Snails on Snails

It's a curious phenomenon that in so much of modern fishing, we start from the standpoint of what baits we want to introduce rather than what the fish are actually eating. Have we got it the wrong way round? Fly fishing usually starts from the opposite perspective, but even when it comes to bait there is a lot of scope for going natural. It seems crazy at times that on some fisheries, using a lobworm would mark you out as some kind of dangerous revolutionary- but such is the stranglehold of the boilie.
Snails first popped into the equation for me some ten years ago when I watched a Sussex angler catch a succession of large carp when the rest were struggling. When I asked what the trick was he popped off a lid to reveal several dozen garden snails- he shelled one there in front of me for the hook and within five minutes the float buried and another double figure carp was hooked.
Roll on a few years and snails are still a bait I should cast more often. And in the hunt for interesting leads I couldn't help but notice the appropriately titled "Snails Lake" at Digger Lakes, Cullompton. I got even more excited when owner Ben Gratwicke explained the reason for the name was no whim, but an absolute mass of pond snails present. Could one or two of these be a killer bait? A real fishing fanatic and carp expert himself, Ben seemed as keen as I was to find the answer- and in no time rustled me up a fistful of the buggers. My aim was to fish at close quarters; no broom handles required, just a gentle lob into a few likely looking spots with a lighter rod and low diameter 12lb line.

The fishing itself proved challenging- but what a pleasant surprise Digger Lakes are (www.diggerlakes.co.uk) . No 'hole in the ground' fishery this, and I enjoyed simply walking around and watching all the quiet corners and weedy channels here. It looked a perfect stalking water- until I showed up! Try as I might, I just couldn't get a bite by alternating swims with float tackle. I'm an impatient carper at the best of times, but at least moving swims you start to form a loose plan and can put a little bait in to sit on later- in this case snail based pellets with the odd crushed real one in the mix.
As is so often the case, the fishing improved once it was dark. I presented a pair of snails on a hair, just off the rod tip in a hole in the weed. Finally, something took off at around 2am and within about five seconds I had crashed forwards out of the sleeping bag, grabbed the rod and felt a wrenching presence at the end. Well worth getting up for- and persevering with snails as bait! More on this soonish in the shape of an article...

I am also delighted to see the first fruits of my recent work with angling filmmaker Steve Lockett this week. You may have spotted his feature on my Rudd on fly exploits in this week's Angler's Mail- a cracking session including a very nice brace of canal rudd. If the linked clip below is anything to go by, the DVD to accompany my book next year should be a cracker- despite that weird sensation of watching yourself back on film! Grab a look at Anglers Mail TV (http://youtu.be/t2fMeraC2dE) -hit You Tube and then search Anglers Mail is probably the easiest way, since getting a video up and working properly on blogger seems harder than Chinese algebra.

Milestones & Millstones

This week has marked a very welcome first for me. Magazine articles are great, they are my bread and butter. But to submit my first book manuscript is something special. "Fly Fishing for Coarse Fish" has been a real labour of love- hundreds of miles, many fish and many waters. Flies that look a million dollars and flies that ended up in the bin beneath my work bench. And so it was a real thrill, not to mention something of a relief, to visit the good folks at Merlin Unwin in Ludlow with a first draft and two hundred or so images. It's a real honour to be working with the publishers whose other output includes the work of Chris Yates and "BB".
As well as work, I had time for some play on the river slap bang in the middle of Ludlow. A very pretty bit of water, with huge overlapping sheets of stone and trout lurking in the shadows. Several vividly marked brownies dashed out to grasp a little nymph:

As for the book itself, set for release early next year, I can only hope that readers will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the adventure of writing it. Some of the escapades in its pages will strike a chord with those who keep an eye on the blog and magazine work- but there are also plenty of surprises I've done my best to keep back, including a whole string of original and adapted flies for rudd, pike, carp, zander... you name it, I've been feverishly experimenting with it. Some of the coarse species are more willing takers than others it must be said, but I'm relieved to have ticked all the required boxes. There have been times that the tench, for example, have had me wracking my brains for answers. Here's a hard won tinca from the Grand Western Canal:

Perhaps I haven't always taken the conventional route with my fishing and writing. But the reassuring development so far has been that many editors and readers are more than willing to give something different a try. There is so much more to fishing than the technique of beating those around you, or becoming obsessed with huge fish. And on that note, this week's Angling Times will feature a place low on the list of most specimen hunters- but close to my heart. The little millstream on the Exe is the setting for my piece on escapist fishing for dace and chub, a case of stony water and cute fish. Talking of cute fish, I've also been revamping my site and online shop, including these beautifully detailed Finnish fish. You'll also find a lunking great pike on the site, big enough to eat this lot!

Dotty Weekend

Sea trout fishing has its cliches just like any other branch of the sport. You go at night, with big surface-waking flies right? Not necessarily. My brother has been enjoying some good day time sport around Devon's quieter corners. The Lynher in Cornwall is especially tempting; fairly close to the sea, with plenty of dark, shady holes for these creatures to shelter and it's also a very affordable ten quid a day on the Westcountry Angling Passport scheme.


It was to prove an interesting exchange of ideas. Whilst my previous few seasons have been focussed on coarse fish on the fly, Ben has developed a real obsession with salmon and sea trout. These little rivers are stirring places- and the sea trout can be tempted on small goldhead bugs in daylight hours. Basically it's like using stepped up trout gear and trying to get an aggressive response from sheltering fish. Like salmon they don't feed in freshwater but sometimes react to the flash and movement of a fly. We had to work for it though, with lots of tiny brownies plus a party of canoeists not exactly helping us creep up on these shy fish.

After many yards of careful wading we began to spy tantalising signs of life- the ripple of a phantom fin near the bank; a sudden beam of silver turn in the current. A 12" fish finally took my goldhead bug, giving a fine scrap on light tackle- light, metallic sides soon identified this one as a sea trout. Not a big one, but beautiful.
Sunday's trip was in the less wild setting of the town centre by Mill on Exe. Joining me was Chris Gooding, who spent many happy days as a boy catching fish of all kinds here- and has lost none of his enthusiasm. With balls of steel, he decided to take up some precarious trotting positions right on the edge of the weir! A flashback to mispent youth perhaps- where back in the less health and safety obsessed 80s he once ran across these slippery spots with a rod.

We tried the classic offering of silkweed for roach- which were sadly absent, although plenty of dace and even a small trout fell to maggots. Fellow city slicker Ian Nadin also managed a trout on a small jointed plug and a beautifully marked one too:

After a quick pint at the Mill we pushed on for a spot of wet wading, this time with a fly rod. Chris and I had a great fun hour or so casting at (and usually missing!) schools of flashing, fast biting dace. Proper Sunday afternoon fun and there was also a bonus in store. I'd spotted a reasonable sized chub earlier, prowling under branches near the bank and a a carefully presented goldhead nymph got an instant response from this scrappy city two pounder, whose big mouth truly dwarfed my little nymph:

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:

Euro-Trek

Typing this on a bumpy Scandinavian B-road, there's just enough time to reflect on an eventful trip so far. From the flat lands of Holland (a bit like Somerset, but with added windmills) through to Denmark, Sweden we now hit Finland. It's sweltering hot. I have about two dozen mozzy bites and a beard.


The image above, hastily taken on the phone, could be any one of the hundreds of beautiful, often untouched lakes out here. I've also been marvelling at strange foods and the odd corker of a mullet hair cut.
Trouble is, the fishing has been rock hard. It's just too hot for much except jack pike. Last night was a minor breakthrough though.
Zander are the real target out here- but they tend to frustrate. Just when I manage to tempt one and think I've cracked it, they play silly buggers. The locals all say I should be trolling with about six rods- but this is not my idea of fun. Plus, the lack of a boat doesn't help. Failing this then, I've been jigging over deep holes with the float tube. Thus is where the Zander lurk in the day, albeit thoroughly bored and not especially hungry. The theory is good then- the Practise lacking. Until I got bored and decided to try the edges of the lake on a couple of hot evenings. With the water cooling a little, the predators come to the edges to hunt. Bingo! some Zander at last, to small pike flies and lures!
The other fun of the tube is the looks you get from locals; you know that not quite convinced smile that says "you're really quite fucking mad aren't you?" to which I doff my hat and speak in broken Finnish.

The only other remarkable fish spotted was at the "Ripleys Believe it or Not" museum in Copenhagen. Above is a strange, fur covered trout. It was thought these cold lake fish had developed little coats to keep warm. The original freak trout generated so much interest that later on tourists spotted one Scot putting a little fluffy jacket on a trout! Weirdness seems to follow me out here though- including a nutty Swedish lady convinced that nuclear subs are hiding all over Europe, releasing brain washing chemicals into the atmosphere. If that's true, then I'm a Viking.
Well, on that bizarre note I should sign off before the data roaming charges leave me broke. Later on I will have the unfamiliar pleasure of eating a Zander that I kept for the table. Feels weird for a Brit, but so very different out here with some 180 000 lakes and no shortage of fish! Still, I'm not about to fish like a Tiverton laborer and swap my landing net for a Tescos bag and a blunt object.

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.

Wandering the Wye/ Barbel on the fly

Britain may be a small island in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes you forget just how fantastically diverse our waters are. The River Wye couldn't be a more grand contrast to my favourite little streams of the Westcountry. It's also home to some phenomenal shoals of chub and barbel. I had been itching to return, in particular to try with a fly rod for the barbel. If anyone could put me on the right trail- or indeed explain the timeless fascination of this great Welsh river- it was Bob James.

Bob has fished here as long as I've been alive- and while modern specimen type tactics work, he's an even bigger fan of more intimate methods. Clear water and a pair of waders make anything possible- trotting, touch legering, free lining or you've guessed it, a fly rod. In fact the early season is ideal for a moving bait or fly, as the barbel are still highly active. What really surprised me was Bob's talk of just how aggressive these fish are- not only will they literally barge chub off a bed of feed, they will actively predate on minnows. Needless to say, with a good dose of loose feed it didn't take long to connect with some solid fish.

With the river looking beautifully sunny and wild, I knew this was going to be as good an opportunity as I'd get to tempt a barbel on a fly rod. The sheer size and pace of such a big river can be a challenge- and I found even heavy patterns needed an extra pinch of tungsten putty to trundle the depths.
But at last, here was a river not hopelessly high or muddy, but dropping and looking bang on! I could see fish moving in knee deep water and doing that classic rolling movement near the bottom. Could this actually be game on for a change? After all my maddening attempts previously, I was praying my luck might finally change.
It was to prove a nerve-wracking afternoon to put it mildly. I had a couple of fish refuse- or simply not see the fly- point blank, and was wondering exactly what it might take. YOu also have trouble with currents, fishing trout style and trying to get the fly well upstream- far better to get close and aim across or even slightly downstream.
Eventually, I managed to guide a heavy Walker's Mayfly nymph into the path of the next fish, literally stumbling over the bottom. This time, the fish slid across to look. The nymph was gone, I struck and everything went solid. Fish on!
When you finally manage to hook one, you might be forgiven for wondering what's going on with such fish. These barbel are downright stubborn fighters- hugging the bottom one moment like an immovable object, powering off the next!
The fight must have lasted a few minutes but felt like longer. Bob came with the net, but each time the fish got closer, it seemed to rage off again.

A barbel on the fly of almost dead on seven pounds is an absolute dream come true! What can I say, other than that I am still in shock!