Blogs, blagging and the infernalweb

Recently I received an e-mail promoting the publication of a facsimile of an angler's journal. It's a bit pretentious for my tastes, being hand-lettered and illustrated by the author, but I'm sure it will appeal to angling book collectors and romantics.

Nice. If you like that sort of thing.

I wonder if today's bloggers used to keep journals, or has the ease of blogging turned them into diarists? In my teens and twenties I kept a detailed diary, sometimes later pasting in photos of memorable fish. Then I gave up with the descriptive bits and simply noted interesting occurrences, times of bites, fish landed, swims fished, conditions and so forth. I still carry a hardback A6 notebook for that purpose and use the notes to write up this blog and articles (when I used to write them, that is). I have a pile of these notebooks going right back t0 the early eighties, and before that I used to note how many fish I had caught in Angling Times diary and an old school exercise book.

Over 25 years of fishing notes

Making notes of what you have caught, as you catch the fish, turns up surprises when you look up red letter days. They often turn out to be a paler red than remembered! If you note down times of capture and baits it can show patterns though. So it is practical, nostalgic and humbling.

No publisher would produce a facsimile of that!

If you are reading this you already know that there are plenty of people writing about their fishing on the infernalweb. I have a few links to some of my favourite blogs in the sidebar, and have added two more today. I'm choosy about the sites I link to though. Some I read occasionally set me ranting - either because of the way they are written or because of the opinions of the blogger. But I reckon that if you like this blog (see Sad Deluded Fools, below right) there's a fair chance you'll like the same sort of blogs and sites I enjoy visiting. In amongst the poorly written, ill informed dross there is good stuff out there. Both informative and entertaining.

I find it particularly encouraging that young anglers are contributing to the web. It shows that there is a continuing desire among anglers to share their experiences and to express the pleasure it brings them. Blogging gives them the freedom to develop their own style and a place to have their say. Breaking into the angling print media is less easy than it used to be for an un-sponsored writer. Pike and Predators and Coarse Angling Today being two of the few magazines that don't feature obviously sponsored anglers contributions as a matter of course.

The tie ups between magazine, advertisers and contributing authors can be quite convoluted. I know for a fact that agreements/arrangements are made between publications and manufacturers that their sponsored anglers will write (sometimes exclusively) for those publications. The fees for the articles making up part of the angler's sponsorship deal. The inclusion of articles heavily featuring the sponsor's logos and products helps keep the advertisers on board. I suppose magazines use these thinly disguised advertorials because they are guaranteed space fillers, because they must know most people can see through the ruse, and many readers detest them.

Before I get accused of hypocrisy, I know I mention Korum and Sonubaits a bit on here. Well, I happen to know someone who works for the Preston Innovations empire so I get given gear and bait from time to time - on the understanding I mention or review the stuff I like. John knows full well that I won't praise something just because I've been given it. As I said to him when I was filling my car with bait one time, "I won't use crap bait just because it's free!" Being naturally 'careful' I do my best to blag, or negotiate a discount or deal, on any tackle I really want. If that fails then I'll pay full whack. In fact, there have been times when I have bought bait or gear that I could have blagged because I wanted it in a hurry. Strange, but true!

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Feeling deflated

For once I did some forward planning and had a bag of my hemp/pellet feeder mix thawing in the afternoon sunshine ready to try out some big cage feeders I had acquired. It had softened up nicely and I was contemplating getting the gear together when the sky darkened, rain fell, thunder cracked and lightning flashed. Sod it. I'd stay home.

Now that's what I call a swimfeeder!

As quickly as it had arrived the storm passed over. Reasoning that it was heading towards the river, at a good speed, the flask was filled and the car loaded. If I timed it right I'd arrive at the river with the grass wet but the sun shining. I set off and immediately detected a rhythmical low thumping sound coming from the rear of the car, the faster I drove the faster the thumping beat. Keep going and see what happens. I was close to the exit from the motorway when I heard a clattering under the car and the thumping stopped. Must have been a stone in the tread of a tyre. On to the dual carriageway and they thumping returned growing stronger and stronger. Puncture.

I was a short distance from a turning into a lane so slowing own I made the turn and parked up. Ten minutes later I had cleaned the dirt off my hands with some freshly mown grass and was on my way again. When I arrived at the river the swim I fancied was occupied by a rather damp looking angler who had got caught in the downpour I had cleverly avoided. The river had fallen a foot or so from Sunday and the colour was dropping out. I set up above the peg I had fished last time as that was a bit of a slippy-slidey mess.

Once set up with two feeders cast out my feathered friends came to see me. Again I had half a pint or so of old casters and maggots with me and having decided most of them were floaters and not worth putting in the feeders I let the ducklings have a few. The rod tips were pretty stationary. A very occasional twitch, but nothing even remotely strikeable. The feathery critters were getting brave. More pecking of boots and clambering over rod butts. Then one discovered the maggot box. You'd have thought it hadn't eaten for a week the way it attacked the casters! It didn't take long before there were five little beaks pecking away in the box and the casters all gone! I guess the bran must have been a bit dry as the ducklings were quick to the water for a drink.

When dusk arrived the rod tips came to life. Eel pulls, chub knocks and rattles. Still nothing conclusive. I think the angler upstream landed a fish of some sort, but he was gone before it was fully dark. Even now there is still a trace of blue in the sky around eleven when the stars are visible. If it hadn't been so cloudy, there'd been a couple of showers, it would have stayed light quite late.

To be honest I had half expected a return to the one-chance all evening situation when I realised how clear the river was. And true to form it came shortly after eleven. A proper barbel bite that set the reel spinning. It came after I had swapped the rods around and cast the double 12mm Pellet-O rig upstream and the 11mm S-Pellet downstream. This one had taken the crab Pellet-Os. A fish of some six pounds that was unhooked in the net without being weighed.

The sky had cleared and darkened when I packed up at midnight, the feeders having got a seal of approval. The only drawback to them is that being so large you soon get through a lot of feed. Half-filling them is the answer to that one.

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That's more like it

What a refreshing change it makes for the England cricket team's tail to wag. Okay, it shouldn't have needed to wag, but for once they didn't do their domino trick and collapse one after an other. Another refreshing change was made to the river by the heavy rain on Saturday night. The water was quite heavily coloured, up about a foot but obviously on its way down, and still flowing at a manageable pace where the barbel live. The sky was blue with clouds, it wasn't hot but pleasantly warm and no more rain was forecast. Great!

I was setting up, having had the pick of the pegs, around eight brimful of confidence of a fish before dark. The usual rods were back in play, reels filled with the usual 30lb Power Pro. The downstream rod fished a single 8mm crab Pellet-O as a banker bait, the upstream rod had an 11mm S-Pellet Tuff-1 as a change bait. So far it's been the crab all the way this season, but it's early days.

An angler and his daughter had come own the river for a walk and we were chatting and watching the cheeky ducklings when he told me the upstream rod was away. The tip was doing the upstream-drop-back dance and I pulled into a fish of about six pounds with red sores on its left side near the tail root. Not a bad start. A fresh S-Pellet was attached to the hair and another scruffy bag of mixed pellets twisted onto the hook. It had been in place for less than a quarter of an hour when the process was repeated. This second fish fought a bit harder and had me fooled until it slipped into the net. A similar sized fish also with red sores near its tail. There were two that looked like bite marks. Was it the same fish? I hadn't paid too much attention to the marks on the first fish so I wasn't certain.

On winding in the downstream rod for a recast to get some more bait out I found the rig to be snagged. A walk downstream and some heaving got it free. Unfortunately the hook was slightly opened up. Not having a rig that was a direct replacement I put on one that took two 12mm Pellet-Os and cast that out.

The young lass was getting cold and bored so my companions headed for home and I had the river to myself. The lowering sun was shining gold on the tops of the far bank trees, the day falling quiet. A few minutes after nine the upstream rod signalled a chub bite. I picked the rod up and felt a tapping but the fish was going nowhere. I 'struck', felt the fish then it went solid. Damn. Steady pressure and something pinged free, then something else and I was in. No chub either. A heavy weight was pulled across the river until it hit shallower water and woke up. Maybe it's the warm water or low oxygen levels but the barbel aren't pulling hard, just holding station or cruising slowly. When the big head and broad shoulders came into sight as I drew her over the net I knew the scales would be needed. As I was arranging the net in such a way the fish was okay and unable to escape I saw the downstream rod come alive. As soon as I connected with the culprit I realised it was an eel. It had taken the two Pellet-Os and was neatly lip hooked so easily released.

Slimed!

With the scales zeroed on the wet sling the net was lifted ashore and felt satisfyingly heavy. A quick lift of the Avons showed I'd landed my third largest Ribble barbel. Hastily sacked I set up the camera after ensuring the fish was upright. Back on the bank I unzipped the sack and was surprised to see a length of braid coming out of the fish's mouth. Closer inspection revealed the braid was attached to a swivel and some mono. Forceps wouldn't reach the hook, nor would my large disgorger, so I cut the braid as short as I could. My guess is that rig had been lost and the fish had swallowed the bait rather than having been hooked and lost. Barbel don't usually take baits that deep. As usual the fish needed no nursing on returning to her natural habitat. Time to rebait both rods and get back at them.

What a big head you've got

It was now that I realised all three fish had been hooked, and landed, on a size 8 Korum S5 hook. The pattern I had cursed last time out. Oh well. Half an hour later the same hook landed another smallish barbel which again had red marks near the tail on the left flank. This definitely wasn't a recapture of the second fish of the session as I'd looked carefully at the marks on that one and one appeared to be an incision, but was it the first one? I'll never know. Nor will I know what had caused the marks.

Ten minutes later my trusty Owner C-4 on the downstream rod hooked a barbel that was taking some getting upstream - when it came adrift. Four fish on the 'dodgy' hook and one lost on the 'never-fail' pattern? There's no making sense of it - if they are going to fall off, they'll fall off!

Nearly an hour later, by now well into darkness, the downstream rod was away again. A five-ish pounder being swiftly unhooked in the edge, likewise a similar sized fish just before eleven. Odd that the daylight fish had come to the upstream rod, those after dark to the downstreamer. The next hour was undisturbed by fish so I packed up at midnight, the grass and my gear damp with dew under the clear and starry sky.

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Experimentation for experimentation's sake

Yesterday's brainwave was to take two of my SS12-204s down the river, complete with Korum S5s on the end of the rigs. I wanted to try the rods out, although I know they'll handle the fish and leads up to four ounces. The only spare reels I had were loaded with mono and I've been told the hooks are good for barbel - despite them being similar in shape to a pattern I had bumped off/pulled out of too many barbel with back in 2004.

The river was nicely coloured, had been up a foot or more and was dropping. Not much flow though, but hardly any debris or weed coming down either. Three other anglers were on the stretch but a good peg was free. Arriving after seven I took my time rigging the rods up, and as I did so the resident family of mallards arrived. I'd taken my old maggots-turned-to-casters from last week with me, so I threw a couple of hands full in the margin which they eagerly devoured. Like feathery locusts they were! To try and get the ducks away from me I scattered the rest of the maggots in the next peg and left them to it.

With the baits cast out I set to tying up some more hooklinks using the S5s. A few taps and pulls came to the downstream rod. Nothing positive. Probably eels or chub. As I couldn't be bothered filling a flask I'd taken the stove and kettle along and was soon relaxing enjoying a brew and watching the swallows flying high over the river and the wood on the far bank.One of the anglers upstream landed a small barbel. Another guy lost one - his 'strong' 8lb hooklink having parted.

Then they returned. Not content with dabbling in the edge of the river they were on the march towards me!

The marauding horde advances

I suppose it was the innocence of youth, but the ducklings knew no fear. I threw them some pellets and they were clambering over each other to get at them. Once the pellets were devoured they came closer. One pecked at my boot, the others surrounded me. Some spilled pellets under my chair stood no chance. Even the flash from my camera didn't scare them off. I was terrified!

Mum stands guard as the horde regroups

True to form it was a one take night, and that take came just before eleven. Not having isotopes on the rod tips I was relying on the baitrunner for indication, but there was just enough light for me to see the tip of the downstream rod pull down slowly and steadily before the baitrunner started to creak. A single 8mm crab Pellet-O had done the trick again. As soon as I bent into the fish I could feel the horrible springiness of the mono. It didn't feel like a monster, but it was a decent one. Half way back it woke up and peeled some line against the clutch. Then it was gone. At first I suspected a cut-off, but no. The hook had come free. I checked the point for sharpness, rebaited and recast. Maybe it's just one of those things, but the S5s will be consigned to the bream/tench box. I have found them good hookers for those species but they had lived up to my suspicions about their shape for barbel. Give me a short shank/wide gape with a slightly curved in point every time.

It wasn't long before the same rod pulled over again and some line was taken before I picked up the rod. I knew straight away that the culprit was an eel. A bit bigger than usual at around a pound, and lip hooked so easily released.

The next time the tip pulled down something pulled back briefly, then everything went solid. After a long walk downstream to alter the angle of pull and much heaving against the stretchy mono something eventually gave. The hooklength had parted, but the stop-swivel had pulled through the rubber bead and large eye swivel in the process. Had I been on braid all that would have been a lot easier. Every time I fish for barbel with mono I wonder why I do it. I can't see any advantage it has over braid.

Retackled and rebaited the rod was cast out again. By now it was gone half past midnight, the almost-full moon starting to shine through the gaps in the trees. I doubted the barbel would show up again. One more brew and I was heading back home. Knowing that one take, two if you're lucky, with maybe the chance of a low double is probably why I took different tackle with me to make the session a little more interesting. Time for a change I think.

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All night long

Sunday evening and again the river was all but deserted. A rainbow greeted me as I descended into the valley. Rain greeted me as I got out of the car. That set the pattern for the night. Showers of light rain that took ages to pass over with the lack of wind. It was warm rain though, so not dispiriting.

Arriving around seven fifteen I took my time selecting a swim. I was going to be there for the whole night so wanted somewhere comfy to set up camp. I know it's not the way it should be done... The swim I eventually chose was reasonably flat and grassy, with just enough depth of water in front of me to make netting any fish I might catch easy. It's a swim I have caught from before, so it wasn't purely selected with comfort in mind.

The baits were out by eight and left there for over an hour before rebaiting. The water was still clear so it would be after dark when I expected action to commence. Even with the cloud cover it remained surprisingly light until after ten thirty. Another couple of weeks and we'll start to notice the nights drawing in though. This midsummer period of long evenings is short and should be savoured - preferably by going fishing!

I thought I'd noticed the river level beginning to rise before it went dark. If it was on the up it was a slow rise. It gave me a confidence boost, nonetheless. At twenty past eleven that confidence was rewarded when the red lights started flashing and the bite alarm sounded. As I was doing an overnighter I thought there was a good chance of me nodding off at some point, so the alarms had been brought into action.

It wasn't long before a seven pounder was being returned. Rebaiting the 8mm crab Pellet-O took a while sat huddled under my brolly, but ten minutes later the rig was back in place. I'd hardly got settled in my chair when the same rod was away again. This time the barbel was a couple of pounds smaller. I was now anticipating a feeding frenzy. Needless to say I was mistaken.

Almost an hour later the same rod came alive, but my strike met with feeble resistance and a strangely eel-like spinning sensation was transmitted up the line. Luckily the culprit was a small, but scale perfect, chub of about a pound. At one o'clock the upstream rod, fishing an S-Pellet was in action with a tapp-tapping bite. This also felt like an eel, but a bit bigger than the usual bootlaces. Then it fell off. The slime all over the rig told me it had been an eel. I'd been saved the trouble of wrestling with it by torchlight, thank goodness.

My eyelids grew heavy. The alarms didn't disturb my slumber and I awoke as darkness was ever so slightly beginning to retreat. I'd been asleep for some time so I rebaited both rods. Just before four, with the dawn chorus in full flow, I was thinking that this period of half-light might be the last chance when the downstream rod slammed over. This had to be a barbel. It wasn't. It was another chub. Again scale perfect, but somewhat bigger at a shade under three pounds. Half an hour later, with the rain well and truly gone, I packed up. The river had risen, but only three or four inches at the most. It will take three or four feet to really get the barbel going at the moment I think

The drive home was along deserted roads. Deserted apart from magpies and wood pigeons. What the attraction of tarmac is for these birds I don't know, but there they were, dozens of them. The magpies hopping and the woodies waddling. If they weren't on the road they were perched on the street lights. Not everyone's favourite birds, but both have remarkable plumage when you look closely. I could see the sun in my mirrors, breaking out from behind fluffy clouds. A great time to be out and about.

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Don't think badly of me

I went carp fishing yesterday. I know. It's shameful. But that secluded pool and it's wildies proved too much to resist. The thing is I don't really hate carp, I just dislike bloated mirrors and leathers. I don't understand how carp anglers can get excited about the looks of carp lacking a full covering of scales and with a sagging belly. To me they look like what they are - genetically engineered food.

Anyway, the journey to the pool was a long drawn out affair, taking twice as long as it should have done thanks to delays on the motorway, so I arrived after two o'clock. This meant that the rain had passed over by the time I was walking round looking for signs of fish. With the heatwave over it was warm but not sultry, the rain had freshened things up too. There were carp showing all over so I chose a comfy swim to fish and got my gear.

One down the margin, one in open water

My tench rods were already rigged up with 10lb line which would be ideal for the size of carp likely to be encountered, so they were what I used. I'd also packed my float rod. My rigs were kept simple. The margin rod fished a helicopter rig and two grains of fake corn. I kept sprinkling real corn and maggots over the top of it all afternoon. The rod cast further out to open water, where I'd seen signs of carp, fished a simple running rig with a couple of Sonu tutti frutti Boilie Pellets on the hair. A few free boilie pellets were catapulted around the hookbait.

No need for fancy rigs

It didn't take long for me to notice that every time I threw a handful of maggots over the margin bait the surface would come alive with small swirls. Just to guarantee I wouldn't blank I set up the float rod with a loaded pellet waggler set at about two and a half feet with no weight down the line. Bait was a single red maggot on a sixteen - barbless as the rules dictate.

The margin rod was removed temporarily while I dabbled with the float rod. It was a bite a cast. Mostly small roach, but a couple of small perch too. I think I dropped a rudd off as well. The trouble with barbless hooks is that small fish do wriggle themselves free, sometimes before you can swing them to hand, often while in the air. I can understand why match anglers fishing barbless net every fish.

While I was amusing myself float fishing, and pondering how to tempt some better fish, I heard the baitrunner on the other rod go. As I was sitting next to the rods I didn't see the need to switch the alarms on. No line was being taken when I picked the rod up, but the fish was on. A short but lively fight, particularly in the margins where the float rig was inevitably picked up, ensued. A small, carpy-looking, carp was netted.

If they all looked like this I'd fish for carp more often

That was my first intentionally caught carp for over seventeen years. It was also the smallest carp I have ever caught! The float rod was packed away and the margin bait swung back out. It was a couple of hours before the next run. This time it was a proper run, again to the more distant bait, and a second common, this time a little bigger, was landed and returned. Although I fished on until dark I had no more action apart from two or three liners.

I'm sure that with a bit more thought and effort I could have caught more, but that wasn't really the purpose of the exercise. Apart from when three anglers walked round the pool, one who seemed unable to speak without shouting, it had been a relaxing afternoon and evening in quiet and shady surroundings. The batteries are recharged.

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