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.

Last Minute Winners

I have a theory on current fishing. We can either make the final outcome the entire reason we bother, or we can make the process itself the reason we go fishing. I always believe it's the journey, as much as the goal. If the method you use is enjoyable in its own right, you will always have a good time. This is why techniques like lure and fly fishing are fun. The process itself is inspiring, whether you catch a few or a stack. This is also why spur of the moment trips are brilliant. I just couldn't resist fellow fly angler Charlie Hancock's invitation to jump in a car and take on some underfished pike. Waders help when casting space is tight, but I also had a real eye opener when I saw Charlie set up a 14ft salmon rod. With a spey cast, he was getting a pike fly out a good distance even with trees slap bang behind his position. With the fish appearing to be further out however (possibly because of the recent cold snap), a borrowed boat also came in handy. Bites weren't frequent, this jack being my only taker, but Christ on a bike were we in for a surprise in a deep bay. We'd wondered what exactly was lurking when a couple of smaller pike bore big jaw marks. And then the answer was there with a vengeance, making his reel grind and spit out line like a child's toy in the presence of a monster! The fish went dead on twenty four pounds and he was just a little happy- from the picture you might wonder if he was so thrilled he intended to spawn with her before release! As bites dried up we formed a different plan for late in the day however. Hopping back in the car, we made the journey to Lechlade trout fishery for a final couple of hours in search of a big trout. So much for easy fishing on a stocked lake. The trout were fairly cagey, no doubt due to having seen many anglers aim flies in their direction. I tried teasing a damsel nymph in and I tried drifting a buzzer. Lures were flatly ignored. And so with time slipping away, I made the switch to a smaller, much subtler pheasant tail nymph. What a difference! A couple of little pulls were missed, before the line zipped away neatly. What began as a lazy fight then turned into a real punch up. Who says that big trout don't know how to pull back? For several minutes it was white knuckle stuff. If there's one thing even better than a goal, it's a dramatic late winner. The brown trout of ten and a half pounds in the net was not only weighty, but fantastically coloured- and it was my turn to grin like an idiot. I can't thank Charlie enough for his local knowhow and quality banter. This would have made the trip worthwhile alone. But those two brilliant fish made it perfect- enjoyable methods and cracking catches to boot. Just a final shout before I sign off is to remind all you Westcountry rods to join us at Mill on Exe on Tuesday 26th at 7:30. Barry McConnell, eel fanatic and top man, is our special guest. I also like him because he shares the same name as the Barry McConnell who once played up front for Exeter City FC and famously scored two goals to defeat Chelsea in a pre season match. Uri Geller was also there, but that's another, very odd story.

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.

The Good, the Bad and the Angry

How much gear and expense do you need to be successful at fishing? The truth is most of us own too much. Not only that, too much of it gets dragged along with us on the bank. Away trips can be a particular headache. Take too much and you carry it all or leave it there to nick in your car; take too little and you're bound to have that "why didn't I bring a...." moment. I always aim to be slightly ruthless with myself on this front, which is why for most of this week's trip to the Dorset Stour I carried just a fly rod and a few essentials. Just as well flies don't weigh much. I find Clouser style pike flies especially useful for river fishing, which have the sink rate to explore deeper swims. The morning felt cool, but quickly became pretty baking hot. Not very surprisingly I got most hits early and late, with cool, well oxygenated spots like the edges of pools the best. As well as a nice bonus perch around the pound mark I managed a few pike, the best of them this lean low double, which took a black fly just as I'd started to flag in the heat. Next day, I had a cast with intrepid river angler Nathan Edgell. When it comes to travelling light, his approach is refreshingly simple. Just one rod, one bag, but lots of ground covered. It didn't take long for a fish to launch itself at his spoon. Angry? It was livid!: There's possibly only one thing better than exploring a lovely stretch of river, and that's spending it in the company of someone who knows all the juicy spots, the wildlife and the character of the place. Lot's of fun, if a bit bloody hot to be in waders. There'll be more on the way with Nathan involved, including an appearance as our first speaker of the year for the Devon PAC (Oct 30th, 7:30pm Mill on Exe- bung it in the diary!). Otherwise I've seen some of the best and worst that fishing has to offer. The bad revolves around the continued presence of illegal fishing- and a crazy little twist last time out. I had found two Eastern Europeans (I know, it sounds predictable already), with dead fish in a shoddy keepnet on the Grand Western Canal. When I challenged them and picked up the phone, they promptly scarpered, leaving all their gear! Credit also to Ian Nadin, who was there in three minutes flat to give them a further scare and get their car reg as they left at speed. The big plus point is that these idiots now have nothing to sit on, let alone fish with. My garage isn't the tidiest at the best of times, but now has a whole heap of dodgy extra gear- crude isn't the word! On a much lighter note however, I also took some family friends fishing for the first time. It's always great to see youngsters catch their first fish- and Laurie and Bryony Pym had a netful of crucians, roach and tench out at Little Yeo Fishery. What was really nice was to see not just how much fun they found it, but how quickly they got stuck into the basics, from hooking the bait to handling fish with wet hands.

A Road Trip with Fins

What could be better than a mega Euro-road trip? A road trip with a selection of fishing tackle sneaked into the car, of course. This years break was a long, long drive. Five countries, various bizarre food stuffs and a frightening total of 16 different beds slept in- most on the low budget end of creaking cabins and campsites. Our eventual destination was Finland- via Holland, Germany, Denmark and Sweden in that order. Where do I even begin?


Sweden is somewhere I want to return to. We whistled past perhaps the biggest lake I've ever seen on the way out, and had a stopover on a little campsite with a lake. Predictably, I had some cheeky casts but the fish were elusive in the scorching hot weather and only the odd little jack pike proved willing to bite. Nevertheless, I loved it. Above is a typically traditional Swedish scene near Gripsholm castle, not far from Stockholm.

A ferry across the Baltic Sea came next. What a place! Countless islands and little hideouts, a real playground of the rich (like so many beautiful and secluded areas!). The ferry was fun too. Tacky cabaret bands, general lounging and gypsies gambling on the decks. A mixture of excess sleep, coffee and high cholesterol foods saw us roll on into Finland late- another day, another campsite, another random look at stacks of passing rivers and lakes.


Finland was, unsurprisingly, beautiful as always. My other half wanted to visit in the balmy weather of August this year- great for catching some rays, not so great for catching fish. It gets bloody hot and they tend to switch off or go deep. In fact, try as I might, I struggled at first to grab more than the occasional jack. Jigging over deeps was little better for sullen, sleepy zander. The trick was to try the less sociable hours of the day with lures and flies which resulted in a good few zander in the end, along with perch and pike. They were nothing huge, but I always find it a thrill to connect with this perplexing, challenging species.


Random catch of the holidays was to arrive in the shape of this bream to a Rapala plug. It felt for all the world like a zander. Sadly absent were the other unusual species I've managed to catch on previous visits, such as ide and whitefish. Never mind- the lakes were beautiful and there's nothing quite like a hot sauna and chilled beer when you're cld and tired after an evening paddle in a float tube. The tube is an absolute must here, with access tricky and boats and guides for hire fairly scarce.

It is with a tinge of sadness that I think back now on Finland- with property for peanuts out here, we had invested in a little summer house, hence my annual visit to Finland. With harder times and more places on the hit list though, it was time to settle up and move on. The old haunts were as beautiful as ever- albeit devoid of big pike this year. For anyone thinking of a Scandinavian trip I woudn't recommend August, May and June have been miles better for fishing. Nevertheless, the place has a stark beauty and is as much about freedom and true wilderness as anything else. I spent as much time with a camera as fishing, just trying to capture the feel of the place. Below is the Great Woodpecker- a more perfectly primitive pike lake I may never find in my life time:

Even with the fishing slow, it's always fun to go lure shopping in a fishing mad country. The market in Mikkelli, central Finland, is always an eye opener for local, home made specials along with the world famous Kuusamo and Rapala classics. I also like the fact that the market seller has his own tank allowing you to see each seductive wiggle in action for yourself!

creations range from the deadly to the brash to the downright bizarre. Fancy catching a pike on a mermaid?:
The hand made, home rolled lures are a particular joy and I was keen to track down some intriguing central Finnish specials which combine the wiggle of a plug with the fluidity of fly materials. The main man for these in the area is now dead (as indicated to me by locals with the international finger drawn across throat "kicked-the-bucket" gesture). Time to stock up on some of these beauties- now a (very) limited edition you might say:


Our long road trip thus made a mazy route back across Scandinavia. Stopping south of Stockholm, I was again taken away by the granduer of the Baltic sea, a place where pike rub shoulders with prawns and herring. The biggest pike I saw in the whole trip followed a lure I cast into a boat yard on a morning stroll. A great sight, and I only wish I'd stayed longer. On any travel though, it's the unscripted experiences which you remember best. Like meeting Aussie artist John Dullaway- who uses techniques inspired by native Oz to create authentic works. As an angler, fish are a real focus and I felt that the shape of the pike went perfectly with his primal, bold paint schemes- so much so that I now own one of John's great pike canvasses! When i get hold of John's new site address I'll post on my links page so you can see more of his work.

The beauty of a road trip is thus that you see so much; the disadvantage is that you never stop long enough in one place to really get your teeth fully into whats around, although I now have no shortage of interesting leads for next time! We tried a Danish trout fishery on the way back, but alas with baking hot weather the fishing was poor again. A shame, because I thought I had stumbled on possibly the ultimate in crazy mixed fisheries- a trio of interconnected lakes containing trout, zander, salmon, pike, roach, perch and carp! Only roach resulted from trying every trick in the goddamn book.

More gratifying was the Netherlands. In fact I loved it there. I've always had a bit of a thing about canals and so I felt right at home- plus the Dutch are such civilized, laid back, great people. I caught pike and perch in a little rustic river, before trying one of the canals in Rotterdam. Surprisingly beautiful: birds nesting below motorway bridges, bicycles everywhere, house boats among highrises. Strangely stirring.

Last Euro stop of all was Amsterdam. No fishing this time, but what a great city. Rather than get wasted or trawl the sleazy end, I enjoyed some of the interesting bits and, you guessed it, more gorgeous canals. A great place- we have city foxes, the Dutch have city herons!:

Meanwhile in blighty, we'd been informed by various European neighbours that London was ablaze with riots, looting and general chaos. Not what you want to hear when you're stopping in... London, shortly. In fact, ever since departure abroad it seemed the world had gone mental- shooting in Norway, Amy Winehouse dead, then the riots. What next? I decided to escape the madness in London Aquarium for the afternoon. Well worth a visit- if only to test your photography skills against the fiendish combination that is dim light and subjects which refuse to keep still. A worthwhile exercise, and some terrific displays of British sea and coarse fish too I might add. Great displays:

From chewing on flies, to flies on Chew

Boundaries continue to blur in recent fishing, with more coarse fish on fly tackle. One thing's for sure- the fish don't give a piscatory toss which category the tackle falls into. Rudd and roach continue to inspire, and it has been a great thrill not only to keep catching them but to see others also testing the waters with success. From my older brother the salmon fanatic to regular fishing mates Norbert Darby, Ian Nadin and Steve Moore, everyone seems to be enjoying some exciting fly fishing for coarse species.

I like this sharing of fishing and ideas (and usually friendly insults). Definitely what fishing should be about, rather than secretive spots, meaningless figures and clashing egos. You learn so much more by being relaxed and sharing info- and certainly, the hotter it gets the more active the roach and rudd seem to be (unlike trout!).

I've also been linking up with film maker and fellow writer Steve Lockett to capture the action in both still and moving pictures. More on this later, but it has been productive fishing with wet flies singling out some delightfully chunky rudd. Spiders seem to work best- either a black and peacock or a red bodied spider in sizes 12-14 especially useful. For the Tiverton or Taunton to Bridgwater canals, I would recommend a long walk with a light rod, but also a long handled landing net to reach over the reeds and other obstructions. Parts of the Amazon probably offer easier water access! The roach and rudd can be tricky to hit, but the bigger mouthed and better sized fish are less rapid biting, hence somewhat easier to hook:


For a very different experience I also headed out for a day in the company of Steve Moore to Chew. We began in search of trout, but with warm, dry weather very little seemed prepared to feed. We needed little invitation to switch to pike, a sensible move. Whilst not exactly hectic, we enjoyed some good sport and stonking battles on fly tackle.

Pike are sometimes strange creatures. You hook the jacks and they go ballistic, making you think you've hooked a monster. And then you hook a fish that feels lacklustre- before it suddenly remembers it's a brute and says "sod this, I'm off!" I was connected to something big just before lunchtime, which not only gave me a near heart attack beside the boat but then proceeded to put twenty yards between us and stick it's gruesome chops out of the water.... before ridding itself of the fly with a shake of the head. I couldn't help but keep playing it over in my head with those fatal words- "if only." We both managed to boat pike later on though, topped by this nice double. For Chew, nothing to necessitate a change of underwear- by any normal angler's standards, a bloody nice fish.

Steve enjoyed his day too, until developing casting-related cramp in his hand next day. Compared to trout fishing it is hard work slinging big flies around I guess, but glad to report Steve was on the mend when I ran into him on the Exe. I had hoped for bream, but basically came nearer to swans on a slow Saturday evening in the town. When you've been fly fishing it can seem a bit dull to sit behind rods. The fly fever is catching with others too and my other half Jo also did herself proud with a rainbow trout on a Kennick "learn to fly fish" day. Learning to cast is a bit like learning to drive I guess- not best done with a lecture from your partner! So much for gender stereotypes then- she caught it, I cooked it in mustard sauce.
In other news, I'm about to embark on a well earned holiday- just as soon as I've killed off the 101 jobs on my "to do" list. Expect a short break then, with possibly some random updates from Sweden and Finland to follow on my travels.