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. 

BOGOF

'You buy one, you get one free!  I say you buy one, you get one free' 

Those were the words that kept ringing through my head again and again as I stood on the tow path the other day. And why shouldn't they have been stuck on some torturous loop in my mind, because after all this was a bank holiday weekend, it wasn't raining and the boat wankers were out in force. At some points 'buy one, get one free' was an understatement to say the least. Seven boats in convoy was the record for the day. Honestly that lot coming down the cut was like an armada passing by, all churning up the bottom and blankly wishing good morning whilst inanely asking if I'd caught my supper. If it wasn't for the fact that I was actually having fun catching a few perch and some rather obliging strip zander I feel sure I would have been jumping up and down on the bank shaking my fist and ranting in ancient long forgotten language that they should keep their witty japes regarding my tea to themselves, before I am tempted to shove their barge pole in their rear hatch.

I had always known it was going to get a bit manic with boat traffic and to try and get some done before they started I had arrived just after first light. Weirdly the action prior to the boats beginning to rumble by had been in my opinion, a bit sporadic. All I had managed was a single chunky perch which I had winkled out by dancing a tikki monkey along the nearside shelf on a drop shot rig. 

The drop shot rig was partly why I was fishing in this area. You see I had a few new lures I wanted to try out and they all seemed more suited to the drop shot rather than a jigging rig. Given the past few weeks had been a little zander filled and that I have much more success with perch on the drop shot, I had come to a area stuffed full of the critters.

Convinced the margins were paved with the stripy Herbert's I stuck it out on the drop shot, working around any structure I could find. Although I wasn't finding them in numbers, when I did spark any into interest they were absolutely smashing into my lures.

The oddest part of the session came after a couple of boats really stirred up the canal. I have always thought that it actually takes a boat going through to stir the resident fish into moving, and off the back of that I have developed a theory that sometimes when the boats churn up the bottom, zander for one, actually go into the clouds of silt looking for anything that has been disturbed out of the mud, like worms, leeches and small fish. It proved exactly the case when the boats have moved on and I shot my rig right to the far side of the canal before pulling it back into the murk. Four or five small strip zander and a single nice perch fell for a black grub on a slow retrieve through the clouds of silt.

The boats I knew would all too soon begin to wear on my patience, and it was then that I sought a bit of respite and headed for the relative quiet of a small row of moored boats. Working the rig rhythmically as close to their hull as I could, I tempted one final nice perch that I can only say has real potential in the future. Although not much over a pound in weight I don't think I have ever seen a little fish that looked so much like a big fish before and that for me was the perfect point in which to leave the canal to the boaters.

Strange but true.

Gagging! That is a good way to describe it. I was gagging to get back to the rediscovered feature I had found previously. My mind had been working overtime in the few days that had passed since I had fished it, all the information collected both past and present had bubbled away and distilled in the cauldron that is my mind; the result as far I was concerned, was nothing less than endless possibilities.

The dark and its ability to coerce the shy to feed attracted me so I was always going to do a short night session, and what better accessory to lurk in the bank of the Coventry cut with on a weekday night than a Jeff Hatt. I mean what self respecting canal angler is seen on the Coventry without a Jeff Hatt nowadays.

It was mid-week before I was back and I'd been through the mill thinking how I wanted to fish it again. There was no doubt worms would be involved as well as dead baits, but how to fish those worms was the quandary. The reason for my confusion was the confirmation of the presence of that relative canal rarity the chub, and big ones from what I'd heard on the tribal drums. I didn't fancy fishing a light float rig at night and the thought of using an alarm to try and catch a canal chub left me feeling a little dirty. In the end it just seemed perversely logical to fish a river method on a canal. So I cracked out the Avon quiver and set up a small link ledger rig and strapped on the old tip light.

We hadn't even got to the spot in the dark before I dropped a clanger. As we left the parked car a man passed us eating a bag of chips. Walking at a brisk pace keen to get fishing we caught him up as he turned onto the canal. I kind of forgot he was walking in front of us as we tracked the wet tow path and I spotted a row of moored narrow boats. Spontaneously I broke in a serious bout of verbal diarrhoea proclaiming that I bet one of these darn boats was parked right in front of the spot. I carried on spewing  profanities all the way down the tow path working myself into a slight fervour as I did. Then when I spotted a boat in the distance I really went for it. It was about then that the now forgotten man who wasn't far in front of me turned and in a slightly annoyed tone proclaimed it was his boat! eep...

Luckily for all parties he wasn't moored exactly on the spot and after settling right at the bow of his boat he went about choking us with diesel fumes and we went about fishing. Both me and Jeff had our little moments in the dark trying to ready rigs. Soon enough though we had lit up floats bobbing around on the canal and illuminated tips floating in the air.

Put in simple terms it went mental from the off! Jeff barely had his ledger rod out before my tip got yanked round. I was flapping round playing what felt like decent fish in the dark. It wasn't battering me like I thought a chub would but I did get a glimpse of subtle gold in the dark. Jeff got it in the net in the light of his head light and we both peered into the net to see a relatively large roach bream hybrid.

More roach than bream I think.

Then on the way back from releasing my capture away from our swim Jeff informed me of my dancing dead bait float, from then on out it went mental. I landed a decent schoolie zander and by the time I'd unhooked and relocated it, Jeff's swim had erupted in a flurry of runs.

Honestly I thought this was going to be the zander session of a lifetime for us both and that it would work its way into some sort of magnificent crescendo involving at least one personal best for one of us. That was until the arse fell out of the session when the rumble of the narrow boats engines stopped and the runs evaporated. It did take a while for us to associate the two together, but after it had sunk in the strange theory that the fishes feeding was somehow intertwined with the rumble of the diesel powered combustion engine did seem correct.

The session went so bad that after an hour or two of lip flapping and chin wagging we called an end to it as we really did seem to be lurking around in the dark for nothing and I for one who had come straight from work, was starving.

My next strange encounter came a few days later. After possibly the most productive Saturday ever, where I not only completed a shopping trip with JB, visited a garden centre and traversed a large proportion of Warwickshire to complete a couple of chores from my Nan I found myself thinking that I could eek out a little more of the day and snatch a witching hour session on a nearby bit of canal.

Fifteen minutes later I was pulling into a secluded canal car park hoping not to have to interact with any doggers that might be out for a bit of Saturday night amusement. Truly I don't know why  had gone back to this section of cut as it has about as good a reputation for predator fishing as the average puddle in the street. Why it should be so bad is beyond me as it's got loads of prey fish, plenty of cover and a growing population of crayfish as well. 

Anyway I keep trying here now and again in a vain hope it might come good and this short session seemed the perfect trip to waste on such an endeavour. I only had my drop shot rod, net and back pack with me so as I could keep on the move. My plan, if I had one, was to keep myself in good vantage points of the canal as dusk crept in and that if I saw any topping prey fish I would home in on them thinking that any predator might also do so.

Sure enough it worked, in a way... Quite early on I spotted three fish top in one area, then as I approached, two more flickered above the water sending ripples across the flat surface. I concentrated flicking some new micro glow in the dark lures all around the canal working the area systemically as all the books say you should. 

Soon enough the dark was not far off and I made a snap decision to switch over to walking the worm. I thought the added scent of the broken worm might become key as the visibility dwindled. So I slowly began creeping a large worm around the trench of the canal. I must of been at it for half an hour before I got any reaction. By now it was totally dark, and I mean countryside dark not that close to the city dark, so I could barely see a thing. I was trying to pinpoint the location of a warbling pheasant in the trees over the canal when I felt a definite tap come back up the braided line. I slowed the retrieve down and kept the bait moving and sure enough I got a second tap. But nothing took the bait after that so I swung the rig along the approximate line of the last cast and began again. I felt another tap and was itching to strike when I hit the forth.

The fish shot around in the dark and naturally I attributed this keen fight to a small zander. I even saw a flash of silver when I flicked my head torch on to land it. When I finally stooped to net the fish I got the shock of my life as I was confronted not by a juvenile zander but instead by a big old roach with my huge drop shot hook undoubtedly hooked through its top lip.

I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing as I laid what looked like a possibly a pound of roach down on the long damp grass. It wasn't a youngster either as far as I could tell from the general wear and tear on its body, so naivety was no explanation for it grabbing my moving worm. This dog of an old roach had in no uncertain term attacked my drop shot fished lob worm.

Ever since catching that fish I've tried to reason and explain what happened there, and about the best I can come up with was that it was a one off where me fishing what is favourite roach bait on a snail pace retrieve, combined with the dark related over confidence and hunger, caused that fish to think 'I ain't letting that big old juicy worm get away!'. I have to think this or I will feel that all those hours I've spent reading about the delicate feeding roach were a total waste of my time.

Taking my worms out for walkies.

I will start by saying that it's been an uneasy transition from bait to lure for me. The idea of drop shot fishing really appeals, but the physical evidence that bait can out-fish a lure nine times out of ten dampens my enthusiasm. A possible answer came from a video I watched online of Des Taylor. He was fishing a drop shot rig but instead of using a bit of rubber to entice a hit he was using an actual worm. I was aware he did this before now but never typed it into google before, and when I did find and watch the YouTube video I was sold. It just seemed perfect for me to try as I can't quite commit totally to fake fish and yet I have absolute confidence in worms, as after all they are my first choice bait when asked the question 'if you could only ever use one bait again in your life what would it be?'.

So with a bait box full of various size worms nestled next to a box full of state of the art rubber, I hit the tow path. Even though my main intent was to dropshot I couldn't resist adding a little more weight to my light roving kit by way of a dead bait rod rigged up with a small float set up and a pack of dead roach in my back pack. Really I don't know why I haven't been taking this out whenever I go out lure fishing, as just I know flicking out a dead in the margins or down the cut quite often brings a few bonus fish. Lucky I did bring it along for the walk as after spending a good hour working over a section of canal I'd had exactly zero hits on the drop shot rod.

I knew a shoal of zander had turned up in the area when the float began tootling off across the canal surface. I missed that one but after casting the roach tail straight onto the spot again the float went straight under. The single o'shanassy hook took hold well on the strike and soon a little schoolie was in the net.

I persisted casting the rubber lures around all afternoon as I made my way down the tow path. Every now and again I was getting taps which I suspected might have been tiny perch. After making a few adjustments to the rig I spotted a tiny zander of no more than six inches long turn off at the surface as I lifted my lure. Straight away I slowed the retrieve down from a tortoise pace to a snail pace and bang I hooked one up. By fishing this way I managed to start hooking up with the veracious little critters but still the bigger fish were eluding me.

The change came when I switched over to fishing the worm or should I say walking the worm. With an hour to go before the light began to fade I swapped over. I did continue to really crawl the baits around and straight away exactly what I needed to happen, happened. As I dropped the worm something grabbed it, my incessant jiggling of the rig smacked the hook home and a nice two pounder surged angrily off down the canal.

This was just what I needed to instil some proper confidence into the method for me. Not ten feet and three casts later it happened again as I worked the tempting worm up onto the marginal shelf. This time though the water erupted and a nice size zander did a rather shocking jump before really kicking off in the margin. I've always thought zander don't fight that hard, this one though went berserk after that razor sharp hook bit hard into the scissors of it's mouth.

Now I was really buzzing after hooking two good fish in succession and it didn't stop there either. As the dark began to creep into the sky the perch really turned on the feed. Every cast I could feel them nipping at the worm shortening it down to a nub by the time I'd reeled it back. I was going through worms at an alarming rate, but I did land a few more pound plus fish for my efforts.

The last area I fished was one that has in the past been very good to me. I know there's a deep hole in the centre of the canal where the bottom drops away an extra two feet for some unknown reason. Straight away I knew I was going to hook something as I felt a juddering bang as the bait was hit as it sank on a tight line. Strangely it took quite a few more casts for me to hit a fish, but when I did finally hook one I knew it was proper old perch. 

It hit me as lifted the rod and like the others, it did not like it's dinner fighting back one bit. It really had me going with my little drop shot rod arching down into the water as it surged for freedom again and again. I felt every bang and shake of its head reverberate all the way back up the braided line and along the rod, and even though it wasn't the biggest perch I've ever caught I really didn't want to lose this one. Finally the hook held and in the quickly fading light I netted a lovely hump back Autumn perch. 

What this session has done for my confidence in drop shotting is unbelievable. I know that generally the method is orientated around lures, but for an stalwart worm angler, walking the worm really forms a very useful and reliable way to transition to the world of drop shotting. Now though I've opened up a whole new can of worms, if you will excuse the pun, as I am just thinking of all the venues and spots I wanted to fish this winter where I will be torn on whether to walk the worm or watch the float.