It's Great To Be Back

Sitting at home following my operation I felt like a caged lion. A week ago I was having surgery, yesterday I had the staples removed, today I am back on the river with my mate Mick Holgate. With the aid of a stick I walked slowly through a small copse of leafless trees. Thinking how nice this time of the year is for the keen coarse fisher. It was a misty but mild late afternoon with low light levels, what I call a "Roach Fishers Day" We had chosen to fish our syndicate water for the chub, but we might connect with a barbel. A small flock of fieldfare flew from a hawthorn bush where I presume they had been feeding on the red berries. As boys we called. them bread and cheese. Where that name comes from I don't know. At the edge of the copse the river flowed from right to left into a deep, dark and mysterious looking pool, over hung by an old knurled oak covered in ivy, no doubt the roost for pheasants, wood pigeons and small birds seeking shelter and warmth during the long winter nights. It was one of those spots that immediately made you think "Chub"

I had come at this late hour in the day to seek this fish of all seasons. One the nicest fish that swim in our rivers, a fish that will often feed when other fish lay dormant and not interested in the anglers bait. I chose a flat spot some five yards upstream of the oak, and sat myself down on a piece of sponge. All around were dead and dying reeds, nettles, thistles and straw coloured grass, across the river near an old barn, smoke from a bonfire drifted lazily upwards. There is always something nice about the smell of wood smoke. Looking down river I could see an angler fly fishing for grayling. Dipping six slices of stale bread in the river I made up a few egg size lumps of mash then introduced them into my chosen swim. Suddenly a rather bedraggled but gaudy coloured pheasant flew across the river landing with a clatter in the old oak. A minute later it crowed as if to say "This is my roost tonight".

As I sat there watching the antics of a dab chick or little grebe diving for food, I made up my gear which consisted of an Avon action rod, Mitchell 300 reel 1953 vintage, the spool filled with 6lb breaking strain Gamma line to which I tied on a size 4 barbless hook. My first choice bait was crust, so I lightly pinched on an LG shot some six inches from the hook. My attention was suddenly drawn to the harsh rasping call of a heron that didn't see me until it was feet away, with its legs down and wings spread it flapped madly to gain height and what it thought would be safety. No doubt it had planned to fish my pool for its tea. Checking the water temperature it gave a reading of 43 degrees F I though our chances of catching were quite good.

I hooked a thumb size chunk of crust on the size 4 then with a gentle underhand swing I dropped the bait into the head of the pool. By lifting and dropping the rod tip I eased the bait down through the pool. Nothing happened, I continued working the bait down the swim. For about the tenth time I felt a light pluck then a strong pull, I tightened immediately the rod tip pulled over. It was bent in a nice curve and quivered as inch by inch some line was taken off the reel zee zee zee. I could feel the head shaking, it felt a good fish. Slowly the combination of balanced tackle and many years of experience were starting to show. I started to get line back on the reel, a minute later I pulled the fish towards the net. in the gloom I could see a big pair of white lips. Then it was mine. A fish I estimated as a good four pounder. Taking out the barbless hook I watched the fish swim from the landing net.

Baiting with another chunk of crust I eased the bait down through the pool, five or six time I continued this process. Suddenly, I felt a bite and struck. Immediately a fish rolled on the surface. An out of season brown trout, I dragged the fish protesting towards the bank where I was able to bend down and slide out the hook. In the next thirty minutes I hooked and landed three more trout. All unhooked without touching the fish. I called to Mick "Shall we have a brew" the immediate answer was "Yes". Winding in my tackle I put the hook in the keeper ring then slowly staggered up the bank to Mick who was fishing just upstream from me. Walking back downstream to the car we discussed the number of trout we had caught, and the lack of chub. We couldn't work out a reason for the lack of chub.

After a welcome mug of tea and a sandwich we headed back upstream to our swim. Within ten minutes of starting to fish we both had another trout. I added another LG shot then baited with a big chunk of flake and cast well downstream. Fifteen minutes later the rod tip pulled round about an inch then sprang back. My hand hovered ready to strike. A minute or so later the tip pulled round. My answering strike connected. A good fish powered downstream. It was stopped in its tracks. But only for a few seconds before I was forced to give line as a good fish using the water flow made the reel go zee zee zee as line was pulled off the reel. For a couple of minutes it was a give and take struggle but slowly the pressure told and I started to gain line. In my headlight I could see it was a good fish as I pulled it towards the waiting net. Pulled the fish over the net I lowered the rod tip then lifted the net swinging it ashore. I could feel it was a good fish. Lowering the net on the straw coloured grass I parted the wet mesh to see a glistening chub. It was certainly a big five. The scales said 6-3-0 even bigger than I thought.

After a couple of pictures we watched the fish swim off in the beam of our head lamps. We resumed fishing, I baited with a piece of flake then made a cast towards the far bank Suddenly the rod tip hooped over, a fish had taken the bread on the drop. I immediately realised I had hooked one of the rivers big brown trout. After a brief struggle I had the fish in the margins. Bending down I slipped out the size 4 hook. Rebaiting with another piece of flake I dropped the bait just downstream allowing the bait to trundle down through the pool. Then slowly the rod tip pulled round. Thinking I had got hooked up I lifted the rod, as I did so an angry fish tore off downstream. Line was taken from the reel in a series of short bursts, this was a good fish. After an interesting tussle I slowly got the fish upstream to the waiting net. In the headlight it looked like a bar of silver as I pulled the fish over the submerged net, I lifted the net and lowered the rod in one smooth movement. Parting the wet mesh I called to Mick saying "Its a big five" We fished on for about fifteen more minute during which we both caught a couple of trout then in the falling drizzle we called it a day. Walking back to the car we agreed the chub hadn't fed like we expected them to do. But it had been a great session with the added bonus of two big chub. My consultant has told me I should rest for a few weeks so I am going off to the Kennet with a couple of friends for a weeks fishing. Lets hope the fish oblige and take our baits.