Timeout on the Teme

As an angler of varied and restless tastes, I am torn two ways when it comes to the tackle I use and own. On the one hand it's always nice to covet something new, as the garage floor will tell you. But on the other, I just hate having lots of kit with me when I travel. Generally, I start with pure intentions. "Just one rod" are my usual famous last words, before the dreaded "what if?" strikes. What if the river is flooded? What if my favourite method isn't working on the day?
I managed to retain some self discipline and pack just a couple of rods for a roving session on the River Teme with Scott West, who also fancied a good wander somewhere new with the chance of some nice barbel or chub. Setting off at the crack of dawn, we grabbed a ticket from Allen's Tackle and headed for a stretch not too far from Worcester for a wander. And with barbel fishing virtually redundant in Devon, you might have forgiven us for getting a little bit excited.
Enthusiasm is one thing, but on any given trip what you hope for and what you get are so often different things. The river was dropping but still quite coloured, too much so to cast a fly, so a pragmatic feeder fishing approach got the nod. Plan A was thus a positive ground bait attack, with worms or my favourite barbel bait, double 10mm boilie, on the hook.

And what a sumptuous river the Teme is. We didn't see or find lots of fish, but there were so many really fishy looking spots it was tough to know where to start. As is so often the case on an unfamiliar water, it seemed sensible to bait a few spots therefore and try just a short-ish stay in each swim until we found some bites.

After just a small perch to show for the first couple of hours, it was only in swim number three that I was finally given not so much as a bite as slap in the face. The fish, presumably a barbel, took so hard my rod rest was toppled over like a felled tree. But by the time I'd started pulling back the hook pinged free. One nil to the barbel.
Meanwhile, I was also getting nips from small chub on worm baits to the point where it was a nuisance. Hence a tactical substitution was made to 10mm boilies on both rods. Funny really- I can take them or leave them when carp fishing on manmade waters (part of me thinks that they are very overrated, or certainly overused), but when it comes to river fishing I find them brilliant and highly selective.
I was luckier with the next take, which went from a few flirtatious little dinks to outright violence and another "grab your rod or kiss it goodbye" moment. On light tackle (and I should qualify that as eight pound line and a standard tip rod), barbel are sensationally powerful. The fish shifted from a near bank crease to mid flow in a split second, while I thanked my very bones I'd tested the drag at the start of the session. I have no idea what a barbel of seven and a bit pounds represents in today's fishing scene, but to my senses and with the thing charging all over a small swim it was quite an epic experience.

Scott meanwhile was also finding some small chub on the worm, along with some frustrating whacks on the boilies which may also have been chub giving the bait a whack without being hooked. We also mixed things up by trundling baits through the swim, doing so by ditching the feeders and trying link legered presentations. This is a lovely way of fishing, tweaking your bait through a good looking bit of water and feeling for takes. Active too, but we struggled to find the better fish, most often small chub wrestling with the bait. Ok, so it isn't necessarily as efficient as a heavy weight and a short hook length, but like fly fishing or trotting it's an intimate, active way to do it and a method I'd like to do more of.
The next action was on the static boilie presentation again however, as I picked up a chub immediately dropping into a swim that had been primed with some bait perhaps half an hour earlier. The quick transition from full steam ahead to a duller lolloping fight suggested chub this time. Not a bad one either, at least to a Devon boy used to seeing typical fish of less than half this size:

We worked hard for our bites then, but in spite of some success in the afternoon our final evening swims just didn't produce as we'd hoped. Never mind, it's always a pleasure to explore somewhere new with a friend, never fully knowing quite what to expect.

Capital Breaming

Recent travels have led to some really exciting fishing. And while it might not be the main reason I go fishing, the prospect of the odd much larger than usual sample has only added to the spice. What constitutes a "big" fish to any of us? It's one of the most misleading (and often pointless) topics in fishing, because it's entirely relative to what you know, and more specifically the venue where you've chosen to park your backside.
When that venue happens to contain fish that dwarf your local samples, things do get exciting- which was exactly the case on a trip to north London.

Big waters can be daunting, but with my host Will Barnard pointing me in the direction of a reliable area I was hopeful of finding the fish at some point. The first vital concern was to introduce a good carpet of bait, since big bream can demolish a serious amount of food and won't stick around for long if you've only offered them a starter.

I decided to be nice and positive with my feed, with two kilos of pellets and lots of random particles, along with about four kilos of ground bait (50/50 Bait Factory Krill and Crab/ Brown Crumb). At sixty yards or more this is a challenging task in itself. You could be there for a week with a swim feeder so out came my spomb set up, which is a great way to feed accurately a long way out and admittedly quite good fun until you hit cast number fifty something.
Nor did it take massively long to get a response, because within two hours the first fish intercepted a double 10mm boilie hook bait. In typical bream fashion it didn't exactly run like fury but the bend in the rod suggested something heavy, before I caught first sight and had a moment of revelation along the lines of "holy shit that's a pretty big bream."

It was bigger than any bream I'd ever laid eyes on anyway, so I had to weigh it. At 10lbs 12oz, this was comfortably my best ever. And the indicators dancing almost immediately after a recast suggested the show was still warming up. A boilie tipped with a worm was quickly grabbed by bream number two, a male which I didn't weigh but looked around eight pounds and actually fought harder than its big sister:


It's always nice to catch the fish you wanted early, so you can totally relax. In fact my next concern was whether it would be sensible to night fish and possibly forgoe all ideas of sleep, given the number of fish showing. I opts to add some bigger boilies for carp, saving the real onslaught for first light. It was a plan that resulted in some peaceful sleep at least- which is the civilised thing to do when you have your girlfriend also bivvying up. A beautiful sunset it was too, with all the gear drying out after some serious thunder showers in the afternoon.


A phenomenally fat "football" bellied carp did show up in the night (although a few yards down the bank I'd also bumped into Dean Macey who managed a thirty in the night!). The action for me really began to kick off at first light though, when I crept out to send out another good helping of bait. This did the trick again- and while I could bore you with the exact details of everything, a summary will do nicely. Rigs were a piece of piss: a two ounce method feeder with a three inch hook length worked best, with the winning bait two 10mm Bait Factory Coconut Cream boilies. Tipping the bait with half a worm also seemed a good way to get bites quicker- and I always like some extra wriggle, especially when the fish have a real carpet of similar baits to choose from. On the techy side, long range fishing needn't be rocket science either: fancy running rigs are fairly pointless once you have sixty plus yards of line out, with semi-fixed presentations nice and positive. Back leads are equally unnecessary because all the line near the feeder will already be flat on the deck due to the great distance involved and the relatively flat angle of the line.
I did also try more conventional feeder rigs, but these needed watching a lot more closely for twitchy bites and some really exaggerated drop backs. No such trouble with the method feeder and some astonishingly positive bites! I had another few fish, including two over the ten pound mark at 10.9 and 10.3, while Paulina also landed a double of her own for good measure. Throw in a bottle of wine, an epic game of scrabble and a fried breakfast and it amounted to a very civilised overnighter.

Sleepless in Paradise

It's June the 16th. Which must be why it's raining relentlessly. And I didn't even go to the river. Instead I've been back to Anglers Paradise for a long overdue return. Two nights of fishing in the excellent company of Chris Lambert have yielded everything summer fishing should be about: screaming runs, some genuine surprises and lily infested swims discussed over glass or two of cider. I just love the main lake here. The next bite could be anything- like this terrific 4.12lb golden tench I took on maggots yesterday.


My approach to fishing these lakes is simple at the moment. I tackle up one rod with a large bait for big fish, while the other line is aimed solely at earning bites. I have a lot of faith in feeder tactics and dead maggots at present. For the price of four pints, you get one heck of a lot of bait. Preparation is easy- I riddle the maggots and replace the dust with a potent ground bait. Any strong smelling stuff is ideal, and I'm currently getting excellent results with the Bait Factory mixes I'm testing.

I feed my swim much like a match angler, continually adding small amounts and regularly recasting a small method feeder crammed with sticky, matching ground bait. The beauty of a decent bunch of maggots is that you'll catch fish of all sizes- and with persistent feeding, the bigger fish tend to show later as you build the swim. On my previous night session, maggots accounted for this fine 19lb linear mirror:


I must admit, I never sleep brilliantly when night fishing. You get into a kind of "half-sleep" mode of relaxed readiness, and I usually spend the following afternoon knackered. Especially when big fish make raids in the wee silly hours as they have been lately. Chris had a sensationally long cat fish last time out (do check out his "Fish Tales" blog for a fun read and ramblings on Everton FC). Last night was my turn to hook one- and spend the twenty minutes heaving, holding on and cursing. Strangely, it hadn't gone for a meaty bait this time but picked up a Fennel and Hemp boilie (vegetarian catfish?!!). The reel sounded like it was in pain in the pitch black. Bats were circling the rod as drag strained. Even with a pretty robust carp set up, these fish try and almost succeed in pulling your arms out of their sockets. It was pretty intense, but Chris was cool as you like in scooping her out. Wow!


While I wouldn't describe cats as beautiful, they're certainly beautifully designed for their job as nocturnal killing and scavenging machines. After the most dirtiest, most gut wrenching battle this cat of 32.12 was surprisingly well behaved on the mat. Slimy, but very docile. Nor was the cat our last surprise as Chris landed a grass carp at dawn.

There really is a terrific variety of sport at the complex, whether it's pleasure or specimen fishing. The trout lake is also very interesting and I'm hoping to provide future visitors with tuition on the fly.
In other news, I'm also raring to go for the BFFI (British Fly Fair International) next weekend. I hope to catch one or two of you there for the event, which I always find fantastic for finding new materials, ideas and like minded nutters. Plenty of homework before then however, tying up flies. For any of you keen to get your hands on coarse fish patterns, do remember I can offer a bespoke service. Here's a box of traditional spiders tied specially for a customer in the USA:

Spring blues, bronzes and greens

The best place to wax lyrical about the "glorious unpredictability" of fishing is the pub, I'm starting to believe, as opposed to a chilly waterside where you sit there perplexed as to why sport is slow. Lately I seem to be putting in about double the effort to make any passable catches. And although taking a bit of a piscatorial kicking can be educational, I'm still longing for that day of effortless enjoyment to mark a new summer. Still, the tench have been conspicuously bubbling and rolling- as the dawn picture above shows.

The anglers have been somewhat better company than the fish and I particularly enjoyed sitting alongside Dave Sellick (above) to see how he gets to grips with tench on the Exeter Canal. One factor is his skill as a pole fisherman. Another is his adaptability- with the water level well down on our trip, he knew instantly that the fish would be further out in the safety of deeper water. His other secret weapon is his bicycle and trailer to reach remote spots. He took a cracking net of tench and bream, while stopping quickly to become "Bicycle Repair Man" (anyone remember the Monty Python sketch?) and sort a puncture:


I managed two decent bream in the end, but only by fishing at maximum reach with my 13m pole. I also took a tip off Dave to try his favourite hook bait. All the old angling books tell you dead maggots are only useful for eels, but they are a great bait for tench and bream too. The beauty of dead grubs is that they stay put. They're easy for any self respecting bream or tench to suck in and won't wriggle into weed or silt. "Three dead red" is Dave's mantra. It's probably the only hook bait you need for these bonus fish.

A long way further down the road, I also had the pleasure of an escape to Norfolk to meet with Bob James. The mere we fished was absolutely to die for in terms of setting, but also proved a real challenge.

With northerly winds and distinctly chilly evenings, my night fishing for carp drew a big fat blank. A shame, because the odd fish we spotted looked solid and beautiful things. Night fishing for me is one of the great undescribed areas of angling. It can be a murky, dense and thrilling experience; or something more akin to psychological warfare over cold biteless nights. Why is it that most angling writers say so little about it? Perhaps they lack the bravery to describe the despondency of insomnia and inevitable blanks, while the successes are reduced to statements like "I was over the moon" "it was scale perfect" etc, etc. It's a bit like when you see the winning goal scorer interviewed on cup final day who says "I've hit it first time and luckily it's gone in the back of the net." Why do they never say: "I absolutely lashed it into the goal. It nearly ripped the bloody net out. I thought my heart would explode!" Answers on a bream.
No sudden explosion of joy for me on this trip where the carp were concerned. Thank goodness for other species in fact, because otherwise it would have been a very long trip for not a great deal. The mere I fished with Bob was delightfully peaceful, with kingfishers, owls and a staggering amount of insect life. I also caught this slow worm relaxing by the path:

Bob's little terrier Cassie also noticed the rustling in the grass, and is popular with the land owner for her skill at removing moles. A safer quarry than the badgers she also likes to pester in any case:
The tench were especially receptive in the morning. Bob uses little else for them than 10mm boilies and pellets these days, with liberal helpings of groundbait to prime an area. In fact, it wasn't exactly Mr Crabtree tenching. He favours fairly deep areas rather than directly in those tempting looking margins, as the tench can then be persuaded to extend their feeding well into the late morning.
We also had a try for bream and I put my "Bait Factory" testers hat on once again to lay down a good bed of feed. You might have had to force me at gunpoint to use a spomb and introduce lashings of particles not so long ago, but I'm beginning to see the value of accurate, fairly heavy baiting these days.

I don't know what it is about bream, but as with pike they just seem to agree with me. And unless it happens to be three in the morning I'm always happy to catch them. I even like the rather sleepy, ponderous way they fight on light tackle.

Spring Detours

Crikey... it's bloody mid April and I'm only just updating this blog. I have to confess, my ramblings here are not always strictly chronological. At best I can offer snapshots from my fishing, written in haste. It's a quandry for a writer. I have to sketch here, rather than steal the thunder of things coming up in the printed press. But at the same time, blogging is great to explore in all the interesting/weird/unscripted parts that escape the confines of your typical magazine article. One of my strangest recent exploits has been to discover the thrill of fishing in Norway. Ice fishing is absolutely nuts. So vastly different to anything I usually do. Think garden gnome rods, snowmobiles, 1000ft mountain lakes, sod-off big drills and you're only part way there. When you come across a huge sheet of snow, you think someone's bullshitting you when they say "this is it- we're standing in the middle of a lake." And if the setting is unreal, the fish themselves are little short of a miracle. Arctic char are probably the most incredibly marked fish I've ever seen. Like trout dreamed up by an artist on drugs. Sparkling green and burning orange. Unfeasible somehow. But no more so than drilling through a metre of ice or snacking on a reindeer's heart. The full story gets the Angling Times treatment soon- and I also hope to feature more of my Norwegian host Geir Sivertzen (aka "Dr Hook"), a globe trotting angler and Mustad designer regarded as the world's foremost expert on fishing hooks. For more on Northern Norway and the amazing arctic destination of Skaidi, you could also try www.skaidihotel.no, who run guided trips here year round. Ice fishing runs well into May, but the lure and fly fishing on mountain lakes can also be spectacular in summer.. In a funny way, I almost think the fish under ice were hungrier than the ones back home. Things are just warming up, but lately I've been catching on little more than a hook bait. I'm not exactly a weekly visitor in search of carp on commercials- but that said, find one with nicely conditioned fish and using classic tackle is great fun. In fact, I just don't get why these places tend to be stacked with rod pods and shelters these days. Playing "fun sized" carp is great sport on light tackle, but on a 2.5 test curve rod? It's a bit like hunting rabbits with a rocket launcher; pretty messy on the whole, and over very quickly. I've also been enjoying testing gear for The Bait Factory. Other than being a "Beer and Ale Consultant", which will never happen, I can't think of many more entertaining field testing areas to be involved with. Various pastes have been especially good- and perhaps the biggest surprise is how well a decent lump of super-potent stuff can work, with no loose feed whatsoever. I looked like a chain smoker at the end of a trip to South View Farm, but the stuff was dynamite literally dropped within inches of the bank (thanks to photographer Andrew Pym for current carpy pictures).