Coasting into the new year.

I know we all go through lean patches now and again as anglers and I can accept that along with the best of them, but just lately I reckon the drought is quite simply down to me being a bit apathetic. As always my time is limited and being as it is limited, doing the right thing at the right time is the key to success. As I have not been on point for some reason I've found myself doing all the wrong things and reaping no reward for my effort.

The last tiny modicum of success came a couple of weeks ago when I went out to hook up with Mick on the Stratford canal after zander. Even though I had half a mind that the cut might be a bit clear, I still pressed on and did badly on the zander front as a result. The tiny bit of action I got came right at the end of the session when we fished around a lock filled with leaves.

Only by targeting the structure did I start to get a few plucks from perch sheltering in the shadows. After fine tuning a little I finally hooked up a small perch just as a boat appeared on the canal approaching the lock.

On a dire mornings fishing the little information those perch gave me was enough to hatch a final plan. I had in the bottom of my bag a box of worms I brought along just in case and I knew the fast approaching boat would churn up the canal a lot as it passed by. So I quickly switched my jig for a drop shot rig and then proceeded to mince up a good helping of worms in a pot. As predicted, the passing boat quickly turned the water to tea as it gunned past me. Once the water stopped swirling I deposited the worn on a easily recognized spot on the inside edge. After letting it stew whilst I caught up with Mick above the lock I returned and instead of fishing a lure over the bait, I dropped a worm in over the top. First drop in I felt a quick tap up the line and I struck into a nice perch.

That single tiny patch of feed saved the day for me and I nicked two smaller perch off of it in quick succession, wiggling the worm over it. Had I had the forethought or the sense to just head to this lock first thing and bait up a few spots, then the whole session could have been a different one and maybe a red letter one at that.

My next outing could have been a mirror image of the last in terms of success. Foolishly I thought was being a clever bugger heading to still water with four days of freezing weather preceding. The little lake I went to in search of huge perch was half frozen, and what wasn't frozen was so clear that you could see a willow leaf on the bottom half a way out.

For all the chopped worm and prawn I chucked I reaped little more than a few small perch and roach. For once I would have been over the moon with an interloping winter carp tearing up the swim just to break the monotony and stick bend in the rod and as one didn't, it ended up being a very cold and disappointing session.

 I have to admit that I don't feel that the last few months have been that productive for me and I feel like I am just coasting along up to Xmas, not really making the most of my time. Now though I feel change is afoot and I find myself planning for a new year of fishing. With young BB fast growing up I am becoming more accustomed to life as a parent and with this settled feeling I want to get back into the swing of fishing as I used to, with an eye for big fish rather than just lure fishing and predator fishing as time permits. The Avon rods and light quiver rods have already been dusted off and reels have been re spooled ready to do some chub and dace fishing in January. Plans are forming to use some of the information I've collected whilst lure fishing on the canals to hopefully target some big canal chub in the winter months and huge carp in the spring. Now I know I will still be doing a fair bit of lure fishing next year, but I am really hoping to have some much more varied catches next year and get my lust for all round fishing back again. 

Unexplored areas and canal trolling

My young son BB and his growing teeth have no respect for my fishing plans as yet. I was all keen to get out for a decent session after a few poorly executed trips prior to this. The day before I had diligently readied my kit for an early start and went to bed anticipating going to a far off spot that has form for better than average fish. Needless to say after spending most of the night taking it in turns getting up to settle our disturbed little one, both me and JB looked much as we did on the way back from Glastonbury festival in ninety seven, only without having any of the fun.

By the time I had grabbed enough unbroken sleep and done the decent thing and got the now radiant little munchkin up, dressed and fed there seemed little point travelling half way across the county to find the dog walkers had taken all the parking spots at the initial venue. So still half dazed I settled to instead go and check out a bit of the Grand union canal I haven't fished before above Hatton locks.

It's weird but I've done a fair bit of zander fishing on the locks themselves and below them, but have never once been above them. I must have crossed the bridge to go to Hatton country world a hundred times and it's always looked nice. A few friends have fished it and said it's not bad up there, but for some reason I've not yet been. So this seemed a perfect opportunity for a bit of an explore.

Even though I am not big on paying to park when fishing, the paltry £1.20 is a bargain and I happily left my car there whilst I tabbed off up the lock flight. It was on my way up that I came across something I've never seen before first hand. Someone had left  the upper gate of one of the locks open and with the ubiquitous leak the lower gates seem to have, most of the water had leaked from the pound, draining it down to the small pool at the bottom of the picture which was being kept topped up by the leaking gate above. Gravity and a night of flowing water passing over it had carved the soft silt quickly down to a nice gravel run into the open gate at the top of the picture.

I could have spent all day just peering into the drained pound at the various detritus collected and at the topography of the bottom. There must have been a few thousand snails on the marginal shelf alone, never mind on the huge silt bank at the back of the pound. I had my suspicions that the pool at my feet contained any other residents of the pound and tempting as it was to have a poke around in there, I left well alone knowing full and well how stressed any occupants of the little left water would be.

Once I actually got fishing I quickly caught a couple of small zander casting small salt and pepper zander shads around above the first lock in the brown tinted clear water.

Once a local barge enthusiast came reversing into the area I was fishing a little too enthusiastically, I decided it was time to get off and explore the new to me tow path.

Canal trolling

Features play an important part in all types of fishing and personally I have always tried to find something that might attract predators and me alike when I am fishing for them. The unseen underwater features are obviously problematic to locate, but the obvious ones like good far bank cover or big reed beds are always the first targets on new waters and a good starting place. 

These tempting target spots can sometimes be spaced out and the travelling between them has always felt a little of a waste of fishing time to me. So I recently concluded to do a bit of canal trolling as I was travelling down the tow path between spots. When I was a kid we used to do this to little avail using shiny silver spinners, now though having a few years and a lot more experience under my belt I realize that I was doing it all wrong. 

As a kid I naively thought a pike would chase any lure fished in the canal. Now I know that sometimes you have to drag it right across their noses in many cases to provoke a response. So after a bit of fine tuning and figuring how much line to pay out I have begun trolling baits along the marginal shelf as I walk between spots. This enables me to fish whilst travelling and why not, as a lot of fish lie up on the nearside shelf and I reckon I might find a few nice surprises by using this time a bit better.

It was as I passed under a bridge and past a row of barges on the far bank that my rod which was sticking out over the canal bent round. Either I'd found another branch lingering on the shelf or something had grabbed the white shad as it passed by. It turned out to be the latter as the line shot out into the centre trench. This wasn't a perch or even a zander, this was something much bigger and rarer than those spiky finned culprits.

My light lure rod was bent alarmingly over as the yellow braided line cut across the surface towards the boats. It had to be a pike which had snatched the trolled lure as it went by, as not much else bar a carp would pull my string this hard. Praying my fluro leader would hold, I followed the fish off up the canal hoping it wouldn't bite me off. I must have played it for five minutes before I caught a glimpse of a dull spotted tail in the boil in the centre of the canal. It wasn't a humongous pike but it certainly looked like it could be around ten pounds. I really thought I was getting the better of the fish and was fumbling to open up my folded net went the fish came up and turned back in a massive boil and sent my lure flying through the air.

That one experience with a decent canal pike has proved my theory valid enough to certainly continue this practice whenever I find myself travelling between fishing features on the canal, and given the stature of this validating fish I feel I might well have to give some shallow running plugs a run out along with a wire trace just in case.

Picking at passing perch pods.

I often have rivers running through my mind and the last few days had not been that different. Often I thought about the Avon and often I pondered whether or not I should return. My last sessions capture could and should really be a great finish to the season, but as always the weather had changed and temptation had grown. That mythical opportunity to chance a barbel was on offer and all I had to do was give in to temptation and take that gamble.

A day was stolen, which turned out to be the best of the week, but not so much as whisker was sniffed and myself and Rob bathed like lizards in the early and much appreciated sun after a long cold winter. Although sans barbel, fish were caught and importantly the memory of warmth now bookended the winter.

Now though I found myself in a quandary. Did I risk another trip to the river, which could end the season much as it always begins? Or should I take an early shower and walk away with nothing but feeling of warmth and joy in my soul for the river?

As always it was the weather that played the deciding hand. I watched the temperature drop slowly and the rivers rise a little and in the end there was no temptation to draw me. My season on the rivers was done! With one decision made another always arises and what and where next lay before me. Carp fishing weighs heavy on my mind but the heat of summer and spring still seem a log ways off, so that can wait. Now perch are in my sights and even though I have been vocal about not wanting to spend to much time after them, I can't resit the sight of a big fat Sargent in the bottom of my net.

The canal seemed an appropriate spot for a warm up for this years compacted perch pursuit. So with limited time free at the weekend I found myself  walking a damp tow path filled with wood smoke from a distant narrow heading to a reliable spot where big perch are known to hang out.

My perch float fishing rig has grown vulgar in it's simplicity over two successful seasons: four pound line, small chubber float, a few shot and a size 6 hook tied directly to the main line. It sounds crude and probably should not be a devastatingly successful as is, but all I can say is, it has worked on every big perch I have caught in the last two years so why change it.

After depositing a foul mix of various chopped baits into the margin I sat back to wait. And wait I was made to, for quite some time I should say. I was just getting the pangs of concern when I spotted a single bob of my orange float top. It never became anything, but that single bob restored my confidence one hundred percent. It took another fifteen minutes for it to bob again, but this time it soon sank away as something slinked back down the marginal shelf.

One and three quarter pounds was a nice first fish and more I knew would follow. I could only hope that the rest were in as wonderful condition and just as bristling as this first one. 

I have absolutely no doubt that these perch patrol this section of canal in small shoals. The bites cannot fail to indicate otherwise. Up to one hour of inactivity is predictably followed by a flurry of bites where one fish can be hooked, landed, and returned before the next cast hooks a second fish lingering over the tiny patch of bait which attracted them in the first place.

My theory proved exactly the case when on my very next cast after releasing my first fish, the float never even settled fully before bobbing as a perch engulfed my sinking worm and then buried as it moved off quickly. This second fish felt much bigger as it dived at my bank hard before zig zaging up and down in the shallow water.

Two pounds four ounces is just above the seeming average ceiling weight achieved by these canal perch and a great capture on my first outing for them. Then after she went back, three more chunky fish all over a pound and half but not quite two pounds hit my net quickly one after another.

The action had died a death after this initial spell and I found myself fancying a second spot a bit further back down the canal. So rather than top up I saved my bait to ready for a second trap in a different area. In the new spot it was the exact mirror image of what had happened only forty feet away. Bait went in and I waited patiently for an age then right on cue a bob of the float indicated the fish were about.

This time only three were landed and everyone was identical to the last. Thick, deep and angry as hell. I weighed all three of them at 1.13, 1.13, 1.14. this trio had to be related by year class.

Honestly I would of thought there were recaptures if it weren't for the fact that the first two were taken right back to my previous spot to prevent them spoiling the mood of any remaining fish.

A winter of scratching bites has made me forget how good this fishing can be and I don't suspect it will be long before I come back here as I can't let fishing like this slip away from me. I know they are not all three pounders, but seven fish all getting around that two pound mark and one over it all caught on wet afternoon on a free venue, using a few left over worms and whatever churvey I had in the freezer draw, well that is great fishing as far as I am concerned!

Winters coming

Robert has returned form a summer jaunt to the island of Antigua and it's surrounding islands, where he has spent the last few months in search of some very rare reptiles indeed. With him travelling down from the Cotswolds for the weekend visit there was no doubt we would be getting out for a session. We had already discussed the river, which he as well as I, had experienced was not on top form. After knocking a few ideas around we decided to check in on a section of canal that I have not yet visited this year. This perch paradise as far as I am concerned is amazing, and it can normally be relied upon to yield two pound perch or two. 

Although I have not spent any time on it so far, the need to check in now and again is always at the back of my mind, as in the next few years I have the feeling that this water will move from amazing to sublime. The only question is how long will it take for those twos to become threes!

For this trip our pairing was to become a trio. Initially the intention had been for a traditional up before light Sunday morning job, but the reports of a weather front coming in heralded a change of plan, and Saturday afternoon spent in the autumn sun seemed far more appropriate. The third musketeer on this occasion was Jacky. Normally her joining us on any fishing trips is reserved for the summer, but the civilised nature of the target area and a bit of gentle persuasion on my part coerced her to come along for the ride.

We stepped onto the tow path in the warm afternoon sun and really it felt like any other late summer day. But today was the autumn equinox and the nights just lately have begun to nip, so plenty of extras layers were stuffed into bags. After I had lead our precession along the canal to a suitable spot, we pitched up and set about business.

No high tech poles here, just powerful float rods and floats capable of suspending whole worms inches off the bottom. I had also brought a dead bait outfit along, to fish in a depression on the normally uniform canal bottom, which has in the past yielded zander.

It did not take long for my float to slide away as the first perch made off with my worm. Small but a perfect miniature of its fore fathers. It certainly stood a chance of becoming a giant too. Rob was next with a good sized perch which fought very hard with the last of its summer vigour.

All I could mange to start with was sub pound fish. But soon enough ripples of attention emanated from the top of my dead bait float which had sat dormant over the depression. A few more bobs and it began moving away towards the opposite side of the canal. When it had submerged fully my swift strike connected a small zander which also fought rather hard zipping around the canal.

There was no doubt the bites today seemed to come in waves for some unknown reason. After nothing floats would suddenly start dancing one after another. After more small perch and a tiny zander which liked the look of my worm, I pondered if the fish were holding close in and venturing out here and there. Dropping my rig close under my feet the float never settled before slipping away attached to my best perch of the day.

That fish back, the dead float again awoke. However my impatience this time got the better of me and all that came of that bite was a bare hook. The zander were in the swim and a couple of dropped runs later hooked a fish that really fancied a ruck. 

Even in the net, and as we got a picture it was mean and bristling. As I released it it made a right fuss, thrashing the water as it went off. I would not want to be anything smaller than six inches within a mile of that one.

Again the bites slowed and all that seemed bothered was the odd small perch or zander, until my dead line started travelling side to side. This was no fish, or it was at least no fish with fins. The crayfish had crashed the party and thought my dead roach was the hors d'oeuvres. A new bait bought a fresh run and this fish did not mess around. One bob and the float was gone. I so wanted it to be a good zander, but what we want and what we get are never the same thing. This fish was far too powerful for even a big zander. It was definitely a pike - not massive but still nice to see. Pike as far as I am concerned are the only thing that have suffered from the introduction of zander into our canals. There is no doubt less of them around compared to when I started fishing, but it is nice to see one come out of an area stuffed full of zander

All too soon the sun began to near the horizon and the air began to chill. The warmth of the day was gone, as was the warmth in our toes. Cold and hunger joined forces to shoo us away for the night and we packed up as the last vestiges of light burnt the horizon.

Walking back it seemed a different season entirely. The canal had fallen quite for the day and night beckoned. The sky now glowed a hundred colours; pink, cerise, coral, fuchsia, magenta and indigo. Almost too many to comprehend.

Smoke now curled from the iron chimneys of narrow boats moored along the still water. The wood smoke scented the crisp evening air as the people inside warmed themselves. We would not feel warmth until the car doors blocked the last bird calls of the day.

The journey back was a sight. All three of us were silent, as the amazing sunset stretched out before us. Only when the fluorescent glow of the city robbed us of the night sky did we speak, reality shaking us from our daydream.

Time to give them a rest.

Again the last minute opportunity arose for me to grab a few hours fishing on Thursday evening back at the canal. Like Andy my intention towards the local population of 2lb perch has waned. For me my attention now turns toward the ever present zander population.

Determined to try avoid the perch I opted for a dead bait bait approach with the idea that if a perch was big enough to consume a four inch roach it would be worth catching. Saying that I did bait my second rod with a mass of lobs on a rig so crude no self respecting perch would surely bother with it, and cast just off the ledge sans any loose bait; the idea being that a patrolling eel may chance upon it and it may fall under the radar of the percidae hoard.

To cut a long story short the lobs did not go completely unnoticed, but the crudity of the rig certainly put most of them off, bar two particularly stupid examples under a pound which took six lob worm half's on a size two hook attached to 18lb braid. But beyond that anguilla anguilla is still to make it's presence known.

On the other hand when the Zander did turn up to the party I landed two in quick succession. The better of the two being the rather paunchy female of 3.8lb. In the water she looked no bigger than the average canal Zander but in the net she really looked if she'd let herself go! As I suspected most of her girth was due to her being rather spawn filled but, whilst unhooking her I caught sight of a pretty decent size perch tail sticking out of her stomach which combined with her few thousand eggs gave her a rather unflattering profile.

I have fished enough times on this stretch now to have started formulating an idea of the fish feeding routines.

Bucking all the theories on when Zander feed, the fish here feed predominately during the day and in short bursts, which I actually suspect is them moving on mass up and down the stretch. Once dark it's time to go home, as every time I have fished in dark I have failed to catch and only had one run; whereas every time I have fished in the light I had multiple runs and never failed to catch a Zander once. 

After the capture of this heavily pregnant fish I feel it is time to give them a rest for a few weeks whilst they take care of some impending spawning. When I return after a brief break they should be a lot more streamlined and aggressive due to temp increases.