A competitive foray #3

Match day

When I walked out the door into the dark at six in the morning I was met by the sight of sparkling cars reflecting the street lights. I knew it had been cold but this seemed a bit more than a sharp frost. Sitting there as the ice melted from the car window screen I was nervous, this was a big event I was going to and it had been playing on my mind for a few days now that this was only my third ever lure fishing match and frankly I didn't want to make a fool of myself. To sooth my nerves I just kept repeating over and over again in my head my mantra of the day 'just get something on the sheet'. Soon enough though I was speeding through the frosty countryside headed to the McDonalds on the A45 near rugby where Dave Mutton, the team captain, had called us for a team meeting and breakfast.

If I had felt a little out of my depth before I left then now I felt worse. Most of my team mates were seasoned competitors and the mix of lure branded kit indicated they did this regularly or a manufacturer had faith in them. There was me in my bobbly fishing hoody and hat looking like I was going flipping paint balling not fishing. A few of them I knew from the Tusses match a few weeks prior, a couple I knew via Facebook but for most they were all new to me, happily though we all spoke the same language of fishing. Talking about our practices and sharing snippets of knowledge served to settle me and soon enough Dave stood up and began his captains talk. He went through the does and don'ts and ultimately made it clear this was first of all a team event and thus helping out each other was paramount to the general effort, which made a lot of sense.

On the road again the sun was now rising and I was bleeding lost like an idiot! Some of the team had come half way across the country and here I was travelling through my own county lost looking for a village I have driven through hundreds of times this year alone. Soon enough I was back on track and found myself queuing to drive onto a half frozen half fallow field filling with keen rubber chuckers of various nationalities

It seemed to take ages to get ready to be set free by the CRT chaps in charge and people were getting very impatient to be off after registration. After discussing plans with many of my team mates I had just about decided on where to go. Of the three sections the match stretch could be divided into I liked the look of the middle heavily featured lock section or the more distant top section. The bottom section from the start down to the welsh road bridge held no appeal at all as I knew this section was a royal pain in the arse once the locks opened and I wanted no part of that. From what I could see there were a lot of people intending to hit the locks so I made the decision to go for space over features and head up to the top in order to have more water to fish. This in mind I never took my gear out of the car and instead lingered on the periphery of the crowds looking for my pre-assigned Bulgarian partner for the day, Svetoslav Ognyanov, whom I had already contacted via Facebook. With the initial parings officially brought together they gave the milling crowed some final instructions before they cut us all loose to fish. As we had previously agreed I headed back to my car, partner in tow, to zoom up to the top of the match stretch and get fishing...

The CRT international friendly

Venue = The Grand Union Canal bridges 18-30

The first hour was hard! The colour had dropped out of the water overnight with the cold and visibility was good, but this made the fish nervous to begin with. I had several slight enquiries early on fishing tight to features but nothing was prepared to commit. To make matters worse I saw some of the other competitors catching, which made me panicky. It wasn't till we all started spreading out along the stretch that I caught my first small perch just off the shelf which served to settle me down. All I needed was another one and a few zeds and that would do.

Quickly me and my partner developed a method of working together. I continually moved at a snail's pace working the inside hard as he picked spots he liked the look of and fished them before catching me up, either choosing a spot in front or behind of me to cast across the canal. For quite a while I felt like we were in a fishless void and was wondering if I had made a mistake coming up the top.

Pluck...I was sure something snatched at my lure then bang! I was into a fish which was straight away pulling line off my lightly set clutch. I have never been so scared of a fish coming off as I was this one. My heart was beating fast; I was fumbling with the net. This had to be a good zander I thought just before a mottled head broke the surface. At the first opportunity I salmon scooped it up and was proper on the board now with this 57cm pike...

Reports were now coming in via the whatsApp group that things were very hard all over and everyone was experiencing the same with odd fish here and there. Myself and my partner pushed on until we came across one of my Team mates, Gary Coulson, and his polish partner who were dug in hard on a spot where Gary's partner had caught two zander. Although invited to jump in quite close the spot produced nothing for us and we carried on up the stretch. Literally we covered probably half a mile before I snagged a small zander in the lea of a bridge which brought me so close to a metre of fish.

With that metre score now in sight I was working harder than ever making sure I had every chance to get another fish. After heading to the top of the match stretch and coming back again I doubled my efforts to cover the area where I'd had the small zander from, but the spot now seemed barren. With lots of other competitors all around us all the features were getting hammered. A quick chat and myself and Svetoslav agreed to work our way back to the car, stopping at any spots that had produced fish. Not long after, as my partner fished a very fishy looking reed bed feature, I hooked a second small perch tight to the edge which came up in tandem with a copy of itself. At 17cm I knew I was over the metre with this valuable little gem.

A change of tack...

On the way back up the stretch we again came across Gary and his partner who were still holding firm on the spot that had produced now three zander. As I chatted to Gary he hooked a zander on a jig in the centre of the trench. It was then that it occurred to me changing tack might bring me those few zander I now wanted so much. I'd already covered all the margin I was about to fish with the dropshot on the way down, so why not change things just a bit to see if it might work. The micro jig was moving much quicker than I had worked the dropshot and as a few boats were now chugging down the canal I opted to work the lure off the marginal shelf just on the edge of the trench and this plan worked perfectly, producing my best zander of the day by way of a very pleasing 42cm fish to top off my catch.

Having a decent length on the sheet I was mindful to get back with plenty of time to hand in my score; I was sure under the difficult conditions of the match I had done pretty well and being late back would be a stupid thing to do with a good score. Soon enough we pulled back into the field with all the other cars to find out how things had gone. With my sheet handed in and my length added up by an official and double checked by myself I was happy to confirm I had attained a little more than my target of 150cm with a satisfying 154cm. I then went about locating some team mates to try and figure how we had done. It seemed I had done well as had a few others in our team, but most of all it seemed as a team we had just about all caught fish.

I had it half in mind that I might have been in the running for the biggest fish with my 57cm pike but news of a few bigger fish soon came in. One chap had caught a 70cm zander on his first cast, rolling the dice with a humongous lure and one of my team mates was rumoured to of had a 68cm zander as well. From what I could tell only Jacob Stone had scored over a metre with 155cm, so I was chuffed to be up there with him.

After a long wait the officials finally had the results ready to announce, the team was all together and we were hopeful that we had done well. Dave, our captain, was just about ready to explode with nerves. They first announced the biggest fish was, as we suspected, the Romanian competitor with a huge 70cm zander then they quickly moved onto the individual winners. When the third place winner was called out as Daniel Everitt with 154cm I could hardly believe it was me. Then they called out Jacob Stone with 155cm was second, much to his amazement, and not long after that Richard Haines with 165cm was first. We could barely believe it at all, we had done a clean sweep of first, second and third, and better was still to come. We all thought it and a few mumbled it, we had to have won if we'd done all the top places. And when the called out that the England team had won the overall competition we all went bonkers! Dave the captain was beaming as the bottle of champagne was sprayed all over him. What a result for team England on such a hard venue in competition with some really great teams. As for me, I still can barely believe that all my hard work paid off and on my third ever lure match I was lucky enough to get my hands on some silverware!

Total Length = 154cm

Finish position = 3rd
Team finish position = England 1st with 1435 point and an average legnth per angler of 57.4cm

Me and my new friend and brilliant partner, Svetoslav Ognyanov.

Dave couldn't stop smiling after such a brilliant victory.

and neither could this lot!

Well done again chaps on a great overall performance and victory. I had a brilliant day and made loads of new friends that I hope to fish with again and again in the future.

Snow day.

I love being out in the early morning fishing in the snow, and as we don't really get that much opportunity to do this, I was really looking forward to getting out and having a few casts in the white the other day. One type of fishing I would love to have a go at is ice fishing and thus I am quite jealous of my old fishing buddy Noo-noo Harrison who moved to Grand Cache in Canada a few years ago for work, who I saw on Facebook the other day was out ice fishing on Grand Cache lake.

Bar a bit of a distraction watching Adventure Land cartoons with BB, I was out not long after sunrise. Though there was little more than a dusting of snow, I could easily see that I was the first person to set foot on the tow path of the Coventry canal. Other than my own footprints the only tracks were that of foxes and possibly a deer which had come down from the woods and wandered along for a while before nipping back into the cover.

Large swathes of the canal surface were covered in a layer of thin ice topped off with a few centimeters of slush, but a few decent size bits of water had been kept free of ice by either the wind or had possibly thawed the day before. The water that was still accessible looked a really nice clear winter green that would give good visibility to the fish, whilst not be so clear as to make them nervous due to a lack of cover.

I knew I would have my work cut out and previous experience told me that the zander probably wouldn't play ball in the freshly chilled water, so perch, the illusive pike and the super rare chub would be what I was after. I also suspected it wouldn't exactly be hectic sport given the conditions, so first things first I just needed to get a hit. That first hit came quite quickly in truth after I hooked up a red head spiky shad lure which has done quite well previously on this bit of cut, and did so again attracting a welcome pristine perch.

They seemed to be quite tightly shoaled up at the bottom of the near side shelf, but once a I found a group of perch I managed to convince a couple of three to attack before the action dried up. Only problem was finding the shoals, and in trying to do so I covered quite a lot of very slushy and muddy tow path. Before I located more fish I did cross paths with yet another water vole. This one was crossing the canal to forage under some brambles overhanging the water. I watched it cross back and forth once before trying to get a picture. The next time it came back across the canal I pulled out my phone and just as I pressed the button it did a neat little dive never to be seen again and left me with this picture.

After the vole I struggled to locate fish in any numbers and just hooked a single small perch here and there until I moved onto a very snaggy area which last year produced a belting chub for me. I could feel the lure bumping into small branches on the bottom of the canal that had fallen off the overhanging trees. I often find fish lingering in these sorts of areas probably using the small branches as cover for safety or attack. The lure found its hold in three or four more serious snags where I had to twang the line and change angles to retrieve it. Then right at the end of another retrieve I felt the lure get thumped hard just as I was lifting it up in the water. I really prayed for it to be another chub but the fight lacked the power of the last time and quickly a solid perch succumbed and went in my net.

With the snow quickly melting and several very unwelcome drips finding their way between my hat and hood onto my neck, I didn't last long on the thawing canal. It really was well worth the effort of getting down to fish in the snow to catch a few perch on freezing morning when everyone else had stayed in bed.

Save the zander.

Once again the subject of zander culling has reared its ugly head, this time by way of the Canal and River Trust asking anglers to donate to an ill-conceived fundraiser aimed at regenerating the roach population of the Grand union canal https://canalrivertrust.org.uk/donate/grand-union-roach-restoration-appeal Besides the preposterous idea of asking anglers for money so as to remove and kill born and bred English fish this subject just plain old incenses me!

I am an angler, canal angler and a zander angler. Having spent close to twenty-five years of my life fishing on the canals, specifically the last year pretty much solely fishing the canals, I find myself with a pretty good perspective of how they have changed over the years since the zander have colonized the midland canal network and the effects that colonization has had.

I find it very disappointing that an organization such as the Canal and Rivers Trust seem to have, with little research into the matter, come to the conclusion that the big bad in the canal ecosystem is the zander and that they are largely what is responsible for the decline of the roach. Well, first of all are the roach in decline? From what many anglers see, that might not be the case. Have they ever done any major research into roach numbers or are they just listening to fishing clubs moaning about the lack of them.

Have they even considered that there may be other contributing factors such as;
- Increased numbers of signal crayfish in the canals which feed on fish eggs.
- Increased amounts of detergents entering the water ways from the ever growing pleasure boat fleet possibly effecting reproduction.
- Increased numbers of larger perch due to the crayfish boom, which in turn consume large amounts small silver fish.
- Lack of suitable spawning sites due to inappropriate bank clearances and habitat removal.
- Reintroduction of other predators, such as otters.
- Increased agricultural chemical run off into the canal network as a result of wetter winters.

In all the limited information offered as justification, the CRT haven't really bothered addressing any of these other possible theories and just seem to suggest it's all down the zander.

As a regular canal angler I don't believe there is a lack of roach. In fact I for one believe the canals have quite a good balance of predator and prey fish. But what I believe is irrelevant as its the clubs who rent the stretches who are moaning about the lack of roach sport, and this leads me to the totally different point of view I have often wondered, which may sound a bit controversial 'Have anglers lost their canal fishing skills?'

When I began fishing the canals many years ago it was a world of squats, bloodworm/joker and half pound hook links. Now though we fish in a world of hundred pound bags of carp, pellets and where commercial lakes that have become popular. Now and again I have come across an angler fishing on a tow path, looked in their bait box and seen all the stuff I'd take carp fishing, but nothing I would use for roach fishing, such as bread punch or pinkies, and then I've looked at their set up and seen power waggler rods, massive floats and line so thick Argos would be ashamed to retail it. It's no wonder many pleasure anglers aren't catching much when they are using these inappropriate methods and tactics.

Frankly the canals have been forgotten by many of the angling fraternity in favor of easier venues, and if you want evidence of that, take a walk down your local cut any Sunday of the year and I guarantee you'll be lucky to see any anglers. Conversely head to any commercial fishery and it will more than likely have anglers dotted all round the place. The majority of people fishing the canals nowadays are predator anglers after perch and zander, or the occasional stalwart canal angler who can put together a nice bag of silver fish. So if you take away half the fish those anglers are targeting the only thing this cull will achieve is fewer anglers on the bank, which works against what they are trying to achieve.

Does culling zander actually even work? The simple answer is NO! Removing zander is the single biggest waste of money in angling. I live in an area which was considered an epicenter of the zander population by many, and over the years I have fished stretches on different canals before and after the culls have taken place and guess what, zander always come back every time!

Only the other day I was out on a stretch of canal that has been targeted multiple times for zander culls as its within easy access, and here are a few examples of what those culls achieved.

Absolutely nothing! The zander were moving back into that stretch before the people who did the culling were even back in their cars, because the canals are a massive open network. Furthermore, in many cases the lack of larger zander causes the amounts of tiny little zander to increase exponentially, and those hungry miniature zander are eating machines that thrive on devouring fry.

Going back to this roach restoration project though, I actually think that trying to increase the roach numbers is a good thing, even if I consider the method of removing zander to be a waste of time and money. What everyone involved should realize is that more prey fish means more predators and as they won't stop the zander coming back there will ultimately be more zander when they repopulate once there's a bloom in roach.

Time and time again this subject always comes back to the same old conclusions. The more open minded of us understand that zander are here for good and that nature finds a balance; with a healthy predator prey balance, and that after nearly fifty years the zander should be naturalized. Then there's the anglers out there that can't see past the end of their keepnet, who believe that because they haven't caught a fish a cast from the small section of canal their club rents, that the entire canal is devoid of silver fish, and because they obviously need something to blame, they conclude its all down to the zander. I feel I should mention that prior to zander it was the pike who was to blame; I for one remember the bad old days when clubs requested that pike under five pounds to be killed!

Ultimately the ship has sailed on zander being in our water ways. Their population is so big and widespread that no cull will ever be effective. That means any cull which does take place is quite literally mass killing for the sake of appeasing a small section of anglers who believe that killing a few predators will stick a few more roach in their nets. But ask yourself this 'what if it doesn't?' What if doing this doesn't increase the roach populations. Surely if the angling trust wants to really increase the roach populations they should just concentrate on improving the reproduction rates of the roach in other ways rather zander genocide.

So this brings me to this! The Canal and River Trust are using the Internet and social media to appeal to anglers for money to actually remove and kill zander. Well the Internet is an open forum so have your say if you object to them killing the fish many of us want to catch by showing support for the zander at
https://www.facebook.com/Save-the-UK-Zander-1094522530560270/?fref=ts

And send a message to the Canal and River Trust airing your opinion on their Facebook page.
https://www.facebook.com/Canalrivertrustangling/?fref=nf

Or if anyone who reads this has any friends who work in the angling media give them a nudge and see if they might bring some of these issues up in their publications.

I think all I can say to end is to reiterate my own opinion that zander are here to stay, no culls or surveys will change that and with the zanders rise in popularity as a target species the only option that remains is to naturalize them and let nature take its course.

Save the zander!

1-2-3 and it's over for the rivers.

As any of my facebook friends will already know, last week I suffered a bereavement. My favourite rod bit the proverbial dust in the worst possible way, meaning it did not break as all rods should deserve to, under the pressure of some unexpected leviathan; instead it went quietly and unnoticed until I spotted the already rather diminished and only remaining quiver tip shattered beyond repair.

With the appropriate amount of sulking and mourning observed I pondered whether, with only days of the fishing season remaining I should replace it, or wait until autumn to do so. Having given up smoking earlier this year I felt a little reward for my efforts would be justified considering my small financial gains.

I have for ages been denying myself a new rod purchase, as frankly I did not need one. Up until now. For a good long time I have been tempted by one these http://www.anglingdirect.co.uk/store/masterline-rovex-john-wilson-avon-quiver-deluxe-length-ft-11-13ft from Angling direct. So after checking the price against my local tackle emporium and finding they wanted a hefty £30 more for an older version I made my purchase.

Wow! I think is the only way to describe the service. Hand picked and checked over before being sent out this rod was in my hands in, I s*** you not, 22 hrs. I was like a kid in a candy shop unable to wait to open it and I was not disappointed because it really looked nice.

On my way home Friday I stopped off to get me ears lowered  before going home for a shower and a shave. I had a date with a brand spanking new bit of carbon this weekend and the only thing I needed was a bend, and what better place than my favourite chub hole on the Upper Warks Avon to get one.

Late in the afternoon Saturday I arrived at a calm river as the sun's probing light became obscured by intermittent cloud. The river although clear looked like spring was having its effect and small fish dimpled the margins.

As well as treating myself to the new rod I also invested in a kilo of dendrobenas to use over the coming three days. So my first action before casting out was to chop up an entire bait tub worth and bait dropper it in mixed with a generous helping of  red maggots just on the edge of  a crease emanating off my own bank.

Finally I made my first cast with the new rod before settling it lovingly on the rest where upon I began to ponder the white tip... 

I have never owned a rod with the entire quiver tip section painted white before. Though instantly I understand the advantages of why it should WHAM! the tip arched round as a chub found my two half's of a lob worm in the mess of chop in the crease. Unusually for me I had brought a keep net along, and once I had the culprit in hand, I made my way upstream to put out the net to keep this character from returning back to the shoal I hoped to continue plundering.

On the way to stake out the net I came across a distressing but surprisingly familiar site lying amongst the dead reeds. I have in my angling life seen absolutely loads of dead sheep in rivers all over the country which can only lead to one conclusion. Sheep can't swim very well.

Although it did not smell I did make a mental note not to put anything that may have been in contact with river water in my mouth, as I did not fancy a mild dose of anthrax screwing up my weekend.

Not long after this Andy dropped by for a chat in the now falling light and around the same time I began to get some bites that were very un chub like. The slight taps and savage rattles seemed more like roach or like something desperate to have a go at the bait, but unwilling to leave the shadows. After three strikes into nothing I finally connected with a perfect pound perch.

Although they kept moving in and out of the swim I constantly got harassed by this determined shoal who were intent and quite successful may I say at nabbing as many of my worms without getting hooked as possible. I did land one more but all to soon the sun set and it was time for a few pictures.

Another perfect Warwickshire Avon chub

Pristine perch that I seriously doubt have ever been landed before

My next plan was to head to a totally different section of the Avon for Sunday's jaunt, but with a appointment for Sunday lunch with Jacky's mother, going too far seemed senseless. So I refilled my worm tub and headed back to the swim I had left less than twelve hours before to take advantage of all that worm I lobbed in.

On the way across the meadow I walked a purposely large detour so as to avoid showing myself on the sky line and spooking anything in residence. On the way I spotted this. I have seem mole hills all over but nothing like this. The only explanation can be that this mole be heavily influenced by the loony tunes as this was some old school acme burrowing which lead to some nice fresh mole hills that I bagged for later use in conjunction with my worms.

It was a real 'get out and get some done' before the sun grew too bright to be fishing such clear water. This reverse session went exactly as I suspected it might - lots of interest straight away after more chopped worm was deposited.

Again I hadn't been cast out long when a bigger chub crashed the party and tore up the swim.

The new rod performed great in subduing this brute as it dived into every reed bed within reach and every time the rod had enough power to ether stop it or pull it out still on the hook.

Other than this four pound plus chub the only other interest I seemed to get diminished as the sun rose higher in the azure sky. It got to that point where I knew with the gin clear water clarity there was little chance of any more bites so I left my gear amongst the reeds and wandered off to have one last look into the depths. Then I walked away from the river for the off season with a nice fish and a smile on my face to finish it.

My third trip of the weekend could not be more of a opposite to the previous two, for it was my first foray in the seedy world of commercial perching. I knew it would be a shock even though I had timed it specifically to be on a Monday when the thronging hordes were hopefully back at work or at least signing on.

Even with the chosen lake as quiet as it was, I did get the distinct feeling I had swapped Crabtree for NASCAR. But there is a reason way I was here. Last year along with Andy I targeted a prolific section of canal where I personally bagged no less than twenty four perch over 2lb. Only problem was that my best was 2.8lb and for all the hours and money I put in driving the long miles to the canal I felt that I could  have probably done better going over to the dark side where three pound fish seem to have become very common, living neglected as the apex predator in the world of pellets and sweetcorn.

Only the day before I had heard along the grapevine that this small lake had no less than seventeen bivvies round it and all the residents having two rods nailed tight to one of two islands. Today however there was only me, Keith, and one hardcore carp angler leftover from the day before. So I opted to fish my third of the lake in quiet area under the breeze where I'd seen a few silvers topping.

It was not a good choice as for all my worms and effort I only had two slimy skimmers to my name as lunch approached. So I made the decision to move to the exact opposite swim right at the end of the lake where the wind was blowing and the scum was collecting.

I had been thinking that sooner or later my liberal depositing of chopped worm would attract the unwanted attention of one the many carp in the lake. And I was right as first cast in the new swim my float slid away and I struck into a solid lump which turned out to be foul hooked after my hook retuned with a few scales threaded onto it.

A few casts later  I hooked one for real and the new rod with it's Avon top performed beautifully subduing a nice looking common of 11lb in a very sporting manner. Even though I was pleased with the performance of the rod I did not look too impressed when it came to the piccy.

The day had been perfect in my opinion for the perch to feed and Keith had dug in and landed a few small ones for his efforts. I on the other hand thought I had missed my chance when the sun finally burnt of the hazy clouds and the sun illuminated the water.

Luckily for me me I noticed one of the few bits of fauna on the lake was casting a shadow over the water and intersected my baited area. If you're not catching, a change in any way can bring a bite even if it goes against all hard rules of fishing law. So with that in mind I drew my worm bait towards the shadow one turn of the reel handle at a time which pulled the worm off the bottom before it sank slowly. Once it got to close in I recast it and repeated the same process again.

On my forth go the float got just to the shadow before the it bobbed nervously then slid away. This time the fish felt the right size and then I saw that stripy flank and my blood began pumping. Of  all the fish bar the zander, big perch get me nervous when I am playing them. Bony mouths and erratic fights are a recipe for loss so undeniably I rushed this one to the net.

It wasn't three three I wanted or the four that I dreamed of, but at 2.10lb it was bigger than anything I caught on the cut last year and also validated my change of venue type on my very first outing.

I did stick around for another hour or so and did get a few more shy perchish bite but nothing came of them. 

But now I have seen for myself what is on offer on these pike and zander free waters where perch grow big at the top of the food chain I find myself thinking where else might hold an as yet uncaught monster...

Oh and as for the new rod... What can I say? Not only did it look good but it performed in every situation in which I put it. Yoking spring chub from dead reed beds, taming savage carp runs and being forgiving enough to land my first decent commercial perch. 

So the only thing left to say are that if you are considering a new quiver /avon I highly recommend the Masterline Rovex John Wilson Avon quiver deulux as it actually does everthing it says it does and probably a bit more too.

Show and Short Session reports.

Well it has been a busy one for me this past weekend. On Saturday after spending the morning paying all those annoying monthly bills, I headed over to the Richo arena to have a look round the Midland Carp & Coarse show to hopefully get pick up a few things. 

First of all, I have to say how impressed  I was with this show. I have been to loads of shows, fairs and festivals relating to angling and at just about every one I always find myself walking away thinking something like there was too many manufactures, or that there was not enough retailers, and that what the were peddling was a load of old junk. This one however seemed to have the right balance of just about everything; a few large manufacturers plus their obligatory big names such as Bob Nudd and Dean Macey - the latter of the two I spotted munching down on a banana just as we walked past. 

As well as the big boys there were lots of smaller companies showing off their new ideas, including it would seem, every possible flavour of bait you can (and can't!) think of.

For me and most of the other penny pinching anglers in attendance, the retailers were really where the action was. And for once there was some real top quality bargains to be had. 

I was adhering to a strict self imposed budget, as I have in the past gone mad at these things, so for once I knew what I was after and from whom it should be purchased.

My first stop was at Eric's Angling. Last year I bought some Fox camo soft steel line from them via mail order and was very impressed with both the line and the price. This is the old packaging version of it, but as far as I can see there is little difference between this and the new stuff. 

Retail £18

Eric's sell this at normally £8 

Show price £5 

Next on my hit list were these Nobbler leads which are made and sold by Atomic tackle. Last year I was just using normal grippa leads for moulding hali pellets round for barbel fishing on the rivers, and this year I fancy these may help with that job as well as using them for bream and tench fishing on the Method.

Retail £1.90 each

Show price £10 for 13

I am a massive fan of back leads and although I have recently not been using a purpose made ones and instead I have been using a cheap bombs combined with a quick clip. These, cheekily nicknamed 'The Nutz', caught my eye!

Retail £1.90 each

Show price £10 for 13

Lately I have had some luggage problems. My Korum ruck bag is far too bulky to be used on short mobile sessions, so I have been squeezing the small amount of kit I take on these roving sessions into a tiny satchel sized bag. This always leaves me a bit short of space so I have been looking for a small to medium sized holdall to fill the void, and this oak leaf camo holdall with ergonomic strap and handle looked perfect for the job.

Retail unknown

Show price £11 (That is just a bargain no matter what the retail was)

The final item is a far as I am concerned a must for all anglers camera bags. I bought my first ever bank stick to camera adaptor from the local tackle shop and lost it on a beach in Suffolk in autumn last year. I begrudgingly paid and exorbitant price for a replacement on my return. Then at the show I saw a massive pot of these at a ridiculous price.

Retail £4.50 each

Show price £1

For me anyway, this show seemed a real success. It was attended well by all types of companies and organisations.  Though it was not one of the gargantuan monster shows like they used to have at the NEC, it's simple size, free entrance and parking all seemed to help to pull in maximum numbers of punters. I think everyone involved must of been impressed as money was happily changing hands and anglers were struggling back to their cars weighed down by plenty of bargains. I hope it happens again and will keep my eye out for it next year.

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I am determined to get in as many trips to the river as I can before the season ends no matter how short they may be. In previous years I have been lured away in February and the first two weeks of March, eager to get onto thawed lakes. But this year I am sticking to my guns and refuse to leave running water until the very bitter end of the season.

Sunday was the chosen day for my family to mass in a reasonable food establishment to celebrate the 89th birthday of my Grandmother. I love her to bits but the fact that she insists on eating dinner not that long after the time most people are enjoying a leisurely Sunday breakfast, kind of scuppers any plans to do anything that day other than go to dinner with me nan. So with a short amount of time and a self made commitment to maximise my time on the river I opted to again go in search of that rarest of fishes, the 6lb chub from the upper Warks Avon.

I knew I had made the right decision when I stepped out the back to collect a frozen net head and was met by the sight of  a light sprinkling of snow on the ground. I was also very disappointed no one was around to see the best slide I have ever done on the icy path going to the car. Rod in one hand, net in the other and my bag on my back I slid a full five or more feet perfectly calmly right up to the car boot, stopping inches short and pressing the boot open button on the key with my mouth.

The river looked spot on flowing harder than my last visit with that bit of colour that just looks right.

My first cast into the near edge under cut produced straight away when a nice three pound chub gave me a quick double tap as it engulfed my lob worm bait and signalled they might be on the feed.

Just lately I have switched from cheese paste and bread over to worms as I know this stretch contains some nice perch which gobble up lob worms before they even hit the bottom on the right day.

After breaking up a couple of sub par worms and depositing them into the flow, I walked of the have a look at something I'd spotted on the way to the river leaving my swim to settle down again. 

It seemed most of the swans in the county were in residence in some poor farmers field munching away at his soft and tender crops. Literally hundreds of them were grouped in one single field calmly mooching about unhindered, which made for quite a sight.

Back in my swim  and cast back into the undercut I thought the perch may of turned up when I got some very tentative plucks and my worm came back a bit mangled. After casting in again, the tip hooped violently as a brain dead 1-2lb chub crashed around the swim. Unusually this was followed by two more of the same year class which is odd because I have only ever caught micro chub or full size chub from this area.

The three marauding smaller chub seemed to ruin this swim totally so I upped sticks to go and fish a snag on the top of the meadow. After thinking I had cleverly made the perfect cast under the slumped tree, I sat on that it for about thirty minutes until a clump of dead reed forced me to reel in,  where I found my perfect cast was not so perfect at all and that I was well and truly connected to the snag. My pulling for the break only served to yank a swinging branch up and down into the swim ruining this usual banker in only one perfect cast.

My time was running out and although I had another swim in mind way down stream. I opted to return to the original swim to run out my session and save the other one for another day.

Honestly I never expected to get another bite. So I was only half watching my rod tip whilst I scanned the mornings doings on Facebook when I spotted the first nod over the top of my phone screen and instantley dropped the the phone into my bag. It took a while for the bite to develop but it eventually did and I found myself connected to a real experienced brute. This one knew every trick in the book and used every one as well. Twice I had to pull it out of the dead reeds on my own bank as it tried desperately to bury itself deeper. In the end I snatched it before it made antoher to bid for freedom.

A short and stocky four pounder rounded off the morning well and as I packed up happy with five nice fish under my belt I wondered where that elusive six I know is here is hiding.

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I thought my fishing was done until later in the week, until Jacky mentioned she was going out for dinner to Leamington with her work colleges to celebrate the end of a particularly busy month in student immigration. At first it never dawned on me and just told her there was loads of parking in Leamington. But then the next day when I was residing in my silent ear defender world it clicked 'there are two rivers run very close to Leamington and  my kit from the previous session is still set up ready to go'.

I felt like a real hero offering to drive her out for the night and then offering to hang round in the dark waiting to pick her up afterwards. Jacky gratefully consented to me dropping her off and I whipped straight over the corner shop to obtain a tin of luncheon meat for bait.

I was strange going to a bit of river I had never fished before and casting blind in the night. Straight away I was into the silvers fishing leftover bread flake on the hook and fruity liquidised bread in the feeder.

My meat line had sat silently on the bait runner since being cast close to a over hanging tree upon arrival but about half way through the session it went off with no warning straight onto the baitrunner.

I felt sure I was going to be met by absolute power of a barbel. So much so that I had dug my feet into the mud and almost spat on my hands before striking. But the power was not there and all to easily another chub found it's way into my net.

My first night time self take of 2012 did not go to well. I didn't even realise until I got home that it was a duff. I suspect the lens had misted up on hitting the night air after being wrapped up nice and warm in my snug new bag.

Now although I am determined to maximise my catches this year by fishing for appropriate species in the suitable seasons. My continuing appearance on my own blog holding nothing but chub is getting to me a bit! So next time my ugly mug appears on the internet I hope to be holding a Lady of the Stream which rightfully could be a man...

Snow go

I have always got a real kick of being out in extreme conditions. Even in my youth I would happily trudge round Bedworth in frost and snow doing my paper round. I even had a couple of places on the local cut where the constant the trickle of  entering streams kept enough water liquid that I could freeze myself half to death scratching out blade roach on squats. That's why I was half looking forward to this weekends fishing. 

I say half because I although I do love this weather I knew full well it would probably naff up my plans for two sessions this weekend. 

With that in mind I watched the weather as we all do and tried to keep positive whilst saying to myself  'it will only be a sprinkle of snow and both venues fish even in the worst weather'.

Saturday morning I looked looked out the window to see blue sky and smugly thought, ah I was right, it ain't going to be that bad. 

Two hours later I stood amongst the 1960's buildings of Coventry city centre and watched a bar of thick grey cloud approach. My initial plan was to get out for three-ish and fish until dark to make best of a winter witching hour. The approaching weather front forced my hand however and I went out around twelve. This proved to be my best move of the weekend.

The swim I fancied for a winter chavin is a great environment for fish, with its five foot deep, half fast half slow water nestled between two deeply under cut banks fringed with masses of dead reed. Perfect to keep them snug in the worst of weathers. Above the water on our side of the fence its awful; miles of open flat fields in every direction and every time I've put up a brolly in this swim it's been the kiss of death, so I left that at home!

The wind was cutting through all five of my layers the moment I stepped out of the car and it did not get any better as I walked across the field dotted by cow pats, which were frozen like organic Frisbees. Not that I threw any. 

Being so open I approach this swim in a massive circle so as not to freak out any of it's occupants. Once in position with the wind to my back and my rod as low as I could possibly have it and still register a bite, I looked over the bait options. I'd only brought bread as a back up, so it became a toss up between cheese paste and Lob worms. I have in the past caught more fish from this area of the upper Avon on cheese paste BUT the biggest chub I have ever seen on the bank came from this very stretch on Lob worms, so the answer was clear.

Once cast out I had barley wiped the ook of broken worms of my hand and poured a steaming mug of tea before the snow flakes started flying sideways past me, and I gave an inane chuckle to myself with a kind of macabre glee.

Half an hour in and I had sat on the one cast tight against the far bank the whole time. As well as throwing in two broken up worms and the result had been zero. So I decided to gradually pull the bait across into the faster water on my own bank.

Bingo!  Half way across the river the tip nodded and the culprit was hooked. In the water it looked alright, three or four pound maybe. In the net it was a much chunkier a chub than I've caught in a good many years.

5.2lb-  that will do me. I tried desperately to do a self take shot only to discover that it is nearly impossible to do so on a snowy day with no shelter to help reduce the bright white light on the open tundra. So I had to settle for the net shot. Which was not a bad thing! As in the couple of ghostly attempts at a self shot my face looked like old jack frost was slapping me just before the camera beeped.

After this I was not going to dally. That age old anglers thought of just one last cast never entered my head. It was just a case of one cast one chub that will do me thank you very much and I headed back to the car.

Bearing in mind that I had only dipped the net once and then walked back across the field, when I got to the car my Fox Predator spoon landing net was very rigid. So much so that I had to stamp it flat to get it in the  car boot.

Sunday my intent was to do a bit of pike fishing at another winter hot spot on the Avon. But whilst Facebook lit up with a million posts about snow  I sat cursing the stupid white stuff. At midnight I poked my head out the front door to hear the wondrous sound of melting snow and I went to bed hoping to awake to it all being gone in a few hours. As per normal I was wrong. Though what remained had only a short time before it turned to that classical English snow type. Slush.

I had to play it safe and I did not fancy crawling miles with my arse twitching every time the car slid around, so I changed tack, pulled on my lunker boots and hit the alleys as I headed off to the brook.

I could not rightly face catching any more half pound chub as compared to the previous days catch they would seem a little inconsequential. So I avoided any know Chub haunts and dropped on a swim I know has some as yet unmeasured roach potential. 

The river looked great with that lovely winter colour and with a bit of snow on the banks. The roach however were in residence but had obviously read my last blog post and were being suitably coy.

After a few casts when my bait returned with the hook sticking out the back of a small gob of bread I came up with an idea. Decoy fishing for Roach. It is so simple I don't know why I didn't try it last week. Pinch a tiny crumb of bread onto a tiny size 18 hook and leave the hook point well exposed. Then pinch much bigger chunk on the line above it. Even if the bigger bit slips down the line, the stinger is always the little bit at the back which the roach plucks at.

First chuck a small but perfectly formed winter Roach on the decoy.

After landing the first one, my conversion rate went through the roof from about fifteen trembles to one fish to three hard bangs to a fish. I ended up landing thirteen fish up to 6oz and enough minnows to keep me in perch fishing for a full week.

I was having such a good time I never felt my feet getting cold. But once they had gone I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to go. Then when a huge sheet of ice came crawling round the corner it seemed the perfect reason to get up and move home for a warming brew and an afternoon on the sofa watching a movie.

Only getting silver

Quite honestly I don't know who is more confused right now, me or the fish. In moments between casts into the sea, I thought as a snooker player does about what moves I may make when I returned home to coloured rivers, the scent of damp leaves and mobs of crow cawing from roosts in the woods. Only problem was it was still bloody summer when I got back and all my plans do not fit well with this late heat wave. 

I really want to fish for autumn quarry as does Andy, but no matter how hard we tried to think of something that may be fruitful we found nothing that we thought would be truly productive. So in doubt we crashed Lee's trip and went crucian fishing on October the 2nd...

I do love a nice estate lake and once long ago the lake we were visiting was one, although now it is shadow of what it probably once was. We arrived in pitch black and after checking the notice board for booked pegs (honestly) we set off towards the dam wall.

It certainly looked the part and according to both Lee and Andy this lake held a good population of Crucians right up to big, so I set out my stall accordingly; light floats capable of detecting shy bites, centrepin reels and a veritable smorgasbord of baits.

Mine was a corker of a swim and looked perfect for a Crucian or two, but it seemed it was also perfect for skimmers, which plagued all three of us all day. At 10 oz - 1lb each they were a match anglers dream, but for three midlanders seeking gold they soon became a pain up the arse to say the least.

Confidence on all our parts of catching Crucians was high so the quid for the biggest trophy was put on the line for the biggest of the day, though sadly  unlike Andy and Lee, I never managed to root gold from all the silver. Until he had to head off Lee was on route to take the trophy north for a stint, but Andy fluked a mucking great fish just before we left to steal Lee's thunder.

Seeing it in his net I thought he'd nobbled a two but on the scales it fell a little short at 1.12lb - still enough to keep the trophy south of the M42 nonetheless.

I feel bad saying this as the owners of this lake are obviously working very hard to try and make a nice fishery(which is a credit to them),  but it is rather heavily populated with carp anglers who seem to think they are fishing on a much larger lake than they are, and show little to no concern for each other, never mind the few visiting anglers trying to scratch a few fish from amongst their web of lines.