The bobbins never stopped moving and a new rod

Thursday saw my eel fishing going to the opposite extreme. Even while I was setting up the third rod something was chomping on the bunch of worms dangling from my running paternoster. And so the evening progressed. It was one of those sessions when the bootlaces were homing in on worms almost as soon as they settled. In one case before I could get the bobbin clipped on the line.

As usual when eels are in this mood it was a case of scant rewards. I'm pretty sure that the eels were too small to get the whole bunch of worms in their mouths and so a strike only serves to rip the worms and leave an almost bare hook. Out of who knows how many indications I hooked two eels. Both of which were the size I expected. Less than a pound in total weight and far more trouble to unhook than a single eel of three times that weight.

Despite the frustration, enhanced by twice retrieving the legered chunk of bluey to find it missing (soft and cast off?), the evening was enjoyable. I think I was in the hauling out spot for the forty or more mallards drifting about in front of me until it got properly dark, but a kingfisher streaking by shortly after I arrived and dozens of mostly young swallows feeding low to the water lifted my spirits as did the lone swift which fleetingly swooped by.

After getting the foot operated shutter release I treated myself to a new compact tripod. It took a lot of internet searching to find one that was as compact and short at it's highest height which also had a ball head, or allowed one to be fitted. Most of my searches for 'small tripod' resulted in the table top sort which are less than a foot high when fully extended. The rest were 'full size' when extended but compact when collapsed. I was left with two choices and went for the cheapest one.

Folded up it's nice and compact in length, but a little bulky. Because I had one spare I swapped the ballhead for a slightly smaller one. Doing this and folding the legs 'the other way' so they don't cover the ballhead it packs up slimmer and not much longer, still taking up less room than my old tripod and weighing a few grammes less.

As I'm eel fishing at the moment I can't see it getting much use for trophy shots so it'll be used for daft selfies or moon photos like the ones below! 

In other news I have added a new rod to my predator range, a rather niche rod. The P-6 has come about after being asked to make a beefed up P-5 by one customer to fish big natural baits for pike. When a second customer asked me for an eleven foot rod to troll large artificial baits on Irish loughs I thought of the big bait rod, which I had been using as a spod rod to pair with my 11ft tench and carp rods a few years back. I reckon it could also make a useful UK catfish rod.

The action is similar to that of the P-5 so it will bend if you have something big enough on the end of your line that you aren't afraid to give some stick. Anyone who thinks the Loch Tamer is a broom handle not only needs to tighten their drag but also avoid The Beast like the plague!Price and spec can be found on the Predator Rods page of my DLST website.

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The bobbins hung motionless

A blank was guaranteed for my first eel session of the year. Three new rods rigged up with three new reels was enough to enforce the new tackle hex, but a new foot pedal release for my camera to make self-takes easier was the cherry on the cursed cake.

It being a Monday I had the place to myself when I rocked up around eight fifteen on a warm evening with sunshine between the clouds being blown in on a moderate westerly. I was going to set up where I'd left off my pike fishing but the lilies had encroached and made the swim a bit tight so after a wander around I settled slowly into the swim next to it.

There was plenty of time before I expected the eels to start showing any interest in my baits, the usual offerings of legered and off-bottom worms, plus a trial run for a chunk of bluey on the leger with the wire trace. Once the rods were out I started playing around with my camera. It took me an age to get the flash gun working with the remote trigger for some 'arty' shots.

Being just a week after the Summer Solstice it felt like it would never get dark. Fiddling with the camera gave me something to do. Around nine there was a bit of action on the bluey rod but only a couple of bleeps from the Delkim. The bait was still intact.

With nothing happening I thought I could spend a while trying out the foot pedal. Better to get to know how best to set it up before trying a self-take with a monster eel. As if that is ever likely for the world's worst eel angler!

 

It's just 'plug and play' really, much less fiddling around than with the bulb release and bracket system I've been using for years. A boring 'sat by the rods looking vacant' picture was the result.

Available from Rhino Tech (no affiliation) the pedal costs £25 and is available to suit a range of cameras - for those who haven't abandoned cameras in favour of the convenience of a smart phone... I had tried making something similar myself some time ago and it didn't last long! So I consider this one money well spent. A Velcro type cable tidy seemed like a good idea, and I found an old camera pouch which the pedal fits in to prevent it getting tangled up with the rest of the junk in my rucksack.

When the light did eventually begin to fade the eel action hotted up. I had the legered bunch of worms stolen following a couple of bleeps, then an hour later another few bleeps and squawks saw the worms come back unmolested. That was my lot. It's great to be back eeling...

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No eels

When this blog goes quiet it means one of three things: I'm catching loads but don't want to give away any clues; I'm fishing lots and catching little; I'm not fishing much. This latest silence is down to the third reason brought about by the second. Eels have been frustrating me this summer for a brand new reason. They aren't playing.

It's gone from a few twitchy takes down to the unheard of no takes at all on one recent session. I have no answer for it. Worms on or off the bottom have always been an eel magnet everywhere I've fished when the light begins to fade. Not this summer on this water. I'm now regretting starting late. The idea is to hold back from eel fishing until July so I don't get burnt out before the usual peak of activity in August and the hope of a big eel as late as September. These best laid plans have indeed 'gang a-gley'.

With the dismal returns to the pike rods over the last two or three winters I'm not looking forward to more waterside inactivity. I suppose I should have a change and try for something else during the autumn. Get myself on a river somewhere perhaps, or look for some perch fishing not too far from home. Maybe have another try for that sturgeon if it's still around. If only I could get myself motivated...

My mater Nige phoned me the other week to ask if I had any pictures of his brace of thirty pound pike in my files. This prompted me to drag my slides out and root through them. Inevitably it became a descent into nostalgic memories and I ended up scanning a load of pictures of other fish and scenes. Those golden days came flooding back. Travelling all over the place at daft hours of the day and night. Long walks, boat trips in precarious little boats, weather fair and foul. And what looked like pike galore.

Something struck me from a photographic angle. The quality of the scanned pictures was often pretty dire. At least when compared to what I expect to see from a modern digital camera. This reflects what the late James Holgate told me about how digital cameras had improved the quality of pictures submitted to accompany articles in Pike and Predators. Film shots had often been dodgy in the extreme. My slides being more than acceptable at the time makes it obvious how bad the bad pictures were! Compact digital cameras not only made taking pictures easier, the technology was better than in cheap film cameras, but even the jpeg files were more easily corrected/improved for publication.

Judging by the photos I see on fishing forums these days, however, things have gone full circle. Most anglers appear to be using their phones to take fishing pictures now. While the results look great on a phone screen, when blown up (either on a larger screen or for print) they can look worse than pictures from film. Strangely enough Nige said that he was looking for a new camera as the one he has is getting on a bit. The reason he wants a camera is that it makes better prints than his phone.

Here are some of the photos I scanned. I might scan some more during the long winter nights.

 

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New boots and anties

The weather forecast lived up to itself. Thursday was warm and humid promising to stay that way into dark. It had to be worth a shot at eels again. If that wasn't enough I also had a new pair of boots to try out.

 

I arrived with great expectations about half an hour earlier than I needed to as I had nothing else to do. A short walk saw me pretty much decided on fishing a swim I've fancied for a while but always shied away from at the last minute because it's a bit tight to fish. Less overgrown at one side. Back to the car for the gear and I was ready to get settled in.

The rod quiver was dropped handily on the bank above where I'd set the pod up while I got my chair and rucksack in place. Reaching for the quiver to get my pod out I saw it was crawling with ants! hundreds of the busy little buggers. I brushed a load of them off and put the quiver on the other side of the swim. Then I moved my bag and seat out of ants way.

By the time I had the pod up and the rods out the ants had disappeared. They must have been disturbed by the quiver landing on top of their nest. At least I wouldn't have to spend the session sweeping ants off myself and my gear. Even so I had the itches for a while!

 

 

Once more I stuck to the usual two rigs. The off-bottom worms went to the pads on my right and the legered squid section straight out on a decent cast. Once more I found myself surrounded by those daft mallards. I'm sure they weren't in the swim when I had a look at it on my inspection walk.

By nine thirty it was getting dark and I hadn't had a single sign of an eel taking a fancy to either of my baits. Time to refresh and recast them. Still nothing by ten when it was properly dark. It was twenty past when I had my first tentative take to squid. That didn't signal the start of activity. The moon had risen by now so I got my camera out and started playing around with it to keep my occupied.

 

This meant a take would be imminent. It was. At 11.20 line was taken from the reel with the squid on the end of the line. This take was met by a strike which removed the bait from the hook. No eel hooked, of course. A brief flurry of two runs to the same bait followed over the next half hour. All frustratingly missed.

 

There didn't feel to be any wind yet the clouds were moving fairly quickly across the moon as it slowly rose and swung to my right. I put the camera away and waited for more action.It wasn't forthcoming though. Midnight came and went. Another half hour. If there was action before half past I'd stop on until one, or longer if the action continued. If there were no more indications I'd give up.

Sure enough I gave up. Conditions seemed ideal, although maybe the moon was too bright (he said clutching at straws) but again there was not much eel activity, and again nothing to speak of to the worm bait. In some way this is good because it means I'm not up and down wasting bait all the time. I'm wondering if the bootlaces have done a disappearing act. Daft as it sounds I'm contemplating an afternoon eel session. When I was a kid we always fancied our chances of catching eels on lobworms from the canal on red hot summer days.

The new boots didn't get much of a testing. They'd been comfortable worn round the house for a couple of hours. I didn't walk far enough to find out if they'd rub my feet but I wasn't aware of them while I was fishing. This morning I went for a walk of over three miles in them and the result was the same. They felt like I'd had them for ages. 

 

Looking back it was only December 2018 that I bought my previous pair of boots. I'd have expected them to last a bit longer before leaking, even given my lack of care given to them. That said the tread is almost worn out in places too, so they've put in a good few miles I suppose. They were Harkilas. A brand I'd had before and found wanting after twelve months. I guess I should have known better but it was a case of needs must and a local supplier.

This time I did some research by asking the combined wisdom of  The Pikers Pit what they'd suggest. Two people (who I know in the real world as well as virtually) and one cyber-aquaintance  recommended Alt-Berg boots. I surfed on over and browsed their website. I knew what features I wanted in a boot and the Warrior Aqua looked like it met them almost perfectly. For some reason the idea of buying military boots struck some Pitsters as amusing. I don't know why, these boots miht have a militaristic name but they look much like the stalking boots I usually wear which I prefer to those marketed for hiking. I like a higher boot than walkers as there's less chance of rain running down overtrousers and into the boot.

 

Alt-Berg offer a fitting service, either at their factory or at approved stockists, but with the current Covid situation and the distance involved I decided to take a punt and order on-line. As the boots are handmade in Yorkshire (spit...) they aren't all available in all sizes off the shelf. There'd be a wait of a few weeks. I'd have to suffer wet feet for a while longer.

As there is a discount code provided if you sign up for the Alt-Berg newsletter I did just that. I also ordered a boot care kit. It remains to be seen how much use the care kit gets...

For British made footwear the prices are remarkable, and for people who can keep the uppers in good repair they offer a resoling service.

The new boots are a little higher than the ones they're replacing, but a smidgen shorter than the Le Chameau's which preceded them I liked the Mouflon's a lot so these Warrior's should suit me. And they are considerably cheaper than the Le Chameau's.

 

As already stated, they've been comfortable from the off. One thing worth noting is that I took the advice of one Pitser and ordered larger than my usual size. He suggested a whole size larger for wearing with thick socks. Alt-Berg recommend a half size extra for the same. As I've stopped wearing thick socks in boots I went for the half size extra and I'm glad I did. those are my initial impressions. How long they last before succumbing to the Lumb Lack of Boot Care regime remains to be seen. I'm full of good intentions to lovingly wax them whenever they need it. But...

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I take it back

Saturday I sneaked a cheeky evening carp session in. Not expecting much away from The Petting Zoo I wasn't disappointed at my complete lack of success. Sunday was reserved for the soaking of pigeon conditioner (and work). Monday was work-filled until tea time. Leaving the timer on the rod drying machine I set out for another late evening lazy set up, this time intending to fish until after lunch.

All went to plan. I'd not forgotten anything. Nothing important at any rate. Just the big brolly was required given the forecast for a dry night and another hot day to follow.

Half the seeds, to which I'd added a tin of corn, got spodded out along with a pint or so of mixed pellets. The maggots could wait until dawn. No point attracting too many bootlace eels with them during the night. The spodding taught me a couple of things about these new-fangled Spombs. Firstly they are rubbish for using at close range. They need to descend almost vertically to open reliably. An under arm swing doesn't cut it. Secondly they don't seem to like pigeon conditioner. The tiny seeds get in the closing mechanism meaning it won't close. Thirdly they hold a lot of water from the particle mix. Next time I'll be throwing a couple of my old spods in for close in baiting just out of catty range. In the meantime the Fox Spombalike is going to get some holes drilled in it to drain my seed mix.

Darkness is coming around ten fifteen now. The just-past-full moon tempted me to play around with teh camera. I felt pretty sure I'd not be disturbed by any fish even though I'd swapped the fake casters for a grain of useless glow corn and the 10mm fish scarer had been swapped for a larger wafetery thing which I cast well beyond the baited area.

Just one little rat appeared early on, ate some spod spill, then scurried away not to be seen again. That was good. The westerly died away and the lake went mirror calm. Fish of various sorts, including tench, had been showing on the surface before dark, but during the night little disturbance was heard or seen. Late on a mist rose from teh water as the sky cleared. Not for long though.

A few minutes before four I was woken by a stuttering sound from the sounder Velcroed to the brolly shaft. Half asleep and spectacle-less I blundered out and grabbed the left hand rod. A small eel felt like it was wriggling on the end of the line. Once I came to my senses I realised it wasn't an eel but a tench. And to the glow corn too. I take back everything I've ever said about it being rubbish! Not quite in the dark, and probably not glowing much after more than four hours, but a confidence booster for the bait.

With the fish returned it was time for a brew and something to eat to get my energy levels up to cope with the impending non-stop tench action that was sure to occur once I'd put the rest of my bait out. This time I used the catty to get the seeds more or less where I wanted them. The wafter was removed and replaced by the maggot feeder and casters. I stuck with teh single grain of glow corn, and the two yellow grains on teh thrird rod. Three plastic baits. All being fished in full confidence. Strange.

By eight the bunny suit was removed. By nine the fleece was gone and the sweatshirt followed soon after. It was another hot one. The wind had swung to the east then died away to nothing. Willow fluff drifted about on the water, a chaffinch sang its heart out from the topmost branch of a fir, a kingfisher flashed by and a distant yellowhammer could be heard. I even saw my first damselfly of the year. The scent of the hawthorn now in full bloom, making me think it's prime tench time, seemed to be accompanied by the hum of summer. The hum turned out to be an approaching tractor spraying the crop in the field behind the lake...

As the sun arced round to the west my brolly gave me some shade. As the wind picked up again it provided some relief from the heat. Apart from odd single bleeps, which I think were liners from small fish as the bobbins never moved, nothing much was happening. The calm surface wasn't being dimpled or disturbed. It was as if the fish were keeping their heads down. I got mine down too and caught up on some sleep.

Lunch would be had at twelve then I'd think about packing up. Not much thinking was required and I was away at one. Hardly had I set off than the sky clouded over and the temperature began to drop to a more bearable level.

A fish caught and some practical lessons learned. I even got to use my new water container. I'd prefer it not to have a large logo embossed on it, but it's more robust than the two smaller containers I've been using for something like 20 years and which are looking in danger of splitting! The only negative I can think of so far is that I can't see how full it is. The old bottles were translucent, making it easy to judge how many brews I had left. As this one is a litre more than the capacity of the two old containers combined it should suffice for a two night session. With a bit of luck. It stashes nicely in the bag of my barrow, which is handy.

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In the nick of time

Events were conspiring against me once more. In an ideal world I'd have fished Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, but I had to take my car in for its MOT first thing Wednesday. No worries. Wednesday night would do. The forecast was drier too. Except... A parcel that was due to arrive Wednesday was now arriving Thursday. When the fishing madness arrives chances get taken. If I could get back home before ten thirty I should be in time to take the delivery.

Wednesday started wet and ended dry. Not too warm with a bit of north in the westerly, but warm enough once I had the Groundhog up to take the edge off the wind. Overkill for one dry night but on a barrow it doesn't make life any more strenuous than a lighter brolly would. I had plenty of time to get settled in and baited up as this was a proper tench session on a different venue with fewer carp and I wasn't expecting anything until the morning.

With that in mind I got myself cosy and organised before plumbing up, baiting with maggots, seeds and pellets, and then chucking the baits out. Sure enough nothing happened save the occasional single bleep. After dark I swapped the plastic casters for a grain of glow in the dark corn which I have been assured is a guaranteed nocturnal tench magnet. More false propaganda.

One rat made a couple of brief appearances. A fish or two crashed out. At one point I was disturbed by a loud splashy swirl in front of the rods, followed by the sight of an animal swimming away, diving and resurfacing. It wasn't a rat. What it was remains a mystery as I didn't have my specs on and the glipse was all to brief. Probably a mink. I hope.

An overcast dawn arrived slowly. I made a brew then got up and wound the rods in, cast the marker back out and baited up again. After that the rods were recast, the glow in the dark pellet reverting to the tried and tested plastic asters on an in-line feeder rig. The sinking corn was swapped to popped up grains and the fish scarer stayed as it was.

After a threat of rain passed over the day warmed up. The wind had dropped considerably and there were signs of roach or rudd topping, and a few patches of bubbles appearing beyond my baited patch. The fish scarer was wound in to have a small mesh bag of pellets attached to the hook before getting cast somewhere close to where the bubbles were popping.

I was expecting action at any minute. Even so my attention wandered to watch the birdlife. A kingfisher was zipping about. It's surprising how vivid a bird can be in flight yet be difficult to spot when perching. A pair of chaffinches seemed to be busy. They kept flitting into a spot in amid the hawthorn blossom. Maybe they have nestlings to keep fed.

As I was still getting single bleeps and there were roach topping again I chanced removing the corn and fishing three live maggots on a heli-feeder. In no time at all I had a positive take on that rod. It shouldn't have been a surprise to find a bootlace had hooked itself. The maggot idea was shelved and the corn put back out again.

My cut-off time was nine thirty. When it arrived I'd still had no tench interest and started a slow tidy up. As I was loading my bedchair on the barrow the sounder box woke up at last. The tip of the corn rod was pulling round and the reel spool spinning. A decent scrap ensued before a solid female tench was in the net. Typical. The day was warm enough to remove my fleece, a tench had been netted, and I had to leave.

Walking off I spotted a deceased tench in the margin. The second one I've seen on this water this spring. I wasn't going to poke it to inspect for causes of death as it was pretty far gone. Fingers crossed it was natural causes and not murder.

Back home there was no note telling me a delivery had been attempted and the test match hadn't started. I'd just managed a tench and got home in plenty of time. No fishing for a while now as there's work to be done. Oh well.

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Short session

One rod, net, some bits and a mat to sit on. Had fish in front of me but nothing to report, just liked this photo.

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Time out

No fishing for me since the last blog post. When I have had some free time I've been photographing poultry and poultry people! Sometimes I think I've caught enough fish to satisfy me. A blogger, Eric Weight, who I have been reading for some years now has recently announced that his fishing blog is to disappear for a number of fishing reasons. One of which the pressure a blog can put on you to catch something worth writing about. I know the feeling all too well. One reason I stopped writing for Pike and Predators was that fishing sometimes felt like it was being done just to get material for articles. It gets to be a chore.

Then there's the menace of repetition. How much is there to say about fishing? Really? Not to mention the risk of being stalked on your productive waters. Do you lie about where you're fishing, or just not say anything? Saying nothing is the easiest and safest way to keep your fishing to yourself. of course that's more of a concern when you are catching big fish, or lots of fish. Thankfully these days I'm not doing either, so no one is stalking me to find out my venues!

Anyway, photography and fishing have a lot in common. There's a lot of time spend not getting any decent photos just to get one good one. I have that with fish too - lots of 'dead' time. But in both cases the buzz when it does come together makes the waiting worthwhile. In terms of satisfying the soul and the intellect fishing and photography fill the same bill for me. I gave up painting after finishing college for just that reason. I made paintings because it exercised my brain and the result was satisfying in the same way that fishing is. One of them had to go and fishing is pointless - so the paint brushes were hung up for good! I doubt I'll hang my rods up permanently until I'm too knackered to use them. I might not use them as often as I have in the past though. Even so, there usually comes a time after a fishing sabatical when the stars and weather align and that urge becomes irresistible. Fishing really does get in the blood.

On the rod building front I recently sent out a pair of custom built P-1s to a customer who wanted them to look like Hardy Fibatube rods from the 1970s. Normally I hate doing 'fancy' builds, but this was a bit different. Quite a challenge to source a thread colour which, while not strictly accurate, had the period feel to it. Then there was the handle to make a pastiche of. I thought the result worked out pretty well. Thankfully my customer did too.

In my search for the thread I bought another colour which wasn't suitable, but which looks nice as a very subtle tipping to black. I might have some pictures of that in the hear future. It never ceases to amaze me the range of thread colours I have amassed since I started building rods. And still there are some I have never used!

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Double Whammy

Even before I left home I knew I was on a hiding to nothing. New tackle is a sure-fire curse on fish catching, and nothing more jinxing than new bobbins. I'll admit to being a tackle tart when it comes to bobbins, after all they are something I spend a lot of time looking at in the vain hope they'll actually move. Although the Fox Black Label bobbins I had been using for a while now were perfectly functional - after I'd fitted the ball type clips - I wasn't keen on them being red. Isotopes were dimmed by them, but the only alternative to make them glow brighter was green. even worse than red!

This year Fox have introduced orange heads (apparently to fit with their corporate branding...), so I had to have some. Trouble is the standard size heads aren't available separately. That meant buying three complete indicators complete with hockey-sticks and, in order to get the right clips, Dacron cords. In a fit of madness I ordered up three small heads (which are available individually), three chains and three tiny isotopes. The idea being to have standard heads on my pod and the small ones on my sticks as the bobbins on my sticks don't have the isotopes inside them and they are all now smashed.

Daft as it sounds, and totally illogical, having a nice looking set up can sometimes inspire confidence. Content with my new look indicators the rigs went out to good looking spots. extra pellets were fired out over the two close range baits and I sat back sans-fleece in the evening sunshine.

Another guaranteed killer of sport is an east wind. Which was precisely what was blowing across the water. New gear and an easterly didn't exactly fill me with hope. So I pottered about taking photographs of my tarty set up.

Cook and Ali were making progress in Barbados after the usual batting disasters. A few bubbles were even appearing within range of a couple of my baits - on the right length but not the right line. My hopes were rising. As the sun lowered and the light changed I took more photos. Shooting into the light can make for attractive pictures. You can even use 'mistakes' like flare from a dusty lens to your advantage.

There was no movement on the new bobbins, no sound from the Delks, not even when the line lifted and tightened on the long-chuck middle rod. I left it alone expecting a liner, but the tightening and lifting carried on. When I picked the rod up there was a weight to be felt, a weight that was moving. On the way back there was no fight, just that weight as the fish came in easily kiting slightly to my left and the pads. One head shake and it kept on coming. Bream. I turned it away from the pads and towards the waiting net when the line went slack and I wound in a weed covered rig. Eh? I fear that ailing to change the rig to one with a larger hook to match the larger bait than last time out had been the cause of my downfall. I'd thrown my wicket away through over-confidence like Joe Root.

After recasting with a fresh bag of pellets on that rod the margin rod got cast a little further out to where bubbles had been rising. As the sun got lower and lower I wrapped up with my scarf, fleece, mittens and woolly hat. Evening swallows flew over the lake, followed by evening bats. Something or other had a couple of tugs at the close range fake corn. Probably small roach grazing over the pellets I'd scattered around the bait. That was that. It almost got me fired up for an early start today. But didn't.

It's May and the blackthorn is still in bloom with the hawthorn just budding. Everything feels a week or two later than this time last year. I definitely won't be getting the eel rods out until well into June this time round. So it looks like more not-tenching for the next few sessions when I can muster my rapidly dwindling enthusiasm.

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Moving with the times

A few weeks ago my ancient mobile phone packed up on me and I was forced to have a 'smart' phone. That meant I an now able to 'enjoy' the delights of phoneography. I'm sure that more expensive phones are better as cameras, but one thing is for sure, in decent light even my simple 6 megapixie can make pictures which are good enough for blogging. If good enough means in focus and correctly exposed. In deference to the shape of screens these days I took most of my pictures in the native 16:9 aspect ratio. Yesterday I took the opportunity of a free and sunny afternoon to chase some roach at Sheep Lake. While I was there I played around with the phone and my other cameras. See if you can tell what kind of device made them!

After videoing the frogs in my pond I thought I'd also try my hand at what seems to be taking over fishing blogging for people who can't write - video. Way back I made a few clips with my old cameras when fishing, but things really have moved on in just as few years. Even compacts can produce high quality results. I don't own, and have no plans to buy, a GoPro with it's give-away neo-fisheye lens that gives every video shot with one the same look. Fine for point-of-view footage, but it becomes tedious when used for everything.

Not having had the roach rods out since this time last year it had been a bit of a struggle to find what I required. The rods were still rigged up but the feeders had gone AWOL. After a bit of rummaging around I scraped together enough to  see me through a session. I even threw in an in-line cage feeder I'd tried once before. That proved to be a good move as when I started to tackle up I found one of the power gum rigs was goosed.

Two rods fished open end feeders filled with crumb and pellet mix with maggots on the size 20 hooks - a single maggot on one, two on the other. These were cast out to a marked spot. The third rod had the in-line feeder, and a small piece of fake corn as bait. This was chucked as far as I could get it and left to its own devices.

The afternoon was warm with little wind. Most pleasant to sit back and soak up some sun between re-filling feeders and recasting. A nice relaxing way to spend some time after the frantic (by my standards!) rod building of the last month.

When the sounder started to bleep I was amazed to see the spool spin briefly on the corn rod before the bobbin dropped back. A liner? I wound the rig in to find the stop above the feeder had slipped. A take. Back out went the rig.

The light breeze, only just enough to ruffle the water, swung through 180 degrees. A dabchick cruised round a bush and crash-dived when it spotted me. Canada geese made a racket. Around four thirty the temperature started to drop. I'd worked up a sweat walking to the swim and had removed my fleece from under the bunny suit before tackling up. It was warm but not warm enough for me to manage without the suit. I was glad to put the fleece back on and replace my baseball cap with the woolly one. Not to mention put on my fleece mitts.

It was ten past five when the sounder warbled again. This time the same spool was spinning steadily. I lifted the rod and felt a fish. Not knowing what to expect I knocked the anti-reverse off just in case it was something verminous. It didn't seem to be. In fact it felt like a roach. No runs just a slowly zig-zagging path back towards me with a few gentle head-shakes. IT felt like a decent roach too. Under the rod tip I had to steer it away from the other two lines to prevent an almighty mess. Been there. Don't want to do that again. When the fish popped up it had a red eye. It's scales weren't large and silvery though. They were tiny and olive green. As soon as the fish saw me it started to fight like a tench should!

Despite waking up it slid into the landing net at the first attempt. Far from a big tench, maybe a couple of pounds (or five to someone who never weighs tench...) at least it had saved a blank. But was it telling me something? Should I get the tench rods out?

When the light began to fade my hopes of a roach or two rose. It was not to be. The maggot bobbins didn't so much as flicker. My dilemma now is whether to have another roach session (I've bought some more feeders in case) or to break out the tench rods. Decisions, decisions.

Below is my cobbled together video footage. Watch and be bored to tears! The trouble with video is that to do it well you need to shoot a lot of footage, from different viewpoints simultaneously. You also realise you need things like external microphones to improve the sound quality. Then a few filters might come in handy and before you know it you're going fishing in order to make videos!

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Up and running again

Having seen my first fieldfares since spring last Friday, with the air temperature in single figures the low sun and clear sky made it feel like pike time was here at last. With that in mind and work not going to plan I had an early lunch, packed the pike gear in the car and set off to make the most of the afternoon before the rain arrived.

The reeds are in their winter colours, the trees almost completely bare with a strong southerly stripping a few more leaves from their branches. Despite the ripple on the water it had that cold blue look which it takes on through the winter months on days such as this. A blue that makes orange pike floats glow like beacons in the sunlight. All that was missing was a frost to make the ground hard and the grass crisp. That'll come.

I thought that fishing the edges of remaining weed would be a good place to start so two float legered deads and a paternostered sprat were cast to strategic places that matched that profile. It was quarter past one as I settled in with my back to the wind to watch the floats. After an hour I repositioned the lamprey head. Half an hour later I was wondering if a move might be worthwhile. After moving my gear two swims along I put the rods in the second swim along for some reason and moved the rest of the gear to join it.

There wasn't much in the way of weed in this swim but I could cover more water. Two baits were dropped in the margins - left and right - the lamprey got chucked out into no-man's land. I can't say I was feeling any more confident. As so often happens as soon as you stop expecting or hoping for a run one materialises. So it goes. The least likely float was on the move.

The good thing about fishing braid off the baitrunner is that there is no slack and no stretch when you come to set the hooks. There's hardly anything to the 'winding down' part of the hookset. Half a turn of the reel handle and you feel the pike enough to pull the rod back and drive the hooks home. A carefully set clutch can be advantageous in case the pike makes a sudden lung on feeling steel.

This fish made no such lunge. It came in like the proverbial wet sack, only waking up at the net where it did the big-headed gill flare and shake that makes you think you've hooked something much bigger than you have. Obviously a double the headshake looked about eighteen pounds, the length about fourteen, in the net the girth looked nearer ten. Not really big enough for a self-take but I thought I should try out the camera I bought earlier in the year having caught nothing worth setting the tripod up for all spring and summer. I left the pike in the net, after staking the net out with a bankstick just in case the fish got frisky.

Everything went smoothly. I set the mat and forceps out, with the sling and zeroed scales close by, then rigged up the tripod, camera and bulb release. Two quick practice shots to make sure things were lined up and it was time to get the fish out of the water.

Laid on the mat the hooks were easily removed, the rod put out of harms way and the pike weighed. Just over twelve pounds and tatty for the time of year. More like a post spawn fish. Lift for two shots of each side then back into the sling to go back to the water. Easy peasy.

The lamprey head was still dripping blood so back out it went. I put a fresh joey on the other float leger rig and cast it further out to my right adjacent to some dying weed. The sky was getting darker grey from the west and the air temperature dropping.

Was another move in order, or should I put the brolly up to keep the breeze off? The first spots of light rain made up my mind. The brolly went up and I hunkered down on the low chair with another cup of flask tea. There was less than an hour of light left as the rain got a little heavier and the wind dropped. A small flock of starlings circled looking for a roost site. Jackdaws headed east. A kingfisher dashed along the margin clipping my middle line as the light faded to that stage where colours disappear. The rain eased again and I took the chance to pack up before the head torch was required.

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