Grounded

I am not happy. I've had a few evening sessions and have taken plenty of chub including a couple of scraper fives. They were probably well over the magic figure but I have a knack for underestimating chub weights and am frequently amazed when I do take the effort to lift them on the dial. It matters not, I only get excited by those that near the next step up the numeric ladder nowadays, I'm not being flash its just that we have a lot of big chub in the Wye. But that's not what is getting me down, I'll never tire of chub they are wonderful fish and I am still looking to improve my best each season. No, its the result of fishing for them that's got to me.

I have only had a single barbel to date, a poor return you'd say but the river has been difficult apart from a slight lift in the level that I didn't fish - typical. Rain brought a similar rise a couple of days ago but I was unable to join the fun. You see, I'm grounded.

The dodgy back (oh here we go again!), has been receiving some pretty intense physiotherapy in recent weeks, compliments of my impending insurance claim, yet there has been little improvement. One session sent me back a notch or three but it was soon back to bearable but after an evening sat watching a static rod I found myself in agony. I know I can handle the occasional blank so the pain was purely down to a buggered back, neck and shoulder - I was in bits.

Going cap in hand to the Physio he looked at me with a somewhat miffed expression. "You don't have to fish you know", he scowled at someone not taking his efforts seriously. I tried explaining the compunction felt by us afflicted with the fishing virus but he merely explained that 'even professional sportsmen have periods of rest'. Check Mate. I lowered my eyes and muttered a weak "Okay". So I am now on an enforced abstinence during a perfect summer when the rivers and lakes are all looking temptingly wonderful and my eagerness to put a bend in my rod has rarely been higher. Bugger!

I shall return - soon I hope and I shall doubtless find something to wax lyrical about in the meanwhile but if you not a hint of grinding teeth and frustration in my prose please forgive this grumpy fellow, I am certain you will know how I feel.

Fledglings

I used one of those God awful self service tills in B&Q yesterday although it has to be said, the B&Q ones are far less temperamental than the main supermarkets, those things are just there to increase the blood pressure. Anyway, I put my little packet of Epoxy resin through and, with hand on wallet ready to pay was told, No. I had to wait for someone to tell the machine I was over 18 years of age. Can you get high on Epoxy? If you use both tubes wouldn't your head set into a permanent bond also suitable for glass, wood, metal and leather?

Well I looked around but the attendant walked past me to a little gathering of another B&Q chap, a great strapping lad of about 30 and a shopper. They were hunched over a grey mess on the floor that to me looked like a piece of lagging had fallen from the roof, their upward glances underlined my suspicion. The attendant looked in my direction and I proffered a smile that said 'Help, I am a man stuck in the bonds of technology' but she walked past muttering something about the RSPCA. The guy walked past me as well, grim faced and holding a paint brush looking like it was about to go off.

I looked again at the centre of their attention, now abandoned, and saw a little head rise from the greyness. I wandered over and picked up a very young herring gull which kicked and pecked in much the way you would expect. In a voice you'd normally relate to someone announcing that an ambulance had been called I was told, "Its alright, someones gone for a box." I asked if there was any access to the roof to return the lost youngster but was met with blank faces.

Big fella' suggested we put a basket over it so that it could not escape. Instead I put it in to a basket so that the flightless and stressed creature could rest. A debate was taking place, apparently it had happened before and an older assistant said that she put them "In the park", which, by the way, is some distance away and, as I pointed out, a predator rich environment.

Big Guy asked if I wanted to use the staff toilet to wash my hands? Looking mildly disgusted that I had touched a bird. The attendant, who I collared just long enough to put my order through, was having difficulty in tracing the local RSPCA branch but had contacted a vet. The crowd of employees gathering around the basket grew.

A young worker asked if I had seen it fall with a look of morbid delight on her pretty face. No, I just picked it up, she squirmed in an excited way, her eyes wide with the thrill of it all. I told her that already this year I have put a sparrow, two blackbirds, a jackdaw (that was a foot from being eaten by a large cat) and a couple of greenfinches out of harms way when they had fledged too early. "Oh" she exclaimed, "Your like the bird man or something". I said that its all natural selection and maybe we should leave the stupid ones to their fate. Adding, with a smile, but if that was the case there'd be plenty of humans would struggle to survive". She agreed not knowing that I'd just bitten a lump out my cheeks as I was going to add "But if we did that how would B&Q find any staff?"

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In the evening I relented and had a few hours on the Wye. I fished a swim where I have taken early season barbel before but it has altered in the floods and is now very deep. Definitely one for later in the season but I only had one bite which resulted in a good chub that went 4.14 but which will be a very nice catch later in the year.

I moved to some fast, shallow water and had a couple more, one of over four, the other I didn't even lift out of the water and was around the three pound mark. A pleasant trip and some action for my Allcocks Avon Superb which handled them all very comfortably. I think this rod will be a regular visitor to the river this year.

A New Season Dawns

According to Mr James the Wye is fishing well so a bumper start to the new season is assured, not that I've much inclination to start barbel bothering just yet. I spent the day supervising my work force (Nicky and Neil) as we sorted the fishery in a last minute slash and clear project. This Summer the flora is as lush as I can remember, the hight of the balsam and nettles is extreme so even finding old pathways was challenging but, its all up and running for the big 'Off'.

I shall probably be drawn to the river within a day or two but I really can't get too excited about upsetting the fish population so soon after their spawn. With back and shoulder issues I shall rest for a bit longer which will doubtless mean the fishing is excellent from the word go if previous seasons are anything to go by. Anyway, my mind is still on the lake.

Ahh the lake. I sat by it whilst I read a few chapters of 'The Secret Carp' the other day. I read this book most years during early summer, it really is the best fishing book I've read and it always feels fresh when I open it's pages. To sit by my own secret lake as the tale unfolds is just too good.

On the subject of my lake, it is also blooming in this exceptional year with weed beds showing all over, weeds that didn't show at all last year. Its given it a more challenging but even more carpy appearance, I can't wait to get back.

I'm still a little disappointed at missing out on my French trip, I've tried to put it behind me but typically, it turned out to be the most productive trip that 'we' have taken. Neil had something of a blinder taking muscular river carp between 16 and 30 pounds. I was delighted for him of course even when I received yet another catch report text whilst sitting around hurting. I'll pause whilst you send sympathetic thought waves my way before I post a few pictures of some of his successes.

Good luck for the new season and I hope that at least some of your dreams are fulfilled.

Bump!

So there I was riding on the crest of a wave, my fishing was going fine with a run of good fish and I had a couple of weeks sat by a carpy French river to look forward to. I was looking forwards to this date, the 31st as its four years to the day that I first blogged so I was going to have a little chat about the passing years and big up my plans for the start of June - then BUMP. I was hit in the ass by a car and all plans went out of the window.

It wasn't a massive collision but it has been enough to rattle my spine and, apart from giving me a whiplash, its stirred up my lower back which had been going along quite nicely. I'm not normally one to let such things stop me from fishing but I do have my limits and the idea of driving 500 miles each way is a complete no go. So I'm now a grumpy little so and so.

On the brighter side, having come to terms with Harvey's untimely demise, Nicky and I have been looking at dog.  In the past we've had rescue dogs and they've always been excellent companions but this time we have gone for a puppy. Good decision? Time will tell. Anyway, I'm not going far for a while so I can spend some time house training the little monster.

So, here's Cane - not the bamboo stuff (well, maybe a bit :-) ) but the Welsh meaning - beautiful and he certainly is.

On a Roll

Last year it all seemed so difficult - everything felt difficult and my fishing reflected this. But I've come to terms with a few issues not least my inability to leap great buildings with a mighty bound or to walk half a mile without hurting. My new found positivity has reflected in my fishing - so far - and when you are on a roll it all feels just so easy.

I snuck out on a warm day to stalk the lake. On the approach track I found a young lady sat in her car and wound down the window just to check she was alright. She was delighted with her first close up sighting of a kingfisher and we chatted 'birds' for a while. I could not place the accent but she said she was from Sweden and then told me she was an au pair. "Wow, a Swedish au pair" I exclaimed, "are the rumours true". She blushed and I didn't press the issue.

Arriving at the area I intended to fish I found coloured water where the early morning feed had taken place but all the fish I saw were dozing in areas where there was no hope of getting to them without youth, agility and a reckless disregard for one's safety... and I fail on all counts. I baited a couple of spots but nothing settled on the feed, they were all just snoozing.

I arrived at a spot that's worth a few hours and put a bait out. I then sat back and finished my copy of 'Little Grey Men' by BB. Having read the entire book whilst sat in deep woodland with its rustling accompaniment from the undergrowth, it is easy to immerse one's self into the tale especially here where the bank has little caves beneath the tree roots, idea properties for the little people. As I put the finished book down a couple of squirrels noisily chased each other around a tree making me smile.

I had a doze and dreamed of alternate endings to meeting my the au pair. I needed a coffee to get me going again. It was around the time when the fish would normally move into the area and a couple of loud crashes indicated they were on cue. The reel screamed its alarm and I was up and into action.

My old Hardy rod took on its battle curve and the line ticked off the old Cardinal reel, a very lively fish headed for lily beds and tree roots with alarming pace, I waded up to my knees in the silty margins to get a better angle on it and, after an arm aching tussle, I netted a beautiful linear carp. At last I have one of the pretty fish.

It was a bull headed brute that went 25.14 - like I said, when you are on a roll....

That was enough. I could have moved to another likely spot but I was sated and I strolled with squelchy footsteps back to the car.

Ups and Downs

Two days coming, two days there and two days going, that's how colds used to be described. What was it my Gran would say? Treat a cold and it'll last a week, leave it untreated and it'll last seven days. So when did all that stop?

I've been under the weather - did you guess? I was talking to Neil about the above and was saying that nobody has 'colds' any more, we all have viruses and they seem to be getting worse. He said it sounded like the ramblings of a mad man but when I went to the doctor (as I was actually wheezing, something I've never done), he said "Nothing I can do, just get over it...... It'll take three to four weeks" How long? Give me an old fashion cold any day.

All this waffling goes some way to explain my late return to the lake after my recent success, in short I've been like a caged bear with a sore head that's just stubbed his toe.

Not really up to a day wandering around the Redditch Tackle Fair I decided I may as well lay about and moan next to the lake as at home. Setting up was exhausting and I had a very early night with just an abortive bream pull before dark. Come dawn and I was woken by the bird's fanfare to the day but again, I soon drifted off again. Then, at 6:20 a single bleep had me sat looking out of the open door as I scrambled to put my shoes on. I watched the indicator gently rise and keep going, the line trickled out at a very leisurely pace and as I put my hand over the spool and tightened to what I felt must surely be a bream but no, the rod relayed messages of weight and the battle was on.

Once more the fight was a dour affair until it saw the net but I never felt the issue was in any doubt and soon another lump settled in the mesh. I did a quick weigh and realised that the fish was rather familiar to me, it was one that I caught on my last visit. This in itself is not totally unknown but Neil had fished this swim a couple of days before (which is why I was so eager to get in it) and had taken a couple of twenty pounders, one of which he had taken on his previous visit. So we can probably deduce that there's a shoal of fish moving around together that Neil encourages to feed, catches a fine but smaller fish or two then hands over to his dad to take a lump. Am I complaining? Am I buggery.

I only took a quick snap on the mat for two reasons, first it woke up and put up far more of a scrap on the bank than it ever did in the water and second, I'd taken a picture of it two weeks ago. It was only after it went back did I realise that when I'd pictured it last time it was also just a snap on the mat. Hey ho, I'll just have to catch it again.

I was set for a day of rest but a slight emergency at home had me packing up and returning. Emergency duly sorted I went to take Harvey for a walk but he did not want to go in fact he hadn't even acknowledged my return. Poor old Harv he's been really under the weather for a couple of months and has recently been off his food and his gums have become ever more pale showing all the signs of cancer. Just like Buddy we had all the blood tests done and they all came back okay and just like Buddy, a couple of weeks later and he'd had enough. This evening we had Harvey put to sleep as the vet agreed it was the only option.

We only had Harvey for two years yet it feels like so much longer, he was such a character, loved by many in the village he literally did, on a few occasions, stop the traffic as people pulled over just to come and say hello. He will be deeply missed.

Dawn Chorus

There are still those that give a "Harrumph" at the mention of fishing during the old Close Season indeed, for a while, I was one of them. That was until I discovered two things, the first being my renewed desire to catch carp.

It is that pursuit that has brought me via a twisting path to my present syndicate lake. A venue that I value as high as any fishery I've ever visited and where I have realised my dream to catch a UK thirty pounder. That the fish are fast growing and relatively young is a negative, I'd much rather be chasing old Leney's but there's only so many 'old' fish to go around and amongst the newer fish here some old codgers do still swim. I just look at it that you can only fish for what is out there and I do just that.

My second reason for enjoying being lakeside in the Spring is simply the Dawn Chorus. I've heard countless choruses over the years, shift work will do that for you but to be woken at dawn by this magnificent display is surely one of the greatest free shows available. Those that venture out on those mid-June days have missed the very best of it and it is well worth making the effort to witness the event in late April or May.

At just after 5am I heard the first stir of a thrush not four feet from me.  Sounding like a broody hen I'd listened to its little clucks and chirrs during the night. I could not find a nest so assume it was merely perched on the lower holly branches with its mate but come the dawn he cleared his throat and let fly. As his repeated calls grew so his assent of the tree continued until he was on his favourite perch, the spot where he had sung all evening and the world was told of his very existence. This sparked a wave reaction and within a few minutes every song bird in the wood was competing to declare their territory and their amour. I lay in my bivvy listening, trying to identify the individual protagonists the flowing chorus was disturbed by a rude interruption - a man made sound - my bite alarm!

Throwing back the sleeping bag and trying blindly to put the old routine in place I found myself with size 18 feet attempting to put on size 6 shoes. The pure panic of a 'bivvy take' is electrifying and one of the most exciting events in fishing, it certainly gets the juices flowing at such an ungodly hour.

As I flew through the already unzipped door of my shelter I was aware of a back note to the warble of the Delkim. There was a grating zzzzz, zzzzzz as my eighty year old Hodder centre pin reluctantly yielded line to a running fish. It was attached to a rod of unknown origin but which doubtless began life as a salmon spinning rod. At eight feet long, beautifully put together and with a very pleasing action, this was the first fish I have contacted on it. I instantly lodged it as a favourite and a definite 'keeper'. The bend was not too dramatic and the fish merely plodded out into open water where it allowed me to steer it at will. I was beginning to suspect an enormous bream had fooled me but a sudden change of direction and a deliberate run left me in no doubt that I was in contact with my chosen species.

The battle continued for several minutes in the grey light of dawn. I allowed myself a little look around as the world slowly woke around me and the glass still lake rocked when the bulk of the fish altered course. I had to steel myself as I was already wondering how big it might be, "Get it in the net first" I chided myself, "Remember Neil lost two at the net the other day, it ain't over till the net's lifted".

A broad back rose next to me, I dared to keep it coming up and lifted its head from the water, the fish lolled onto its side and I slipped it into my big net - then I breathed an enormous sigh.

Fully awake I went into auto pilot and leaving the fish in the secured net, set about preparing the unhooking mat, weigh sling, scales etc. All that done I stood and took in the scene for a moment noting that the birds were still singing and my actions were all but ignored by every other creature on the planet. I embraced the solitude then went to meet my latest guest.

It was a fat brute of a carp weighing 28lbs 9oz. Not the best looking fish in the world but it would do me. Oddly, Neil and I fish here together and to date have enjoyed a similar catch rate. All bar one or two of his fish have had really nice scale patterns yet all bar the same number of mine have been near leathers and, let's face it, unattractive. There's no explaining it of course, its just one of those things.

I spent the day keeping low and quiet. I did not expect daytime action at this time of the year but I wanted to blend into the surroundings so that any cruising fish may not notice me. I had many songbirds land within a few feet of me as I read and dozed indeed one blackbird flew directly at me to a point where I flinched and he put the last minute brakes on.

Dusk settled, the thrush had not long left his high perch and the bats had taken over the sky. Despite the chilly breeze that had been blowing earlier it felt mild and calm. Once again a strident blast of noise and a flashing LED had me scurrying forward to my rods. This time it was a refurbished Hardy LRH that took on the fighting curve whilst the ABU Cardinal's clutch begrudgingly allowed line to flow. Again there were no fireworks in the early stages of the fight, I figure the fish are still cold and sleepy as fish hooked in the summer here tend to rip your arm off at the shoulder. I was again uncertain of it's weight but was satisfied it was around the twenty mark. I had it coming in nicely and dipped the net to greet it when it went through a belligerent stage of wanting to do the opposite of my suggestions. There followed some heave ho and the rod, which again was landing its first fish for me, performed with aplomb and, at last, the net was lifted. I had a peak at the fish and smiled, another whopper.

It was almost dark so I just took a couple of shots on the mat rather than faff about with self takes or sacking the fish. I put a number on it at 28.15 and slipped it back for another day.

I slept soundly until the dawn when the birds once again began their routine and I drifted back to sleep to nature's musical accompaniment.