Piking with Pals

With life fairly fiercely busy at present, chances to fish have been limited to say the least. Which is why it was such a pleasure today to meet up with angling friends old and new, from both Devon and Somerset, for a friendly match followed by a pint and book signing at the Double Locks Inn.


I've been really buoyed by the turnouts to this years winter fishing competitions and this event, well organised by Somerset PAC RO Alan Buckingham, was no exception. Sixteen fishing from early morning, plus a few extra visitors and latecomers through the day, represents a very sociable gathering considering the cold and iffy conditions.

For the early hours it was very much a case of enjoying the company and a beautifully misty morning rather than any hectic action. Save for a couple of fish taken on dead baits at Lime Kilns, the handful of intrepid lure anglers plus me with a fly rod really struggled for any interest.
With the banter flowing however, not to mention a bottle of whiskey awaiting the angler with the biggest pike, levels of enthusiasm remained high. Who would prevail? I must say I rather fancied the bait fishermen for the big one, although I hoped one of our lure anglers would prove this wrong as we took a long walk right down to Turf Locks. I had only one nip and a cautious follow in the entire first three hours. But to be honest I was just enjoying being out on the bank and fishing rather than writing about it or daydreaming of pike. And while everyone was keen to win, there was a nicely laid back sense of fun to the contest, which was fished in the best possible spirit.


Exeter Canal can be a tough water at the best of times, but eventually our perseverance did bring some action. Funnily enough, my first hook up wasn't in one of those nice open swims where you might be able to unleash a long cast, but in a pokey little gap in the reeds where I could only pitch a short throw with a large perch themed pike fly. With no joy ripping my patterns gingerly through the margins, I had been counting the fly well down in the main channel before tweaking it to life. Even so, it must have been cast number one hundred and something when I finally got a decent knock on the line and a well conditioned jack. Take that Exeter Canal, you fickle slag!


Slowly but surely, the odd further bit of activity arrived. I decided to spend the last couple of hours sitting with the bait rods and managed another jack to a small roach donated by a pal. However, my stamp of fish was never in danger of beating Alan Buckingham to the bottle of malt, which was well earned not just for a splendid double figure fish but for his extra mile as the event organiser.

Last but not least there was also time to celebrate the arrival of new book "Tangles with Pike" with a drink and dish out some signed copies. I fished the whole event with a sense of pure relief and relaxation in fact, after the long slog of getting it finished and on sale. Slightly ironic, but this business of being a fishing writer can really eat into your fishing time! Suffice to say it was lovely to celebrate with a pint and get back on the canal for the day.


I would also like to give a big personal thank you to everyone who has bought a copy of "Tangles with Pike" so far. I'm not going to lie; every book is a risk and when you've put not just your heart but your investment into a project, it doesn't half put your mind at ease to see those first copies winging their way to readers all around the country (and if you've yet to grab yours, the best place is www.dgfishing.co.uk where a signed first edition hardback will set you back a very reasonable £15). I hope it provides some enjoyable reading for you and that all readers and fellow anglers have a great Christmas.

Spring blues, bronzes and greens

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Flies in the Thaw

Water levels and temperatures continue to yo-yo, but does the fishing ever get totally desperate? There's usually something to try for, even if it's just to kill an afternoon. I was glad that Norbert Darby dragged me out for a Sunday trip. Signs were mixed. Warming temperatures, but also loads of pike anglers out on the canal, none reporting anything very dramatic.
The water had cleared slightly, but still didn't look that inviting, so I opted for a big perch coloured fly (above), with plenty of presence. To be quite honest, it was nice just to stretch the legs and make a few casts. About half an hour later, as I was sneaking the thing in slow and deep, there was a lovely tap-tap-THUMP! on the end of the line. If there's one thing I love about fly fishing, it's that moment of connection transmitted right through the fingers. After a minute or so playing tug of war on my eight weight, this was either a very spirited jack, or something hefty. The fish that rolled was thick round the middle, and suddenly things felt more urgent. Norbert took some snaps while every dog walker and their beast in the vicinity decided to come an have an ogle- an added presence I rarely enjoy with a lively fish on the unhooking mat! This one went 15lb 4oz, really chunky and beautifully marked too.
Having being trounced by Norbert on our two previous trips, this was also a welcome comeback. "You won't catch anything on the fly" was his earlier piece of gamesmanship. Not that either of us gets pointlessly competitive or anything. It was also reward for recent homework at the vise. Having never know a season quite like it for floods and crappy conditions, my recent flies have been much bigger and bolder than the usual fare. Thank goodness for pike though. Without them, there would be quite a big gap in the fly fishing year. It won't be too long, of course, before other species start to feature with the fly tackle. Clearer rivers would be a start- but judging by the massive growing interest in flyfishing for coarse fish, it could be quite a year. Along with new partner in crime Charlie Hancock, we've launched both a Facebook Group ("Flyfishing for Coarse Fish") and also a Twitter account (@FlyForCoarse). So far the interest has been amazing, with well over 200 followers and members onboard in just one week! There'll be a big competition on the way, and lots of fun stuff to get involved with- watch this space. Better start tying for the spring now! (These are some roach and rudd flies I'm just finishing for a group member): Otherwise, I've also enjoyed some more pole fishing. I hadn't been to Shillingford for ages, but this can be a banker water for cold weather. Provided, that is, you bin the text book swims. All those tempting looking features look great for perch- but when they have two feet of icy water around them, these bits can be pretty dead. The pole lets you test the depth with total accuracy however. Find an area a little further out just a little deeper (sometimes only 2-3 inches more than the surrounding depths) and you're often in business. Despite the remnants of recent snow, a patient approach with regular helpings of caster and chopped worm did the business for a tidy net, with quality roach and several perch to just under two pounds.

New Year Bites

So many times in fishing, you wonder whether you're doing the right thing. Everything feels ok, but it just doesn't quite happen. Sometimes you change tactics. Other days you might even bugger off home. But when you've been granted a couple of days fishing a long way from home on a very beautiful bit of river, you just can't quit. The above pike definitely set off 2013 with a bang, but it could have been so different. I'd had no other action besides a 2lb jack all day. Too much extra pace, colour and depth for the fly to work, I felt. No interest whatsoever in sardines or smelt. And yet just one bite is enough to turn the whole day (and your stomach!) upside down. I hate putting weights on these beautiful creatures, suffice to say it was full bodied as well as in fine, fit condition. It took a 6" yellow and black Kopyto soft bait with the sort of heart attack lunge a pike angler dreams of. I haven't had the privilege of chalkstream fishing for a while now- but it was all part of tracking down a well known angler for a candid interview. But that's all I can reveal just now! Just being on a grand looking river is enough many days, big pike or blank. But in fact nothing could contrast further with my other dabblings early in the new year.
My last pike outing had been a battling affair on the Exeter Canal. Lots of Sunday anglers and hence lots of walking to start with- for not a lot of excitement. The canal looks unusually coloured too, even well after the flooding. I usually save the techy stuff for my articles, but if I've gleaned anything from the past couple of very wet seasons, it's the value in dyed offerings and groundbaiting, just to give pike every possible chance to find a bait in grubby looking water. Hey presto! I had two typical canal pike in the 5-6lb bracket to provide some very welcome excitement. In spite of my adventurous walk at first light, both fish came near the car park in the middle of the day, where I also enjoyed the company of Russ Hilton, who tried the quiver tip. I think the small army of cyclists racing past put him off employing his rather tasty new pole. Chance of a Tench in January you say? I won't steal his thunder in this case, but do grab a look at "Tales from the Towpath", which is always worth a read. Otherwise, my fishing has reached even busier locations. The free fishing at Wellington town lakes will shortly be the subject of a little Angling Times feature. Not bad at all for bites from silver fish pretty much all day long on pole or waggler. Yes, the big fish are great, but there's also a lot to be said for simply fishing for bites and playing about with floats and feeding patterns. It's here that fishing fulfils that strange paradox of allowing you to be totally relaxed yet somehow happily tinkering away at the same time. Lots of fun. Oh- and as a final shout to those of you based in the SW who like predator fishing, we have a great meeting lined up for the Pike Anglers Club at Mill On Exe for Tues 29th Jan. Shark fishing will form an exciting topic alongside recent piking for guest speaker Pete Gregory. See the PAC Region 13 blog for more details (see "links" at www.dgfishing.co.uk).

Different Cuts

Part of the joy of fishing is the fact that we can take it as seriously or light heartedly as we please. I'm a firm believer in variety, if only for the sake of that element forgotten by too many of todays die hards; simple, straightforward pleasure.
My continuing battle against the carp of Exeter Canal has been anything but straightforward fun however, more a process of mozzie bites, lost sleep and self examination. All the more satisfying to catch another fish therefore, this time a nice solid mirror carp.

Over the course of several sessions I'm finally getting to that stage where things run smoothly- from loading the car to having everything where I want it for the night ahead. Set ups keep improving, if only because I can't bear the thought of leaving baits weeded up or poorly presented all night long. Again, tiger nuts have been my first choice to avoid bream, popped up to stay weed free and well buried inside solid pva bags. Nothing is fool proof however, and after a screaming run at around 4 30am, I was turning the air blue as the fizzing reel got in a right mess and jammed solid with trapped line. Improvisation was needed- and fast- so I played the fish fly rod style, like some kind of demented Bob Church. After some serious heaving about and more expletives the fish was bundled into the net. Phew!


On a lighter note I've been doing short sessions with a fly rod for carp and also rudd, lately on Tiverton Canal. What a sheer joy these beautiful fish are. In contrast to the slog of carping, travelling light with just a rod, net, a few flies and leaders affords a true sense of freedom. It's generally a cast and move operation, trying to carefully cherry pick basking rudd. Little buzzers and hares ear variants have been good so far; sometimes you get a take, sometimes the rudd just turn away or just ignore the fly altogether. Either way, it's all excellent fun and a half pound rudd kicks quite beautifully on an ultra light trout wand.

Canal Carping & Exe Mullet

Feeling half dead, half happy today after an overnighter and some success to redeem an otherwise very tricky fortnight or so of fishing. To catch a carp from Exeter Canal has long been an unfulfilled plan of mine- and finally I have my fish! Back in my match fishing days I used to get smashed occasionally by these creatures- after several unsuccessful sessions last year it was a great feeling to hook one on tackle that offered a fighting chance.
A welcome pressure change may have had something to do with it, as well as trying in the cooler, more antisocial hours of the day to beat the heat. A tigernut worked in the end (I inevitably get just bream on boilies), buried inside a decent sized PVA bag and on a longish hooklength to try and keep weed free. At 6am the run came and I half jumped, half fell forward to grab the rod. Inevitably, the fish had gone for the weed and a very tense stalemate followed for several minutes, just the occasional tap on the line reminding me we were still connected.
Eventually the fish bolted out again- I had tried slackening off, but in the end steady pressure worked; one of those situations where you're grateful of strong tackle and a barbed hook. I had little idea of size at first, so covered in weed was the fish in the net! 13lbs 12oz is no earth shattering fish, but still a very satisfying first for me, having watched these semi wild fish for many years and wondering what it would be like to catch one. So satisfying- and so different from fishing a stocked pond.

Otherwise I had the daft idea to try and end a frustrating spell by fishing for mullet. Not the brightest idea although Paul Hamilton, who knows the tidal well, did manage four to feeder fished bread.

They fought excellently for a few pictures- and whilst I managed to lose the couple which I hooked it was good to see some on the bank.
The mullet are really contrary creatures I always find: usually I can get a few on baited spinners, but I've often struggled with the feeder and with mullet you never quite know whether the day will be dramatically successful or absolutely bloody useless. Perhaps we should be thankful of the mullet for keeping us guessing.

Talking of Mullet, I also couldn't help noticing one of the kids at work had some world cup 2010 stickers featuring legends of the game: lo and behold Glen Hoddle's 1990 mullet was there in all it's glory, a mullet of majestic proportions from the days when grown men sported these barnets proudly, wore shorts the size of swimming trunks and the England team actually played good football.