My plan to do an overnighter on Saturday, returning in time to listen to the Test Match on Sunday, went out of the window when the brickie phoned to say he was coming to do some more pointing. No fishing on Saturday. Sunday dawned wet up north, but fine at the Oval. By the time England had humiliated the Aussies I had done some work and was raring to wet a line. The persistent rain had turned to showers, it being dry as I set off. Would there have been enough rain, early enough, to have coloured and raised the river? No. It was even lower and clearer than on my last visit.
Swim choice was difficult. Only the cows were on the bank and I could fish anywhere. I opted for a swim that I had only ever fished before in flood conditions. Then I had taken barbel from under the rod end, but now that was shallow and I was casting across to the tail of the gully. Deeper upstream, shallower downstream.
I took my time arranging the gear in the swim. There's a ledge that can be fished from but it's cramped. Setting up above it would raise the rods and help keep the line out of the rocks anyway. The problem was a large, crusty, cowpat in exactly the place I wanted to sit. I put my chair more or less on top of it. Two baits were out by eight. One was an S-Pellet Tuff 1, the other a 10mm Tuna Wrap - a bait I have little faith in, but seeing as I was sent four tubs of them I might as well give them a try.
It had started to drizzle. As I'd left my feeders and dry feeder-mix in the car I set to making up some PVA bags under the brolly. With the river being so clear I thought I'd tie up a mono hooklink to see if that would give me a better chance of a bite in daylight. I had a hook selected and the spool of Power Carp ready when the upstream rod was away. The Tuff 1 had been snaffled by a lively scamp that was hustled into the net. As I lifted the net from the water I heard the baitrunner on the other rod start whirring. The net was popped back in the water, arranged hastily to prevent an escape, and a second little barbel, maybe half a pound heavier, joined the first one in the net. That hadn't taken long!
With the water being so clear they were both bright looking fish, the oft mentioned coral fins complementing brass, gold and bronze scales and creamy belly. I admired the pair briefly before unhooking them both and slipping them back over the net cord. I was going to take a photo of the brace, but the battery in the Olympus compact was flat and I couldn't be bothered getting the other camera out.
The drizzle turned to rain. It was dark by now, still warm despite the wind rustling the leaves of the trees making a sound barely distinguishable from that of the water tumbling over the rapids downstream. Not a good night for bats, but one or two came out to feed. There were plenty of midges about for them. Midges that feasted on me every time I flicked on the Petzl.
I'd swapped the rods round and replaced the Tuff 1 with a 15mm Mussel and Oyster boilie. The boilie I had positioned close in. There had been a few fish swirling there when I arrived. Although shallow, it appeared to be a little deeper near the bank than a rod length out. Some pellets had been scattered there in preparation.
When setting out my little camp I hadn't placed the chair quite right. Every time I stood up my feet went through the crust of the cowpat and I'd slip. Breaking the skin on the dung also released it's aroma. Enough was enough and I moved brolly back a touch and the rest of the gear was dragged into position to keep it dry. Much better.
At ten, to my surprise, the 10mm Tuna Wrap that had been cast upstream tore off. This barbel was a little bit larger. Maybe six, maybe seven pounds. Somewhere in that range. Fifteen minutes later the margin rod hooped over. At first I thought it was a small barbel, but it was chub. A pristine fish of four pounds or so.
I gave up on the margins and cast out across the river. Almost straight away the bait was taken and I leaned into a barbel that cut me off half way up the three foot hooklink. I've not been cut off like that for ages and was a little bit annoyed. A 15lb Amnesia upper hooklink was tied on and the 12lb Power Carp lower link I'd tied up earlier added to see how it performed. I never found out. After a decent wait I went to wind in for a recast and the rig was snagged solid. The Power Carp snapped, and the Amnesia was frayed. I trimmed the frayed section and attached a braided lower link. At eleven the new rig did the job and I weighed a belligerent eight pounder that refused to come to the net. It even looked angry on the bank and swam of contemptuously when I released it upstream. That fish had an attitude problem!
After an hour of inactivity, the sky having cleared to reveal the constellations beyond a few wispy clouds, I got an urge to move upstream a few yards. Hardly had the Tuna Wrap settled in the new spot when it was taken. A funny take. The rod tip dipped and the baitrunner spun, then nothing. A repeat and I grabbed the rod and pulled into the fish. Then it was gone. Cut off again, this time near the hook. I couldn't believe it. It only took five minutes for the fresh bait and rig to work their magic. Another six pound barbel which proved to be my fiftieth of the season.
That was enough for me. I'd had to get a session in before I went doolally as I'm not sure when my next chance to fish will be. I reckon it's time to start looking for some bigger fish when I get that chance.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Tackle 'essentials' - 1
There are some simple and effective items of tackle that really do make fishing easier and more efficient. But Maggot Tweezers?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Retail therapy
I'm having the gable end that faces the prevailing wind repointed. The guy who's doing the work is doing it of an evening. Which has messed up my fishing this week. Wednesday threatened rain, so he called it off - when I had made plans not to fish. Yesterday was fine and he got some work done, but with the nights drawing in I reckon there's still two more days to go. So today I decided to cheer myself up with a trip to Ted Carters. Those Torrixes were looking lonely...
More cardboard for the recycling plant
Yes, I went for the XTEAs. After a bit of internet research I determined that all four sizes differ only in the spool size. The weight difference being negligible it seemed obvious to go for the largest size. If I don't like them for bream fishing I can use them for pike, zander, eel or catfishing (if I get the chance) - or should I lose my marbles all together, carping.
Initial impressions are that they are more solidly built than my older Aero Baitrunners, smoother too. It's hard to tell if they are as robust as the Baitrunner Bs. Time will be the judge of that - or a few barbel sessions using the big leads.
I was hoping to load the reels with Nash Bullet XT in 12lb (the ten pound having served me well for the limited amount of tench fishing I did this spring), but Carter's were out of it. Not to worry I had a spool of 12lb ESP Crystal Carp at home. Why do they have to put that horrible word in the product name? Are carp anglers so dumb they have to use a line that has the fish's name attached? Having worked in a tackle shop I can tell you the answer is often 'Yes'. Irrespective of what it's called I've got on well with the stuff. I used it for breaming earlier in the year and have caught a few barbel, and even a carp, on the stuff. It spools up nicely and is limp. I imagine it would make pretty good hooklinks for barbelling if I was that way inclined, what with it being a 'clear' mono and all.
Well, I didn't have enough of the ESP line to fill all three reels. I did have a bulk spool of fifteen pound Ultima Power, though, which I had bought to put on my spodding reel after having trouble with my braid snapping. This would do to partly fill the spools - they are quite capacious! While loading the line I thought it might be quite nice for fishing with, but a bit thick for my purposes in 15lb. I had to nip out while the cricketers were at lunch so I called in at my local tackle shop to pick up a spool in 12lb. They had none. A shame as it's a grey colour that would have matched the reels nicely. I've gone off Daiwa Sensor so lashed out a few extra quid on 1000m of Ultima Power Carp (that word again...). I've not used a fluorocarbon coated copolymer before, so it will be interesting to see how it performs. It certainly spooled up reasonably enough.
After all this it looks like I'll be having a stillwater session soon so I can sit looking at my new set up. Where, and when, will depend on how soon the gable end is finished. I bought a tub of lobworms as I had some cash spare after paying for the reels, so there might be an overnighter for eels in the offing.
More cardboard for the recycling plantYes, I went for the XTEAs. After a bit of internet research I determined that all four sizes differ only in the spool size. The weight difference being negligible it seemed obvious to go for the largest size. If I don't like them for bream fishing I can use them for pike, zander, eel or catfishing (if I get the chance) - or should I lose my marbles all together, carping.
Initial impressions are that they are more solidly built than my older Aero Baitrunners, smoother too. It's hard to tell if they are as robust as the Baitrunner Bs. Time will be the judge of that - or a few barbel sessions using the big leads.
I was hoping to load the reels with Nash Bullet XT in 12lb (the ten pound having served me well for the limited amount of tench fishing I did this spring), but Carter's were out of it. Not to worry I had a spool of 12lb ESP Crystal Carp at home. Why do they have to put that horrible word in the product name? Are carp anglers so dumb they have to use a line that has the fish's name attached? Having worked in a tackle shop I can tell you the answer is often 'Yes'. Irrespective of what it's called I've got on well with the stuff. I used it for breaming earlier in the year and have caught a few barbel, and even a carp, on the stuff. It spools up nicely and is limp. I imagine it would make pretty good hooklinks for barbelling if I was that way inclined, what with it being a 'clear' mono and all.
Well, I didn't have enough of the ESP line to fill all three reels. I did have a bulk spool of fifteen pound Ultima Power, though, which I had bought to put on my spodding reel after having trouble with my braid snapping. This would do to partly fill the spools - they are quite capacious! While loading the line I thought it might be quite nice for fishing with, but a bit thick for my purposes in 15lb. I had to nip out while the cricketers were at lunch so I called in at my local tackle shop to pick up a spool in 12lb. They had none. A shame as it's a grey colour that would have matched the reels nicely. I've gone off Daiwa Sensor so lashed out a few extra quid on 1000m of Ultima Power Carp (that word again...). I've not used a fluorocarbon coated copolymer before, so it will be interesting to see how it performs. It certainly spooled up reasonably enough.
After all this it looks like I'll be having a stillwater session soon so I can sit looking at my new set up. Where, and when, will depend on how soon the gable end is finished. I bought a tub of lobworms as I had some cash spare after paying for the reels, so there might be an overnighter for eels in the offing.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Geeksville
I know most of you couldn't care less (if at all), but I've added some code to the blog so that the photo-link to my DLST website changes randomly each time a page of this blog is loaded. It was something to do while listening to England's changing fortunes on the first day of the final Ashes Test. I'm not telling you how many different pics there are though!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Déjà vu
It was back to the home of the killer ducks to conclude the dodgy deal of last week. Coming through the farm my way was blocked by machinery - again! This time there was a horny handed son of toil mending a trailer and he happily moved the vehicle. After concluding business at the riverside I plodded upstream and had a look around. There was a spot where there was some faster water pushing across to the far bank that I fancied, but the swim was occupied by a grazing cow that wasn't for mooving (sic)...
The next swim down was more comfortable to fish from anyway, and as I was thinking of stopping until the early hours for a change that had played some part in my choice. This time I baited the downstream rod with an S-Pellet - as much for a change as anything, the upstream continuing to fish a small crab Pellet-O. Although it was breezy the spot I was in was sheltered. There was cloud cover and the car's thermometer had read 22 when I parked up. It could be a muggy night ahead.
The first visitors to my swim were the ducks. Milling around in front of me and murmuring to each other softly. Next to show up was a barbel. It only took forty minutes for the S-Pellet to steam off downstream while I was in the middle of tying up some fresh hooklinks. A bit of a better scrap than had been the case in this area ensued, the fish proving to be only six pounds or thereabouts. Even with the river low and clear fish can be caught in daylight.
Darkness is arriving at nine thirty now, the cloud cover speeding its approach. At five to ten, with the headtorch most definitely needed, the S-Pellet tore off again. This one was obviously a bigger fish, and again scrapping harder than the barbel had been previously. Looking in the net I couldn't believe it was another double. Sure enough it was. Now it was time to fight with the self-timer on the camera. I'd had a dry run at home as the bulb release I had ordered over the net had yet to arrive, so I knew what to do. The timer on my Canon can be set to take a number of photos in sequence - so should be ideal for fish photography.
Anyone who tries to tell you that a self timer is suitable for taking good trophy shots of fish either holds dead fish up to their camera or is an idiot! I managed more photos of flying fish and my knees than decent pics.
Take 1
I also notice that because the camera focuses when the shutter button is pressed the balsam is perfectly sharp - the fish not. Self timers? Pah! Nonetheless, despite a little more messing around than is usual it didn't take long and the fish swam away strongly when I slipped her back in the shallows. I hope that bulb release turns up soon.
After sorting myself out again I put a fresh S-Pellet on the hair, a fresh bag on the hook, and recast. The brew had just been poured when the bait was taken. This time it was my kinky friend visiting my net for the fourth time this season. Barbel are intelligent? Ok. Whatever.
In the past the feathery fiends have left me alone after dark. I assumed the swam off somewhere to roost out on the river away from predators, but this night they came begging like shadowy spectres. I threw them some more pellets, but down from where my rods where to try and stop them invading again.
For no other reason than to see what would happen I swapped the S-Pellet for a boilie. It took about three quarters of an hour for that to get picked up by another fish in the six to seven pound bracket. The wind had dropped and the clouds were breaking up. A few stars shining, but not enough for me to make out the constellations. An occasional breeze would spring up momentarily making me wonder if this was a lunar effect that is rumoured to occur. The clouds closed up again. It was, indeed, a muggy night.
By midnight I was getting the feeling that the action was over. Bed seemed a better prospect than the riverside so I left it to the cows, the bats and the owls. The car thermometer read 18 as I pulled away along the track.
The next swim down was more comfortable to fish from anyway, and as I was thinking of stopping until the early hours for a change that had played some part in my choice. This time I baited the downstream rod with an S-Pellet - as much for a change as anything, the upstream continuing to fish a small crab Pellet-O. Although it was breezy the spot I was in was sheltered. There was cloud cover and the car's thermometer had read 22 when I parked up. It could be a muggy night ahead.
The first visitors to my swim were the ducks. Milling around in front of me and murmuring to each other softly. Next to show up was a barbel. It only took forty minutes for the S-Pellet to steam off downstream while I was in the middle of tying up some fresh hooklinks. A bit of a better scrap than had been the case in this area ensued, the fish proving to be only six pounds or thereabouts. Even with the river low and clear fish can be caught in daylight.
Darkness is arriving at nine thirty now, the cloud cover speeding its approach. At five to ten, with the headtorch most definitely needed, the S-Pellet tore off again. This one was obviously a bigger fish, and again scrapping harder than the barbel had been previously. Looking in the net I couldn't believe it was another double. Sure enough it was. Now it was time to fight with the self-timer on the camera. I'd had a dry run at home as the bulb release I had ordered over the net had yet to arrive, so I knew what to do. The timer on my Canon can be set to take a number of photos in sequence - so should be ideal for fish photography.
Anyone who tries to tell you that a self timer is suitable for taking good trophy shots of fish either holds dead fish up to their camera or is an idiot! I managed more photos of flying fish and my knees than decent pics.
Take 1
Take 2
I also notice that because the camera focuses when the shutter button is pressed the balsam is perfectly sharp - the fish not. Self timers? Pah! Nonetheless, despite a little more messing around than is usual it didn't take long and the fish swam away strongly when I slipped her back in the shallows. I hope that bulb release turns up soon.
After sorting myself out again I put a fresh S-Pellet on the hair, a fresh bag on the hook, and recast. The brew had just been poured when the bait was taken. This time it was my kinky friend visiting my net for the fourth time this season. Barbel are intelligent? Ok. Whatever.
In the past the feathery fiends have left me alone after dark. I assumed the swam off somewhere to roost out on the river away from predators, but this night they came begging like shadowy spectres. I threw them some more pellets, but down from where my rods where to try and stop them invading again.
For no other reason than to see what would happen I swapped the S-Pellet for a boilie. It took about three quarters of an hour for that to get picked up by another fish in the six to seven pound bracket. The wind had dropped and the clouds were breaking up. A few stars shining, but not enough for me to make out the constellations. An occasional breeze would spring up momentarily making me wonder if this was a lunar effect that is rumoured to occur. The clouds closed up again. It was, indeed, a muggy night.
By midnight I was getting the feeling that the action was over. Bed seemed a better prospect than the riverside so I left it to the cows, the bats and the owls. The car thermometer read 18 as I pulled away along the track.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday driving
Glue was setting, the day was dry, I had a plan. It didn't work out. The way to the stretch I had in my sights was blocked by a tractor and a laughing farmer. They seem to take perverse pleasure in barring your way down narrow lanes. I formulated another plan.
It was only seven thirty but with the threatening cloud cover was dark enough to require the side lights. I'd have to get a move on to be settled in before dark. Joy! There were no cars parked up. My new plan was to fish away from my usual haunt on the outside of a bend. I stumbled down the bank, pitted with hoof marks and littered with partly grassed over rocks, to see an angler on the far bank, his rods pointing towards the channel I had hoped to fish. I suppose I could have been belligerent and claimed the 'half way rule', but I don't like fishing opposite other anglers even if they are out of casting range. There was plenty of vacant river to go at.
I wandered up and downstream a ways. The river looked inviting, but the bank somewhat treacherous and the water rather a long way down. Given time I could have worked out a way to fish safely and to net fish. That was time which was running out. For some reason I didn't feel like dropping in a well known swim. The recaptures and fishing by numbers has got a bit tedious despite catching plenty of fish. Back in the car with a third plan and upstream to the length I'd fished on Thursday.
Just in case there was anyone else there I had a quick walk to the swim I fancied, one up from the previous session, and found it vacant. The entire length was free in fact. I was soon back and tackling up. Following the failure of the rod I had last used for the bait dropper I had cobbled something together from some aborted rod conversions I'd tried over the years. It had come out at eight feet, in two very unequal sections. It chucked the dropper okay though. What I'm trying to achieve is a shortish rod that will lob out a dropper while still being suitable for barbel fishing under trees and in tight spots. That would allow me to carry the one rod for the two jobs on another river I fish. I might be getting close.
Anyway, the pellets were duly deposited slightly downstream, out from the rocks, in the channel. The level was down from the previous session here and the marginal rocks in the first swim I'd fished were even more exposed. This swim looked less hairy for playing fish. Good enough reason to fish it.
The boilie rod went over the feed, four or five droppers full, with as big a bag of pellets it was possible to make attached to the hook. I'd leave that out until it was taken, or dragged out of position by weed. The pellet rod was cast upstream and further out with a more reasonably sized bag of pellets on the hook.
The first thing that drew my attention to the sand martins was their chattering. They were sweeping over the far side of the river seemingly without flapping their wings as if they were rocket powered. The ease and speed with which they fly must make their long migrations pass quickly for them. Straining my eyes in the failing light I could see that they were flying to the nest holes in the far bank sand-cliff. I doubt they have broods to feed, so I'm assuming they use the burrows to roost. They'll soon be gone, being one of the first summer migrants to arrive and the first to leave. No doubt the winter floods will inundate their deserted nests, maybe even crumble the entire bank.
Despite the commotion the dropper caused it was only ten or fifteen minutes before the rod tips started tapping. At five past nine the boilie rod hooped over even though it was set low. Barbel really do scrap well when hooked close in. This fish really had me fooled as it took line with the rod arched into a near semi-circle. I couldn't believe it was 'only' a seven pounder. Much more fun that pumping in fish from distance.
More taps and twitches were seen. Mostly to the pellet rod. I suspected eels and sure enough one finally hung itself. Then a chub took the boilie and tried to drag the rod in. It fought pretty well on the heavy gear, convincing me I had hooked another barbel for a while. I made a pig's ear of netting it. The first attempt being a complete failure. I was sure the fish was in the mesh when I lifted it. My eye's aren't what they used to be! Second time round I got it right.
It was gone ten thirty by now and there was a light drizzle falling. I had my waterproofs on and erected the brolly to keep the rucksack dry. Five minutes before eleven the boilie rod was off again. The fish was away at speed. I picked the rod up and was trying to stop the fish with finger pressure on the spool's skirt before engaging the gears. My baitrunners are set pretty tight, almost as tight as the drag, but I made no impression. Probably a good thing as this allowed the fish to get well out and away from the boulders in the edge. It slowed and I flicked the lever to the off position and began to apply some proper pressure.
All through the fight the rod was at its limit, the fish took some line, made a few serious lunges and at one point I felt the line pinging off something. It was quite nerve racking not knowing exactly where the fish was in relation to the potentially line cutting rocks. As soon as I had the fish on the surface I bullied it into the net. No mistakes this time.
The ritual of staking out the net was gone through and the scales readied. This time my guesstimate was optimistic, but not my too much. A long fish that I wouldn't mind meeting again later in the season. I slipped her back in the net to rest while I set up the camera. The swim was a bomb-site by now. I'd collapsed the brolly and slung it in the balsam after the landing net pole got tangled in its ribs. It had stopped drizzling by now. My jacket had been removed and hurled on the back of my chair, the pellet bucket on the seat. The rod was chucked next to the umbrella. I calmed myself down and took my time.
Chaos
Tripod and mat in place I was sorted. Or so I thought. First press on the bulb release which I had repaired with Aquasure after it split, and used successfully last week, failed. I checked it over and there was a hole in the repair. I tried to remember how the self timer worked, and failed. Two snaps of the fish on the mat and I slipped down the now treacherous rocks to the water's edge and released her. She was raring to go and quite a sight to watch gracefully working her way through the jumble of stones back into the channel. Daft as it seems I'm sure it is the moment of release that we often enjoy most.
Bulb release required
Another shower came in on the wind forcing me to put the brolly back up. The rods were unmoved. I contemplated leaving for home at the next break in the rain. That came at midnight. It lasted until the umbrella was back in the quiver. Back on with my jacket and the rain stopped. It had been an eventful outing that hadn't gone entirely to plan, although the outcome couldn't have been scripted any better - a nice fish from another new-to-me swim. If only it was always so easy.
It was only seven thirty but with the threatening cloud cover was dark enough to require the side lights. I'd have to get a move on to be settled in before dark. Joy! There were no cars parked up. My new plan was to fish away from my usual haunt on the outside of a bend. I stumbled down the bank, pitted with hoof marks and littered with partly grassed over rocks, to see an angler on the far bank, his rods pointing towards the channel I had hoped to fish. I suppose I could have been belligerent and claimed the 'half way rule', but I don't like fishing opposite other anglers even if they are out of casting range. There was plenty of vacant river to go at.
I wandered up and downstream a ways. The river looked inviting, but the bank somewhat treacherous and the water rather a long way down. Given time I could have worked out a way to fish safely and to net fish. That was time which was running out. For some reason I didn't feel like dropping in a well known swim. The recaptures and fishing by numbers has got a bit tedious despite catching plenty of fish. Back in the car with a third plan and upstream to the length I'd fished on Thursday.
Just in case there was anyone else there I had a quick walk to the swim I fancied, one up from the previous session, and found it vacant. The entire length was free in fact. I was soon back and tackling up. Following the failure of the rod I had last used for the bait dropper I had cobbled something together from some aborted rod conversions I'd tried over the years. It had come out at eight feet, in two very unequal sections. It chucked the dropper okay though. What I'm trying to achieve is a shortish rod that will lob out a dropper while still being suitable for barbel fishing under trees and in tight spots. That would allow me to carry the one rod for the two jobs on another river I fish. I might be getting close.
Anyway, the pellets were duly deposited slightly downstream, out from the rocks, in the channel. The level was down from the previous session here and the marginal rocks in the first swim I'd fished were even more exposed. This swim looked less hairy for playing fish. Good enough reason to fish it.
The boilie rod went over the feed, four or five droppers full, with as big a bag of pellets it was possible to make attached to the hook. I'd leave that out until it was taken, or dragged out of position by weed. The pellet rod was cast upstream and further out with a more reasonably sized bag of pellets on the hook.
The first thing that drew my attention to the sand martins was their chattering. They were sweeping over the far side of the river seemingly without flapping their wings as if they were rocket powered. The ease and speed with which they fly must make their long migrations pass quickly for them. Straining my eyes in the failing light I could see that they were flying to the nest holes in the far bank sand-cliff. I doubt they have broods to feed, so I'm assuming they use the burrows to roost. They'll soon be gone, being one of the first summer migrants to arrive and the first to leave. No doubt the winter floods will inundate their deserted nests, maybe even crumble the entire bank.
Despite the commotion the dropper caused it was only ten or fifteen minutes before the rod tips started tapping. At five past nine the boilie rod hooped over even though it was set low. Barbel really do scrap well when hooked close in. This fish really had me fooled as it took line with the rod arched into a near semi-circle. I couldn't believe it was 'only' a seven pounder. Much more fun that pumping in fish from distance.
More taps and twitches were seen. Mostly to the pellet rod. I suspected eels and sure enough one finally hung itself. Then a chub took the boilie and tried to drag the rod in. It fought pretty well on the heavy gear, convincing me I had hooked another barbel for a while. I made a pig's ear of netting it. The first attempt being a complete failure. I was sure the fish was in the mesh when I lifted it. My eye's aren't what they used to be! Second time round I got it right.
It was gone ten thirty by now and there was a light drizzle falling. I had my waterproofs on and erected the brolly to keep the rucksack dry. Five minutes before eleven the boilie rod was off again. The fish was away at speed. I picked the rod up and was trying to stop the fish with finger pressure on the spool's skirt before engaging the gears. My baitrunners are set pretty tight, almost as tight as the drag, but I made no impression. Probably a good thing as this allowed the fish to get well out and away from the boulders in the edge. It slowed and I flicked the lever to the off position and began to apply some proper pressure.
All through the fight the rod was at its limit, the fish took some line, made a few serious lunges and at one point I felt the line pinging off something. It was quite nerve racking not knowing exactly where the fish was in relation to the potentially line cutting rocks. As soon as I had the fish on the surface I bullied it into the net. No mistakes this time.
The ritual of staking out the net was gone through and the scales readied. This time my guesstimate was optimistic, but not my too much. A long fish that I wouldn't mind meeting again later in the season. I slipped her back in the net to rest while I set up the camera. The swim was a bomb-site by now. I'd collapsed the brolly and slung it in the balsam after the landing net pole got tangled in its ribs. It had stopped drizzling by now. My jacket had been removed and hurled on the back of my chair, the pellet bucket on the seat. The rod was chucked next to the umbrella. I calmed myself down and took my time.
ChaosTripod and mat in place I was sorted. Or so I thought. First press on the bulb release which I had repaired with Aquasure after it split, and used successfully last week, failed. I checked it over and there was a hole in the repair. I tried to remember how the self timer worked, and failed. Two snaps of the fish on the mat and I slipped down the now treacherous rocks to the water's edge and released her. She was raring to go and quite a sight to watch gracefully working her way through the jumble of stones back into the channel. Daft as it seems I'm sure it is the moment of release that we often enjoy most.
Bulb release requiredAnother shower came in on the wind forcing me to put the brolly back up. The rods were unmoved. I contemplated leaving for home at the next break in the rain. That came at midnight. It lasted until the umbrella was back in the quiver. Back on with my jacket and the rain stopped. It had been an eventful outing that hadn't gone entirely to plan, although the outcome couldn't have been scripted any better - a nice fish from another new-to-me swim. If only it was always so easy.
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