Just one fish.

All the local canals seem to really be waking up a bit now after a sputtering spring thing. I think it was three weeks ago that I saw the first little fish dappling the surface on the Grand Union. The zander might have spawned and now seem firmly on the feed and the catch rates are reflecting this. Perch though are another matter! A couple of outings ago I caught one solitary perch which was ready to pop, it was that full of spawn. Since then though the temps have risen so much that I was sure as hell the perch population should have got their mating done with.

One canal that I have neglected a bit lately is the Coventry as the general lack of a hard winter season did not benefit it at all. Usually when we get a good consistent winter the Coventry responds well and fishes consistently. In previous years when the temps have been up and down I have found that the fishing can be very patchy, even on normally reliable areas. Hence I have purposely been reluctant to fish there.

The warmer weather got me thinking that maybe it might have settled down and that the perch might be feeling a little peckish should they have spawned. It was a bit of a sputtering start for me on the day after an early wakeup call from my boy resulted in me turning off the alarm to glim a little more kip. In the end though I did get there and did fish, although the fish seemed hard to find or should I say, hard to convince to eat.

I was very diligent about working along the stretch, methodically using several different lures in various ways all whilst fishing a small dead bait as a sleeper rod at the bottom of the marginal shelf to hopefully appeal to a zander. But even working very hard it quickly became clear that the canal was still not on form.

My one sole bit of action was as pure as pure can be. From a short distance away I saw what I was sure was tiny roach flipping out in a flat calm section of canal hidden from the wind. As I approached, two more small silver fish jumped out of the water. After quickly flicking through the lures I had to hand, I settled on a small silver glittery paddle tail grub which I cast tight to the far bank cover beyond the jumping fish. I must have cast and recast twenty times before the lure got hit on the fall as it dropped into the trench. It turned out to be a big perch which had taken my grub and what a fatty it was as well.

You could put a saddle on that!

One perfect hit from a perfect perch. I would love to say that I walked away and went home satisfied with my perfect moment. But the truth is that I combed that area again and again, hoping in vain that it might have been a shoal of big perch in the area, but I never got another touch.

It did however confirm that the Coventry canal perch at least haven't spawned yet, as this one definitely had spawn in it and had a very swollen vent. I can't deny being confused as I was sure as predators, the perch would have spawned already to give those little munchy baby perch a good head start.

Drop dead dumb Jig.

I don't think there was any doubt in my mind that I would be going back to the newly discovered honey hole on the canal. I'd tried to hook up with Jeff but he had prior arrangements for a date with Martin on the river. This though did open up the door for me to go back and use some slightly different tactics. With so many predators in the area I really wanted to have a go on the lures, but I think this is a very disruptive method and repeatedly casting around is just not fair if someone is float fishing, so going alone was perfect.

Luckily I had a couple of mornings free and decided to use both to try and plunder the stretch. Not wanting to possibly ruin my chances, I decided to go softly softly at it and on the first day went back to fish the drop shot in conjunction with dead baits and the results were brilliant...

The previous session I figured out there were a few snags on the far bank, so kept well away from them and targeted the trench and near margin using some black and white fox micro fry Mick off of Piscatorial Quagswagging had kindly given me. The water again looked quite clear and I felt everything looked right for a few hits, and I was right for once. First cast working the tiny lure back across the trench and I got hit really hard by a average sized canal zander.

After releasing that one I began working the lure along the bottom of the near side shelf. I hadn't gone ten feet before I found myself playing a nice perch.

I am religious about taking perch well away from where I have caught them and after returning that one a really good walk away from where I was fishing, I made my way back to start again. Not knowing it at the time, something weird happened next. I had carried on working the line I'd caught the last perch on and gone quite a way before I hit a second pristine perch which fought equally as hard the first.

It wasn't until I looked at the picture on the computer that the similarities between those first two fish became clear. Then I looked closer and saw a tiny red spot just above the anal fin and it dawned on me that it was definitely the same fish and not just that, but it had fallen for the same lure on the same line probably back on its way back to its holding spot. So either my technique was pretty spot on or I had caught the dumbest perch in the Midlands.

After adding a further four more nice perch and bucket load of micro zander to my tally I finished off with a perfect finale. I was happily playing quite a big perch with my little Sonik lighttec bent double into the canal when my dormant dead bait line sprang to life. A bit of extra pressure got the perch in the net and then after grabbing the other rod I was playing a small zander. It was the perfect brace to end another brilliant session and also helped to prove that these predators were just as up for attacking lures as they were for eating worms.

The second day proved just as fruitful; only this time I went back aggressively and swapped the micro drop shot rig for a much bigger jigging rig just to see how up for it they were. In short, fishing a 7cm salt and pepper Fox zander shad did the business in the again clear water and I quickly tricked a trio of predators into my net. 

Worryingly as the morning wore on the ubiquitous micro zander turned up and the better fish seemed to disappear. Once these tiny terrors switched and started nipping at the lures the fishing became quite frustrating. Moving put me back on the perch, but the ones further away from the holding area were literally a quarter of the size of the previous days fish.

To most people it might seem insane for me to say that's it for me and the honey hole spot, but that is the case! Now I have had a confirmed recapture I am beginning to suspect there could have been others and it makes me realize that even though I suspect there could be bigger fish around or even move into the spot, that there is not an infinite amount of fish in the area. Having to recapture them again and again just on a hunch to wheedle out the mother of them all would just take shine away from them in my eyes and ultimately be detrimental to them.

Rehabilitation sessions.

It always amazes me how quickly the countryside colours change in the warmer months. Through winter it always looks similar and even in differing light the fields and such are really just different shades of the same faded yellows and brown for months on end. In the summer though you can turn your back and look again to see the same vista looking totally anew.

In two weeks the land that surrounded the vole city stretch of the Oxford canal was nothing more than the new fresh green summer green. Now though as I stumbled along the bank, the waterway was flanked by meadows raging with so many butter cups that the horses walking among them looked like characters from a Doctor Zeus cartoon.

If that wasn't enough, the field opposite had turned from Warwickshire mud red with a hint of green into the dream scene from Ridley Scott's Gladiator. I half expected to see Russell Crowe walking wistfully amongst it fingling the wheat sheaves as he went.

Really I wanted to have returned before now, but nine days ago whilst putting out the bin I twisted in a odd way and something in my back went pop. Ever since then I have been delicately trying to rehabilitate myself from feeling like my top and bottom half of my body were not attached correctly to being able to hobble more than thirty feet in one go.

With only minimal recovery time off work and one very sedate session where I fished within eye shot of the bridge where my car was parked in a stance not that dissimilar to someone who had had an accident in their underpants, I now felt ready to return again. 

We all take walking for granted if you ask me and walking on an uneven tow-path with any element of a bad back basically wheedles out any weakness in your body, trust me. The previously mentioned session I barely got anywhere, and even with four more days of recovery I had only walked a very short way before my altered gate began to tell on my right hip.

Trying to forget any discomfort, I went about casting methodically along the reed lined bank trying to locate any predators lurking along the camouflaging reeds. I have to admit that I was under the impression that with the summers arrival the predatory fish would become vicious weapons of mass consumption and that they would be crawling up my line. The truth I am finding is not quite what I thought it would be! In fact although I do believe the fish are more aggressive, they firstly have more actual prey to become preoccupied with and secondly seem to be quite spread out on the canals. All of which adds up to summer lure fishing on the canal possibly being harder than winter fishing as far see at the moment. Maybe it will get easier as the time passes or maybe it's a case of tuning in to summer feeding fishes habits. 

Whatever the reason for the current state of the fishing I was in no doubt after an hour of casting that I wasn't doing something right, so quickly tied up a drop shot rig and began dobbing the ever reliable Wave tikki monkey along the near side margin and finally got a result by way of a chunky hard fighting perch. 

With the dusk approaching I left vole city and headed down to the spot where I had hobbled to a few days earlier. Although on that occasion I had fallen foul of the blank I did see at least three attacks on what looked like small roach that were taking something of the surface. I knew there were predators present and I hoped that arriving just before the witching hour would let me get the best of the area.

It took some time to come good, but in the furious hour after the sun sank beyond the horizon the small zander of which all the canals seem rife with came out to play. There seemed to be a shoal marauding around the area as every one of the four micro zander I landed and the one I lost were all within an inch of each other in length. The only lure that seemed to interest them was a three inch AGM black curly tail grub, which I suspect was showing up quite well against the clear sky as I bounced it across the bottom. Another hard fighting perch took a fancy to the grub just as I was about lift the lure to cast again and really gave me some stick on the light gear.

It was great to get out on the bank again and somewhere in the melee of action at dusk I actually for the first time in a while forgot about my niggling back. Now I am somewhere near full fitness I need to get back on it, as I have few venues I want to visit before the season opens again and my quickly dwindling time becomes even more stretched.

Possibly a world first.

I have this feeling that I could settle down very well and be quite happy by the sea. I even suspect I could give in to the salt water and forget about freshwater fishing. Hence I was eager to get quickly back onto the canals rather than mooning around wishing I was still by the sea. Less than twenty four hours after being back as far away from the sea as you can get, I was walking the tow path of the Coventry wondering which of its many moods it might be in on this occasion.

In truth, with it being a bank holiday weekend once again the water was pretty much the same colour of Willy Wonkers chocolate river from the 1971 Gene Wilder film. I got my hopes up that it would fish well after an early hit from a small zander, but three hours later I was fish free and desperate. I could attribute the poor show to anything from water clarity to copious boat traffic, but I had this niggling thought that it was just one of those off days when the Coventry is as moody as a common garden teenager.

As the Coventry has a habit of being a bit like this I'd had the forethought to bring along a tub of lob worms I had been nursing for a few weeks. Some days fake bait or the way I am fishing fake bait just fails to do the job. Wiggling the worm on a drop shot rig though seems to be able to conjure up the goods when all else fails. I suspect that even though it maybe an unnatural movement the worm is doing, the natural sight of it combined with any scents released seems most of the time to get one over on even the wariest predators.

So there I found myself, working a drop shot rigged worm along the margins of the Coventry canal in a figure of eight motion as I covered the entire distance right back to the car at a snail's pace. I'd only walked ten or so feet when I got a pluck, probably from a small perch. Then after covering the water again I got hit again and this time I stuck into the fish sending it firing off like a bullet. It wasn't big and after an initial surge it turned round and came right in close. A flash of silver and it was a zander, until it gave up and came in where it quickly turned into a skimmer. This wouldn't have been the first skimmer I'd had on the drop shot, but it was the first silver bream I 'd had on it! Over sized eye, peachy fins and bigger scales than a skimmer. It was definitely a silver bream and quite possibly a world first on the drop shot rig to boot.

Less than half a day later after calling it on a dismal return I was on the same canal only in a different county. Turned out a night of no boats had increased the visibility from a few inches to a mere half a foot, but that was enough to get the zander on the move and hunting. Quite quickly I located a shoal of fish holding just inside the far margin shelf against some new reed shoots and the highly visible cannibal shad went about doing what it does best and luring them into attacking mode.

They weren't big, but as always what they lacked in size they made up in number. There were loads of vicious little zander holding all along the cover ready to attack. Although the sport I had on this occasion and many others is both enjoyable and rewarding, the small matter of average size has crept into my head. In short, where the hell are all the bigger fish hiding? Earlier in the year I had a few nice sized fish, but of late they don't seem to be showing at all. Whether it's just a natural bloom in the little ones or that the bigger fish aren't interested in going after the lure I am not sure. What I do know is every canal I seem to go to lately is riddled with zander from six ounces to two pounds.

I know it bodes really well for the future as the recruitment in the last few year classes of zander has been phenomenal from what I have seen. Barring any disasters the Midlands canal network could well see a golden age in zander fishing in five years time. For now though I think I either need to increase the size of lure I am fishing to try and deter some of the smaller or fish or possibly try to fish off the edge of such concentrations to try and locate any big old girls hunting the little ones. For now though I think looking to some old haunts that have in the past thrown up some great fish might be a suitable solution for me. If some of those fish have survived they could be very serious zander by now.

Light lure fishing adventures in brine.

I knew well  before I left that what I intended to do was a risk; who in their right mind heads towards the sea to fish with a light lure rod that weighed little more than four and a half ounces. Probably the same person that thought a suitable back rod would be a drop shot rod instead of a beach caster. As risky as it was, I had actually weighed up the pros and cons of what I was about to do and given that I wouldn't be frequenting the north sea beach heads, I felt I could get away with just a light lure set up for it was the ominously named but attractively boat lined Lake Loathing where I would be fishing.

Everything about the place seemed just right for me to spend any free time I could muster casting light lures around the plethora of tasty looking features that line its banks. Literally, it has every possible feature from skeletal hulls of ancient fishing trawlers right through to giant quays capable of berthing huge tugs. For me it was the nooks, crannies and hidey holes around the various walls that are accessible that drew me. 

I have read so much about light rock fishing (LRF) and the associated facets of light lure fishing, that I had almost convinced myself I could make this work in this massive body of brine, even though there are very few rocks to actually fish around. I have seen enough fish in this water to have sufficient confidence to commit to my theory. Not only was I convinced that there were fish present but I was also convinced I had sufficiently attractive micro lures in my lure box that I might well be able to pry out a few matching micro species using them. That's not to say I didn't top up with a few packs of the strangely attractive smelling Marukyu Isome from Agm products before I left.

So tooled up with a back pack full of lures and with nothing more than my now trusty Sonik Light tec rod in hand, I headed out to cement my place light lure fishing on the perilous cliffs faces of east Anglia. The water was clear, and perched atop a wall I could see the bottom with the aid of my Polaroids. I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit unsure on how to start, but close by and in sight seemed to make sense. After diligently working  a drop shot rigged section of Isome along at least fifty feet of wall with nothing more than a tiny little fish shooting out to look a my lure, I concluded to start casting tight to some of the features a little further out to try and get a pull. First retrieve and I was sure as shit is brown, something grabbed my lure. Over keen I cast again to the same spot and got the same reaction but no hook up. I slowed my retrieve next to see if it was a bit of time the culprit needed, but still no proper hit. It took me a few more casts before I spotted it following the lure before tailing off back to the cover. Next cast I drew them up in the water and got a good view of ten or more darting little fish, rather enamoured by the rhythmic movement of the Isome but were unable to get it in their mouth. It must have taken twenty more casts with an ever decreasing sized pieces of lure before I finally hooked one out.

I wasn't exactly sure of what it was at first but after examining the delicate protruding mouth I concluded it had to be a smelt. They seemed to be lingering around any available cover, probably for their own safety in truth. But something I learnt about salt water species a long time ago is that they are all pretty much predators. Straight away I began focusing on working small sections of lure tight under or around any cover I could access and the results were intriguing. After only moments of the lead making bottom a few swift jerks of the rod would draw in a shoal of smelts and then the aggressive little munchers would dart in flashing and nipping at the lure.

My hooking rate was very poor to start with, but after rummaging around in my back pack I found a spool of 4lb fluorocarbon and a packet of size 14 Drennan paste hooks. With my new set up I was banging out smelt like a Trent trotter bagged silvers back in the day. By the time I had caught enough savage little smelts to start a Spanish restaurant I realized that not only was the entirety of this lake paved with smelt, but also that it was going to be impossible to get through them to any other fish.

Next time out I had thought hard about the smelts and concluded to scale up rigs so as to hopefully discriminate against them. Interestingly I actually kept the rig to compare with my new scaled up drop shot rig. Everything went up in size so as to keep the rig balanced and even though I have shown the weights right under the hooks, both rigs were actually fished at between six and ten inches off the bottom.

Next I began targeting slightly more open water. In truth I was looking for any species other than smelt, although I had no idea what might be lurking around. Eventually I got free of the silver savages, but now I was getting literally no bites at all. That was until I cast alongside a fenced off old jetty. Half way through a slow retrieve of a small Hart 2 ball worm I thought I hooked a snag. That was until it powered off to the left! Whatever I had hooked was powerful and on my light lure outfit it felt massive. After really giving me a run around proving how much fun catching sea fish can be on light gear, my first ever drop shot caught flounder came fighting all the way to the surface. 

After a modicum of success I was galvanised to travel up and fish a nice looking area of harbor alongside the local ASDA store. I was really confident that being as close to the sea as I was that the pilings would be racked out with all the common culprits like pouting and whiting. Even hitting it perfectly on hide tide and the slack water I got little more interest from the fish than one slight shuddering hit. On land though my presence had been noted by a different sort of predator. This time it was the plump day glow coated security type who informed me that I was on private property and politely informed me to sling my hook.

Back crawling into every spot I could to cast a lure I did my best to avoid the smelts. Every now and again it was good to get one just to boost my confidence, but the reality is that they are terminally stupid and go belly up very easily when caught, and feeding the seagulls on my catch is not something I find enjoyable.

Eventually whilst fishing a harbor within a harbor I hooked a second better sized flounder whilst casting a bigger rig around and juddering a full Isome over a muddy bank just beyond a bed of bladder wrack, using my Spro drop shot rod.

These flatties fight so hard on this light gear that I can honestly say that even though I have had loads of them in the past fishing from the beach on heavy gear I have never truly appreciated how hard fighting a species they are. The way they hit the lure is amazing; if they see it and want it then there is no two ways about it, it's going in that strange sideways on mouth. The only disappointing thing I can say it that I couldn't find more of them during my time casting into the brine.

It didn't end there though! On my final outing to Lake Loathing I arrived at high tide expecting to see clear water only to find the lake in one area very coloured up. In the back of my mind I had been thinking, why I had not seen any bigger predators mooching around after these smelts. The moment I saw the coloured water I suspected something was afoot. Tentatively working a rig around I scanned the water for any signs of movement. When I looked down towards my rig I watched open mouthed as a bass of two or three pounds causally cruised by. It took only the slightest bit of notice of my worm before melting away into the coloured water. In a panic and flapping I searched my back pack for anything that looked like a smelt and luckily came up with a three inch long shallow diving plug which was soon hanging from my line as I scanned the water for fish.

Eventually they showed twice as far out as I could cast in a shallow bay chasing smelts out of the water. In absolute agony I watched as the moved round the water consistently out of range until they just stopped surfacing; I had a feeling I knew where they might pop out again and I immediately headed to a spot where I might be able to steal a cast at them. I was ten feet above the water scanning the area where I thought they might come into the second bay, but I couldn't see a thing. I was about to go back to the first spot when I looked down and a shoal of sprats moved like a cloud beneath my feet and three good sized bass charged into the cloud. The whole scene moved to my right, I cast in front of them and reeled the small silver plug wobbling under the water towards them. The bass never gave the lure a second look as it passed by them. The smelts soon disappeared and so did the bass. As for me I worked the whole area ragged with that plug hoping that one of those bass might have gone after it but it was to no avail. That was it, my briney light lure adventure was over in a crescendo of failure. I had seen the ultimate UK sport fish hunting and had a chance to try and catch one but it turned out on this occasion there was no substitute for the real thing.

As for whether I would take my light lure gear to the coast again that is a no brainer. A couple of flounder a bucket load of smelt sand a single shot after some bass is a successful first lure fishing trip to the sea as far as I am concerned, and you never know what species will be around later in the year.

Zander heaven and zander hell.

The Oxford canal has perplexed me for a very long time now. The reason being is its general lack of ability to live up to its potential by way of predator sport; when compared with the other local canals which I also fish it comes dead last behind the overrated Ashby, the moody Coventry and the overachieving Grand Union.

I have been unable to come up with a viable theory, never mind reason why it fishes so badly. As canals go it has all the right features in all the right places for it to have some good predator sport somewhere along the tow path. How somewhere that looks so good can fish so badly is beyond me and worst of all is it's actually the most convenient canal geographically for me.

I once again decided to give the Oxford another look. Even though that I suspected it would be as bad as ever I still committed to actually fish not just once, but three times in succession. Over the three visits I must have walked miles and miles of prime looking canal whilst diligently fishing all kinds of areas. Sadly, as per normal, it was normal service and after some twenty five hours of searching all I had to show for my efforts was an unconnected hit, a scrawny zander which got off at the net and three crayfish on the deads.

Really I don't want to leave it at this, but right now the only thing I can possibly think to do is maybe return in the summer or the autumn to see if possibly it's a seasonal canal. Aside from that I needed to recharge my confidence so headed back to the Coventry for my latest session, to a section I discovered a while ago that seems to be very reliable early in the morning when the sediment has had a night to settle and the water is a bit clearer.

In this clearer water the lure that always seems to work for me is the savage gear clown cannibal shad. It shows up really well in visibility of around two feet and it has so much movement in the tail that I can feel the lure vibrating all the way up the braid and through the rod. Once again it worked a treat and three casts in a small zander could not resist grabbing it.

I was over the moon to get into the fish so quickly, as not only was I out to build my confidence back up, but also to put my new rod to the test. Since beginning to do a lot of lure fishing I have quickly figured out what I want from a rod. Finding that rod has been a real test of patience though. I must have actually held in my hands some thirty different rods from just about every manufacturer making them. What I was actually looking for was a lightweight rod that would yield under pressure but still have a relatively fast action. The reason I was after this holy grail of a rod was mainly to do with zander. Perch and pike I have concluded just smash lures as it's generally a case that they either want them or not. Zander though are buggers for chasing, nipping and hitting in various different ways. It was because I felt that I wasn't converting enough hits from zander into fish landed that I felt I needed a rod that would not only transfer any information of the hit back to me, but could also drive home the hook on these renowned hard-to-hook fish.

Eventually after travelling quite a lot and waggling a lot of rods and disregarding some very highly commended rods, Dave from http://www.specimenfishing-uk.com/ contacted me to inform me he had something I might be interested in. The next day I went over and after only a moment holding the Sonik Light tec 1-8gram spinning rod I was sold. Teamed up with a 1000 size reel it felt perfect and it was just unfortunate that my first few outings with it were on an underperforming venue. Now though I was on the right canal, the zeds were on the hunt and it was the perfect place to see what this rod could do. 

As I said before the fish were on the hunt in a big way, and straight from the off the cannibal shad was working. Every five casts I seemed to get some interest and after an hour I had eight fish, although there seemed only to be small schoolies of between a few ounces to two and half pounds around. Even though they were small, most were in great condition and very aggressive. 

With me catching so many fish it was only a matter of time before something odd turned up. After the bites dried up in one spot I had just moved up the canal to fish the next. My lure hadn't even hit bottom before something grabbed it and sent a sharp tug back up the line. I struck and the fish shot off. It was a normal spirited zander-like fight until the fish rolled and it almost looked black for a moment. At first I wondered if it was something different but then it surfaced again and I saw it was definitely a zander, though it was a bit weird looking. On the bank it soon became apparent that the reason it looked strange was because it had a blue hue all along its underside. Around the mouth it was just a hint of blue but along the body it darkened until right at the tail it was almost navy blue. Honestly I have never seen a zander like it before! I have seen them from that pale white colour they get in muddy water right through dark green, but never blue. 

It's not like it was to do with the area as not long after I caught this one which was green and pale white, and that came on literally the same spot.

You can see it looked to have almost normal colouring on the top, but that underside and fins were definitely blue. Although it's not easy to see, the fins were really accentuated by the blue tint and white edges.

Maybe the strange colouration of this fish was something to do with its environment, but surely I would have seen the same thing in other fish. I am thinking that it's more likely either just a genetic anomaly or maybe an infection. I have seen tench with a red speckling that's caused by a bacterial infection. Either way it wasn't making any difference to the fish as it was in good condition, very aggressive a fought like stink.

The sport continued right through the morning and by the time I seemed to have exhausted the area I was fishing I had landed eighteen small zander and lost three at the net, add to that the numerous hits and the two small perch that got in on the action and all in all I had a great morning. I don't really think there is any need to babble on about the new rod. Literally it felt comfortable using it, I wasn't tired after casting it for six hours none stop and the number of zander I caught alone is testament to how good it is. In fact I can't wait to take out after big perch and small pike in the future as I know it will be just as good playing them as it was with the zander.