A new mobile approach.

Prior to the weekend I spent an inordinately large amount of time trying my best to devise a suitably efficient way to fish using both lures and dead baits. The crux of which has come down to quantity of tackle I want to carry. The reason I want to refine everything is my need to keep as mobile as possible whilst still giving myself options. Having already scaled my general kit down to a backpack, fold up landing net which hooks onto the aforementioned backpack, rods remained the only decision. I was always going to take my super light finesse outfit as it's the method I most wanted to concentrate on. The dead bait rod though was something I needed to review. 

I have for the longest time favoured barbel rods of either one and a quarter or one and three quarter pound test curve for my zander fishing and to save having to swap between the two I have always leaned to the heavier end of that spectrum just in case. But lately having seen how well modern short lure rods perform I've been thinking the barbel rods needed reassessing and that after doing so that they wouldn't make the cut for my updated canal kit. Hence I came up with the idea to scale down my zander rigs so as I could fish them on a shorter and lighter general purpose lure rod. This way not only could I use the outfit to fish a small dead bait on a float, but should I want to remove that rig and tie on a trace to fish larger lures I would have that option at my disposal.

With a two week solid block of work in the pipe line I was eager to hit the tow path as soon as possible to try out this new system. Now I should make it clear that given the current weather conditions I knew it was going to be a bit hit and miss in regards to finding unfrozen water and therefore even before I left the house I had the feeling I would be concentrating my efforts on metres of tow path instead of miles of canal.

My first session was a bit of a gamble as I was having to travel with no knowledge of whether the stretch of canal where I was going would be frozen. Luckily for me there was at least some free water when I arrived but it was still thawing, probably reducing the temp of the surrounding water as it did. So undeterred, I picked a starting point and began. In these conditions I knew I was looking to try and find pockets of fish grouped in specific areas and therefore if no indications of interest were forthcoming within half an hour of working and area over I moved on.

The first few spots produced zip, but not long after finding a sheltered area out of the wind where I surmised the sun had been on the water recently, I got a run on my scaled down dead rig which was holding steady just at the bottom of the trench off to my right. The culprit which turned out to be a small zander was very welcome not only to break the blank but as an indicator that other fish might be present.

After returning the micro zed I turned the attentions of my finesse outfit onto the area only to receive a definite snatch as I bounced a small black and chartreuse kopyto shad slowly along the clean bottom. But even after casting the water into a foam I couldn't get anything to really grab the lure. I did go through a few other different soft lures but they to brought no response either. 

Knowing there was fish that might be persuaded to attack in the area I was reluctant to leave and so instead changed angles by moving a short distance to my left. I was watching the dead float catching the tow as I once again retrieving the little kopyto shad. As it came up the nearside shelf it went solid as if I'd found a old branch of something on the bottom, but then it moved off zigzagging the line across the water. This little outfit might seem a little frail a first glance but I've quickly realised that once the sensitive tip bends right round the back bone of the rod kicks in and absorbs all the fight. In this case it was a beautiful thick set perch that had grabbed the little green shad.

I was out the very next day on a totally different canal and the conditions were totally different. As on the previous venue there was still ice which was also thawing, but whereas yesterdays stretch had maybe a foot and a half visibility, this one had mere inches. The water was that ubiquitous winter canal tea cup brown and the lures disappeared almost instantly after entering the water. Last visit though I had quite a bit of success using a small black curly tail grub and I still had confidence it would work again.

For once I was right and in just about every area I fished I would locate a shoal of perch somewhere whilst fan casting around the swim. Even as small as they were its very rewarding casting around and regularly getting miniature thumps and hits from these veracious little hunters. 

Quite happily I moved along the canal all morning fishing half an hour or more in each area until I felt the bites dried up and moved on. Even catching only small perch I was content knowing that sooner or later with the number of fish I was catching that something bigger might turn up. But I could never have predicted what that bigger fish would be.

There was a group of ducks getting a bit frisky a ways up the canal and truthfully I felt their amorous behaviour had probably spoilt the area they were in. Nevertheless I gave it a go and when I arrived they had shoved off. I flicked a slightly larger Hart M minnow on a 2 gram jig head tight under the far bank cover, felt it down onto the bottom and watched the yellow braid fall slack as it hit the mud. Literally I tightened up and jerked the lure up once, twice then a third time before I felt one of the hardest bangs I've ever had on a lure.

Obviously I had hooked something of a much larger size and straight away it was powering around the swim as I stood on the opposite bank desperately trying to steer it away from the snaggy far margin. Having only caught perch so far my first thoughts were of a big perch, or maybe that was just hope. Sense though soon prevailed and my theory changed from perch to zander. The fight though went on far too long for a zander and then the obvious culprit became a pike of possibly some size.

The fish though seemed to not be satisfied with just powering around in the centre of the canal as I would of expected a pike to do. Then all too soon things got a bit dirty as the still unseen fish began charging towards any bit of cover on my own bank. Finally it came to the surface and I spotted a very un-pike like flank roll. Then a few more charges and turns later it surface properly and it's true identity was reviled by a pair big rubbery lips that framed a mouth big enough to throw a golf ball down. I had landed certainly my biggest canal chub and even better I had done it on a finesse lure outfit. 

Lying in the soft grass on my net which it was nearly as long as. Next to my tiny rod and reel, it almost seemed comical  that I landed it on this light gear. 

After a couple of pictures that were hastily taken by a very excited me I slipped it back a good way away from the swim. It was on the way back to the scene of the capture that I remembered years ago I caught a couple of albeit much smaller chub from this stretch fishing worms for perch. I did hazard a few more casts but really I knew that the epic fight had ruined the swim and that any other chub would have done one after the pair of us caused such a commotion. One thing I can say is that I will be going back to this stretch again and again as the year progresses and that I am already concocting some surface lure plans in my head to try and nab one off the top once it's warmed up.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that even thought the dead bait line produced only one fish amongst many I was actually satisfied enough with how it worked out to think that this will for now be how I will be fishing this second rod in conjunction with my new super mobile approach.

The Lake #23 The top of the pyramid.

I have for the last two weeks been banging my head up against the brick wall that is Coombe Abbey lake. I think describing it as a brick wall is perfect as what I have been trying to do there is as tough as brick is hard! As I had said many times before, myself and this lake have had an up and down kind of relationship over the years, but of late we've been doing alright. That was until the predator season came along and now it's all turned to rat shit... 

Even with this water teeming with pike of all sizes I find myself fishing only for zander. If you believe anything written of Coombe and zander in the past twenty years, you would think that there is loads of the damn things right up to record shaking weights. Well, the reality is that things here have settled down on the zander front and I think that the pike outnumber the zander twenty to one, and that's being conservative. Then if you will, think of the classical ecological pyramid with millions of prey fish making up the wide base of the pyramid and a smaller amount of predators forming the tiny point at the top. Now if that pyramid had a shiny little flash of light glistening right at the top that would represent the zander. I am sure you see where I am going here. Hence I have been seeking a very small amount of very special fish in a massive lake full of not very special fish and it ain't been going well.

So far I've spent time staring in bushes as the rain has been coming down so hard that I had to turn my back on the lake...

I've sat watching motionless rods all day, only to find my bite alarms have succumbed to the damp...

I have also spent hours scanning the huge expanse of water looking for signs of predation...

And so far all I have achieved is to read a book whilst I waited!

Truthfully right now I find myself thinking that the time I spend trying to winkle a single run from this lake is just time wasted. I could wait day and night until Christmas and not receive one bleep, let alone a run. From what I have heard on the grapevine it;s not been going well for any other anglers pursuing them either and so far if I am right, the grand total of zander caught this season totals the daunting number of one! Right now for me that is just not appropriate or conducive to what time I have to spend on this foolhardy quest and as a result I have decided to leave it alone.

With my Coombe zander quest shelved for now I need a bit of pepping up so decided to head back to the lake I now refer to as Area 51 that I fished recently for sturgeon, hoping for a run or two. Every time I visit this anomaly of a fishery it has a weird feel to it. Take this resident duck for example...what the hells with that hairdo!!!

The fishing and captures on this occasion were relatively normal. The sturgeon failed to show but I did not lack action. By noon I had actually run out of bait as a steady run of low double figure carp kept me very busy stuffing my oversized baits into their mouths with gay abandon.

It kind of made me wonder about the intelligence of carp as this lot were more than happy to force my match box sized cubes of luncheon meat in their cake holes, along with what can only be described as some very agricultural rigs attached to it. These stupid blighters made the now popular carp fishing term of 'riggy' redundant. Thirty-five pound braid... not a problem! Size two choddy hook... not a problem! two ounces of luncheon meat... nom nom nom (sorry for the use of 'nom nom nom' I am ashamed of my use of this terrible consumption reference as I hate it, but it does kind of work in this case)

In between random runs I found the rest of my time filled trying to repel my borders against a rather over confident goose. There is is a flock of farm yard geese that waddle around the lakes constantly all day long. Most have a healthy respect for personal space but there is one who thinks nothing of coming blatantly right up and rooting round in your bag, then when you try and shoo him off this cheeky gander just stares you out like you done him some wrong. 

He was a damn nuisance sticking his head were it did not belong, and on at least one occasion found himself in pretty bad situation from his general inquisitiveness..!

Even though I did not actually catch any of my target fish it was nice to get some action after spending so much of my valuable angling time chasing ghost fish in some pretty awful weather. So I suppose this trip did actually serve purpose and has pepped me back up. But even with my renewed vigour I wont be rushing back to Coombe after zander any time soon and will instead change my venue in which to look for a big Zed.

The frozen and the furious.

Someone said to me the other day that it just did not feel worthwhile for him to sit out fishing in the freezing weather for probably so little, so he did not bother going out. I mulled over what he had said and wondered why I never felt like this... I concluded that firstly I always believe not matter how much everything is against me that there is always a chance I could catch the fish of my dreams, and secondly because I already know that if I could fish every day for the rest of my entire life it would still not be enough for me. I love being out fishing that much that I can't let a single opportunity pass me by for fear of regretting it on my death bed.

Even with my strong resolve I knew that the inclement conditions this weekend just passed would push me right to the very limit of endurance once again in this never ending winter. So I wasn't disappointed when I arrived at the canal Friday morning and saw this!

Quack!

I think somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was going to be a little frozen, but I just went anyway because no ice was going to stop me fishing on the first day of my bank holiday weekend. Clearing a hole ten feet wide by as far as my landing net would reach took no time at all, but I suspected a long wait might be on the cards for a bite as the whole process of holing the ice was somewhat less than silent.

The next few hours could be described as what separates men from boys, and insane from the sane. Even wrapped up with more layers than could be recalled, the cold wind still managed to drop my body temperature enough to raise a bout of shivering. Even with the shakes I still managed to keep my vigil up staring at my neon orange float framed by the ice.

Thank the boating gods for holiday barges on frozen days that's all I can say. Normally these inexperienced one off captains drive canal anglers mad with their inability to steer a straight line. Today though I could have kissed every one that passed me by. Whether they were just unable to stay in the one boat wide pass cut by the more experienced boaters or whether they liked the sound of cracking ice I don't know and don't care, as the passing of five holiday boats had the entire ice sheet smashed into small bits and then the wind took care of the rest, sending it all off to I cared not where.

It wasn't that long after the shattered ice was dispersed that somewhere in the rhythmical ripple of the canal surface that my float broke rhythm for a split second. I suspected this hint was an early warning, and a while later it again broke the rhythm holding under when it should of been bobbing up. Then it moved across the tow and I needed no more evidence to strike.

The first fish was small by this areas standards, but this sub average fish was to herald of a flurry of activity. Five more torpid perch shyly moved off with my bait over the next half an hour and although no one bite submerged the float fully, not one enquiry was missed. The best of this determined to feed bunch was a very tubby gal a few ounces short of two pounds.

Messing around with all that ice got me thinking that any further time spent fishing this weekend would be more efficiently allotted to afternoon sessions, and as the clocks went forward I could find myself able to fish well into the dusk. So my on next session I headed to a small woodland lake which in cold temperatures goes gin clear. I knew for sure it would be totally deserted and half suspected it should be free of ice to some degree, largely due to multiple squabbling pairs of Canadian geese that turn up around this time every year and kick off at any given opportunity. The geese were present and from the look of all the smashed ice they had been at it all morning. Just over half the lake was clear and every spot was free of anglers so it was all mine for the afternoon and all the way to night fall.

Sometimes I think to actually catch the species you want its easier to target another species instead. Whenever fishing for perch I general have a few carpy run ins and as I fancied catching a carp I thought I would fish for perch then. At first it did not work as the perch actually did oblige me and gobbled up my worm as it fluttered down through the clear water.

With the adjusted time I soon realised it was getting on for quarter past seven and the sky was still very light and around then what can only think were roach started fiddling with my bait. This went on for ages as I imagined what was going on under the surface. Then out of nowhere all attentions ceased momentarily before my light float disappeared in the blink of an eye.

My strike just bent my rod over against a solid weight which did nothing at first. Then as the information was processed the solid force powered off, this was no perch! It was not one of those dramatic fights where I and the fish vie for line, but instead the culprit plodded around only half awake on the cold evening. Eventually it did succumb to my careful resistance and when I first caught sight of it my eyes lit up.

Could my first carp of the year be any better looking! I do not think so. It was nowhere near the biggest carp I have caught but deep gold flanks and chestnut head made it by far one of the best looking carp I have landed, ever.

This was one of those occasions when I did not need to hang round and cast again. I was satisfied and wanted nothing to sully this perfect moment. So I packed up straight after I watched that splendid clear water carp drift back into the depths.

It was the canal which called me back for my third and final session of the holiday weekend. I know the perch here are up for it, and with the temperature rising to a heady four degrees Celsius I fancied they might come hard on the feed. So mid Monday afternoon, after a jaunt over to Stratford to watch the Earlsdon morris men getting rat arsed down the road from old Bill's house, I headed back to the canal.

Happily not a single ice crystal was anywhere to be seen and the canal looked to be in tip top condition for a spot of perch fishing. So after settling down and baiting up just off my rod tip on the near side shelf  with a mixture of worm infused goodies I waited.

It's worth saying at this point that I have stopped using chopped worms on this and all my perch waters, as frankly its getting very expensive chopping up wholesale amounts of worm and chucking them into the void. So I am now instead using what can only be described as a grotty mix of puréed prawns, chopped prawn, the odd lobworm and a few squirts of Van den eynde liquid worm. It might sound just as expensive but I can assure you it is not. I buy the cheapest prawns I can at £1.50 for 500g, the lobworms I throw into the mix are generally ones I have used as hook baits or odd half's and small ones. The Van den eynde liquid worm is the only real cost at around four pounds but that lasts for ages. So the attraction for a trip only costs me a around £2.50 for a half day or £4 for a whole as compared to £12 per half a kilo of worms plus hook baits.

The perch took ages to turn up to the party but when they did they came slowly but regularly. All in all I had ten bites and nine fish. Bar one they were all pretty average fish at around a puond and half to a pound and three quarters  So when I sat down a did a bit of rough maths I reckon I ended up with nine fish for around 12-13lb which is a respectable canal catch on any day, never mind after the canals only been thawed for a half a day.

Saying that though its not the weight that matters to me but the fish themselves  Every strike was met with a surging run and close quarter fights of sheer violence. Once in the net it did not stop there - these perch were indignant at being caught. Furious and bristling head to tail. Their spines were never down, they flared the gills and even arched there backs in shear anger. They were the pure personification of what a perch should look like and a joy absolute to catch.