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Steve Walker

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Blog Entries posted by Steve Walker

  1. Steve Walker
    I managed a couple of end-of-season trips to my favourite barbel haunt in the last week of the season. We'd had a lot of heavy rain, and the rivers had been out of sorts for weeks, but finally the levels dropped, the colour faded and the rivers started to look inviting, so I gave it a go.
     
    After traipsing across three fields feeling smug about the people fishing the swims near the road, I got to my favourite barbel swim to find some rotter fishing it. This stretch doesn't actually have all that many good pegs, and I had half a mind to just go home. I walked down a little way and found that the floods had collapsed the banking, creating safe access to a swim I'd previously been loath to clamber down to. I'd got a willow stump growing in the water on the opposite bank creating an eddy down the far side, and a fast, turbulent run under my feet. To be honest, I expected chub but thought it lacked a certain barbel-ness. Still in a bit of a grump over my swim-usurper, I set up a link leger and baited up with the fattest lobworm in the pot. On my second or third cast, exploring the downstream boundary between the run and the slack, I got a very chub-ish rattle and pull. I hit it, expecting the usual token charge for cover of a 3lb chub, and instead got a savage jolt and a big golden flash. After a short, hard fight, a 6lb12oz barbel was on the bank. End of season mission accomplished!
     

     
    I took a few small chub on worm before deciding that as I'd now achieved my main objective, I'd dig out the centrepin and have some fun on the float. I had a succession of small fish, chub, roach, dace, a lovely fat six inch gudgeon, before hitting the second barbel of the day. I would be lying if I denied that I had the possibility of my first barbel on the float in mind when I tackled up, hence the 4lb double strength bottom and #14 hook, but in the end it just wasn't enough to keep the fish out of the snags.
     
    After a while, the swim died off, and so I took a wander downstream. I found a nice long, steady section to fish a float down, and spent the rest of the day catching more or less a fish a chuck on maggot. Mostly chub and dace, with a few roach, and none of them much over 12oz, but a lovely way to end the season. I've found a braid that I like on the pin, a Fox product intended for fishing floaters, and it was perfect for fishing a long trot, mending the line and contacting fish at a distance very neatly. Perfect!
     



     
  2. Steve Walker
    Well, my plan for a Thames barbel seems to have been derailed again. Not enough fishing and too much of it tenching, I think. I decided a couple of weeks ago that although it was too late to seek out Thames barbel, I would like to catch at least one during 2006. Probably the best barbel fishing round here is on the Bristol Avon, which I can fish on my Bristol, Bath & Wilts card, but with the year wearing on I felt that there was insufficient time to really suss out the Avon. One for next Summer. Instead, I've rejoined a local club with some barbel fishing on a small tributary of the Avon. The barbel are in a relatively short section of river which I know a little, though it's a few years since I've fished it. They run into double figures, though my largest from there is around 6 or 7lb (I didn't have any scales on me). So, I forked out a few more quid on permits and gave it a crack.
     

     
    My first two sessions found the river low and clear after the dry Summer. Finding barbel turned out to be fairly easy. Catching them was another matter. On my first session I walked down to the bottom of the second field, hoping to find a couple of swims I'd had success in before. I found them, but one overgrown and inaccessible and with the water low and clear I could see that there was nothing to be had in the other. There is an undercut, which I fished into for a while, but nothing came out.
     
    Moving downriver, I found a shoal of chub and a couple of medium sized barbel lurking in shallow water beneath an overhanging bush. They were willing to take pellets, but it was very hard to get a rod to the water. Ideally I’d have put a bait in from upstream of the bush, but I just couldn’t get a rod through the undergrowth. The barbel kept drifting back under the bush, and any attempt to get a bait to them resulted in a take from a chub. Infuriating. Eventually, I failed to whip the bait away in time and hooked a small and very vigorous chub, which sent the barbel drifting into permanent hiding. I headed back upstream.
     
    There were two other anglers on the upper field, so I ended up fishing the most obvious (and therefore pressured) swim on the beat. I've never had a barbel from this swim, though there are plenty of chub. I set up a loafer and had a few chub to about 3lb on floatfished pellet before settling down to leger a bait under the far bank feature. This brought a few more small chub, but nothing whiskery.
     
    I wasn’t discouraged by this, and indeed took the next day off work to fish again. I felt that I needed to get some fishing done before the weather turned against me; a cold snap and the first frosts of the year could put paid to my plans. Also, one of the other anglers had caught a couple of fish. This time, I decided to concentrate on the upper section. I settled in one of the deeper swims, where a narrow current flows over streamer weed into a short deep pool. After ten minutes of exploratory fishing I put a few handfuls of hemp and pellets in and left the swim to settle.
     

    one of the deeper swims, where a narrow current flows over streamer weed into a short deep pool
     
    While I waited for some fish to come out, I sneaked a look at another swim a little further down. This spot is shallow, less than 3’ deep, and shaded by trees. At the downstream end is an overhanging tree, and downstream from that a weedbed. I noticed a shoal of chub hanging around by the tree, and put a couple of handfuls of pellets in. Almost immediately a trio of mid-sized barbel arrived and started tucking in. I nipped back to my swim and returned with my rod and net. I flicked a bait a little upstream of the nearest barbel, meaning to let it trundle down with the current, but immediately it hit the water a small chub turned and aimed to take it on the drop. I whipped it away and tried again, this time aiming to put the bait closer to the barbel. The barbel spooked, turned and powered away, followed by the other two. I left the bait on the bottom, waiting for them to return, but it didn’t take long for a small chub to find the bait. I left it and returned to my main swim
     
    This pattern was repeated throughout the day. I would fish for a while, spook the barbel and return to my swim. Any bait left lying around would be chubbed in no time, and any bait dropped close to a barbel scared it. I finally spooked them for the last time by feeding a few torn up chunks of luncheon meat. Complete panic, from which they did not return. I think they’ve seen it before! I ended up with a similar catch to the previous day, eight or ten chub to about 3lb but not a sniff of a barbel.
     
    During the next few days, my fears were confirmed as the heavens opened. No frost, but an awful lot of cold water. My hopes were not high the following Saturday as I found the river running a foot high and brown. It was falling, though, and had apparently been 2 ½ feet up the previous day. I settled in the swim I had been stalking barbel in on the previous session and fished lobworms while feeding hemp and pellets. I’d left my hooker pellets at home, but had a feeling that lobworm would work better anyway. It was windy, and though I was out of much of the wind in the deep cut of the river, for the first time since last winter, I was cold. Not a good sign. Once again I caught a succession of chub, with more or less constant rattles as chublets gnawed at the lobworm. Frustrating, because had I not been after barbel I would have been very happy with such a catch of chub on an out of sorts river. I hate the attitude of treating one species with contempt when targeting another, but the chub really did seem to be getting in the way of the barbel.
     

    I found the river running a foot high and brown
     
    I returned to the river today to find it in much better condition. It had fallen, and carried a little colour. I could see a few chub about, but it was too coloured to see through to where the barbel lurk at the bottom. I returned to the swim I’d fished on the previous session, and resumed the process of catching chub on lobworms. After a couple of hours and half a dozen chub to about 3-4lb (the largest of which had my hopes up for a second or two), I decided to give up and try somewhere else. I would return to the swim in the second field with the undercut bank, and see how it looked. I had another target at the back of my mind; there were a few lobworms left, and there might be perch under that undercut bank
     

    the largest of which had my hopes up for a second or two
     
    Returning to the swim I’d tried on my first session I found it much improved. There were small fish topping at the head of the swim and with a little colour in the water and a little more water in the river I felt more confident . I started off with a couple of lobworms, link-legered on a size 6. First cast resulted in a jagged twanging of the quivertip, and the inevitable chub of about 12oz. Subsequent casts resulted in much chewing of the lobworms and a few three inch chublets which somehow managed to engulf a lobworm on a #6. Huge gobs! Eventually, having explored the whole swim and run out of lobworms, I decided that I needed a more aggressive approach. In went half a pint of pellets and half a pint of hemp. I removed the split shots from the link and tied on a flattened 1oz lead. I squeezed a couple of shots onto the main line behind the swivel for the link, creating a (safe) fixed lead rig. I baited this with two 11mm halibut pellets and waited.
     

    Returning to the swim I’d tried on my first session
     
    I soon started getting knocks and twitches from small fish. I couldn’t be exactly sure where my loose feed had ended up. The swim was five or six feet deep and reasonably fast, so I suspected that it had gone a fair way downstream. With each cast I gradually fished further down the swim until suddenly the knocks and twitches were replaced with a double lunge which seemed too violent to be a chub. As I picked the rod up I felt something pull hard, and then reeled in a short length of streamer weed. Something had pricked itself and dived straight into the nearest weedbed, somehow transferring the hook to this disappointing frond.
     
    By this time, it was almost dark. A few casts later and it was time to go. I normally fish on a little past this point, and have five or ten “last casts”, but this particular swim is sloping and slippery and ends with a three foot drop into six feet of fast water. If I fell in, I’d have to swim downstream to get out and I wasn’t going to risk it, so this really was to be my last cast. I put two pellets on and swung the rig out to the bottom of the swim. A tap. Another. Then a confident pull. I hit it and knew immediately that it wasn’t a chub. It had power, and it wasn’t giving up. It went for the tree roots, for the undercut bank, and then tried to run upstream into the jungle at the head of the swim. I turned it and saw a flash of gold which confirmed my suspicions, and then it was in the net.
     
    At 4lbs, not the biggest barbel in that stretch, not even my biggest barbel from that stretch, but I was absolutely delighted with it. Mission achieved, and on the last cast of the last day. The next couple of weekends are fully booked, so I may not get down to the river again until late November. By that point it might be too late, so today may have been my last chance. If I can get some more, better still if I can get larger, that will be a bonus. Right now I’m just happy to have achieved my objective.
     

    At 4lbs, not the biggest barbel in that stretch, not even my biggest barbel from that stretch, but I was absolutely delighted with it
  3. Steve Walker
    Sorry, the weather was too good, and I was hearing too many reports of tench waking up for the summer. So I had a session on Wickwater main lake for the tench. It was slow, the water was still quite cold, but I eventually managed one tench of about 3lb and four little rudd, all on red maggot. It was a lovely evening though:
     

  4. Steve Walker

    Hmmm

    By Steve Walker,

    Two sessions on Wick to report on. I've been fishing this swim out of stubbornness. It's crawling with tench, I've just been having problems connecting with them. The last three trips have resulted in the first fish hooked getting off, and two of them to a blank. I though it was Groundhog Day again yesterday, but managed to put a couple of small tench on the bank later. Last night's incident was inevitable; I suspected that the fish were tackle-shy, so I scaled down to a 4lb bottom and a 14. Bingo. Couldn't put enough pressure on to keep it out of the submerged willow branches, though, and it transferred the hook. Not before I'd gone in up to my knees with the landing net in the hope of reaching it, mind. That satisfied my suspicion about tackle and baits, though. I'd started off fishing mussels on a size 6 hook, and couldn't buy a bite. I changed over to fish a small piece of soft pellet on a size 10 to 6lb doublestrength bottom, and changed the shotting from a lift configuration to a more conventional setup. This brought a couple of tench of around two and four pounds.
     
    I think I know what's happening. I've seen Wick tench get tackle shy when the water is clear (which, oddly given the weather, it is; gin clear). They are also getting preoccupied with particles, in this case mini-pellets. My problem is that Wick is a harder water than Dabchick, I'm only fishing it because it holds larger tench, into double figures. Is there any point, if I have to scale my gear down to the point where I'm unlikely to get a really good tench in?
  5. Steve Walker

    No tench

    By Steve Walker,

    Just got back from an unsuccessful session on Wick. I thought I'd give it a try because the fish seem to run bigger; an average Dabchick tench is 4-5lb, an average Wick one 5-6. There are also some very good tench in there, into double figures. I fished a peg at the opposite end of the lake to my usual pegs. I just didn't feel like fishing a big expanse of water into the wind, so I found a calm and sheltered bay at the upwind end. Shallower and more weedy, and at the wrong end by the wind, but with plenty of tenchy activity. Lots of bubbling, but very few bites. I hit one, but lost it after a short tussle. It can't have been very well hooked, I wasn't putting all that much pressure on it when the hook pinged free.
     
    I don't know what the problem was this evening. The water was very clear again, which never helps. I'm almost certain I could have had plenty of bites if I'd scaled down the tackle, but what's the point if you can't get the fish in? I'll give it another go soon, though. It's a nice swim to fish, and there were feeding fish in front of me, so it's just a matter of finding something they'll take with confidence.
  6. Steve Walker

    Bag o' tench!

    By Steve Walker,

    May I make a confession? During yesterdays tench session I reached the conclusion that I really do hate ducks. They are swines. Every time I 'pulted out some loose feed I had Mrs Duck and her horde of stupid little teenage ducklings home in and paddle round my float. Waving a pole at them just about chased them out of reach, but with the next batch of feed they were back again. What with confusion with line bites from the ducks and missed bites while waving six metres of carbon at them I reckon they cost me a lot of fish.
     
    What is it with waterfowl? Imagine a birdwatcher. Got it yet? Sort of like an angler, but slightly better dressed? Somewhere between a pig farmer and a tramp? Possibly with a beard? OK. What's he got round his neck? That's right. binoculars. Why is he carrying binoculars? Well, it's because for the vast majority of the time human beings and small birds have co-evolved on this planet, our relationship with them has largely involved pointy sticks, camp fires and the licking of lips. It wouldn't take many days of empty supermarkets for this situation to reassert itself and at a deep instinctive level birds know this. Most birds. Not ducks. Stand up, wave your arms, attempt to tw@t them with a carbon pole, they won't take the hint. I've previously seen a fox prowling round this particular lake (who, incidentally, treated me with an appropriate degree of respect for a wild animal). I bet they don't hang around when he's acting menacingly.
     
    Don't get me wrong, I love wildlife. I love to see birds. I just prefer them to be wild, not semi-domesticated water pigeons. When I am made Grand Dictator Of The World I'm going to have them all served up with pancakes and hoi sin at my celebratory banquet. Apart from those big white farm ducks, which I will permit. Because I like duck eggs.
     
    Now that I've got that off my chest, the fishing. I thought it was worth giving Dabchick Lake another try now that we've had a prolonged warm spell. Dabchick is deep, and Last time I fished there it was still cold and very clear, and I had a tiny tench for my troubles. This time it looked a lot better, with plenty of colour. After walking most of the way round the lake scanning the water with polarising lenses I picked a peg fairly close to the car park. It looks as if the submerged weed has been cleared better at that end. There are also some wide swims where I thought I might be able to cast my 'pin if I got round to setting it up later (I didn't). I had a nice overhanging tree to my right, and decided to fish close to that.
     
     
     
     
     
    I arrived at about 3pm and started off by setting up my pole. You can plumb the depth so much more accurately with a pole. Also, I thought that there would be little tench action until the evening, and planned to entertain myself catching some silver fish. I found about 11 feet of water by the tree. I set up a heavy float rig, using 4lb Drennan DoubleStrength, a .75g carp float and a barbless size 14 hook designed for commercial carp fisheries and my heavily elasticated top set. I was after roach and bream but wanted a fighting chance if I hit anything better.
     
    Fishing three maggots on the hook and loose feeding maggots, hemp and pellets I soon started to get bites. I had two nice roach and a couple of perch within a few minutes before something pulled all of the elastic out. The hook pinged free. It seemed that the tench were not waiting for the evening to feed. Next cast resulted in a "scale model" tench of about half a pound. Cast after that was another elastic-puller, and again the hook didn't hold. I decided that a running line rig was needed.
     
    I set up my 1 1/2lb TC avon with a six pound mainline, 6lb doublestrength hooklength and a size 8. I was using a 2 1/2 swan crystal waggler rigged as a slider, and a couple of worms on the hook. I put in a little groundbait and continued loose feeding. I soon had a nice tench of 5lb in the net. I continued to catch tench over the course of the evening. I had the occasional foray with the pole whenever the swim went quiet or the ducks became unbearable, one of which resulted in a few bream of a pound and a half or so, and every one of which ended with the size 14 pinging free from something powerful.
     
    I ended up with 14 tench (13 really, one was foulhooked in the pectoral), three bream, two roach and two perch. Two of the tench were less than a pound, one about three pounds. The rest were all in the four to five pound range. No one fish was really big enough to photograph, and shots of nets of fish are frowned upon these days, so no photos I'm afraid. So, no really big tench, but a cracking haul all the same. Those tench really go some. A good day, despite the ducks
     
     
  7. Steve Walker

    Down the river

    By Steve Walker,

    I nipped down to the Thames for a couple of hours last night, on the swim I fished on opening day. I started off fishing pellets on a feeder rig. I hit one good bite and was briefly connected to something powerful before it weeded me. I'd like to think it felt too strong for a chub, but I'm not convinced.
     
    I later switched to fish maggot on the float managing to land a couple of chub of around 4lb and to lose one. Good fun on heavy float tackle, fishing the centrepin and Drennan Avon rod with 6lb braid through to a 4lb DoubleStrength hooklength and a size 16 superspade. And a crowquill Avon, most definitely not made by Drennan.
  8. Steve Walker

    Opening Day

    By Steve Walker,

    Against expectations I managed to grab an hour and a half on the Upper Thames today. I hadn't planned it, expecting to be somewhere on the M6 this evening, but I had some hookable halibut pellets and 2mm feed pellets left over from tenching, and went on a whim at about 8pm. The swim I was headed for is a fair way down the Thames path, about half an hour's brisk walk. I'm still harbouring hopes for a Thames barbel, if I'm honest, and that's how far you have to walk before you find any swims with both depth and pace. So, sweating in the evening warmth and ignoring the various chubby swims en route I got to my intended swim at about half eight. And found someone in it. Damn. I found another swim a little further down which looked equally good, though, and settled in there.
     
     
     
    I had a fairly strong run in front of me, with an eddy on the far side and a slack running the length of a reedbed. I started off fishing a large hookable halibut pellet on a size 8 to 6lb line and a 1oz Arlesey bomb and putting it on the edge of the faster water. After a while I switched to a half-ounce bomb, which I was able to roll downstream. I was using a catapult to feed pellets across to the edge of the faster water, but I didn't feel confident of where they were hitting the bottom, so I switched to a small feeder. This eventually brought a clonking bite which I connected with, and for a few seconds I thought my Thames barbel plans were off the ground. It couldn't keep up the power, though, and a nice chub of about 4lb came quickly to the net. I've had bigger chub from the Thames, but not many from this area of the upper river.
     

     
    I was soon forced to pack up by the failing light, a thirst for a cold beer and the knowledge that if I didn't get my arse into gear the offie would be closed. I'd come out in shorts, and as dusk fell I realised that I wasn't going to be able to see the nettles along the path. My legs are still tingling now. I've been stung by the vegetation and feasted upon by the insect life, but at least I made it down to the riverbank and put a short session in. Hopefully better to come.
     
     
  9. Steve Walker

    More tench

    By Steve Walker,

    I gave Dabchick another go last night, same peg and tactics as last week. The water looked a good deal clearer than it did last time, and I think it showed. Also, a bloke I was chatting with told me that it had been fished each of the last four days. It's a great peg, but is unfortunately right next to the car park, and can get hammered. I'll have to spend some time looking for a less accessible peg with similar features.
     
    Anyway, I ended up with half a dozen tench to about four pounds, a couple of skimmers and some small perch and roach. I had a couple of tench in on the pole, which was, erm, challenging. The ducks again did their best to drive me nuts. A pleasant evening, all the same.
     
    I'll risk a photo, since there weren't all that many fish and the keepnet was just lifted onto the unhooking mat for a minute while the shot was taken.
     
     
  10. Steve Walker
    Had a few hours on Wick this evening. I alternated 14mm halibut pellets and worm on the hook over 2mm pellets and hemp. I fished most of the evening using a lift rig but just couldn't get the presentation right. There were plenty of fish feeding in and around the swim, but I had only two fast bites, which I missed. Really frustrating. I like the lift method, it lets you fish a large bait under a float with sensitive presentation, and helps to differentiate line bites, but for some reason it just wasn't working tonight. I later moved the shot around to fish a more conventional waggler style and had a lean tench of 5lb on a pellet just before it got too dark to see the float.
     
    I think there might be a sinking-into-the-weed issue going on here. I'm wondering how well either an adapted lift rig or a float-leger setup would work with a popped-up bait. I think it could possibly work very well, even with a greater length of line between the hook and shot than is usual. I know I'm being stubborn fishing the float for these fish, but I enjoy it so much more. Also, the tench must take a hammering from the carp boys who are almost all whacking their sea leads out into the middle of the lake. They're feeding freely in the margins though, and I don't see any point in legering when I can see tench bubbling violently under the rod tip. I reckon they hardly ever see a baited hook fished close in, so if I can get the presentation right I should do well.
     
    It's a shame that bloke showed me his photos of double figure tench. I should have been really happy with the five pounder tonight, but was ashamed to be a little disappointed that it was "only" 5lb. That's still a nice fish, when all is said and done.
  11. Steve Walker

    A bit better

    By Steve Walker,

    Gave Wick another crack again today. I didn't bother with the prawns, sweetcorn or groundbait this time, and instead loose fed halibut pellets, red maggot and hemp. I fed one spot about three rod lengths out and another right under the rod tip. It started slow again, with lots of fish lazing on the surface. Gradually a few bubblers appeared, a the odd one of them over my loose feed. This was promising, because Wick tench seem almost always to give themselves away. I've found it rare to catch when there aren't obvious signs of them feeding in the swim. I had a few line bites from the fish under the rod tip, but no bites on bunches of maggots or worm.
     
    When I was a teenager, my whole fishing style was based upon match fishing. I fished a fair few club matches then, framed a bit, even won a few. I then gradually drifted out of it, Old habits die hard, though, and so I found myself looking for bites, scaling down from 6lb line and a size 8 to a 4lb doublestrength hooklength and a size 16 superspade. I've been smashed by tench on Wick before when I've decided they aren't playing and set up a match rod for perch and roach. I thought this was still *reasonably* heavy gear, and reckoned I'd be OK.
     
    After a while with no bites on the lighter gear and no activity in the swim I decided to put in a good wodge of loose feed and then go for a walk round the lake while it settled. I've not walked round Wick for ages, and I was surprised by how many new pegs have been cleared. I was also surprised by how many people were fishing, unseen from my peg. I've never seen it so busy. To a man, they were fishing two rods and a pair of bite alarms. I must have been the only angler on the lake not fishing textbook modern carper style.
     
    I stopped for a chat with a bloke who'd spoken to me at my peg earlier. He'd bagged a newly opened up swim in what used to be a secluded and secret bay. He was as disappointed as I was that this had been opened up. He was another carper, but he showed me some photographs on his digital camera of tench from Wick. These were big fish, 9s and 10s. My best tench, of a bit over six pounds, seemed suddenly inadequate. When did this happen? I remember when a six pound tench was a bloody good fish, and now here's a man showing me pictures of double figure tench he caught more or less by accident while carping. This is a small gravel pit fishable on a 45 quid open membership card. We're not talking an inland sea of reservoir or an exclusive syndicate water.
     
    Walking back to the rods it was clear to me that I was being a prat scaling down my gear. It was just asking to hit something enormous and be gutted to lose it. One side of Wick is bordered by two match ponds, one a carp puddle and the other merely overstocked. It was odd to see the two cultures only yards apart, the bivvy boys camping out on a beautiful mature gravel pit but mostly lurking in their realtree caves, and the guys with poles fishing the barren and muddy carp puddle. I don't think I'll ever abandon the match-style of fishing entirely, but I seldom do it now and I'm nowhere near as good at it as I used to be. Nor can I see myself joining the camouflaged ranks with their matching rods and alarms. It looks too much like fishing by numbers to me. Anyway, I think a tench caught on float tackle scores double the weight of one caught by accident on a bolt rig.
     
    When I got back to my swim there was clearly some fishy foraging going on over the baited patches. I swapped the hooklengths back and got in there. I just wasn't getting bites despite the obvious rooting and bubbling. Plenty of liners, no bites. I tried going shallower, up to a little off the bottom, all to no avail. In a "sod it" moment, I instead set the float well overdepth and chucked a couple of worms out to the three rod-length patch. It had barely settled when it glided away. I struck, something good kited to the left for three or four seconds, then the hook pulled out. Arse. Next cast went again and this time the hook held. The result was a small tench of about 2lb, but at least not a blank.
     
    I later hit a good bite under the rod tip which turned into a hard fighting 5 1/2 lb'er which annoyingly turned out to be foulhooked under the chin. By then it was getting too dark to see the float, and I called it a day.
     
    Interesting, though. The loose pellets and the hemp seem to be well accepted, but the worms and maggots are less popular. I may try fishing some larger pellets on the hook. I think I'm going to make a stab at beating my PB this season. There are certainly fish in there to do it.
  12. Steve Walker
    Gave Wickwater a try this evening. It had a bit more colour and warmth than Dabchick lake did, but while there was plenty of evidence of fish about there wasn't a lot of feeding going on. Plenty of rolling, porpoising, cruising under the surface, leaping out of the water, but not a lot of bubbling. Oh well. Another couple of weeks and they'll be ravenous.
     
    Wick's bloody noisy though. Close to the road, and someone was running a generator or some kind of heavy machinery nearby. Also, a couple turned up with a rat-on-a-rope which wouldn't stop yapping. I wish people would get either a dog or a cat, not something halfway between. Raargh!
     
    On the plus side, I had a friendly blue tit begging for food and watched one of this year's pike haunting the shallows. I'm always amazed at just how quickly they grow. This little predator will be eating last year's roach before long. Lots of terns were competing with him for that food source, mind, along with the heron I saw flying over.
  13. Steve Walker
    Against my normal habits, I've been tench fishing today. I've by and large kept to the old closed season ever since it was abolished, but it seems more and more pointless each year. There's precious little anticipation when the banks have been trampled and the fish hammered since April. It looks as if I'm not going to get out for the first two weekends of the season, so I thought "sod it" and had a crack for the tench on Dabchick Lake.
     
    I like Dabchick lake. It's smaller than Wickwater but actually has more pegs worth fishing. It's also (mostly) quieter, Wickwater being within Karaoke range of a rowdy campsite and generally much busier. The peace was spoilt a bit today by Biggles doing circuits in his light aircraft. I don't think he was low enough to see hand gestures. On the downside, it's a lot deeper, so I tend to fish a sliding float. Not a problem, but I'd rather not have to. It also has a lot of submerged vegetation.
     
    I arrived late afternoon and was surprised to see quite a few cars parked up. The good weather seemed to have brought a lot of people out. I settled at the Eastern corner with the sun and the wind in my face. I was a bit disappointed to see that the water was absolutely gin clear and still a little cool. With this in mind I should have fed sparingly, but I didn't. I put down enough feed to keep the tench in for a July/August session. A mistake, I think.
     
    It was very slow. I was having trouble seeing my float in the ripple and bright sunlight, but I in any case I didn't have a touch until the sun was almost gone. I saw a few bubblers appear at around 9pm, caught a micro-tench on worm a little before 10 and then they were gone. Very short feeding session, no doubt with their appetite suppressed by the cool water and the clarity forcing them to wait for low light levels.
     
    So, a disappointing first session of the season. I think Wick would have fished better, it's shallower and it warms and colours earlier in the season. Still, it was an absolutely gorgeous evening, and I got some peace and quiet (once Biggles had buggered off), and I didn't blank.
  14. Steve Walker
    Decided yesterday to give Lee-On-Solent a bash. There were some reports on the Solent Fishing Guide of some rays, bass and smoothies being caught. It was a hot, still day with high tide at 11pm. Perfect.
     
    I finished work early and loaded the car up at about 3pm. This was my first fishing trip in my new toy, and the big test was how well the fishing gear would go in. With the ski hatch open, the rods fitted nicely, actually less inconveniently than in the Civic, and by removing the lid and then refitting it once in the boot I managed to get my seat box in nicely. Result! Practical sports car!
     
     
     
    I bought some frozen bait from the local tackle shop, but was hoping to get some live rag from the tackle shop in Lee. Unfortunately, when I got there it had closed down. So, I had frozen lug, crab, squid and mackerel. I always end up taking too much squid and mackerel, but I know the one time I don't bother I'll run out of bait.
     
    I was at the beach for about 5pm. Plan A had been to get there before the traffic and then kill time doing something else, but I was impatient and thought I might as well get set up. I parked up at Stokes Bay and started walking towards Browndown. There were a few people milling about and I wanted to be far enough away from the car park to get some peace and quiet. I settled near to the communications tower and set up. Two rods, one to fish a big bait at range on a pulley rig, another to fish a three hook paternoster ('flapper') rig at short range. I baited the pulley with crab and the other with lug and sat down to watch the rods.
     
    As the evening came, what little wind there had been dropped, and a hazy sunset developed. It would have been perfectly tranquil apart from two things; some tosser with a speedboat was tearing up and down the beach and a couple with four small kids decided that with a featureless shingle beach stretching into the far distance in either direction the best place to sit and throw stones at the sea was 30 yeards from where I was fishing. It's not that the boat or the kids were likely to affect the fishing, rather that they were impinging on my peace, quiet and solitude.
     
    Eventually, the sun set and the moon rose, the couple with the noisy brood and the speedboat owner went home and I got my quiet calm. At about 9:30, I started to see rattles on the flapper rod, but struck at nothing every time. A change from size #2 to #2/0 brought no improvement. Then, a violent jerk on the pulley rig, but nothing on the end. I missed two of these before a gentle tapping turned gradually into a strong pull, and I set the hook into something fishy. The something turned out to be a small smoothhound of about three pounds, my first ever. I was delighted. I eventually hit one of the rattles on the other rod, and landed a hand-sized pouting. I think I should have had the courage of my convictions to fish big baits on both rods. Next time I will. In any case, I went home happy. 50 quid in bait and petrol to catch and return a small inedible shark, and worth every penny.
     
  15. Steve Walker
    Decided in the end to fish Lee-On-Solent on Saturday night. I should have checked the weather forecast, because when I got there it was blowing a gale off the sea. I fished two rods (Iain had to work, so I borrowed his kit), one with a three hook flapper relatively close in and one with a big bait clipped down on a pulley rig and chucked as far as I could into the wind. Didn't get a thing on the big bait (tried crab, lug, mackerel) but a few six-inch whiting hung themselves on lug or mackerel on the flapper. Fact is, it was so rough that I couldn't see any bites on either rod. Fished roughly two hours before high tide to two hours after, gave up at about half ten. Soaked, and the wind seemed to be getting worse. Another bunch of four or five anglers up the beach came to the same conclusion, again with just a few tiny whiting to show for the exercise.
  16. Steve Walker

    Season's Over

    By Steve Walker,

    Well, that's 2005/6 over. The last couple of trips were a bit barren, but not a bad year all-in. With the rivers out of bounds I must decide what to do for the next few months. The stillwaters are open, of course, but I don't fish them much in the old closed season. Doesn't seem right. I suppose it's a bit pointless waiting when everyone else will be pulling the tench out in May; it's not as if I'll be stepping onto virgin banks on the 16th.
     
    Currently, I'm thinking about beach fishing. Specifically, where to go this weekend. Option 1: go somewhere this afternoon/evening. Maybe the Solent, or South Wales. Trouble is, the catch reports from the Solent are abysmal and I don't know how Wales is fishing. Option 2: Sand Point. Fishable for four hours Sunday morning, but it means getting up early.
     
    I suspect a blank is likely either way, but we'll see.
  17. Steve Walker
    Had to happen. I grabbed a couple of hours after work on the Thames at Cricklade. I didn't feel up to facing the cows down today, so I left the Cowfield swim for a deep little corner further upstream, amongst the water meadows. I've had chub and the odd nice roach out of this swim before on floatfished flake. It's a narrow deep(ish) bend into an overhanging tree. I set up a little way upstream and trotted down, feeding pinches of mashed flake at my feet.
     
    Nothing. Nicht eine wurst. Pas une saucisse. Not a sausage.
     
    Not even a bite. I moved up later to try the cattle drink which can sometimes be good in winter. Best fished with the pole, though, because you want to fish a very short trot of about 8 feet at the top of the swim.. Anyway, nothing there either. The only sign of life was a sizeable swirl on the surface as I retrieved, which was either a spooked chub or more likely a crumpet[1] having a go at my float.
     
    Defeated. I packed up my gear and then tore up what bread I had left and chucked it in. I walked downstream, following the bread, noting where the current was taking it, which trees and weed rafts it got stuck in, and hoping for a miraculous free rising chub. Chub on floating bread in February would be a treat indeed, but it wasn't to be. By the time I turned from the river the sky was a deep blue and the sunset was fading. A blank, for sure, but well worth it all the same.
     
     
     
    [1] Crumpet -> pikelet -> jack pike. Geddit? No? Suit yourself.
  18. Steve Walker

    Not bad at all!

    By Steve Walker,

    Considered having another crack at the Cowfield swim today, but was tempted away by thoughts of easier pickings on the Thames at Kelmscott. I wanted another crack at the chub with my special extra-stinky cheesepaste. I took a pack out of the freezer, microwaved it until gooey and then mixed in half a jar of anchovies for good measure. I’d had problems hitting bites last time, and hoped the oil from the anchovies would give a softer paste. This, as you will see, did not quite work out.
     
    Arriving a little after 2pm, I picked a swim on the apex of a bend with some trees and a raft of debris opposite. I tackled up a quivertip rod with a tiny bomb and a size six hook. The idea was to trundle the bait underneath the raft of debris. I was also feeding a swim down the inside with hemp and casters.
     
    I started getting bites on the cheesepaste almost immediately, but infuriatingly struck at nothing each time. The soft paste was evidently hardening in the cold water and shrouding the hook. Unfortunately the fish seemed to want a good sized chunk of paste, and I had no larger hooks with me. Leaving the hook as proud as was possible without losing the bait seemed not to help.
     
    After an hour or so of frustration I set up a 13’ match rod, centrepin and crowquill avon and began trotting double caster down the inside line I had been feeding. My casting with the centrepin is still atrocious, but was somewhat better with the match rod than with the Avon. After about ten minutes the bait was taken at the end of the trot by a chub of around 3lb, which put up an excellent struggle on the light float tackle.
     
    No more bites were forthcoming on the float, so I resumed legering paste and striking at unmissable bites. And missing them. I even tried hair rigging paste, all to no avail. At about half past four I did what I should have done hours earlier; I pinched a chunk of breadflake on the hook. First cast resulted in a 3lb chub. Second cast in another.
     
    As the light faded, I decided I really wanted to catch a fish on my special paste. They obviously liked it, I just couldn’t hit the bites. Out went another blob, moulded to expose as much hook as possible. The lead rolled under the raft of debris and settled. A few minutes later the tip tapped once and then lunged over, and I found myself connected to something dogged and heavy. It was reluctant to come up in the water, but made no dramatic attempt to run for cover. For a moment I thought I’d found a dustbin lid of a bream. Only an attempt to weed me down the inside gave the game away, but after a short fight I had it. This chub I weighed; 4 ½ lbs and enough to call it a day.
     
    So, four decent chub, one on the float, one on my special cheesepaste. Not too shabby for a cold Winter afternoon.
     
  19. Steve Walker

    Livestock

    By Steve Walker,

    Seem to be having a bad week with large hoofed beasts. Walking back to the car on Saturday I got back to the final gate as the last of the light left the sky. It was cold, and clear, and silent. I turned round to shut the gate behind me and found three huge equine faces staring expectantly at me from six feet away. To say I jumped would be an understatement. I still don't understand how they crept up on me; perhaps they were "stalking horses"?
     
    Tonight, walking to the cowfield swim, the cows and bullocks in the field started following me. I've had livestock follow me before in a curious or hungry way, but there seemed to be some agitation and menace in the behaviour tonight. I was very glad to get a barbed wire fence between them and myself. They then stood and stared at me for about five minutes before drifting away. I've heard of cows with calves attacking people before (usually people with dogs, mind) but while I've been chased by bulls I can't honestly say that I've ever felt threatened by a cow before.
  20. Steve Walker

    An Odd Swim

    By Steve Walker,

    I've just had a short after-work session in the Cowfield swim. It really is an odd swim, it just screams fish yet it never really delivers the goods. I'm sure that I just haven't figured it out yet, but it's very frustrating. I fished it with my new favourite setup, trotting a very traditional looking crowquill avon with the 'pin. My casting with the pin is gradually improving, but is still abysmal. I've got used to trotting with it, though, and using it has become very comfortable. I managed a small chub of about a pound fishing hemp and caster, but no other bites were forthcoming.
     
    I've got a feeling that, while it's fun to trot this swim, the presentation is all wrong. The pool drops away rapidly where the main river and the sidestream enter, and I've got a feeling that the flow and turbulence is very stratified. I suspect that in much of the first part of the trot, the water near the bottom is either very much slower than the current at the surface, still, or possibly even flowing backwards in a vertical eddy. The fish I've had on the float have either been from further downstream where the flow becomes more laminar and, I suspect, more consistent with a normal surface-to-bed velocity gradient, or else have come from the smooth eddy which feeds back into the confluence of the two flows.
     
     
     
    Bearing this in mind, I think the correct way to fish this swim may well be with a large legered bait nailed to the bottom. I think that may have to be the next approach. Much less fun, though. I know a lovely glide not far from there, however, from which I've extracted a couple of very nice roach in the past, so that may need to provide my centrepin fix.
     
     
     
     
     
  21. Steve Walker

    New Toys

    By Steve Walker,

    I acquired this week, as birthday presents from my wife, a Drennan Super Specialist Duo Avon/quiver rod and an Okuma centrepin reel. I managed to get out for a couple of hours on Saturday and Sunday to have a play with them, and have to say I'm very pleased with my new toys.
     
    Saturday involved a short trip to a local free stretch of the Thames at Cricklade, starting at the weir by the farm and heading upstream to the Bridge Swim. Actually, my plan was really to fish the Bridge Swim for most of the session, but I wanted a dabble on the way. The day was bright and crisp but bitingly cold with a low wind that gnawed exposed flesh. The water was also very cold and very clear, but at least the level was good; it's nice to see the Thames in this area actually having some water in it. Alternating between lob tails and bread produced no bites on the way upstream, but trotting a few of the swims with the centrepin was enough to convince me of the satisfaction of using these reels to trot a float.
     
    The Bridge Swim is slow and deep with an even flow. In the Summer it sports a fringe of water lilies and is a good swim for perch, and it was with perch in mind that I started off fishing lobworm tail. After a couple of trots down the float dipped and vanished, but I struck at nothing. I've had a few roach and dace from this swim before but never a chub, so it was a nice suprise when the next bite resulted in a small chub of about half a pound. A little later, another bite, and this time a better fish. I was fishing braid on the 'pin, and the feeling of direct contact between reel and fish is fantastic. I soon had a brassy winter chub of about three pounds on the bank. A good start for the new tackle, but the light was failing fast and the cold wind which had been chilling me all afternoon gained a new bitterness as the sun sank. Trudging back to the car I dropped a line in a couple of swims, but I could barely see the float. Eventually a small bush on the far side snaffled my hook, and I called it a day.
     
    On Sunday I'd planned a trip to the Thames near Lechlade with Iain. The river here is much wider and deeper that at Cricklade, more a matchman's river than somewhere you stalk through undergrowth Hiawatha-style. My plan was to fish the 'pin with a lovely crowquill avon I'd spotted in the tackle shop on Saturday. Ludicrous, really, to spend the best part of three quid on a float which will probably catch no more fish than a big stick float or a cane and balsa avon at a third of the price, but they were such nicely made floats. I found a point on a sweeping bend where a spur of bank created a small slack and a long glide down the inside. It looked perfect. It fished perfectly, the 'pin allowing perfect control of the speed of the float.
     
    Sadly, while I was very impressed, the fish were not and my casters were ignored. I gradually came to the conclusion that while trotting was proving delightful, the fish would come best to a bait nailed down. Returning to base I took down the float rig and swapped the Avon top for a quiver and the centrepin for a Shimano fixed spool. I rigged up a small blockend feeder and placed it close to the overhanging trees on the far bank. Fishing casters on the hook and feeding hemp and caster brought not a sniff, and so learning from Saturday's lesson I tried lob tail. Iain had to get home early to do some work, and prospects weren’t looking good. We were just discussing calling it a day when the quivertip jerked round and I found myself attached to what felt like a very good fish. It turned out to be somewhat smaller than it appeared, but a chub of a couple of pounds on a cold day is always welcome.
     
     
     
    Having escaped blanking, it was time to take a risk. I have some cheesepaste in the freezer which I made around a year ago from the leftovers of the Christmas cheese glut. It’s a mixture of revoltingly smelly cheeses, ground hempseed and a jar of anchovies, mixed in the blender and melted in the microwave. It stinks. In theory, a wonderful chub bait. In practice, I’d never had a bite on it. The feeder came off and a small bomb and size 6 hook were fitted. A good sized blob of paste went on the hook and in it went. Well, I have now had a bite on it. Two, in fact, both of which I missed. I think I need to keep the hook more exposed, but the important thing is that I now have faith in the bait. More research to come!
     
    Eventually we packed up and I dropped Iain off to get on with his work. As I got into Cricklade, I realized that it was still only half four, giving maybe another hour of light. I dropped in to the swim in the cowfield on the edge of town. This is an odd swim. It’s a deep pool where a tributary enters on a bend. It’s a bit turbulent, with a complex flow pattern, and can be quite weedy in the summer. It looks fantastic, really, the only swim for miles a self-respecting barbel would be seen dead in, yet I’ve never done really well in it. I’ve had a few good pike (by the standards of this stretch of the Thames, that is; large jacks, in other words), but very little else. I’m determined to catch well there, though. It just has to have some decent fish in it. Again, the crowquill avon and the ‘pin came out, again the trotting was a joy, again to very little avail. Eventually, though, after about half an hour, a bite came while working the float up a back-eddy to the confluence with the tributary. I’m still puzzled as to what I hit. It didn’t feel like a chub, and I have a feeling it may have been a trout. In any case, it immediately shot into the faster water and shed the hook. A little after that, I conceded defeat as bad light stopped play.
     
    All in all, not a bad weekend. I’ve christened my new rod and reel, had a lot of fun getting used to the ‘pin, and put a couple of chub on the bank. The Drennan rod really is a lovely bit of kit with great ergonomics for me, and mastering the ‘pin is a new challenge which will fascinate me for some time yet. I’ve also proven to myself that my special cheesepaste gets bites, which means that I will have the confidence to leave it out long enough to catch some fish with it. I think I’d have caught on it if we’d stayed at Lechlade until dark, so I will definitely try it again there.
  22. Steve Walker

    Bio

    By Steve Walker,

    Looks like NickInTheNorth has set a precedent for biography so I suppose I'd better join in.
     
    I was born in 1973 in what is now Tameside General but was then Ashton hospital. From what used to be the maternity unit you can see the feeder stream for the park lake where I was later to spend many happy days (indeed, we spent a few happy days handlining two inch roach out of the stream!). I grew up around the area, Dukinfield, Audenshaw, Stalybridge, Hyde (I think my mother must have Gypsy blood to move house so often) and started fishing at around the age of seven.
     
    In the last couple of years of primary school I got together with some fishing friends and we started to explore the local area on our own. Our haunts were the Peak Forest canal, Oldhams' Pond, and later the Stamford Park lakes within sight of my birthplace. There was also the duck pond in the park in which fishing was forbidden, and where huge roach grew fat on crusts of white sliced. The park keeper chased us away from there on more than one occasion, but not before we'd broken our personal records!
     
    Later on, most of us went to the same secondary school. We joined some local clubs and explored further; Compstall Water, the Etherow, club matches on the Dane, the occasional outing to the Trent or to Rudyard Lake or Elton reservoir. We started fishing the club matches regularly, between us even won a few.
     
    After school, I left Manchester for an Aquatic Biology degree in Aberystwyth. One thing I had overlooked when deciding where to go was the quality of coarse fishing; in that area, there wasn't much. For the first year or two I lived in halls and then in lodgings on the sea front, so it made sense to get myself some sea fishing gear. A cheap beachcaster and tackle was purchased, and I was on the road to catching more lesser spotted dogfish than you can shake a frozen mackerel at. Winter brought whiting and Summer brought mackerel, but it wasn't until a friend demonstrated the cunning ploy of freelining peeler crab in the rock gullies that I found bass. I never did catch one big enough to eat, but the excitement never faded. I once hooked something in one of those gullies which put an impressive bend in my old carp rod as it powered off in the general direction of Ireland. My heart says "huge bass", but my head says "strap conger".
     
    After graduation I got a job at the university working as a research assistant. The project was surveying the distribution of 0-group bass and mullet in the Welsh estuaries, and my role was to help with the sampling and to work on age determination from otoliths. The best parts of the job were seine netting estuarine pools and taking home prawns, shrimps and samphire from one of the most hauntingly beautiful coastlines in the country. The worst part was the laborious preparation of otoliths for microscopic examination, grinding them on a glass plate with finer and finer abrasive pastes. Still, otoliths were fascinating. They are small structures of calcium carbonate and protein found in the inner ears of fish. They are built up in alternating layers of protein rich and protein poor material, one of each per day. On an old fish, you can look at them under low magnification and see annual rings of slow and fast growth, like the rings in a tree trunk. On a tiny 0-group otolith, with a powerful microscope, you can count the days the fish has lived.
     
    I got interested in what other information was encoded in those little white lumps. There were papers showing that certain traumatic events left a visible and chemically distinct record in the series of rings. The Freshwater Biological Association were advertising a studentship and inviting research proposals, so I applied to study the effects of physiological stress in otoliths. I was accepted and moved from Aberystwyth to the FBA's headquarters in Windermere. I spent three years conducting research into the effects of environment on otolith deposition. During that time I met some great people and got back into coarse fishing and fished a few of the lakes and tarns. At the end of the three years my research was done but my thesis was incomplete. The outgoing director's informal offer of a funding extension to finish writing up was reneged upon by the new director, so I moved back in with my parents in Manchester and got a job.
     
    Over the next couple of years I moved into IT and ended up working as a programmer in Wiltshire. Working full time and writing up a thesis are not very compatible objectives, but I was running out of time. I used up some holiday, worked some late nights, and with some guidance from Bob Wootton at Aberystwyth, got my PhD. By that time, I had a good job paying a salary somewhat higher than I would get as a postdoc scientist and a mortgage which required all of it. I turned my back on fisheries science. I have some regrets about that, the biggest of which is that I never published my work. It's probably all old hat now, but it wasn't then. On the other hand, studying for a PhD in a research institute shows up the scientific workplace warts and all, and compared to other places I've worked there's at least as much politics, more stress and less money.
     
    So, a few years down the line, I'm still in Wiltshire, now working as the sole IT person for a small dotcom. I got married last year and live with my wife and three cats (I don't like cats, as my wife reminds me every time she catches me talking to them and making a fuss of them). We want a dog, but don't really have room. Neither of us are keen on the idea of kids. I still see some of the old crowd from school very occasionally, it's nice that we only have to pick up a rod and it's like old times again. I've managed to recruit a good friend into the gentle art, and we've had a Winter of fairly dire beach fishing and a Summer of not bad tenching. I didn't get round to tracking down any mythical Upper Thames barbel, but the Winter chub beckon, and the late season species should be arriving on the beaches soon.
     
     
     
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