A Birthday Present with teeth

Whilst a birthday is something I don't generally like too much fuss over, I do always try to wangle a day off fishing. Can't remember ever having a very brilliant birthday bash however- until today!
I'd had an eye on a return to the Exe for a while; only I seem to either hit it wrong or find others already in position where I'd like to fish, these river pike being fairly pressured at present. Today was a case of extra effort, a decent walk and a start at silly o'clock to see if the pike would play ball. It wasn't exactly hectic and with muddy water, stinky sea dead baits seemed logical. Having dropped something decent after the only run in a couple of hours I was still kicking myself when another bite developed.
I have to be honest- the fight was pretty poor aside from a nervous roll or two at the net and I was surprised when a much larger pike than expected loomed into view- a fantastic birthday bonus of 23lbs 5oz! Sporting a few old battle scars she wasn't the prettiest, but a really deep fish with a fearsomely pronounced lower jaw. A real old character you might say, and I was thrilled to bits.
After a quick couple of snaps and a fittingly toothy souvenir on my right index finger, I got her back quickly. Not for the first time this season I thanked my unhooking mat for a safe release- the muddy, steep river banks are horrendous in places and I had a minor stumble getting her back to the water. But with the fish zipped snugly in the damp, padded mat the only consequence was muddy knees- I'll say it again, unhooking mats are ruddy brilliant. No, essential.
So, a muddy but glorious birthday bash in place of the more usual blank. A smaller but curiously much harder fighting pike also livened up the day before it was high time I took a hot bath.
When I've got all the mud off, I hope to see you all at The Barge, Halberton on friday from 7 30pm for the PAC meet (non members also very welcome)... looking forward to seeing everyone and sharing some fishing stories from off the beaten trail and plenty of pictures from the last year or so.

Bunking off at Blakewell

With a muddy Tiverton Canal looking less than appetising it was off to Blakewell to lure some trout on a welcome day off work with fellow wage slave Chris Gooding. The game plan was simple- big, sparkly lures yanked in front of big, angry trout. Unless there is some head of sparkly green and orange insects we've missed, you'd have to admit it's not strictly natural. But on the other hand it was bloody good fun to watch some absolutely solid rainbows attempt to destroy both our flies and fly rods.

I thought I was off to a flyer with a solid four pounder, until Chris latched into a fish that issued an impressive "sod you then" type statement, stealing line at a rate of knots and refusing any attempts to be steered in. At seven pounds, four ounces I was grateful to have packed a pike sized landing net.
More frightening still, the bugger managed to hook an even bigger fish which sadly came adrift after some ridiculously powerful runs. And some people claim the bigger fish don't fight? Further down the bank, visiting angler Jody Bee was the next into a real Blakewell beast.

Having put some extra pressure on the lad by taking some snaps nid fight I was relieved to see it hit the net. Another big fish to the lure approach- this one went nine and a quarter pounds and was equally stunning, fit and well coloured.

With a recent match it seems Blakewell has had a fair turn over of fish and whatever we threw at them, they hit. I switched to buzzers only to find the fish just as aggressive. At one shy of the full bag I then decided on my own lunatic plan to slay a monster- the thinking was that a pike fly would be too big for anything less than a mutant sized fish to eat. About two dozen pulverising grabs and pulls later I got a solid hook up, only to find a distinctly average trout attached; so much for my big idea! That's the trouble with bigger fish though- you get complacent and the samples you were only too happy to catch earlier suddenly look rather small...

We even had time for a little jaunt on Tiverton Canal on the way home. The water was decent clarity near Halberton in one area and so we put the fly gear to good use here too. Despite a biting wind, five jacks came our way. Pint sized fish, but they went well on light gear. The pike wanted a slower retrieve than the Blakewell trout, flies teased round cover getting a snappy response. So, having debated wether to go trout or pike fishing this morning, the perfect solution was reached- why not do both?

Beasts at the Circus

A very different challenge for this weeks carefully wangled midweek mission. Chew Reservoir is not the easiest place to get a day on- I had fellow Devon RO Ian Nadin to thank for that one. With violent fits of vomiting and... (enough detail already) two days earlier I had wondered whether I'd be administered last rites today rather than a boat ticket. But make it I did.

Is the term "circus" a fair one for this vast, highly publicised water? I'm not so sure- having dealt with a few clowns of late as a water bailiff I have to say that the crowd were a good bunch; proper, well prepared and dead keen pike anglers. It does have its curious side though- when you've all had breakfast it's a bit like an airport lounge full of hairy pike anglers.
The textbook advise was to fish deads. The advise given to us by reality was that this was bloody slow bordering on futile. In fact it was lures that did all the damage on a bitter day where bites were scarce. We shared a respectable seven fish in the end- Ian had the best at eight pounds something, a spirited ruck too. In short though, we started out with ridiculous aspirations but quickly resorted to just enjoying the day. The only really remarkable specimen was my capture of a rather tasteless child's umbrella covered in silt.

It might be easy to assume from the press that all you need do here is turn up to catch a pike of pornographic proportions. As per usual, this is seldom the case. Steve Moore was one angler who did manage to boat a beastie however, a well deserved twenty four pounds and something fish rewarding his dedication and numb fingers.

The Bottom Line

There's a certain mystique about fishing a real "bottomless pit" of a lake. Temple Trout Fishery is a breed apart in this respect; whilst some fisheries are sneeringly referred to as "puddles" and as shallow as Peter Andre, Temple is a beautiful chasm of a place. The pools here are centuries old ex china clay workings, plunging a spectacular descent into Bodmin Moor. The "no wading" signs are no laughing matter when you consider that the depth quickly reaches 20ft, as much as 40ft further out. And in the chill of winter may the Lord have mercy on any fly flinger who forgot to bring a sinking line.
The fishing itself was refreshingly challenging, presenting small lures at great depth to persuade the trout to grab hold. Indeed, it was only after counting to twenty with a fast sink line that the first plucks ensued. The cliches state that fish fight better in shallow water, but I'm not so sure. After doing more countdowns than Carol Vorderman, I finally got a proper wallop on the line, as delicate as a cricket bat to the face. No gentle ceremony for the residents of this Temple then.

It was bright offerings the fish wanted, and with the morning slow in these peaty waters I also resorted to adding a blob on a dropper- a bright attractor proving a nice catalyst for some violence in the depths.
There's an irresitable draw to this fishery, which has a grand setting and a good deal more "soul" than some of the tamer places. The sensation of a sudden presence on the line and something thumping way, way down below is quite magical. My father also enjoyed a testing but satisfying day- we got our kicks with a few on the main lake before some catch and release antics on the "shallow" upper lake, which is a mere 20ft or so!

Otherwise, my other angling exploits have been only semi successful. No further big perch and prebaiting efforts for the pike resulted in only one very well fed looking seven pounder- but hopefully something a little bigger and more sinister is come!

Monster Perch!

I really have been spoiled of late- some cracking perch fishing on local day ticket waters. Having had to cancel a trout feature today due to a sick photographer, I opted for another session on a small day ticket fishery best known for carp.
I wondered wether I had picked the wrong day on arrival- they had just been netting the place and things were stirred up somewhat. There were a few small dead roach bobbing about too and so after nabbing a few for deadbaits I had a try with the fly rod elsewhere whilst things settled. Fly rod on a muddy lake for perch you ask? -Yes, sometimes I question my own mental well being.

After a walk about, I soon resorted to my usual tactics however- regular helpings of chopped worm and maggot, only this time I also dropped a small dead roach at the bottom of the shelf, just to the edge of my feed area. An hour later and the indicator fairly shot up, I struck early- as you always should with perch- and a weighty but lazy fish plodded away. What can I say?! The fish was absolutely solid and I am one very lucky angler! Another chap kindly took a picture or two whilst we weighed her again just to be sure- bang on three pounds! Perhaps the netting of the fishery was a blessing after all- and you can bet that the perch (and probably the carp also) will be eating up a good number of dead or groggy silver fish right now.

Frost Bites

It often occurs that you find conditions spot on for photography but not so great for fishing- and vice versa. This was certainly the case for a session on the Somerset Levels Drains; unreal, stark scenery and cool, eerie light. Less inspiring on the pike front however!

We tried hard for bites in some icy, fairly muddy water. Deadbaits should have been the textbook answer, but it was lures that provided the breakthrough as we slowly began to get takes to bright-coloured, lively patterns. Anything that contrasted and showed up well seemed to stand a decent chance of being grabbed.

Ian's first pike, like later samples, was covered in leeches perhaps suggesting that these fish have been dormant for quite a while. But as the frost melted and a milder afternoon ensued we enjoyed a short but sweet window of oppurtunity with several savage takes in little over an hour.
The pike were really engulfing lures- including my bright red Jerkbait, which simply disappeared in a split second swerve and flash of jaws. Having made many fruitless casts my heart jumped a mile at that one; a nice drain pike of 9lb. No others followed for me, but Ian finished with three fiesty snappers, having got his retrieve absolutely bang on for the conditions.