Cutting Loose

There are only so many hours in the week to cram everything in these days, but this last week or so I at least managed to cram a couple of fun outings in. The bigger plans and more critical things are all well and good, but the most enjoyable trips are often those cheeky sessions, squeezed in when you probably should be doing something else. Like a morning on the canal, just because it's not too far away and you have a loaf of bread and fancy a couple of hours.


I roped my dad into it this time, as we hit the Tivvy canal earlyish for a crack at some bread punch fishing not far from Tidcombe Bridge. It is here the Tiverton Christmas match usually takes place, although I'm still wondering if I'll make that particular date. If our quick session was anything to go by, and temperatures stay mild though I bet it'll be a belter.
On this occasion we each kicked things off with a ball of finely liquidised bread a little smaller than a golf ball, cupped in for accuracy. Expecting small roach and bits I was on a Preston Chianti float taking just five or so strung out number 10 Stotz and an 18 hook.
I had a little chuckle at my old man's idea of a "small" hookbait, which made a size 12 look small. However, his slightly heavy handed start was almost instantly rewarded with a nice bream of 2-3 pounds.



In the next 10 minutes I added one of my own, before claiming six roach in as many bites, making it the sort of start to a session that a match angler dreams about. I tend to save this sort of outrageous fortune for those lazy trips when I didn't even have the foresight to bet a quid on the outcome. Never mind though, it was bloody good fun. The bites just kept coming and there was little discernible slowdown in the whole of our two hours and a bit of fishing. We caught roach after roach, along with the odd skimmer, for a very enjoyable session. About the only step needed to keep bites coming was the introduction of a small ball of bread after the hour mark. I experimented with bigger pieces of punch, but it seemed to make little difference- stacks of roach, with perhaps eight out of ten in the 1oz or less class. This also bodes well for the future of the canal. Suffice to say, a really tidy net of fish was shared and we were still back in time for lunch and the avoidance of "where the hell are they?" style conversations from the womenfolk.

I get the feeling the Christmas contest could be a belter this year with double figures required to take the top spot. Winning is a tall order though, because there are many useful local anglers who are well versed in pole and punch fishing on the cut. It's always a fun day though, and I might just have to fish it and see!

Besides wasting a Saturday morning and a perfectly good loaf of bread in one swoop, another short, sneaky session was also enjoyed with pike on the fly in the company of Pete Wilkins. The idea would have seemed laughable that morning as gales battered my windows. But by two o'clock things had died right off and we hopped off to the cut. Local knowledge really can get you out of jail when the weather is horrible, because you can head for those sections which haven't been totally flooded or churned up by excess rain. Such sections on most canals tend to be those higher up points, rather than the parts where rain water messes everything up.
Perhaps I went too big and ambitious on this occasion because my extra large pike fly, which I fancied for a bigger pike, was flatly ignored while Pete Wilkins cleaned up with three fish on a rather smaller yellow and red pattern. You could tell it was his day from the off, when within three seconds of his very first cast a jack lashed out! Well fished that man:

These lazy, leisurely sessions are the total opposite to the pressure and pitfalls of trying to catch for the camera. There's probably a very good reason you don't see too many TV angling shows that feature zander, given their enigmatic, sometimes frustratingly elusive nature. But my task for the Sky Sports crew was to winkle some of these predators out of the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal.

Would I catch or just get very cold and bored trying? It was a testing day in the end, but not without some drama… but why would I want to spoil the plot for you? Watch this space for further show info.

A Pit Stop in Reading

Another week of travels for me, this time on blustery waters to meet up with Peter Wardle- a man with a great passion for pike fishing, as well as possibly the largest collection of heavy metal albums in the Reading area. It was also a chance to meet the local PAC lads and do battle with some lovely, if sometimes moody gravel pits. On an eventful two day stint we had a bit of everything in terms of both fishing and conditions: fresh autumn sunshine and a thunder storm, periods of sudden excitement followed by damp lulls. It certainly helps to have local knowledge on your side with these large, imposing waters. Pete had that alright- but not always the smoothest navigational skills when it came to negotiating the roads around Reading! In his defence, Pete doesn't drive- and I'm starting to think the area's highways were planned by sadists. Anyway, he more than made up for this by taking us to a tempting looking bay on a large pit. I started off with drifting tactics, which I always like on windy still waters. I'm also a fan of dyed baits. These might seem a gimmick, but I like a bait which really stands out- and I've found them very useful on both coloured waters and larger lakes where you want the fish to have the best chance to find your bait. Once upon a time I would paint food dyes onto my offerings (and also usually my fingers) before freezing them. More recently though, some clever bugger at Pikepro came up with the idea of little sprays- much easier. Rather than a huge vaned float I tend to go with a smaller dart style float for the job. The scene looked beautiful, but I was anticipating a lengthy wait. A big surprise then, that an hour or so in and both of us witnessed a fin break the surface in the waves. I recast my drifter bait to the spot and within seconds the float slipped under. A quick strike and I felt nothing. Luckily for me, the fish was still interested on the next cast- again, I managed to miss the first indication, but the fish then grabbed hold as I reeled in for another shot. Some days you really do count your blessings. Not only did I get a second and third chance to hook up, but the fish actually came off at the last second. Only a split second movement with the landing net from Pete saved the day! It was a long but pretty skinny low double and a big relief. I do sometimes whether my practise of using just one treble for smallish drifted baits is wise- but perhaps the odd loss is worthwhile payback for an absolute minimum of complications with unhooking? The next run was also slightly fortuitous, as both of us also had a rod out at range at the time. Pete had a sneaky bite that he couldn't quite connect with, before moments later my drop off sounded. The first sight of the fish was a huge head- followed by a long but very skinny body. Don't get me wrong, I love all the pike I catch- but in physique this fifteen pounder reminded me a little of "Plug" out of "The Bash Street Kids". The charges were levelled- "I don't know- you come here, you catch our bloody pike!" But in fairness, I would have been lucky to get a sniff without being put in the right spot for the conditions. I hope to be able to repay the favour should Pete fancy a crack at the Somerset Levels (another great place to get thoroughly lost). The second day was harder, with just one jack and a lot of walking and some phenomenally dour weather- but it was also great to meet the Reading PAC crew and give a talk on pike fly fishing and other subjects. The other real recent highlight has been introducing a friend to pike fishing. Fair play to Adam Aplin for persevering with the fly- and catching his first ever pike on the method. After a previous session looking at safe tackle for pike and casting flies in Heavitree Park, we hit the Grand Western Canal. To his credit, Adam took two fish, also lost a bigger one and now really has caught the fly fishing bug! The pike were certainly obliging for us. I had been talking up the aim of fishing the margins when a cute little jack absolutely hurtled at the fly right under the bank as we watched: The best pattern on the day was a yellow and black baitfish in a size 1. I can't emphasise enough how much easier smaller patterns are to cast when you're starting out with pike on the fly- small waters offer a brilliant introduction on lighter tackle and you can always graduate to beefier rods and bigger flies later on. I was also delighted to see Adam handle pike confidently so early and, quite literally, get to grips with the basic skills: With the Levels so flooded, the Grand Western also formed a perfect plan B for some filming with the Sky Sports "Tight Lines" crew. I had intended to show them some river piking, but that was rendered impossible by Biblical levels of rain. Never mind- you can catch the action on the show this Friday (the 19th)- or on the podcast later on.

Crucians, Cake & Coaching

After a brief but unsuccessful try for crucians on the fly at Tiverton AA's Little Yeo Fishery on the journey home last week, I decided to return with more conventional tackle. I'd been hoping to spend a morning with my Dad for a while, since we hadn't fished together in ages. Rather than attempt something way too serious for a Sunday morning, we decided to go tiddler bashing and pretend it was 1991 all over again, a time we'd get up early to fish cute little ponds for just about anything that was willing to pull a float under. It's strange, but in the midst of an era when many of us are keen to catch PB's and get deadly serious, I often find the opposite hankering- a desire to feel like a kid again and return to a world where happiness was dropping a bait by some lillies and feeling a crucian carp juddering on the line. I like fishing with my old man. He still favours a wicker creel over products with names like "specialist accessory system". He knows more about the ingredients of a decent sandwich than modern baits. He might not have taught me how to become a world champion angler, but he definitely taught me to enjoy fishing- a lesson that is the same whether you're three or thirty three. I'm not sure I know anyone else who gets so much fun out of a few hours on the bank- and that is never truer than when the fish are cute and the bites plentiful. It didn't seem to matter what we threw at them and we even snared a few using little pieces of ginger cake. One or two oddities also joined the party, like this golden tench: In the end we were supremely lucky with the weather- thunder on the horizon, downpour in Tiverton, but we seemed to be in a little oasis of sunshine. My new pole got a great work out, even if I only needed to use the top 4 all morning, for scores of pretty crucians, along with the odd roach, skimmer and tench. The best bait for hitting bites seemed to be worm section though- perhaps the crucians take this just a little more emphatically? They were like peas in a pod too, not big but very scrappy on light gear. Favourite quote of the day: "They must all be related- it's like Tiverton down there!" A very welcome day then, because even fishing can become like work rather than play if you're not careful. Other than my first books, the other vital bit of development for me this year is the process of taking my coaching badges. Having guided for a while now, I really wanted to make it official and get the certificate, which is pretty much vital if you want to take kids as well as adults fishing. Even if you've worked for years with youngsters, you simply have to get the right qualification- I believe it will be CRB check number seven if not eight in my professional career!!! On the concluding day of the course, everyone had to perform a live session, which was good fun. One of my giant soft pike came to good use with an exercise on landing and fish care- but perhaps the funniest and most original demo belonged to John Clare, who did a night fishing lesson by blindfolding his student, a hapless Simon Gurney!: And on a final note, those of you with Sky Sports might want to tune in on Friday evening. After a successful day's filming, I'll be in the studio with Keith Arthur to discuss some of the finer points of catching coarse fish on the fly- and hopefully also get a word in about the new DVD which is available on my own site as well as Amazon now. Really looking forward to this. Here's a skimmer, taken on a little bead head shrimp during a practise session on the Bridgwater to Taunton Canal:

Full Time Fishing

Once upon a time in the summer holidays, my folks warned me that if I went fishing every day I would get bored stiff. They were wrong, which is just as well given the way things have turned out this summer, with stacks of outings having to be crammed into those rare settled days. The part of my brain which should say "ok, time to do something else" is missing. Perhaps the title of my current piece for American quarterly "The Flyfish Journal" sums it up best: "It Takes a Different Kind of Idiot". In defence of all angling fanatics however, fishing must be the most varied sport in the world. Unlike those who throw darts, or row boats, or play football as a way of life, there are an almost infinite array of settings, methods, species and stories waiting to be explored. Sometimes you focus your efforts like a laser beam on just one outcome- but an equally fascinating exercise is to see just how many different species and swims you can tackle in just one day. My midweek mission was just this, partly out of sheer curiosity and partly because of the need to scout out a whole host of locations prior to a filming session for the "Tight Lines" show on Sky Sports. I feel honoured to be approached, as well as relieved to have given what I hope will be a fun demonstration of catching coarse species on the fly. I won't spoil the outcome for you- the footage goes live on August 10th. Perhaps the only slight drawback was that the inevitable biggest fish of the lot arrived when the cameras had already departed, in the shape of this cracking fly caught canal chub: The fish nipped at a small trout lure I had tweaked through the home patch of a shoal of these fish. I'm not sure it was a feeding response, but more an aggressive reaction to something loud invading their home turf beneath a bridge on the Taunton to Bridgwater cut. If there's one thing I love about summer fly fishing with coarse species in mind, it's the fact that you always have a chance of good sport, even in the middle of a hot day when conventional bait fishing is often rubbish. The total reverse of a session at Anglers Paradise, where daylight hours were a great chance to share a cold beer and make new friends with the carp nuts of the 5Cs, but action on the rods only arrived in the cool of the night. 3am to be specific, but worth a poor nights sleep for this lovely common carp from the main lake: It's great to get amongst bigger fish now and again, but at heart my favourite fishing still has less to do with figures than wasting time in wild places. The Little Dart near Witheridge is just such a location, and I had the great pleasure of a day out with Russ Hilton scrambling through cover, flipping low casts in awkward swims and totally absorbed in this beautiful lost stream, part of the great value "Westcountry Angling Passport" scheme. For my money these are fish that defy the cliches of the sport, that bring you closer to the childlike joy of fishing for the sheer hell of it. These trout are modest in size but unsurpassed in beauty- little painted savages that challenge your skills and thrill the senses more than overfed stock fish fifty times the size. With sedate fishing on tap it seems virtually nobody is fishing for them, but what experiences there are to be had on our wild streams. This half pounder was just one of many equally striking wild browns.