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A double header


Rusty

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River Kennet, Thursday 8th & Friday 9th September 2011

 

With the lack of fishing in recent weeks I decided to take a couple of days off work and visit some venues which haven’t received much attention from me in the past. I suppose you’d call them barbel venues, they’re certainly popular with the static bait brigade during late afternoon and evenings but rarely do you see a ‘pin user during daylight hours. With little knowledge of either venue these were definitely recce trips and very worthwhile they were too.

 

Thursday 8th - Padworth

 

The most easterly stretch of the Kennet that I can fish on either of my club books, downstream are the extremely inviting Benyons, they’re out of bounds to me at the moment but next season I plan to join RDAA so I’ll have access to them then.

 

Padworth has benefited from a lot of work by TAA members, a couple of seasons ago the last hundred yards upstream was cleared and made accessible by a small bridge, you can now get to a weirpool at the upper limit. So that was my plan, head up to the weirpool for perch and work my way back trotting good looking swims. I hadn’t figured on the lack of use this section gets, clearly TAA members prefer to fish the deeper sections downstream and as a consequence the vegetation has grown back and the bridge was hidden by undergrowth. Nevertheless I ploughed on and eventually emerged from the nettles at the pool;

 

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After all that effort it was a bit disappointing, there was very little flow in the pool itself, nothing that would allow me to work a float around it so it was a case of casting and leaving alone. What followed was a catalogue of schoolboy errors which nearly saw Messrs Harrison & Witcher launched into the pool. First cast the spool overran and created the mother of all birdsnests, that lost me ten yards of line. Second cast went straight into a far bank tree and I had to pull for a break. Third cast the line had become wrapped around the rod tip swinging the float into a near bank tree, I got the float back at the expense of the hooklength. So in the first hour I re-tackled three times and was getting a little frustrated.

 

When I did get the float in the water it was like fishing a small pond so I put the rod down and watched the float for the limit of my attention span, about ten minutes. Usual story, look away, look back to find the float gone and then hear the reel giving line. I struck, briefly felt a good fish and then saw a flash as a decent perch made off with my lobworm leaving me with the bare hook. Serves me right.

 

I decided that this particular weirpool wasn’t for me so I packed up, re-entered the jungle and headed back in search of civilisation i.e. flowing water. The first spot I tried made up for the weirpool and I spent far longer here than I should’ve done really, I was supposed to be recce’ing. It was a lovely medium paced glide about four foot in depth passing under a corridor of tree branches;

 

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It was absolutely stuffed with dace and what surprised me was the uniform size of the fish. Each measured from the tip of my middle finger to my wrist and they all managed to put a decent bend in the rod, really good sport. Fifty fish later I dragged myself away and continued downstream stopping at a few places on the way, nothing came close to that swim and the Ranunculus weed (fluitans I believe) was proving difficult to get the float through. Nice to see such prolific growth though, it was everywhere and I’m sure the barbel were spoilt for choice for hiding places.

 

Eventually I arrived back at the downstream limit and observed a shoal of dace and chublets from a grand vantage point, a view upstream;

 

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I chose to trot downstream and found a comfy seating spot with legs dangling over the side of a buttress. There I sat and whiled away the rest of the daylight again staying longer than I intended, the dace were still obliging although every now and then they’d shift position in the river so I had to trot different lines until I found them again. Mix in a couple of chublets and what started as a disastrous day ended up being a very pleasant evening session. During my daytime roaming I’d heard two separate reports that my final swim held resident large barbel, with about forty yards of line left on my reel I’m thankful I didn’t hook one.

 

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TAA members started to arrive in numbers as the light faded and each one would check my swim before moving on so I’ve no doubt it is home to decent fish.

 

Friday 9th - Brimpton

 

On to the next venue, another place where you’re unlikely to see a trotter. Same plan i.e. walk to the upper limit trying different spots and work my way back over the course of the day, no mean feat in neoprene chesties and mild weather. The waders are essential at this venue, trotting off the rod tip at least gives you a chance to steer a float between the weed but I did have to get in the water on occasions just to cool down a bit.

 

The first swim I tried;

 

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This swim highlighted a problem that I hadn’t anticipated or experienced the previous day…minnows. In anything other than a decent flow the blighters were everywhere, this restricted the type of swim I could fish without them showing up so watercraft took on a new level of importance, I was in trouble then.

 

It was on the way back that I decided to spend some time at this swim. The flow was good, the overhanging tree far right provided an obstacle to the water and cover for fish. Moreover it looked as if the outer branches were just lightly in the water, I reckoned I could get a float through the twigs without being snagged;

 

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Wading & feeding commenced, I couldn’t get out far due to the muddy riverbed but it was just enough to be able trot the right line and I could indeed guide the float right through the twigs, the line just slipped underneath them. Half an hour of building up the swim produced a bite, a good chub which dived straight back into the tree and snagged me against the far bank. I could see the float and move it a couple of feet before it lodged, letting line out just allowed it to fall back into the water. Had the fish still been attached I could’ve waded out from the shallows further downstream but there was no sign of it so I pulled for a break and then watched my float drift off still cocked. Bugger!

 

It proved the fish were there so after a quick re-tackle the routine continued. A couple of dace were caught before another chub took the bait, this time I buried the rod in the water and held fast while the chub tried to get into the snags. It put up quite a struggle but between the lunges I managed to gain enough line to clear the tree. Once I could lift the rod again it was pretty straightforward getting a feisty 2lb 10oz specimen into the net. What a beautifully conditioned fish it was too;

 

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The next fish was a lot bigger at 5lb 3oz. This one took the bait as the float was just approaching the tree so hit and hold with a buried rod tip was again needed. Although it felt heavier it didn’t seem as powerful as the first so other than a last ditch dive for weed (he swam out again when I gave line) landing this fish was easier than I thought it would be;

 

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Bites then dried up and I plodded back to the car. Only two decent fish but found and caught in a very pleasing way. I felt I’d grafted for these.

 

So that’s it, two completely contrasting days but both of them enjoyable for different reasons. The first for taking me back to basics and reminding me of earlier innocent fishing times and the second for being rewarded after a bit more thought & effort. There’s room for both ways.

 

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