Casting into the Wind

It’s a curious phenomenon that brutal storms and weather patterns are given names these days. We’ve had Desmond, Eva and there might even be a Nigel on the way. But I’ve had some other, less pleasant words lately for the type of high winds that tangle lines and send the lids of your bait tubs sailing off like kites. None of my recent trips have been easy. I enjoyed (or endured?) a mad, wild and windy Christmas match with Tiverton Angling Club. Amazingly, there was a fifty strong turn out on a day of 40mph gusts and rain.

So how did I do? The far bank line was written off for most of the match, as fishing any great distance with the pole felt lethal. So I started by fishing bread punch down the middle, a method that works so well on our fairly clear Westcountry canals. But I also fed a couple of chopped worm lines as backup.

Keeping the bait still was a huge problem. Small roach still bit avidly at the start, but it was a battle to tempt the fussier, better fish. Perhaps my keenest memory is of looking across at the bloke in the next peg, the wind howling and both of us just shaking our heads and laughing at each other, as if to say “yes, this is ridiculous and we must be a bunch of twats.” The onslaught of wind got even stronger, if anything. At one point I swung in a one ounce roach that suddenly accelerated towards my head at about 50mph.

But there was also just a minute of chilling drama. I’d switched to a heavier rig and a larger piece of bread when the float dipped, the elastic plunged and I could feel a good bream nodding away on the bottom of the canal. If anything, perhaps I was too eager to try and net it early. Whatever the truth, it was just coming up to the net when something went ping, the rig flew up in the air and I was left with a tangle and that sinking feeling.



That was about the only chance of glory I really got, although the chopped worm lines produced some late bites and a nice hybrid. Enough to take me over the pound mark for a hard fought 520g. Never mind, it was a great event and excellent to see all the local angling characters out in force. Only five anglers managed above 5lbs, with Ali Robinson the winner with 3.560 kg a very good net, given the wretched conditions.

But I had happier returns at one or two of my perch spots elsewhere. After fishing a match, it’s great to be able to choose your spot and fish exactly how you please. You’d wait too long between bites, for example, fishing something like a whole prawn. But I’ve been trying these over chopped worm, both in obvious perchy bits of cover, but also straight down the middle of typical canals and drains. The best of these two went 2-11.



It was also perch I was hoping for with a visit from my excellent friend David West-Beale, who has been developing a real habit of catching big perch on the fly. His tactics are fascinating, with rods as light as a three weight used to tame fish to over three pounds from his own local canal (as you can read on his splendid recent blog post "Fly Fishing, Perch and Eternal Youth")

I’m sure he found our waters clearer for one thing. But we had some very bright conditions at first, as we had a quick go at the river. I’ve been really enjoying drop shotting recently, with a real toy rod, a 7ft wand that casts 2-12g. Not with soft baits though, but flies. You can use all sorts of small streamers and trout lures, but I’ve developed my own alongside Turrall Flies using drop shot hooks and a blend of traditional and new materials.

It was mucky work, among all the winter wreckage, but I like a crisp little set up to test little slacks and holes, many of them right by the bank. Bites were hard earned, but after a missed pull, I managed to wangle a nice hand-sized perch from the reeds.

With clarity not ideal on running water though, I fancied we’d do better on a more sheltered stretch of canal. A bright sun really seemed to put the fish off however. We tried gamely for the perch, but they just wouldn’t budge. David searched meticulously with his light streamer set up, with some fascinating tactics (I’m going to feature him very soon in the fly fishing press). But on this occasion, even the little jack pike we spotted were tentative.

As the afternoon wore on, we eventually had to have a rethink and both tackled up for pike. We tried various fly patterns, but in the end success was more about the light. As soon as the afternoon grew a bit darker and dirtier, the pike appeared. And as the wind dropped a little, we could watch them attackers materialise.

We tangled with the jacks for a while, but really fancied there had to be a bigger one somewhere. It’s all relative I guess, and on many of the small drains and canals I fish a 6-pounder is a good one and a double is a specimen. But I’m totally addicted to sight fishing these little places.

My favourite pike fly at the moment is a dirty big pink thing with lots of flash. Not exactly natural, but it really draws fish. I’m not sure what Dave thought of the fly he described as the Gay Assassin. But the pike loved it, or perhaps hated it enough to want to shred it to bits?

The best of the day came from the central channel and there was no half-arsed follow, no warning, but just a big angry lunge. There was a tension and a thump, thump, thump as if to say “you and that pink thing can f*** off.”It proved to be a very decent small water pike, in the 8-10lb bracket.



I had to walk her down the bank a little, because being me, I’d snuck into quite an overgrown spot. If there’s one tip I can offer anyone who wants to catch more pike from small waters, it’s to get stuck in and fish the hairy bits. The majority anglers will just stop at the open bits, the cutaways and worn swims. It’s also a case of judgment because you have to be able to land the fish cleanly. A mate and a long-handled net often come in handy.

We had a few others too, including a few that wouldn't look out of place held by The General. But it was all good fun and in spite of the tough perch fishing, there were some real lessons and surprises. Now that the book is done and dusted I'm really looking forward to writing more features and yes, a little more method to follow the madness.

I'll be penning a special feature on fly fishing for perch very shortly for Fly Fishing & Fly Tying Magazine, while the new issue has my piece on fishing for winter brown trout in Devon. There's also a short film on the subject on YouTube: Winter Fly Fishing at Bratton Water.

Otherwise, Crooked Lines has been well received so far and is shifting well! You can read Jeff Hatt's verdict HERE for another angle on the book too. Like me, he has been an avid blogger in angling for a long time and shares many of my own typical joys and woes. If my own blog has been well received for a while(typically 4,000 reads per month currently), Jeff's has topped the 10-12,000 figure at times! With many magazines struggling to get these figures, it does make you wonder and I think he should definitely make an Idler's Quest book... I've already been twisting his arm anyway. Of course, books also put bread on the table and give writers the backup they need to continue, whereas blogs like this one are enjoyable but ultimately hard to sustain at no cost.

A huge thanks to all of you who have already ordered the new book so far. Keep an eye on www.dgfishing.co.uk for some exclusive sample pieces and also the chance to pick up both the new book plus Tangles with Pike for just £20. We're down to the last 300-400 copies or so of the pike book, so a second print run looks likely. Snap up a first edition while you can, because the value is only going to go up!

Black clouds and perch

With so much "homework" involved in getting the latest book finished, it recently dawned on me that I hadn't been perch fishing for ages. Another sustained effort at catching some good ones on the fly had been in the back of my mind for months- and with a rare day off I decided to ignore the horrible weather and make a Wednesday trip.

Actually I would hesitate to call such weather "horrible" when it comes to perch fishing."Ideal" comes closer. The perch definitely hunt more actively on days of low light on these clear waters. It's only the angler that minds the drizzle.

My initial plan was to hit the drains, but with rain hitting the Levels this week my chosen destination looked more like a sewer. So I headed to the more sheltered waters of the canal, where the bridges and snags can usually be relied upon to hold a few greedy perch.


I used jig flies, the very sort Turrall now make for me. These sink well and are really attractive, tweaked around cover. Expecting jack pike as well as perch, I tried an eight weight outfit with floating line and a tough, 20lb fluorocarbon leader about eight feet in length.

The initial problem was the sheer greediness of the local jacks. A couple had grabbed the fly before I even saw a perch, also hungry in these dank conditions. I could easily have switched to a much bigger fly and wire trace, with every chance of a better pike showing up. But I was even keener to see a big perch.



Actually the fluorocarbon stood up well. Not ideal, you might think? But the small, barbless flies are usually only of interest to the little jacks. And I wanted that perch.



The first couple were not exactly two pounders, but very welcome. I'd spotted several in the near edge, along with the hordes of tiny silver that loiter in the canal. Clouds of "motherless minnows", or sun bleak, are a curious feature of Westcountry waters. You can easily imitate these prey with a small streamer fly- patterns like the Minkie, Appetiser or my own Perch Special are readily snapped up. That said, you can also scale up a bit bigger for perch- even a two ouncer finds a size 4 fly easy to suck up.
The problem was that these mouthy buggers kept charging in:

For the first few seconds you sometimes kid yourself that it's a big perch or even a chub, before the line tears off. Another jack!
But you do start to suss out where the perch are hiding eventually. It's different to pike fishing too. For one thing, I think you have to search cover and the hot areas more thoroughly. Like zander fishing, you also find that it's worth returning to spots at key times, even if they didn't produce earlier in the day for you.
One such spot earmarked for a return was where I had caught a couple of nice little perch and saw a much better one, which followed twice but stayed deep and just wouldn't take the fly. It's better to be proactive and move if you're not catching though.

This can and often will involve a walk of several miles, so my other essentials like a net and mat must be portable. Like faithful servants these.


The net is actually a Norwegian made salmon net. I've stood on it innumerable times and it still works fifteen years on. A sling type unhooking mat contains the net and sits on the shoulder easily. A decent mat is also useful for fly fishing because you can use it as a clear space to drop your fly line while casting and retrieving.

Anyway, I digress but I kept fishing hard for those perch. Resisting the temptation to put on a big ugly pike fly and trying to keep things methodical. The stamp of perch seemed to get steadily better in the last hour of fishing too, some nice hand-sized fish going really well on the fly rod. And even as the light was properly starting to go at about half past three, I fancied one last crack where I'd seen the big fish earlier.
Time, and the light, were running out quickly though and it was one of those winter afternoons where it looks like midnight by 5pm. On the third or fourth cast in that spot, I got a good knock on the fly line, struck and was connected to something decent. No jack either, I could feel something less flighty and more solid on the line. It was a perch and a good one too. Really thick around the middle:



At an ounce over two pounds, it was a great way to end a damp afternoon I'd say. But of course, nothing out of the ordinary in what has been a brilliant year for those fly fishing for perch. The joke is, even if I could enter the competition at www.flyforcoarse.com the beastie above would not even make the top three perch in 2014. Do take a look at the site for the best of 2014 and if you had a special catch on the fly this year, do let us know! There's still time yet.

Meanwhile, one competition I have been able to enter in 2014 was for the Angling Times "Fishing book of the Year" award. Unsurprisingly, AT's main columnist Martin Bowler got the top spot, but I received the silver for "Canal Fishing: A Practical Guide". A good finish anyway- and my thanks to everyone who voted for me and bought the book.

In the meantime, it's a very Merry Christmas to you. Have a great one, and see if you can sneak some fishing in.

Spring Fly Fishing

Ah, spring. Don't you just love it? The sun has been up. The fish are rising and you can venture out with only a t-shirt on your back and possibly a fly rod. Not that spring fly fishing is always easy. I've had mixed fortunes, but some encouraging results for both coarse species and trout this week.


Aiming wet flies at rudd and roach was today's treat. My usual little spiders and "rudd bugs" came to the fore on the Grand Western Canal, but it was a case of walking and looking hard for the better shoals of fish. Only the really tiny ones seemed willing to touch flies on the surface, but by presenting slow sinking wets I had two net sized rudd in quick succession and even the smaller ones that followed were beautiful.

The roach wanted a fly presented rather deeper, and with the wind sometimes blowing smaller flies off course I opted for slightly heavier patterns to try and get amongst them. A size 16 Tan Shrimp or Roach Grub worked well for these, although the takes were sometimes really cute. The job was made much easier in the sunshine, as I could sight fish. I even had a crack at a surprise tench that wandered through the swim, but failed to get the grub fly directly into its path. Never mind, here's one of several roach that intercepted a falling nymph:

It hasn't been all plain sailing however. A trip to a different canal was more testing, with coloured water and debris making it tough to spot fish and cast to them unimpeded. What should the angler do if they can't easily spot the fly? An small indicator was the answer, to suspend small flies in the top two feet (and I prefer the foam, stick on kind, which you can even snip in half for a really cute little indicator). With fish hard to spot it was usually a case of scanning the water for rise forms and moving fish. They weren't big, but I had three species in order: rudd, roach and bleak.

The trout fishing has also steadily been improving on my travels too, and I had the great pleasure of a day on the River Rea with my publisher, Merlin Unwin. A pretty stream this one, lost somewhere in the Shropshire countryside and full of twists and turns. I was a bit muddy on our arrival and little was rising, so we went for nymphs.

A handful of pretty browns were hard won on the day, but I loved exploring this new river. There were lambs everywhere in the fields. We found otter tracks and there are even the ghostly remains of an old railway platform out here.
And it was great to hear some of Merlin's stories: of fishing with the Mr Crabtree author Bernard Venables, or the summer that Ludlow was flooded with mayflies. And we also celebrated the coming of my new book with a beer. Stocks of "Canal Fishing: A Complete Guide" will be in very soon.

Wild rivers are one thing, but the fish have been bigger in semi-urban locations recently. Not that the water quality is in any way lacking in many of our towns. Is there anything nicer than a shallow, stony river where you can sight fish for wild trout? We have free fishing in several Devon locations- (Theo Pike's book "Trout in Dirty Places" is a great resource).


A quick wander with a four weight was great fun. No dry fly takes on this occasion, and the trick was to get a nymph down to the fish. A hare's ear worked in the slightly deeper bits, or a PTN in some lovely shallow runs where trout were sitting in just a foot or so of water. This was the best of them, at 13" or so but very lean.

Fly Fish Off at Bellbrook

Competition might not be the reason I usually go fishing, but I must admit I've been enjoying some friendly contests recently. There's a definite excitement to these days out, whether it's the draw itself, or the fun of catching fish against the clock. I'd urge even the less competitive angler to try the odd match in fact. It definitely adds an extra something and far from being cut throat you invariably find a healthy camaraderie at these events.
The recent Tiverton Christmas match was a good day out as usual, although tough going. In fact the measly 420g of roach and a solitary skimmer I caught actually felt like a decent effort from a tricky peg. Hence I was hoping for better when I swapped the long pole for a fly rod at the Bellbrook Christmas Fish Off. Like the Tivvy match, this was well attended, with twenty anglers present. It's a pairs challenge in essence and I roped Ben, my older brother into the bargain to form a duo of Garnetts. At the start you draw a sequence of numbers and change pegs at 45 minute intervals. The aim is to catch a fish from each of the six lakes- or as many as you can.

What a crazy start it was too. On Bodmin Lake, I had a bite second cast. Activity was rife in the first leg, but I managed to lose both the fish I hooked. Damn it! I wasn't the only jinxed angler though, as my neighbour and Ben did the same, hooking and losing fish to draw a blank in the first round.
Still, at least the flies were working. My all time Bellbrook favourite, a sinking rubber-legged daddy longlegs, got them going. Even so, it was well after the start of the second leg that I hooked my next fish, a three pounder that really slammed the rod over. Everything is that bit more exciting in a contest. You pray that bit harder that the fish won't come off. The relief is that bit stronger when it hits the net.
As it turned out, I never looked back after recovering from that iffy start. The fish did get trickier as the day went on- not surprising when you consider that twenty of us were thrashing the water all day. A black mini lure seemed to keep them coming for me. Perhaps I'd got my bad luck out of the way early, because on the final round I had just one bite but it led to a fish in the net, taking my total to five. As for the best of my bag, I had a real battle with a fish of dead on five pounds that needed careful playing not to smash the tippet. A silvery beauty too- and in a match even more of a morale booster:

So how did we do? No angler took the full six fish, although three of us managed five. Ben took three which gave us a total of eight, enough for second place on the day and a bottle of port each, just behind the winning duo on nine fish. Above all though, it was straight up good fun. Friendly banter, good sportsmanship and a very civilised lunch, while fishery boss Chris even came round to dispense hot mince pies and mulled wine. How many matches does that happen?!!
In fact, things have been looking up all round. I even managed to avoid a blank for a change on Exeter Canal this week, with a smallish but exquisitely marked pike.

I'm also feeling mightily relieved to have completed my third book, "Canal Fishing: A Practical Guide", which is currently being designed by Merlin Unwin Books. It has been one of the most intensive slogs I've ever had as a writer but I'm really excited. Canals have always been close to my heart- and bloody hell do we have an amazing variety of cuts in this country. Here's a first look cover draft:

Ultralight poaching with Peter and Peter

As far as different branches of angling go, ultralight lures and fly fishing for predators are pretty close cousins. Both are active, intimate methods that suit smaller waters perfectly. They also suit the fidgety angler who constantly wonders if there's a better spot waiting just a little further along the bank. When conditions are tough, as they have been lately, that's no bad thing either. I always fancy if the fish aren't especially hungry my best chance is to simply show a fly or lure to as many eyes as possible.

Joining me for a couple of roving canal sessions were the two Peters, Wardle and Higgins. It started in pretty urban style as Pete Wardle and I tried around Bridgwater, flipping flies and jigs around likely structures. The fry were present in spades, but the only perch that gave a solid take was a fish of perhaps a pound lured by Pete that came adrift. Other small fish followed or nipped, but it was a bit underwhelming on the whole, a sudden explosion of fry and a rolling pike the most exciting moment. Why is it that these attacking fish quite often seem hard to tempt I wonder? Maybe amidst a mass of living prey fish, a lure or fly is suddenly not so appealing?
Never mind- we soldiered on and ventured out in the sticks to find incredibly clear water and plenty of visible life. We both stuck it out on the really small stuff, because I quite fancied one of us to connect with a decent perch following my pole fishing session on the Taunton to Bridgwater a couple of weeks earlier. The theory was nice, but the fish that came at my fly was more in the small but cute category (what brilliant colours these clear water fish have!):

With polarising glasses it was easy to spot perch and jacks, but less easy to wake them from their lethargy. Were easterly winds and high pressure to blame? Pete thought it was more a case of clear water and light levels- and the fishing definitely picked up in the last hour. I managed to hook and lose a rocket powered pike after switching to a black streamer, while Pete had the last laugh with this cracking perch guesstimated at around a pound and a half on a tiny soft shad:

Peter Higgins joined us nearer home the following day for another testing canal session with similarly chilly, clear water and rather lethargic fish. The place looked beautiful all the same- and it's certainly a confidence booster to be able to spot fish, even when you can't always tempt them. I think Pete Wardle, used to fishing busier, murkier cuts, found our canals a very different prospect and swapped the ultra light lures for a fly rod, so that all three of us were fly fishing:


And so the tricky fishing continued. Even the tiny jacks were a bit nervous or disinterested, sport only really picking up in the afternoon. I kept ringing the changes during lulls, and while the takes didn't exactly come thick and fast a black fly worked best for me- a Black Beast, to be specific, that Turrall will be producing early next year for the new "flies for coarse fish" range. It's not the first time this has been a get-out-of-jail pattern for me by any stretch and also tempted the best fish of the day:

This was a strange creature, big mouth but not much bulk. The take and ensuing fight were both rather lazy and bloodless too- although it did manage a sudden thrash on the bank as I retrieved the hook, giving me a bloody thumb as a thank you. Mind-blowing fishing it hasn't been of late then, but interesting nonetheless and perhaps what I like about fly or ultralight fishing is that it makes every fish an event: every bite is earned and you don't need to hook anything spectacular to put a decent bend in the rod. After all, fishing should be about fun rather than bragging rights shouldn't it?

No place like home

This week, there are bigger adventures afoot. After weeks on end of secrecy, I am finally able to reveal probably the biggest fishing adventure of my life. As a participant on the National Geographic/ ITV show "King Fishers" I've had an amazing ride- a contest spanning thousand of miles, from arctic conditions to tropical heat. Three weeks of nervous excitement, to put it plainly. Running on minimal sleep, not knowing where you'll wake up next day, or what you'll be fishing for.

It seems like another life as I type this, a wild dream perhaps. Watching humpback whales surface in Norway. Praying for floods in Somerset to recede. Fishing in a snow storm at -17C in the fjords, or tropical heat. Watching a huge monitor lizard haul its' bulk along a flaky wall somewhere in East Africa. The hypnotic rhythm of drums. "King Fishers" kicks off tomorrow on the National Geographic channel (8pm every Monday). I'm honoured, still thrilled and slightly baffled to be a part of it; with a huge budget and 30 destinations world wide, the series will be a truly international celebration of fishing, competition and camaraderie- but you'll just have to tune in to see how the drama unfolds!

Back on my local patch, summer has finally delivered on its promise. Far flung destinations are one thing, but actually it's just great to be home. And bloody hell does it feel better to have the sun on your face and clear waters to aim a fly at. I've had a rollercoaster weekend with a truly mixed bag of species.
The canals are alive with fly life; the fish have switched from tricky to ravenous, a whole range of flies willingly devoured on our rural canals. The usual spiders worked well, but I also scored on little dry flies such as a size 18 flying ant:

The roach and rudd have come thick and fast in fact. So much for baking hot weather being poor for fishing; on the contrary, the fish have been well up in the water and willing to take. For sheer viewing pleasure, little beats high sun and high visibility and I think I'd get almost as much pleasure from just watching the waters as fishing in these conditions. From playful shoal fish to sinister predators, you get a window on another world:

Perhaps most bizarre is the appearance, en masse, of those fish that are meant to be bottom huggers. I was absolutely spellbound by a huge shoal of bream in fact, with around fifty fish from around the pound mark to several times that size. All were sat just inches under the surface, but would they take a fly?

The biggest of the shoal just wouldn't respond at first, as I cast a slow sinking nymph close by. I then missed a clear take from a "skimmer" nearby that intercepted my beaded spider. A handful of casts later, this three pounder gobbled up the same fly and put a decent bend in my four weight:

What can I say? Having been in this situation before and found the fish tricky, it was a great sensation to pick off one of these basking bream. They might seem apathetic, especially the really large fish- but a delicately cast fly, gently sinking in the eye level of loitering fish is a decent bet. I know one thing for sure anyway, that I would not have caught this fish with traditional methods. The canals are alive with fly life at present. The water is warm and the fish are high in the water. Perhaps it should't be such a surprise that an artificial fly is the key. Appropriately enough, our Westcountry canals are also great places to spot a king fisher or two! I had stacks of roach and rudd as well as my bonus bream, often the better fish in the shoals I spotted, with lots in the half to one pound stamp:

Flies on the Towpath

Whenever the unthinkable happens and it actually looks like summer at this point in the year, I start to crave clear water and canal fishing. It's remarkable how quickly our beautiful rural cuts are dismissed as "unfishable" in the Westcountry. Sure, you might struggle with a pole rig. But that rich, abundant weed is absolutely teeming with life- and the rudd, my absolute summer favourite on the canals, will eat both the green stuff as well as the things hiding in it, not to mention the bug life hatching in and around the towpath. A dry or slow sinking fly can be presented in the slightest gap in the undergrowth.

On the Taunton to Bridgwater Canal, I must have walked six miles or so with Russ Hilton, who opted for free-lined bread in the weedy spots while I cast flies. I cannot stress enough how important it is to be mobile if you want to find the interesting spots and better fish here. A 10ft 3/4 weight rod, long handled net and fly vest are all I need to fish (and in fact the heaviest part by a mile is my Nikon camera plus lenses!).

It was Russ who made the quicker start using bread- although I missed two really positive takes from chub where I watched the line pull away before striking my Spider Sedge right out of their mouths. I really should learn to wait another split second! Not to worry though, because the beauty of this fishing is that there's always another chance a few yards on- and I was soon adding roach to the cute rudd I was getting on my wet flies:

Incidentally, when it comes to fly choice I still rely heavily on either my "Rudd Bugs" (basically soft hackled flies with buggy, loose dubbed bodies that sink really slowly) or the good old Black and Peacock. To cater for different conditions I tend to tie the favourites three ways: totally unweighted, with a glass bead or with a tiny gold bead. If there's a steady breeze or tow on the water, beaded flies offer better control. The tip of using lighter beads made of glass and other materials is something I borrowed from my friend urban fly angler Theo Pike. These sink slower than brass or tungsten, but still cut through surface movement well. After all, canals are changeable. The fish, especially roach, cannot always be persuaded to nick the fly in the top few inches and finding a steady tow is not uncommon at all. At other periods of the day, a small buzzer or bloodworm also worked for the roach.

Perhaps the biggest surprise of the day was the capture of a silver bream (above) of around 6oz. These take a fly well, but are usually much smaller. It took a gold beaded spider, fairly well sunk down. It was a great day for visual fishing in fact. Winds were gentle and visibility improved greatly once the sun came out. Fish like rudd turn the usual "fish early and late" logic on its' head in fact; a sunny afternoon is an excellent time both to spot and tempt them on flies.
It was a day of top viewing pleasure in fact. We saw everything from tench and bream to a few pike. One of these jacks stole a rudd directly from Russ as he played it and we watched the thing sit there with jaws working and a tail sticking out of its' mouth! He also has this happy knack of catching a fish I've just missed. I'd had my eye on a vividly coloured golden rudd but managed to miss the take when it sucked my fly in. About two minutes later the swine had it on a piece of bread. Bah! (To give Russ his dues, he also had the best rudd of the day at around a pound and a quarter- which I'm sure you'll see soon on his "Tales From the Towpath" blog).

When it got too hot to play we also enjoyed the shade of one of the "pill boxes" dotted around. These were built as air raid shelters during WW2 I believe. Not exactly sure why the Luftwaffe would want to bomb the canal, but there you go. Our own raids continued in the sun, We both had plenty of takes and missed some other really chunky fish. For anyone keen to sample a day on the fly in these beautiful locations, I can offer guided days and half days which include a set of "canal special" flies to take home with you. Can't say fairer than that! I've yet to have a guest who didn't finish with several quality roach and rudd.