Toddler holiday fishing.

Before I became a parent I stupidly thought that having a baby would be the most demanding aspect of parenthood. Well that was until that helpless little gurgling bundle of joy turned into a toddler. Jesus shit Christ how naive was I!!! Since mobility has been achieved I quickly realized babies are piss easy when they're just lying around and staring. Toddlers on the other hand still have the same needs as babies but with the added fear and danger that comes from them exploring the lethal world we live in with overkeen abandon; it sends shivers down my spine just writing it. Literally just a week ago, BB learnt that the world was not two dimensional and is in fact three dimensional and in the spark of a thought everything over twelve inches high suddenly became as dangerous as a nitroglycerine filled jack in the box.

The reason I write this is because when BB learnt this wondrous new climbing ability we were on our first ever toddler holiday. From the moment we arrived at our destination, literally within spitting distance of the sea, it became quickly evident that our excited toddler was going to need even more looking after in his new jungle gym caravan environment than he would in the confines of our baby proofed home. This in mind it dawned on me quickly that what for many years had been holidays where myself and JB had just relaxed, done what we want when we wanted, were now all about BB and my selfish desire to fulfill my fishing needs were going to be taking the quiet back seat of a family man..

Knowing I'd be within a very short walk of water I had however packed a rod, a few rigs, breakaway leads and acquired a small amount of bait so as to seize any time I could on the beach. The first opportunity came the day after arriving when after feeding young BB, I shot off for a few hours on the beach. The sea was almost dormant, which was perfect as I'd only brought a 3.5lb test curve Chub outcast carp rod along to use. A two hook wire boomed rig was generously baited with vicious rag worm and cast out towards the misty horizon.

Late summer can be a funny fishing time in land, but on the sea I reckon it's worse. The summer species are thinking about drifting out to deeper water and the winter species haven't yet arrived. The only thing that seemed to be on the feed was the ever present horde of shore crabs which were quickly finding my baited hooks and devouring the expensive bait that adorned them. Straight away I knew this was not going to be a bagging holiday and that it was going to taking some serious working out to be able to get on the fish.

The morning sessions weren't working out at all from the off. With my friendly little alarm clock waking up at 5.45am most mornings and quickly taking over our time it just didn't seem right to leave JB alone to bear the brunt of a fourteen month olds onslaught, so any fishing soon became an after dinner affair with me slipping off at dusk to fish into the dark on the eerie east coast moonlit beach.

First trip out it seemed a different world to the arid fishless days. Yes, the crabs were still feeding hard, but in between the crab knocks on the rod tips came a few hard twangs which set the night light lit tip of my rod dancing. At first I'd forgotten that you have to let bites develop when beach fishing and after a few fruitless strikes I finally began catching a few smooth hound pups in between the crabs stripping my hooks clean.

The next couple of short evening sessions were much the same, with me sneaking away as the little one went to bed and fishing into dark for little more reward than a pup here and there. Although enjoyable being on the beach in the dark, my head light had given up the ghost on the first night and I repeatedly forgot to obtain more batteries which left me fishing by the light of the moon. If trying to thread nippy king rag on a hook in the dark isn't hard enough, try untangling angry crabs from tangle prone rigs in silhouette against the moon for fun.

A change in the weather came just before we left, when for the first time in five days I looked out the caravan window and it wasn't wall to wall blue sky. Luckily I'd had the foresight to refresh my bait after the local weather had predicted overcast conditions. Fresh bait in the bag and rod in hand, I did my duties and nipped off for a few hours. The sea was a bit more active with an off shore wind and my makeshift beach rod was only just coping with the added tide and waves. But scaling up just a bit in lead weight I was able to target a sandy bank I'd found a few days before when the sea was clearer.

Really, the fish I had been hoping to catch in this area were the sole that are reputed to reside in the area and although they are predominately a night feeding species from what I've heard the overcast sky could mean they might have a feed in daylight. The crabs seemed to be a bit less active in the more turbulent water and when I got a couple of sharp jags on the rod tip I was keen to reel in what had found my bait. There was definitely a fish on the hook as I could feel it occasionally thump on the way in and when I saw a flash of white in the surf I thought I may have caught a small flat fish like a dab. As the rig came out of the surf I watched something small flipping on the shingle and I was about to swing what I now suspected was a tiny whiting to hand, but aborted grabbing it at the last minute as I realized its real identity.

Trust me to catch the one poisonous species of fish which swim in our seas! If you hadn't already identified it, the culprit was a weaver fish which can, if grabbed or stood on, inflict a very painful sting from the small spiny dorsal fin on its back. These nasty little monsters linger buried in the sand waiting for prey to pass by whereupon they shoot out and snatch it in it wide opening teeth lined mouth. Apparently the sting is very painful and can be so for up to two weeks.

My hopes of finishing in a flourish of flatties never came to fruit. In fact the only other fish that took the bait was a second smaller weaver fish which, same as the first, I unhooked using a set of forceps and was taken back to the sea by the waves. That was it for my holiday fishing on this occasion and although I know from this adventure that my holiday fishing might be taking a bit of a back seat I can't help looking forward to a few years time when I might have a little partner in crime along for some holiday fishing fun.

In all conditions.

I knew the conditions were going to end up a little peaky this past weekend and in all honesty I was actually kind of up for a little challenge. You see I've been pondering the subject of fishing conditions, even more specifically I've been considering canal conditions.

For those normal and non Gongoozlers amongst us the common British canal has one condition, that being the colour of tea with not too much milk added. For those of us who spend more than what is considered a sensible amount of time looking at canal water we know that there is in fact a myriad of different colours and tones. On most weekends a new hue is revealed and I've discovered so many myself that they now just don't seem shocking any more, I just get on with fishing.

In the past and in most facets of fishing I have taken part in, I have always looked for optimum conditions in which to fish, so as I might increase my chance of capturing my target. For example, I would look towards the river to catch a barbel if it was falling and clearing after being in summer flood. But something I've been thinking of late is that to be truly good at one particular area of fishing you have to be able to make it work in the worst conditions. Using the barbel as an example again, I know an angler who shall remain nameless who has the skills to catch barbel in most conditions and this skill is what makes him arguably one of the most accomplished barbel anglers in the country. 

Now if I lay it on the table and say that I would like to become an accomplished lure angler, it would then be obvious for me to say to become an accomplished lure angler I would have to try and evolve my lure fishing to the point where I can catch in all conditions, no matter how bad they are. So after a little round about explanation I am back to where this all began and found myself actually wanting to go out lure fishing, knowing full and well that the water would be in a bad way and I would be freezing.

Saturday was my first foray and as predicted it was a bit changeable. The canal was carrying some heavy colour and the sky was made up of a bright azure background punctuated by various black clouds which quickly passed over occasionally depositing their contents. I even made the effort to dip my hand in the water and try to detect any difference in temperature. Simply put, it felt cold but it did feel of a similar temp to the air, which at around three to four degrees sounded about right and made me realize it was going to be a big ask to try and interest fish to attack lures.

In my first spot I went all in and began by chucking a three and a half inch wave Tiki grub into a known zander holding area. I'd only made a few casts before it began to rain which quickly turned to hail. Somewhere in the first twenty casts I was sure I felt something grab the lure, but continued casts brought nothing. I then changed to my finesse outfit and dropped down to a tiny one inch oil coloured kyopto. This bought no interest either so I began working along the canal margins where I eventually received a right old thump as a nice perch of a pound or more engulfed my lure. Stupidly thinking this was just the start and I was about to get into them I never bothered getting a picture.

True to form I never got another hit from a single perch. I did however find a school of tiny zander held up against the hull of a barge which I plundered four striplings from. The quickly setting sun urged me to go and check out a second zander holding spot further down the canal as the dusk came in. This time I ran the day out bouncing a fox spiky shad through the trench where I was sure they were holding. Reluctant to move on I kept covering the water and not long before my time ran out a got a hit right at the end of the retrieve. Unluckily the hook didn't quite hold and after a few head shakes, what I suspect was an alright zander got free.

That was it for that session, but considering the terrible water conditions and the dreadful weather above the surface I actually think that four zander, one OK perch and few other bits of various action was a general result when everything was against me.

If I thought that bit of canal was in a state the bit I dropped onto the following morning was horrendous. Barely a couple of inches visibility, full of twigs were the BW had trimmed a load of cover back and largely frozen. If I wanted a test, this was it! Where I would fish was largely dictated by where didn't have ice and luckily there was a few bits where it hadn't encroached.

Not long in on the first spot bouncing a little grub around I picked up a small yet rather angry perch and by repeating the cast god knows how many times, I got hit twice more, neither of which stayed on for long. After thrashing the water to foam in the first ice free spot I moved onto the next. I’ve never really fancied this area but today it was forced on me a by the lack of other water to fish, and I am kind of glad it was. After working it over for half an hour I moved into a savage snag filled area. Only a few casts in I was feeling my lure down to the bottom with a tight line when I felt a definite tug and a quick strike drove the hook home on a particularly pissed off zander.

Then in the last section of ice free canal I again struck into another zander as it nipped a hold of my tiny grub. I say nipped because I get the impression that zander seem to follow the lure and then just nip onto its tail. Whether I hook them seems purely down to how much of the lure is in their mouth. Weirdly after zig-zagging about a bit I am sure the fish just let go of the lure as there was no head shaking that proceeded the lure coming flying out of the water.

Only one area remained to try and that was one I knew would be ice free. The only problem was it was on the end of a bend where all the sticks had collected so the area was in fact reduced by two thirds. I did get on hit right in the margin, but a hit was all it was and no fish was forthcoming

Now, I am going to mark these sessions as a resounding success because of the considerable amount of interest I managed to generate on the light lures when the canals were basically a load of rubbish. Saying that I must say that I find it a little concerning how many fish hit/grabbed/nipped my lure and got off compared to how many I actually hooked and landed. I know I could attribute it to fussy feeding, but I do suspect it could be something else that I will have to watch out for over the coming sessions.