Sloe Gin, Long Walks and Green Thread.

With the blackthorn positively bursting with sloes this year it was time to forage . Tradition usually dictates that the sloe should be harvested after the first frosts. In reality most have been harvested by then. There is a fine line between allowing them to grow fat and ripe, and turning up late for the harvest.
 With this in mind, and with this years fine weather bringing the berries on nicely; Lady Sarah and I collected a tidy little harvest in just an hour or so. All this for the preparation of Sloe Gin for the winter hip flask and Sloe Vodka for the Christmas festivities.
 We kept to the  following recipe...

1lb Sloes

8oz Sugar

1.75 pints of gin/vodka

Of course we've seen variations to these quantities and ingredients, but this seems more traditional and if it isn't broke, we don't fix it.

All the sloes were washed and pierced a few times with a sterile needle. We then placed them, the spirit and sugar in a clean 2 litre bottle with the aid of a homemade funnel and closed it tightly. After a good shake it was stored in a cool dark cupboard.

 The bottle should be shook every other day for the first week and once a week thereafter. It should be good to strain and drink by the festive season.

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It was time for a long walk, a walk that took me through mown meadow to reeded flow.
 In the distance, walking towards me, a brother of the angle .

 As our paths crossed in the midday sun I enquired  "Any luck?". He answered that he'd caught a few small chub and the conversation meandered through barbel to roach. It transpired that this gentleman had read this very blog and was pleased to be able to see a fellow angler's tales from the place he himself cast a line. Well I hope you are reading this post sir. It was nice to cross paths with you and I hope the rest of your day was fruitful.

 Walking down the beat I noticed just two other anglers and gave them both a wide berth, strolling further downstream.

 I eventually arrived at a likely spot.

 The river is low and clear and I dare not even chance a sneaky peek with the polaroids. Instead, a good plan seemed to be to have some carrot cake and tea whilst sprinkling the downstream area with caster and hemp.

My tactics here, in these conditions are simple. Three small soft-hookable pellets straight on a fine wire size 12 hook to 5lb line. That  is the joy of using forgiving cane rods.

You can see here that by using mono instead of braid and the lack of a hair, that the rig is not at all blatant.

  Having quenched my thirst and quelled my hunger it was time to cast. A gentle underarm flick to the baited area, then sit well back , and wait.

And wait............and wait!

No solid bites were forthcoming. With cunning stealth I'd set my traps, but the fish were wiser. After a couple of hours trying I reeled in and went for a stroll.

The river needs rain, for colour more than level. I did eventually find a swim with a bit of depth, chucked in some offerings, then returned for my kit.

Sitting amongst a mix of Himalayan balsam, reed and nettle..my mind wandered to thoughts of the Redmire gudgeon, and a swim known as Cranstouns..The rod tip flickered, then jagged chub-like. I struck.

 It was as if I had summoned the beast from the depths, as there before me hooked fair and square was this lovely fellow.

I'd seemingly found a lovely space to sit and wait for monster gudgeon to snaffle my barbel baits..I stayed a while and caught some more, they made me smile..they always do.

Deep down, I knew it was time to take another long walk and then another short one, if I was to find a barbel or a roach....

Amazingly, I found myself  able to bag the productive swim of previous weeks. With an angler downstream I decided to stick with my simple leger tactic, alternating between caster and pellet on the hook. Caster were the the bait that scored first, a feisty small barbel, golden and wiry. 

Having bagged a baby barbel my mind became set on roach, so I upped the hemp input and stuck to multiple caster on the hook. Slowly but surely I am honing a method that I'm sure will eventually bag me one of the monster roach I feel sure are present.

 The method worked, providing a succession of quality roach. I guess it's not innovative angling really, but I'm learning and tweeking things as I go.

What a cracking fish this last one is, I don't think I've seen a more beautiful roach. A fish to make anyone's day, it certainly did mine.

 As I photographed the last roach a call came from upstream. The chap was beaming from ear to ear having just caught a near double figured barbel on meat. I strolled the fifty yards or so and helped with photos. Fortunately he had the same camera as me so there was no drama. We chatted a while about vintage tackle and the like and as I returned I said he'd soon be down to use my camera, as I was to shift my attention to barbel now.

 Having politely declined the offer of a couple of chunks of meat a move back to the small pellet was in order.

 The wait was perhaps an hour or so but as the light began to fade I received a savage bite, matched only by the fight of a fit barbel. It is the first time since using cane rods that I thought I might break one, but it stood firm and was eventually able to subdue the fish..Not huge, but very reluctant to be netted. My fellow barbel catcher duly obliged with the picture. You might notice that the Redmire beard is coming along nicely. I actually loathe it, but tradition is tradition.

My fellow piscator remarked that we had another half an hour before we had to be off of the fishery,"Enough time for another one" he said.

 Within five minutes I was indeed into another hard fighting fish. For their size they fight so hard, but once again everything held together for me to land her.

I probably had enough time to catch one more, but I have learnt to sometimes be happy with my lot and go home happy........which I did.

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Well I received my whipping thread yesterday for the restoration of my new Allcocks SuperWizard, a rod that I have big plans for. I have gone for Pacific Bay Green in grade C for the rings and nodes and grade A for intermediates. The original colour whippings for the rod are red but I will be putting my own personal touch on this particular rod. I think that green will go better with the later green Allcocks decal and is also a nod in the direction of the original Wallis Wizard. I'll not be documenting the refurbishment here, but will post some 'before and after' shots when complete.

Lea, Me and a Flask of Tea

On misted dawn, through dew dropped grass I walk. To nestle 'mongst reed and nettle. The upper Lea...low, slow.

Drawn to sit aside her snaking flow, the early morning sounds are all around. The relentless cooing of the wood pigeons and shrill call of the moorhen, all too familiar.
 A cast is ventured and white feathers pass by like little boats on the surface, as if to signal the flyover of the swan, his wing beat reverberating to the angler below.
 I watch attentively for a flicker of the tip, but that attention soon wanes, too much to see....a shoal of massive roach.
 Then 'tap'....the tip grabs back my attention, and round it arcs, I strike.
 Immediately, I'm aware that I am connected to the ever reliable chub, I love them for their ability to make a difficult day worthwhile.

  Time for tea, Twinings of course, not best from the flask, but needs must.
 On the small river, especially when low, a catch can send every other fish in the swim scattering. Patience is needed. I rest the swim and wander, the grassy path downstream.

In the next swim I see....barbel.
 A handful of pellet and a couple of chopped boilies will keep them occupied whilst I get the rod.

Not too long before I'm waiting, watching. So much to see through Polaroids, a dip into their world, I never tire of watching a fish in it's domain.

 Whack, the tip slams round, the wait was short, but sweet. This one fights harder, barbel? Yes barbel! Tearing up and down like a thing possessed, but he will eventually be mine. 

 A quick photo,then a good rest in the landing net before release. Very important, especially in these conditions.

 More tea Stanley!.....Perhaps it's time to take a bit of Lemon cake down stream to Mike.

I thought about it, I really did but I'll have one more cast before cake...

 Just as well really, this lively fellow decides to interrupt the two damselflies who were having a little rest on my rod tip.

OK, cake .... now.

 Feeling somewhat replenished and back to the serious(?) stuff of angling. I become sidetracked by the visiting carp under my rod. Round and round he goes, the same circuit over and over. I give him a bit of pellet and chopped boilie...he likes it. I wonder if I might formulate a little trap and catch him, but then I wouldn't be able to watch him...so I decide against it.

 The sun is now high in the sky, the fishing slowly grinds to a standstill. I'm still happy to idle a few hours, Mike has had enough and departs.

 With bites grinding to a halt my thoughts become fishlike, where would I be. It is actually bloody obvious, in the reeds, in the shade. An upstream cast is needed., and the result is immediate..

 I only drink tea when I'm fishing, it focusses the thought processes when old Gurn's head has had a bit too much sun. I drink and  it soon becomes blatantly obvious that I should move back upstream.

 I like this swim, it feels right.

 When they feel right, they usually are right, so knowing I might only get one opportunity I'm keen not to mess it up. One bait, no freebies...stealthy.

 The bait is in the water for no more than two minutes before the rod wraps round and the Speedia bursts into song.

 A hearty battle on lightish tackle, and a fitting end to the session.

 A shake of the flask concurs, I'm out of tea. Off then, through haystack'd meadow, past ripening sloes. Another delightful small river session comes to an end, but I'll not forget that shoal of roach.

Back On The Lea

Awake, in the still of night, 3-15am to be precise. With the flask filled and food prepared, I was ready for the off by 3-45.....
 I'd loaded the car in warm silence and began my 25 mile journey to the River Lea.
 In 1617 the Inn in the area I was to fish owned 119 acres of land,. It was a favourite angling resort and Izaak Walton himself is reputed to have stayed and fished there. I wondered if he had reached the fishery gates before 5am as I had.
 Having met up with friend and colleague Mike en route, we were surprised not to be the first there. The alleged best two swims had already been bagged.
 Settling down in my chosen swim, I slowly set up my Sealey Octofloat De-Luxe and Speedia for long-trotting. The water came fast through a bottle neck upstream with messy water and had gouged a deeper gully under the far bank trees. Downstream was even and slower.

Mainline was 6lb Drennan Float Fish and hooklink was 5lb Guru N-Gauge to size 16 Super Specialist, with traditional avon style float .Bait was to be double white gentles, though I also had hemp,casters and soft pellet.

 The swim was fed little and often whilst setting up and with one pinch of hemp catapulted upstream before the cast we were now ready.

 Within a couple of seconds the float was under and the newly revived Sealey was re-christened with a fine dace.

  I love the way one can learn about a river pool by searching it out with a trotted float, those hang ups, those unseen current changes, it really is the most pure form of our pastime. That familiarity one develops allows the manoevring of the float to be developed and honed as the day goes on, it's real thinking angling.

 The next few fish to come to hand were chublets, little pristine scrappers.

There were also roach, wonderful chunky roach. I will definitely be back to specifically  target them later in the year.

 So, with the feed going in little and often the bites were coming at a steady rate. I decided to experiment with the set-up, deepening up so that the bottom shot was dragging the river bed.

 Down the stream the float bobbed, slower and seemingly unnatural, but it produced something lovely, something that brought the biggest of smiles to my face.......

....Now THAT is a gudgeon, a true monster....I love them.

It was shortly after this that Mike arrived in my swim. He was fishing in the next swim down from me and as etiquette dictates he asked if I would mind if he cast his feeder to an upstream feature, apparently a known holding area for barbel.

 I answered that the spot was only a couple of metres from the end of my trot and that the chances were that it would kill my sport. He understood and said he would try further upstream.

 Now, with Mike vacating the downstream swim he had, of course, made things better for me.

 I decided to up my feed and was soon into a larger unseen fish which I guessed was a chub, unfortunately the hook pulled.

 On recasting I immediately hooked a harder fighting fish which led me a merry old dance with surging runs downstream. Eventually it was close enough to see that I had foul hooked a barbel. Knowing that they are rarely alone I fed hemp and caster as I played the fish, inevitably the hook came out and the fish was free. A foul hooked fish is not a sporting catch so I wasn't at all disappointed. With the next cast the feeding payed off as I was into another fighting fish. This one was hooked fair and square and duly banked, my first Lea barbel...small but perfectly formed and great fun on the cane and pin.

The fishery is busy and other anglers had arrived. Fishing is from numbered swim only and it was just a matter of time before someone settled in to the swim below. I had just got the barbel in my swim when a large feeder sploshed just down from my killing zone. Yes, this fellow knew of that spot too, but lacked Mikes manners.

 He had a barbel almost immediately. It had proved Mike's hunch correct, barbel were to be found there , but it also proved my point also, in that I didn't have another bite.

The Octofloat had proved itself to be a welcome addition to my armoury. Versatile, crisp and didn't feel too heavy in hand.
 It was time  to up sticks and find Mike.
 Some distance upstream he'd also landed a small barbel and as there was some decent space between swims here, I dropped downstream of him.
 I made the decision to fish a hair rigged half boilie on a size 12 Drennan hook and my usual small river running drilled bullet rig. All this with my B.James Mk IV and I opted to still use the pin, even though I had brought a Mitchell 300 along.

That reedline shade just had to harbour fish and I opted to fish nearside with fourteen half-boilies as free offerings around the hookbait.

  It was just a case then of sitting back in the dappled shade and pouring myself a cup of Twinings Afternoon Tea.

 There's not much better than the shade of a riverside willow in the midst of an English summer. Things progressed favourably some twenty minutes later when a savage take ensued with the rod wrapping in a downstream direction.
 On striking, my first thoughts leant towards a quality barbel, but barbel are eventually controlled. This fish had gone out of sight. I stretched the rod out over the water and gave it some welly. Slowly, very slowly it came towards me, intermittently diving head first into the reeds as it came. The old Mk IV eventually subdued the species it was designed for.

The little bruiser only had one eye, a proper little character.

It was time to crack open the Lemon Drizzle cake, so having returned the fish I strolled up to Mike's swim to share. Now, within the 'traditional' fishing community there are those that bestow much majesty on the humble cake. Some will tell you that the consumption of certain cakes will help the angler to lure specific species of fish. There are also those that believe it to be flowery claptrap.

 Mike hadn't had a bite for over an hour fishing the maggot feeder but knowing about cake theory declared, "I'm bound to catch another barbel now ". I kid you not, the magic was instant, his rod whacking round immediately.

 The result...........

  

It is therefore Lemon Drizzle for barbel for the cake theorists then !

Soon after, I ventured a maggot/hemp feeder myself and had a wonderful couple of hours sport with chub and roach.

There were many last casts, you know, 'just one more', but I strolled back to car thinking that the spirit of old Izaak might have smiled on me. A truly enjoyable day and that gudgeon'll live in the memory for a good while.. I'm still smiling about it now.