A Tale Of Three Chub

[dant]

I've been back in Norfolk/Suffolk this week, continuing my Chub crusade.

 

Sunday evening saw me on a stretch of the Upper Bure in Northish Norfolk on what could only be described as a quintessential Chub fishermans afternoon.

I arrived at two pm and strode out across the cold fields towards a bright dipping sun, there'd been a good frost the evening before nothing to sharp though but enough for there still to be the odd pocket left in the hollows underfoot, the river was carrying a touch of colour which on this stretch is almost essential.

I was feeling a certain sense of muted confidence. I knew that it would be hard going and I may have to connect with only bite of the day which would probably come after dark to stand a chance of landing a fish. And so it proved when whilst touch ledgering a lump of Spam in the run off from a small sluice I had a slight pull, then a couple of rattles followed by a slow steady pull. A rather hamfisted strike and brezzy battle later a beautifully conditioned Chub of dead on 5lb's lay in my net. As it was already pitch black and the temperature was dropping like a stone, I happily called it quits for the day after releasing the Chub back to his lair under the hawthorn bush.

 

Last night I went out at a similar time to one of my favourite stretches of the River Waveney, with Chub again my quarry.

As the old saying goes, what a difference a day makes. Gone had the still calm and clear skies to be replaced with grey skies and a blustery South Westerly wind, which if anything made it feel colder that the day before.

This stretch has been my 'banker' for a good few years a Chub fishing comfort blanket if you like. It's a narrow section of river downstream of a weir and over the course of a mile or so has at least three classic small river Chub swims.

There aren't that many fish and at a rough guess I'd say there may be around thirty good sized fish over the course of the half a mile or more but they like me, are creatures of habit or habitat.

I've been lucky enough to of had fish to 6lb 9oz this year from a certain swim that looks as though a Chub itself had designed it but trying to ignore this obvious temptation I trudged off to a bare banked corner with a feeder stream running off it's far bank turn.

This swim always looks dead on for a fish but very rarely produces, at least to me that is. Yesterday afternoon was no exception so just before dark had really set, I made the inevitable walk back towards the weir to see the 'banker'.

Not a lot happened for the next hour or two, infact nothing, not a touch. My thoughts were starting to wander towards a fresh cup of tea when the line tightened a little between my fingers, then nothing, I twitched the large lump of cheespaste towards me by a couple of inches or so which must of annoyed the previous inquisitor as it grabbed the bait and set off downstream at a rate of knots briefly managing to find the opposite Willow after a bit of give and take albeit with a worrying grinding on the line he was back in the mid-river flow and shortly after in my net. Another fish in great condition I guessed around the same size as the evenings before and was in fact two ounces heavier. This one had a scar the size and shape of a twenty pence coin just under it's dorsal fin. I packed up after I'd released the fish

I'd recognised the scar from the Summer and a quick check in my notebook when I got home confirmed that I'd had the fish at 4lb 2oz a few months earlier. A pound in two months the greedy devil.

 

So after two good Chub in two short evening sessions I was feeling somewhat dangerously confident that I had the master of these Chub.

 

Last night I fished a weirpool a couple of miles downstream of the previous evening with all intents and purpose of trying to find the Perch shoal that I had located last year but which had eluded me this.

When I arrived I found that the weirpool was carrying a surprising volume of water. Due to the nature of the sluice gate, it's a drop sill, there's never any real white water unless the rivers in flood but the surface was covered in creases and it didn't look good for the Perch.

So having the rod set up in Chub formation, I changed my plan. Now this weirpool dosen't have the real Chub form of the upstream areas and thus is generally ignored by most but I'd had a few fish up to around 4lb'ish mostly whilst livebaiting for Perch and seen a couple of fish in the Summer months that appeared much larger than that. Without further ado I deposited a large lump of Spam inches from the far bank brambles beneath the trailing branches of a Pussy Willow and sat with the line between my fingers.

As the wind had increased to very blustery and I had the rod in the air to try and counter the flow bite detection might prove a bit tricky but I remained in a slumped position in-front of what was little more than a large mole hill in a hope it would deflect the wind, it didn't. Not a lot was happening until after around forty minutes or so I felt the tell tale quick pull of early interest then followed a bite, an exact replica of the two evenings previous.

A firm strike was met with even firmer resistance which encouraged me into the fisherman's classic utterance 'Hello whats this then'. I was fairly sure it was Chub. Classic Chub bite on a lump of Spam, fished at the tail of a weirpool, has to be a Chub. It's not a Carp, too slow, there's no head shaking which gives away the Jack Pike that often snaffle twitched meat, it's too heavy to be a Chub, surely. After five minutes of give and take along with some careful work with the clutch I was getting it through the middle water in the weir, which was quicker than I'd imagined.

My mind started to cast back to the large Chub I'd taken in the Summer from water like this. This feels more solid, heavier and more pondorous. The only way to ascertain it's identity was to put a bit of pressure on and get it in to the slower water closer to the bank, get it's head up and have a look.

Flush with confidence I loaded the rod and gave the fish what some people may describe as 'some welly'. I hadn't yet seen the fish but it was fairly close to being under the rod tip so I started to slowly pull the rod up towards my left hand shoulder. There were signs of boring tail boils on the surface and then it flashed a two or three feet below the surface.

It was most definitely a Chub and quite possibly the largest Chub I've seen. I began dangerously mumouring 'thats a 7lb Chub'. If I could just turn it's head and get it to the surface I shall be away. I began to stubbornly turn the fishes head, much against it's will. For a brief second it seemed as though I had made eye contact with the brute, the fish had obviously seen me as it shot across the river at speed towards the middle. This felt like a battle I wasn't going to lose, so I tried to put a halt to his aspirations by clamping the brakes on.

As I did so, the fish shot to the surface as if to say 'nice try', then came the totally shocking and arrogantly un-forseen ping as the four swan shot clanged against the pillings of the weir pool, minus said Chub and minus the size four hook.

 

After the storm of paticularly accute fisherman's tourettes had abated I realised the error of my ways which had cost me a very, very large fish.

 

I cast my mind back to the previous evenings game of Chub see-saw in the Willows. I hadn't looked at the hooklength or even ran it through my fingers to check for abrasion. One looked at the splayed end of the line several inches up from the hook and the rough line above that confirmed my suspicions.

 

A tough lesson learnt but learnt all the same. I hope the fish can shed the hook and I shall return a few times before the season is out, for a chance of redemption.

 

You can't win them all.

 

Dan T

Edited January 9, 2008 by dant

[DavyR]

Aaargh! I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach just reading that! At least you know where it lives and can get back there for another go soon...

[Janet]

Dant, what a cracking report! I was almost there on the bank with you, reading that!

 

Better luck next time.

 

Janet

[BoldBear]

Great account Dant,

Like Janet I could almost be there with you when I read it.

Round 1 may have been won by the 'Denizen of the deep' but round 2 will be different I hope.

BB

Edited January 9, 2008 by BoldBear

[dant]

Cheers guys.

 

I popped out this evening on a different stretch of river in a biting wind and returned a blank, infact I came nowhere near a knock.

It was a sickener losing such good fish last night but I can't really complain too much as it was my fault, plus I've had a good season for Chub on the local rivers..

[wanzelbin]

Great read dant - I came on here looking for a good fishing story as I've not managed to get out there for a while, and that was perfect - thanks. Sorry to hear it got away though.

 

W

[dant]

Cheers Wanzelbin

 

Like I say I can't really complain too much. I'd had a couple of lovely fish on the previous evenings in tricky conditions. At least I have a rough idea where that cracking fish hangs out. Mind you they're sometimes harder to catch when you know they're there, than not..

[Newt]

I suspect that it is more the bigguns that get away than the bite-a-chuck and land em all days that keep us going back and braving weather than has sensible folk inside by a fire.

 

Nice Dant. I don't have chub or weir pools or smallish rivers but you made me practically see you there fishing.

[Anderoo]

A great write-up dant, thanks Just the kind of fishing I love, but with bigger fish

 

I felt sick at the end though, what a horrible feeling that is. When it happens to me I tell myself that it's to make sure I keep going. Still, two 5lbers, not too shabby eh!

[Codger]

Smashing read Dant...

Somewhere deep in my soul...I suspect that to me, in a masochistic sort of way, loosing a fish is almost as exciting as landing one... sometimes I think it does us good to be beaten in battle....surely better than having the fish climbing up the line and surrendering into the landing net !!!!!!!!!

Great story...let us know when you land the monster!!!

Tight lines!