What was I saying.

Who was it that was banging on about the weather being rather mild for this time of year...Oh yeah, it was me! I should have known better than to start whacking on about such things by now as fate has a way of making you look a bit foolish when you make statements like that. In the week that followed that rash sentence the weather here in old Blighty went from hints of spring to practically Arctic in an instant. One day we were thinking the daffodils would soon be out and the next the rivers froze over. It was almost like some kind of promotional stunt for the upcoming final season of Game of Thrones where they had got the actual Night King to come and touch the UK with his icy finger, and freeze it. That or Donald Tusk had turned off the heating to punish us for daring to have our own will and voting for Brexit. Whatever the cause it was cold, very cold and thus the fishing was not going to be easy.

Before I'd even left the house to scrape the ice from the car I knew finding liquid water might be a slight issue. As I chipped away the hard frost I considered that every lake and canal in the county would be out of action so rivers were my only option. Not fancying the Avon I concluded to chip over to the Leam to fish some urban spots where I know the fish shoal up in winter.

Upon arriving I found...

Section 1 - Very frozen

Section 2 - Faster water but still very frozen

Section 3 - I didn't bother with section 3 as I knew it would be frozen

With only a few viable options I headed homeward thinking to check out somewhere on the way just in case it was fishable. Although free of ice when I arrived it turned out I was a bit too late to the party and a group of lads were camped out by the weir I intended to fish. So on I went to my final last chance spot way out in the country where the Upper Avon crawls silently through the potato fields.

Finally my luck was in, the river was flowing and the stretch was vacant. Although there was no more than a couple of hours worth of casting in this field, that seemed a perfect amount of time considering it was currently minus five Celsius.

Between the two freezing margins the river ran winter green. I knew the slower water just off the flow was a known haunt for a perch and chub so I set up a Texas rigged finesse shad from Z-man and flicked the rig tight to the far margin. It took a few casts to find a taker, but all of a sudden I felt a definite thump resonate back along the taught braided line. Suddenly a powerful fish was heading for the far side reed bed and all that I had to stop it was seven feet of lightweight carbon and thirty feet of six pound braid.

I really wanted this unseen fish to be a big chub which this area is renowned for and from the way it kept trying to do me in the bank side vegetation I had high hopes of a five pound rubber lips soon going in my net. Deep down through the winter water I could see a pale fish shape struggling against me for freedom. A few more dives and the fish rolled on the surface and I thought for a moment a pike was attacking my chub. One last surge of power and the fish surfaced. A pike! For a moment I was confused to whether a pike had gone for my chub and somehow the chub had got away and the pike got hooked in the process. It wasn't until I looked and found the size one worm hook driven clean through the roof of the pikes mouth that it clicked that I had been playing a pike all along, no matter how much I wanted it to be a chub!

Really on one of the coldest days of the year so far I couldn't have been happier with this capture even though it wasn't a chub. All the effort I made to actually find a venue on a day when most normal people left the fishing well alone, was worth it, and I continue my unbroken pike run since Xmas.

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.

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.

A winter warmer

The total of my last couple of trips can be summed up quite easily with only a few lines and a couple of pictures.

On Sunday all I netted in four hours of fishing on the gin clear canal was about fifty pounds of ice!

On Wednesday myself and Andy had a ten hour picnic next to a massive wind swept gravel pit!

I think everyone still mental enough to be fishing here in the UK will agree that the fishing has certainly taken a turn for the worse since the winter has set in. And I for one will be re-evaluating my approach for the next few months to counter for this dramatic change.

- No more messing round on lakes, unless pike are involved.
- If I even suspect a venue may be frozen I ain't bothering.
- Stick to the rivers at all costs.
- Target only the species that can feasibly be caught (no chancing a rare catch)
- Use the two pound block of  stinking cheese paste that Jacky's been trying get out of the freezer all year.

Being a little bored I have been looking back trough my blog and dreaming of easier days gone by. Whilst looking through it I discovered that of all the posts I have done in the last few years, one has been the most popular and  most viewed ever since it was posted. This in turn reminded me that a while ago I had written a little tale which I had extracted from this post and expanded on it a little. And in this time of little action to blog about I felt this short may hold a little interest and warm a few cockles.

A knock out Barbel

A few years ago whilst targeting some very respectable Barbel on clear shallow section of the upper Warwickshire Avon  I went through what can only be described as a unbelievable run of comical disasters whilst trying to land even just one single Barbel, leading up to the crescendo that I will never forget. 
I endured numerous problems including; having a close friend spoil my best chance of the entire summer through a morbid fear of wasps, a rod snapping like a twig whilst playing a very nice double figure Barbel, which I subsequently lost; and having a mink dive in where I was fishing sending every resident of my favourite swim off for days. 
But by far the worst and final disaster happened on a surprisingly hot and hazy autumn afternoon. 

One of the best swims on the entire stretch of river had a mouth watering willow which had slumped over into the river. All summer long a huge mat of debris had built up around it making the perfect hiding place for a resident shoal of Barbel which ranged from three pounds right up to oh my god. 

Perfect as it was this swim had one major drawback. One of its bows supported it perfectly from the bed of the river and just happened to be dead centre of the entire hidey hole, which made casting baits under the raft from upstream absolutely impossible. In fact the only option was to cast a bait as far under as you dared from the side and then try and tempt the residents out slowly by trickling hemp under it from above. 

On this occasion I had crept into position being very careful to keep myself well hidden behind a small mound fringed with tall dry tufts of grass. I had for once made the perfect cast first time and after being cramped up against the trunk of a tree for two or more hours my gradual baiting had finally tempted a few fish to the edge of the shadows just under the mat where my hook bait lay visible on the bottom on a fantastic gravel run. 

Just as I moved back to my position after again peering through the grass, another angler very considerately crawled up behind me to ask how it was going. Whispering back to him I explained that they were just starting to come out to play and I had seen at least two good fish move out and then back in again. Both of us sat transfixed by the tip of my rod as it began to tremble. Knowing full well what could happen next I readied my hand hovering just over the rod just before it jerked violently over. I was to my knees instantly applying maximum side strain to keep the beast from the snag. With my heart thumping I somehow blurted my belief that it felt like a good one just before the rod sprung back violently as the hook pulled.

I just looked at the river with that forlorn look all we anglers get in that situation and waited for my companion to maybe utter a few words of condolence. But he was silent. Turning round I realised why... He was no longer beside me but was instead lying flat on his back about five feet away in the grass with little birds fluttering round his head and an Adam Ant style red mark straight across the bridge of his nose where my rod had connected with his face. After I helped him up and dusted him off and he stumbled off and downstream cursing me as he went. I didn’t even get the poor blokes name never mind apologise. So if he ever reads this “I am very sorry and I hope it didn’t have any lasting effects”. And if that was not bad enough I never did actually land one of those Barbel from that very special swim.

I hope that warmed you up. And if anyone else has any amusing stories get em posted on your blogs cos we've still got two or months of this freezing weather left and we could all do with a chuckle.