Back from injury yet again.

"Go easy! We've got all day", she said as I stood two feet below ground level with a large Japanese maple draped around me, in the hole where our nature pond used to be. But as I am a man and we're not known for heeding our other halves warnings I carried on like a man possessed. And possessed I was at reclaiming the hundred pound or more of pea gravel that I'd used as a leveling agent under the hard plastic pond years ago. I'd tried a shovel and a spade but neither seemed to be making a dent in the ever shifting gravel, the only thing that seemed to be making an impact was a terracotta plant pot as big as my head. On my knees sweating like a pig in barbecue season, I repeatedly scooped up pots full of gravel and tossed it up onto the ground around the pond. Bar being filthy and sweaty all was well until one particularly awkward twist prompted an almost audible twang accompanied by a dull stabbing pain in the right side of my lower back.

That was two weeks ago when I had specifically booked some time off work to clear my vegetable patch which has languished terribly since BB's arrival. We'd even sent the little fellow off for a day with the grandparents so as be free of the hindrance of childcare, and there I was two hours in with a developing back pain, starting to do the old Charlie Chaplin walk.

Not only did that end the gardening but it also shot down three shorts sessions I had been planning in my head. The kit and caboodle came out to nurse the strained back, but still it's taken well over a week to get back to anywhere near close to being able to get out fishing again.

I didn't think sitting on the old chair for a session would be beneficial for my first time out so I grabbed the crazy cranker and shot over to Napton for a lure session, hoping the perch might be on the feed as they have proved to be in the past in late summer. With all the perch that I've caught in Napton bait fishing, I have a suspicion that somewhere in those moody depths hides some real monsters. So I went at it with a range of small to medium sized lures to try and sort out something bigger if that was possible.

Over the last two years I have lure fished Napton a fair bit, and on every single trip it has been a case of feast or famine. I reckon it's just one of those waters where the fish are either on or off. I chatted to a few anglers just generally fishing before I started to see how the day was going and all bar one were struggling to get bites from any species. After hearing the fish seemed off the feed I quickly nipped back to the car to pick up a couple of extras boxes of lures I bought along just in case, and boy was I glad I did!

The perch were not in the mood to attack what so ever and after covering the smaller half of the water I put away the small soft baits which I'd been working slowly along the bottom. Out game the shallow running hard baits and surface baits to try and lure any waiting pike in the shallows to attack. Not long after I began casting a shallow running Yozuri lure along the reeds I watched and undeceive pike of maybe five pounds follow it all the way to the bank before thinking better of attacking. A few casts later a tiny jack pike shot out from the edge not five feet from where I was standing the bank and smashed the lure without even a moments consideration.

It was undoubtedly going to be a hard session but the fact I'd had one follow and one fish kept me going with the knowledge that it was a case of covering water to find pike rather than perch. The only problem was that the pike did seem to be holding in the shallow water, which on Napton is largely inaccessible. This in mind I headed down to the weedy shallow end at the head of the lake which most anglers avoid.

With the wind coming off my back I began casting slow sinking Sizmic toads tight against the reeds and reeling them quickly back just under the water but above the weed. Straight away another small pike slashed after the lure twice before disappearing. A lot of casting later I found a second fish which bow waved after the lure making me think it was a better fish before it hit the lure and turned into a second tiny jack.

After covering the whole shallow area at the top the lake and not finding any more fish I moved round working different diving hard baits trying to locate fish. Although I had no more takers I did spot a very large carp drifting over the weed with seemingly not a care in the world. The last modicum of action came when yet another small jack shot out from the nearside reeds after my little plug only to stop a foot off the lure with a look in its eye like it had just clocked the rouse.

In the past I might of said it was a bit of a disappointing session, but since I've been lure fishing I've figured that expectations are different from when bait fishing. Strikes and follows are seemingly as much as a prize as catching the fish in some cases, and when you can get one chasing the lure just under the water that I find is just as exciting as watching float lift up amongst a fizz of tench bubbles. My session in fact was made by that tiny jack snaffling the toad lure after following it for at least twenty feet before smashing so hard it sent the lure right up the trace over the clip and swivel. So even as hard a Napton has proved to be in the past I know I will be back in the future and maybe the perch might be a bit more obliging then.

Drop dead dumb Jig.

I don't think there was any doubt in my mind that I would be going back to the newly discovered honey hole on the canal. I'd tried to hook up with Jeff but he had prior arrangements for a date with Martin on the river. This though did open up the door for me to go back and use some slightly different tactics. With so many predators in the area I really wanted to have a go on the lures, but I think this is a very disruptive method and repeatedly casting around is just not fair if someone is float fishing, so going alone was perfect.

Luckily I had a couple of mornings free and decided to use both to try and plunder the stretch. Not wanting to possibly ruin my chances, I decided to go softly softly at it and on the first day went back to fish the drop shot in conjunction with dead baits and the results were brilliant...

The previous session I figured out there were a few snags on the far bank, so kept well away from them and targeted the trench and near margin using some black and white fox micro fry Mick off of Piscatorial Quagswagging had kindly given me. The water again looked quite clear and I felt everything looked right for a few hits, and I was right for once. First cast working the tiny lure back across the trench and I got hit really hard by a average sized canal zander.

After releasing that one I began working the lure along the bottom of the near side shelf. I hadn't gone ten feet before I found myself playing a nice perch.

I am religious about taking perch well away from where I have caught them and after returning that one a really good walk away from where I was fishing, I made my way back to start again. Not knowing it at the time, something weird happened next. I had carried on working the line I'd caught the last perch on and gone quite a way before I hit a second pristine perch which fought equally as hard the first.

It wasn't until I looked at the picture on the computer that the similarities between those first two fish became clear. Then I looked closer and saw a tiny red spot just above the anal fin and it dawned on me that it was definitely the same fish and not just that, but it had fallen for the same lure on the same line probably back on its way back to its holding spot. So either my technique was pretty spot on or I had caught the dumbest perch in the Midlands.

After adding a further four more nice perch and bucket load of micro zander to my tally I finished off with a perfect finale. I was happily playing quite a big perch with my little Sonik lighttec bent double into the canal when my dormant dead bait line sprang to life. A bit of extra pressure got the perch in the net and then after grabbing the other rod I was playing a small zander. It was the perfect brace to end another brilliant session and also helped to prove that these predators were just as up for attacking lures as they were for eating worms.

The second day proved just as fruitful; only this time I went back aggressively and swapped the micro drop shot rig for a much bigger jigging rig just to see how up for it they were. In short, fishing a 7cm salt and pepper Fox zander shad did the business in the again clear water and I quickly tricked a trio of predators into my net. 

Worryingly as the morning wore on the ubiquitous micro zander turned up and the better fish seemed to disappear. Once these tiny terrors switched and started nipping at the lures the fishing became quite frustrating. Moving put me back on the perch, but the ones further away from the holding area were literally a quarter of the size of the previous days fish.

To most people it might seem insane for me to say that's it for me and the honey hole spot, but that is the case! Now I have had a confirmed recapture I am beginning to suspect there could have been others and it makes me realize that even though I suspect there could be bigger fish around or even move into the spot, that there is not an infinite amount of fish in the area. Having to recapture them again and again just on a hunch to wheedle out the mother of them all would just take shine away from them in my eyes and ultimately be detrimental to them.

Is this just maddness.

It's said that necessity is the mother of invention. Well if that is so the father of what I am about to tell you about may well be madness. You see like everyone does now and again, I've recently found myself in that position where other things in life become dominate forces in what consumes my time and thus I was struggling to get out fishing as much as I would like to. Add to this the recent, and let me say archaic, practice of day light saving taking place the weekend just passed and I am feeling rather hampered. Anyway back to the subject I've recently been partaking of more than my normal amount of lure fishing. I find it very convenient in a way that I can just have a light lure fishing set ready to go at all times and with the lack of need of perishable bait required it fits in quite well with my current predicament.

So the other day I was perusing the soft lure selection in the local tackle emporium when I spied a box of lovely new Fox zander shads. The moment I set eyes on them the rusty old cogs in my head ground squeaking into action, my eyes went blank and a cockamamie idea began to fruit. The shads and some 10 gram jig heads were purchased ready to experiment one night in the week.

The night before going out I sat down with a few choice tools to modify what I am sure Fox consider was an already perfect design. Put crudely I cut the lure a new ass hole and digestive tract! In civilized terms, after carefully making a small incision where on most fish there would be a vent I gently forced a narrow and rounded shaft of wood into the body of the shad trying not to pierce it. The result I must say came out perfectly leaving a visible cavity that would tightly hold onto the glow stick I intended to shove in there.

With only a small amount of lubrication to help it along, the glow stick went in with minimal fuss and once fully inserted only the slight bulge in the belly of the shad indicated it was even present in the light!

A crack and a few vigorous shakes and it became a whole new beast in the dark!

So the next night I found myself getting into the car and driving round to the lake where the only light at that time of night was the glow of the distant city. I knew it wasn't the perfect venue to test out my folly but it was convenient and I knew there was supposedly a large amount of prey fish in an area of weed free water that I knew relatively well.

It's one thing going and setting up camp by a sheet of water with a couple of rods on indicators, but it's totally different and strange feeling to be wandering round along the bank in the pitch black in autumn with little unseen creatures rustling round in the leaf litter. The owls were already at it hooting to one another across the lake and every time I made a noise in a new swim, hidden water birds would bolt from their roosts in the reeds beside it. Other than that it was an enjoyable experience all in all. From the first cast I was smitten with the sight of this green projectile arching out from the bank over the lake like tracer fire. Just watching the light show was amusing enough to me, but add to that the excitement that I really thought I stood a small chance of a predator taking a swipe at it and I was practically twitching with excitement.

How many casts I made in the next three hours I couldn't say. What I could say was that it was a miracle that somehow I never once got that lure snagged on anything, stuck it in a tree or even tangled it on the cast. Sadly though I didn't raise any attention with my gaudy offering. Though I am sure I did get at least one follow from something. It happened just around that point when food and beer were beginning to appeal more than lure fishing in the dark. I'd punted the lure out into the void and been slowly bouncing back just off the bottom. Most of the lake was hidden in the black of the shadow of the woods opposite me, apart from the last quarter of the lakes surface which was lighter shade of black reflecting only the night sky. It was in that lighter water that I spotted a bow wave cutting across the surface. I did think maybe I'd dragged in some weed on the main line until it did a forty-five degree turn off as the lure came closer to the edge. I repeated that cast so many more times in the vain hope that the fish might have still been in the area but no it came to nothing. Now after my initial little experiment I find myself thinking has this glow in the dark lure fishing got any mileage or is it madness to think anything would attack something so obvious in the pitch black and am I just wasting my time?