Sunday morning quicky.

As a avid angler I sometimes forget that weekends are not just for fishing and that my beloved other half might like to do something on Sunday other than wait at home for me to return stinking like a fish wives apron.

So rather than spending Sunday morning into afternoon selfishly disappearing I offered to spend the day with Jacky, though an early morning should give me enough time to nip to the closest bit of river for a couple of hours fishing and still be back before 10am. That's what I said to her before she gave me that look we all know so well. You know the one that says I'll believe that when I see it!

When I arrived as always before entering a field I always have a good check to see what cloven footed beast may be residing in it before I enter. If anyone is interested in my reasons why message me and if enough are interested I may do a blog on my reasons why. With the coast clear I made my way across the field towards what I suspected would be a rather weedy upper Avon.

To say there was a lot of weed would be and understatement of the century, as it was practically bulging out of the water in places. I don't know whether its due to the cold winter but the weed seems worse than ever on the Avon. I did find one reasonably clear hole that I know usually holds a few chub. But throwing a ledger bait into the unknown would ultimately find a weedy bottom, so I instead opted to set up a chubber float and run a small bit of flake around and in between the patches of weed.

It worked a treat and second run through the float sinks and the rod bends. A fish almost first cast from a clear summer river and it made it to the net without any major hassle. It was all going a bit too well...

With the well behaved chub unhooked and put back in the net lying in a small pool of water water behind the reeds I got the camera ready for a little bloggy piccy. Taking pictures of myself is still a skill I am working on and as I am sure we all know it aint an easy task. With the camera on a higher bit of bank on my trusted mini tripod I was ready to pick up the calm occupant of the net. It turned out to be rather comical as every time I picked up the slippery chub it would stay perfectly still until my camera began to bleep as the auto timer counted down where upon Mr chavin would flip just as the camera went off. Giving me a funny film reel leading up to the one one decent shot I got.

I knew full and well that this would be a one fish deal and it turned out exactly that way, any chub that were shoaled with that one would have slunk under the weed never to be seen until the evening after seeing it's pal fall foul to that crude trick. A change of bait to a lob worm found me a couple of small perch but nothing dared venture out after a pike swirled after the last perch.

I have to say that sometimes I find it more satisfying to go and catch one fish in almost improbable situations rather than baggin loads in perfectly plausible situations. 

When I arrived home with five minutes to spare the front door was opened by a shocked Jacky who I honestly believed never thought I'd be back on time.

New to Napton.

I have lived in Warwickshire all my life and been fishing in the area since I was a child,but in all those years I have never even set eyes on, never mind fished, Napton reservoir. So when Keith invited me along to follow a hot challenge tip how could I say no. The tip we were following was a supposed population of the diminutive bullhead, which could turn out to be a key species in the ever more competitive challenge.

Upon arriving I took the time to wander round the lake to try and get an idea of it's geography whilst tapping any anglers up for catch info. Initially I set up on the windward bank as had Keith, but after a biteless hour my confidence dwindled and I opted to move to the causeway where an angler whom I'd spoken to had caught some good perch through the afternoon.

Shortly after I had moved Keith who had also begun doubting the previous area, moved in next door. My first bite wasn't long coming on my ultra light bullhead rig consisting of a 3 x no8 drennan pinkie pole float, 1lb hook link with a size 24 hook delicately tied to the end. With little to no resistance I was convinced my first bullhead would be soon in hand. Admittedly it was tiny but slightly the wrong species.

The current perch record is 5lb 15oz and at this size A rough estimate of 10 to the ounce would mean 960 of these would be needed to make the point. 

I will issue a Sub challenge to my fellow competitors that if any of you can catch a smaller perch than this, I will buy you a four pack of the finest ale payable upon the Xmas piss up.

The next dip of the float yielded something much larger and the perch point looked well on the cards. At 12oz ten of these cracking Sargent's would make the point.

The no7 pole elastic shot from the top kit after the next strike which came as surprise as I never knew bullheads fought so hard. After a testing fight and successful netting it Keith refused to acknowledge my claim that my bullhead rig had landed a universe record bullhead of 3lb.

Two more giant Napton bullheads managed to throw the hook on the next two casts and my regular feeding of small amount's of red maggots attracted ever more to my short line.

  

This was how my pole spent the majority of Thursday evening.

I could not believe the Tench action here, as myself and Keith landed one after another hard fighting tench.

By nine o'clock I'd landed six and lost another seven on my light rig. What I find hard to understand was the lack of other anglers after them on a warm summer evening. This place should have been packed with anglers with nothing but tincas on their mind.

The only thing that let this heavenly tench lake down was the mouth damage to every other tench, more than likely caused by ether braided hook links, or being dragged through the heavy weed by anglers not targeting them using heavy gear.

As the light went so did the tench from my swim, only to be replaced by some very nice perch indeed, and for the second time that session the perch point looked to be within my grasp as I landed fish of 4,6,8,14,8,12,8,2oz one after another. It was going far too well! Then a good perch of over a pound came off at the net and I could have kicked my self. The next better perch turned out to be a tiny tench, then the sky darkening in a rather biblical way was followed by a drop of rain here and there. Just after both Keith and I got our brolly's up the deluge started. A hour in the dark in heavy rain totally unable to see or get a bite and it was game over. With only four and a half pounds of perch another point was missed, although seven tench up to 3.5lb more than made up for this.

Not so much a thumbs up day....

I am sure I have probably said this before but I will say it again for anyone who missed it; the Warwickshire Avon can be a hard mistress. Some days she is generous and her bounty overflows and other days she just pulls your pants down and kicks you up the arse. After my mid week evening success that had been before the on and off torrential down pours of rain I half suspected that a little colour in the river and an early start would mean I might stand the chance of a few bites on Sunday morning. I was wrong! The river whooped me good. Three fruitless hours and I'd had enough. To save the blank I made the short trip across the field to college pool, a venue I have never even cast a line into, to try and at least get a bite.

Not knowing anything about this pool at all and only having my river gear with me I threw caution to the wind, lobbed out a ground bait feeder on my barbel rod and hoped. I got instant results by the way of a slew of tiny voracious perch. An hour in my tip slowly slid round and I hooked something a little better. T'was my daily bream which seem to turn up every session at the moment and at 6.1lb was more than welcome.

The perch continued right until the end. I did hook one other better fish that came off which I have my suspicions about....

To top off this up and down day as I left the car park to go home I somehow manged to catch my thumb in the metal gate, dislocating it and leaving it pointing in a rather interesting and unnatural angle. I instinctively whacked it back then went and lent on the car for ten minutes feeling rather sick, cradling my thumb whilst it throbbed like a drum at mardi gras.