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.

Redmire Bites Back

It was now monday, the time was 11:31 a.m, it hadn't stopped raining entirely, but it had stopped raining torrentially for the first time since our arrival around 21 hours ago.
The Willow pitch, where I'd set up for the night in a deluge was now under 6" of water.

I'd had to abandon ship at 7am as the lake came up to join me.

I was so thankful of the refuge of the boathouse as the rain just hurled itself upon me. I estimate that the pool rose around a foot overnight. I'd have been no more wetter had I  jumped in. My only option was to drag all my sodden gear around the pool to the Evening Pitch in the pouring rain. This swim was higher, though not much drier.

Everything, and I mean everything , was drenched. Not the ideal first dawn of a Redmire session.
 I checked on Malc in The Stile, he had a small tributary of the Wye running through his bivvy, he looked at me asking,"What shall I do?"..."Move", I replied. He knew he had to, but was so reluctant to face the outside of his bivvy. Eventually he moved to Pitchfords.
 Remarkably, there had been two runs in the night. Malc had lost a good fish and Tony, in the relative comfort of Stumps had landed a fine common. He had remarked how wet he'd become whilst playing the fish, but was soon humbled by mine and Malc's plight.
 Eventually the rain subsided enough to take a few photos.

 Note the relative clarity of the water at this point, it was soon to change dramatically. It stayed dry for an hour and the place took on the look of a shanty town with clothing hanging from every available tree.
 As I took out my MkIV for the first time a shard of sunlight flashed through the trees.

Float fished lobworm at the dam wall produced nothing but a few tugs , perhaps by an over ambitious gudgeon, their time would come.
 I was joined by Malc with his new Avon, we sat and discussed the weather, all very british.
Back at the Evening Pitch it was time for Redmire Cake, made by the ever thoughtful Lady Sarah, it was a welcomed treat.

If I'm honest, I didn't want to be in the Evening Pitch. I love to indulge the fact that it has a history of being haunted, that fact doesn't bother me. I just don't think it is one of the better swims on the pool. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers.
 I cast the rods out as the wind blew, what would my first ever night in the Evening Pitch on my fourth visit to the pool bring.
 At around 2 a.m. I woke with a start. A ghost ?, A demon?, A fish?......No..Music! I could clearly hear a song. It was horrible outside, but there, through the wind and rain, was this tune. I didn't know what it was but picked up my journal and wrote down the words., "I don't want to set the world on fire".

This is tune I heard, I make no claim for it being supernatural, but I have no idea where it came from. All very odd.
No fish overnight, morning brought a trip to Ross for provisions and the chance to feel human again.
 On return, I decided to take the MkIV down to one of the platforms for a couple of hours.

Note the way the pool had now coloured up. The rain and wind continued but I was treated to a low fly past of a buzzard over the shallows as I took shelter beneath the trees.
 St.John phoned to say he would be down the next day, I told him of our plight and living local he was aware how bad the weather had been, he actually had genuine fears over the integrity of the old dam wall. Bless him, he tried so hard to be sympathetic but couldn't quite supress his laughter.
 Malc had seen a few carp from the dam wall but bites were not forthcoming, I headed back to the Evening Pitch.
 I was soon joined by the legend that is Bamford who had come down to see how we were and remove a few bricks from the overflow to take some of the strain off of the dam, we shared ...er...tea.

The rain soon returned with some venom and I hurriedly sorted the rods for the night.
 Organised soon became disorganised and at times chaotic, the rain and wind just came with a frenzy I'd never witnessed on the bank before.
 With the band 'Stomp' performing on the roof of my bivvy I prescribed myself a small amount of Napolean to aid sleep and calm real fears of a tree falling upon me.
 The rain continued into all of the fishless night. Spiders ran from all around the pool to seek sanctuary in my shelter, I half expected Noah to float by.
 Fortunately a dry dawn broke, kettle on, re-think. Then more rain...more tea.

With the removal of the bricks the pool level had started to recede. I had seen a fish top on the other side of the lake. As the rain persisted, I made the decision to move again , back across the dam to In-Willow.
Having finally rebuilt the camp I took out Lucy, the Lucky Strike with my mind firmly fixed on Gudgeon.
 I headed for the relative shelter of Cranstouns, armed with a pot of pinkies, my 'Redmire Pinkie-Pult and a size 22 hook.

Not long after the first cast, a bite, strike and I'm into one of the mire's finest. I was so excited, I couldn't have been happier had it been a carp.

I was soon having a ball, getting one of these cracking little fellows on every cast, catching around twenty in all.

I called Ash, Tony's son to tackle up a rod and join in the fun. Sitting in my swim, his face soon shone with the happiness only a gudgeon can bring. I moved aside to the right as the rain came again and was joined by Malc, who was allowed to use Lucy to catch his first fish from Redmire.

Later, at In-Willow, the weather had taken a turn for the better. I think it is my favourite swim on the pool. The view, when the sun shines, is just great.

St.John arrived and we met for the first time on the dam wall. It was a Livingstone-Stanley moment. "You must be Gurn" he said with outstretched hand.
 He'd made some ferrule stoppers for me, for the Lucky Strike. Excellently made, I recommend them to all cane users. He can be contacted via the Redmire or Traditional Fisherman forum or you can buy them here.
 He also brought the bottle of Glenmorangie I'd won at the TFF AGM raffle. This was soon followed by Sir Les Bamford who'd kindly supplied two thirds of a bottle of Coke and two mugs.
 It has to be said that the scotch didn't last very long, but what a laugh we had.
I'd taken the opportunity of tying some new rigs earlier whilst confined to the bivvy, these went out overnight on spots I'd trickled bait into over the course of the day. Alas, another fishless dawn broke.

Looking out from the bivvy I could see dappled reflection and the trails of jet planes. This could only mean one thing, the sun had finally appeared.
At around 10am I reeled in the overnight rods and took the MkIV up to Bramble Island with a view to try to persuade one 'off the top'.

The colouration of the pool made the task of fish spotting incredibly difficult. Every now and then I'd see a dark shadow through the polaroids. Of course, the colour also stopped the fish seeing the riser pellets and floaters I pulted in at regular intervals. The fact is, that after four hours of continuous baiting without a cast I didn't get a single rise, I tackled up a float for carp and strolled down to the dam.

The view from the dam, when the sun shines is one of the finest in fishing. One can sit, relax, reflect and be at peace.

The float shot out of sight and my heart thumped. For a short time I had illusions of it being a carp. It was not to be, however. A few sharp shudders on the end of the line signified an eel It was the biggest eel I'd ever caught. No photo though, I'm not fond of them and it was soon returned safely to it's home with not too much drama. I have now caught all species in the pool.

That evening, our last at the pool, we enjoyed the fabled 'Redmire Risotto'...Yes I know it looks hideous, but it tastes bloody marvellous, and though not exactly haute cuisine, it hits the spot. This year we have ...er..refined the recipe.
 You will need ......One Can of Chilli Con Carne
                            One Can of Minced beef and onions
                            One Can of Irish Stew
                            One can of Lentil soup
                             Drained boiled rice.
Basically throw the lot in a big pot and stir and heat. Only ever to be consumed on the banks of the pool. Don't knock it until you've tried it.

As the sun set on our final night I was still confident that we might get another carp. Unfortunately, it didn't happen, this was not to be a tale of triumph over adversity.
 With two runs on the first night, I'm sure that if the rain hadn't arrived and continued for so long we have continued to catch.
 The amount of cold water that went through the valley and the way the pool coloured had scuppered our plans. I have fished the pool four times now. Twice under coloured conditions I have failed to catch carp and twice under clear conditions I have caught carp.
 We still enjoyed it. I loved catching those gudgeon, they'll stay with me forever, and we'll be back next year.
As I looked out on the final morning I saw leaves falling from the trees and settling on the surface of the pool. a squirrel buried food, sensing the rapidly arriving colder months, and the rain started again.

Thanks to Les, Nick, Rob, St.John, The Richardson Family and my angling companions.

Link back to Redmire forum here.
Link back to Traditonal Fisherman's Forum here.

A Special Fish

I haven't fished for a while. I've enjoyed spending a bit of free time with my family.
 Today was different though. It was my day off and when I awoke from slumber, one thought dominated. I just knew that a special fish needed to be my quarry today. I knew where it lived, I just had to have a try.
 The weather was grim, great rolling clouds of dark grey, rain, thunder forecast, I waited. Occupying myself with the tackle set up near the doorway, I gazed at the blurred view at the trickling window. Waiting for a break, just enough to walk to where I needed to be. I waited until late afternoon.
 Setting off over the river footbridge and through the sodden water meadow, I was soon on the towpath of the Grand Union Canal, it's a journey I take most days on my way to work. As I navigated safe passage across the cattle grid it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I angled 'the cut'.
 Walking past floating homes and holiday boats full of strange dialects and anglers with tales of woe, I trudged towards a quieter stretch.
 On arrival I was pleased that only one other angler was near, a father with a couple of kids. They hadn't caught much...I set up anyway.

Having attached a 'Canal Grey' and size 22 hook I carefully plumbed the swim, set the float at the required depth, attached a couple of pinkies and cast out...I received a bite immediately.
 As the clouds rolled by a small hybrid came to hand, next cast another and so on for around seven casts. The father fishing further along gave me that look.
 I was joined by a rather friendly Moorhen, which took a liking to my bait and stayed to watch me catch some rather nice perch.

You can see that by this time the other angler had hastily departed lest he be shown up in front of his kids by the man with the wooden rod.
 Bites came fast and furious as I drew in a shoal of bream and even the sun poked it's head from behind the clouds.

A narrow boat chugged by, I left the float in as I was only fishing close and had a bite just as it came by, resulting in a quality perch.
 A short while later the water started to move, I guessed the narrowboat had reached the lock. I was glad of the old Speedia, it allowed me to trot the canal....this is when it happened.
 The float shot under and I struck to solid resistance and a spirited battle. Without much delay though, the fish was beaten. Here he is then, a most special capture..........

......my first gudgeon of the season. I love them so much.

 With mission accomplished and joy in my heart, I immediately packed up and headed off home.