler - was mine, shortly followed by another lost unseen predator which felt much larger.

We made a strange discovery as the time ticked on. The perch, of which by now we had landed a couple of very nice examples, actually stopped feeding well before dark and everything went rather quiet. A little while later my now illuminated float began to stir in the dark; something was perusing the half pint of dead maggots and chopped prawn I had throw in to attract the attention of any passing eels.

It took a couple of tentative dips before the float totally disappeared. I could tell straight away this was no perch or Zander and definitely not an eel. When I caught sight of a big silver flank through the murk I really got nervous. It looked like a huge roach had scoffed my three lobs on a size 2 hook. 

When I finally turned on my head lamp well away from the waters edge saw at least half a big roach in the net, it was just a pity the other half of the fish was bream. Still it made for a nice brace shot with a perch just under two and roach/bream hybrid of just over two.

I made two discoveries on this session; firstly there seems to be two distinctive shifts of fish that feed at totally different times on this stretch, and second that taking pictures in the pitch black is really effin hard!

Jurassic perch

As always mothers day was busy one for me. Any chance of getting out in the morning for a few hours is a serious no no, as I have far to many stops to make. Any Star Wars fans who read this will appreciate my referring to this mad mothers day dash through Warwickshire as the kessel run!

My only option to get out was to make the kessel run in less than ten parsecs, get home, down my dinner quicker than a blogger downs a pint at the Xmas piss up, before jumping back into the car dukes of hazard style and screeching off down the cut.

The week before the suggestion had arisen between me and Andy to have another poky on the canal. I am absolutely convinced there are some very special fish in this stretch and I am also convinced that there has to be double figure Zander here too.

I arrived to find Andy entrenched in a sea of Sunday afternoon walkers who to be honest aint that bad BUT! by the time you receive your thirteenth ' is there any fish in there' or 'trying to catch some fish for your supper ' it is wearing very thin. I set up next to him. It wasn't the area I wanted to target but until the boat traffic slowed and the towing stopped and it seemed a fair enough area to fish. 

I didn't take long for me to start getting a few bites and after landing a couple of measly 10-14oz perch on my lob worm line I hooked my first bulging two pounder of the session.

2.1lb

Yes I did say first two pounder! The Midlands perch rush has in my opinion been some of the most insane fishing I have seen in this area for a long time, with fish between 2-3lb+ coming out over a myriad of venues constantly over the last two months. As for my part in this insanity, the particular bit of canal holds far too much allure for me to leave it alone. I was only intending to fish the lob rig for a bit of fun before changing over to another dead bait rig but something about this evening felt very right and the lob rig held it's first team place all night.

Once it quietened down both myself and Andy moved in opposite directions to our intended target areas.  In place I had to wait all of ten seconds for my float to zip off attached to a 1.14lb perch, at this point I knew it was going to be a good evening. My dead bait rod was soon away as well, this time a small Zander had snaffled one of my new mini dead baits from the boat channel. 

The action was non stop and perch after perch cast themselves upon my lob worms fished just down the edge. It did not take long for my next plump 2lb perch to turn up taking my tally for this stretch to five twos.

After a while the bites stopped and I knew exactly what would bite next... My attentions had been drawn to the dead bait float which was zipping across the surface. My strike was met by a good fish which ploughed straight for my bank. I was desperately trying to keep contact with it until out of the corner of my eye I spotted the bow of a barge chugging towards me. Annoyingly whilst trying to save my other rod a Zander of maybe five pounds appeared on the surface and did that bloody head shaking trick sending my hook flying. Whilst cursing the inconsiderate boater I hadn't noticed that my other float had slipped away until the tip of the rod was bending round attached to a determined fish. It turned out to be a  very small Zander which had more than swallowed my bait and hook, leaving only the line protruding from its stomach. Even before I tried to unhook it there was blood emanating from its gill covers, so rather than distress it any further I made the decision the knock the poor little fella on the head. It was far too small to make anything more than a hors d'oevre so I decided to try something I have never done before. Using Zander dead bait to catch a Zander.

I have heard like most predators they are cannibalistic. So I cut off the tail section of the fish hooked it up and swung it out onto the hot spot.

This had the desired result when after a while the float bobbed once then moved sideways before stopping as the fish dropped the bait. I gave it a while to see if it would go again before trying a trick I have used a hundred times for finicky Zander. I tightened up on the line and pulled the bait back gently about six inches. Bingo! The float immediately bobbed again then slid away totally. I felt rather smug as I struck into another small Zander and was powering it in with my Avon rod chuckling away to myself when I got a glimpse of the

fish. What I saw stopped my inane laughing dead! 'Stripes' It was no little Zander it was a big Sargent with a Zander tail firmly in its gob. The realization that I had been dragging the biggest perch I'd had from this venue in like a common Zander prompted a little more care on my part to say the least.

Finally I think I may have found key to sorting out some bigger fish and the result. A perfect 2.6lb wild as you like canal perch.

Even after this I carried on catching more good perch on the lob line. It got to the stage were if they didn't look 2lb or more I was just slipping straight back.

As far as I can guess I had at least ten that looked over a pound plus a few just under and the ones I weighed went 1.8, 1.14, 2, 2.1, 2.6.

The Zeds were having it too. With three under 2lb landed, a couple more shed the hook and the bigger fish that I lost as well.

My faith in how special this stretch is just gets stronger every time I visit and this was only reaffirmed after I packed up and walked up to Andy who also had a net full of big perch which included a huge looking fish.

As far as canal fishing goes there is no way I am gonna leave this alone as there is bigger perch, Zander and god only knows what else in here.