Sunburned Glory

This latest blog instalment comes with a slight health warning. This might be England and it might be decidedly cold when you load the car at 5 in the morning. But that's no excuse not to pack some sun screen. It's a lesson I learned the hard way as I was slowly toasted.
A session at Linhay Pond, on the Rackerhayes complex, began in idyllic style however. Cool mist and the odd rolling fish. It wasn't so much the sun, but the great depths of the lake that I had anticipated being the crux of the challenge.

The pole is one obvious way, but for me it was an excellent excuse to dig out the 15ft Hardy Marksman float rod- a great weapon where the bottom plummets away alarmingly quickly. I was joined by Russ Hilton, who reckoned the tench would be patrolling just where the weed stopped and the margin dropped to a good 8-10 feet. And as tends to be the case, the bugger was correct! I put in four balls of ground bait laced with chopped worm and caster and it didn't take long for the wrestling to begin:

Sport wasn't exactly rapid, but bloody hell do tench fight well. And in the gaps, Russ also caught plenty on the whip, while I slowly got frazzled. I could have posted up a picture of my sorry, red, sweaty shoulders, but instead here's a random photo of a bee:

Was it worth it all in the end? I'm tempted to say yes, because the tench were beautiful. Not small by Devon standards either. Perhaps the whole tench fishing scene has been crashed by fat gravel pit fish that grow enormous- but in the Westcountry, a fish of six pounds is still pretty respectable, not to mention beautiful. This was the best of three:

The session was very much a case of quality rather than quantity. Would we have got more bites fishing lighter? I can't say, but with hooklengths of 5-6lbs, you're much safer. A size 16 hook and a worm and caster cocktail was by far the best bait on the day.
The idea was that I was to return home looking like a Greek. The reality was more like a lobster. Joking aside, do be warned- the sun is no laughing matter and when you're enjoying your fishing it's incredibly easy to forget about protection.
My next trip by waters was without the rod, but this time with plenty of sun block. I had a wonderful walk with Paulina to Ladram Bay in fact, where I took the picture below. It was a really lovely scene: the youngster and his dad approached the old angler and no doubt he was asked all those sorts of questions that six year olds are so excellent at randomly coming up with:


I'm also in the process of answering some of met own questions with the arrival of a rather novel book this week from my good friend the angler and conservationist Theo Pike. "The Pocket Guide to Balsam Bashing and How to Tackle Other Non-native Species" is a fascinating if alarming read. Documenting all manner of undesirables from mink and crayfish to horrible, alien plants this pocket sized guide makes eye-opening reading. Most importantly of all though, it also explains how you can do your bit to stem the tide of these unwanted blighters, whether that means reporting, cutting down or even dispatching with boot or bullet. Perhaps those which I particularly hate the most are Himalayan Balsam (which is everywhere these days) and the dreaded mink (the main reason I haven't seen a water vole for over a decade). I took the shot below as a bit of a joke- but the issue of invasive species is very serious. The most important weapon is not a gun, but knowledge, which is why Theo's book could be extremely important.

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.

A Random Road Trip

The sums still seem nuts as I weigh up a week long road trip. 950 miles. About seventy quid's of worms, casters and maggots. A selection of random B&Bs. And all for the love of... well, the unexpected. I wanted to stop at a whole stack of those places you usually pass by thinking "that looks interesting", but never actually making a cast. There's a certain irony that in our age of information overload places such as urban waters and canals offer a good deal more mystery than the really "classic" destinations. And on this note, I was pleased to be in the company of Russ Hilton, who shares my taste for the sort of fishing detours you don't often see in tourist brochures. I can see it now: "Come fly fishing for roach with a series of bus shelter lunatics in a small town you've never heard of!" It wasn't all grim though. The Monmouth and Brecon Canal was just one overdue stop off. So many times, I'd seen it and wished I had a day to kill when headed for the Usk or the Wye. A good move, because in its own quirky way it has a beauty all of its own. Along with local angler Ray Minty and fishing author David Overland, we had a really varied day. As well as urban stretches, there are miles of canal with a leafy backdrop of hills and mountains. Little surprise that the place was the inspiration for parts of David's beautifully illustrated book "Fishing with Emma", which has just been released: We had plenty of bites and an eventful day. The roach responded well to bread, but the fish probably weren't quite as big as the one David is describing to this young angler, who caught a beautiful little perch and then proceeded to tell us he was going to catch "a hundred" more: I genuinely enjoy budget travel. It forces you to get stuck in and leave the script behind. Aside from a stop off of comparative luxury with Merlin Unwin, our overnight haunts were crazily varied. Homely B&Bs at one end, closer to Bates Motel at the other. The sort of places you find a hundred chipped ornaments and little stickers providing dire warnings about crimes you hadn't even considered. "Setting off the fire alarm will result in a fine of £1000!" or my personal favourite: "Strictly no more than one person in the shower at any one time." Yeah, because that's the obvious thing to do in Bradford isn't it, have a four person romp in a shower. Appearances can be deceptive however. Far cosier than its rather grim frontage was "The Noose and Gibbet" in Sheffield, the scene of the last public hanging in England: I have to say that some of the best fishing of all came in the most unexpected places. Such was the Steel City. We'd really just stopped for a walk and a few pictures, but slap bang in Sheffield you have both the River Don and the Sheffield and Tinsley Canal. The latter was crawling with roach, which were there for the taking with just a waggler rod and a few maggots, as well as some surprise sacks and bits of broken stereo. The trip was like this throughout in fact, with the sort of surprises that made you go "wow!" and others that you prayed would drop off your hook before you had to handle them. I can only scratch the surface in my scribblings here. There are enough clues, twists and turns to give Hercule Poirot a headache. Some big fish, some small fish, others in the "you bloody couldn't make it up!" category. All will be revealed in due course, but it's amazing what you find when you were looking for something else entirely. Such as a pub where you can still buy two pints of amazingly good bitter, a massive pie and a gut busting sandwich for little more than seven quid. Or a local character who still cycles to his favourite spot at eighty years young, having fished there as a boy during World War Two. The trouble is, I now have a notebook crammed with raw material to be hammered into a form less chaotic than the recesses of my brain. I have many anglers to thank for their kindness recently, with both planned and totally spontaneous encounters. Not least of all Neil Williams and the brilliant members of GUGGS (The Grand Union Gudgeon Society). Having received an entertaining email from them after my piece "Gudgeon at Ten Paces" in Improve Your Coarse Fishing, a meet up was essential. With the motto "Size Doesn't Matter" GUGGS (www.guggs.net) epitomise the fun-loving essence that is missing from so much in today's fishing scene. We had a lot of laughs tackling gudgeon with the lads, aiming for a specimen "Thirty" (yes, a thirty gram gudgeon). That's another story altogether, but having winkled out some beautiful whiskery blighters, both myself and Russ Hilton are now proud, card-carrying members. Converts even get their own GUGGS name (the first two letters of your surname, followed by first name, making the two of us "HiRu" and "GaDo"). Russell perhaps loses a few brownie points however, for switching his attention to what GUGGS refer to as "nuisance fish"- in this case bream. A fine catch to end a fun and fascinating week:

Surviving "Spring"

This week I want to avoid starting with the usual cliches about cold conditions, closed season, blah blah blah, and salute two absolute stalwarts of the fishing scene: the perch and your local tackle shop. Both are an essential part of the sport. They're always there for you, making that fishing trip possible whether the going is good or bloody awful.
In gloomy times it's refreshing to see a tackle shop getting a revamp. The big mail order companies are all well and good for a quick bargain, but where would fishing be without the local tackle dealer? Who knows the latest scoop on your neck of the woods? Who makes sure you have fresh bait? Who gets you the right ticket, puts you onto the fish with that personal touch? Someone on a mail order line 200 miles away? Didn't think so. Which is why it's great news that Cullompton Carp and Coarse has just moved to a new, bigger premesis just off the M5, junction 28. This is also the ideal location for the travelling angler, as it's en route for countless destinations. There are few anglers with a better knowledge of local waters and current form than manager Ian Nadin either, who has worked his wotsits off to transform a bare space into a cracking new shop. Well worth a visit- and for every tenner spent currently you'll also get a free prize draw ticket! More details at: http:www.cullomptoncarpandcoarse.com In fact, I hope for the sake of so many people connected with fishing that 2013 is a settled year. Something as simple as the weather has a huge impact on fishing. Sure, the addicts will always fish. But many, many more people fish only infrequently when the weather is poor. A bit of sunshine and suddenly everything looks more appetising. That bloke walking along the river sees a man fishing and thinks to himself "that looks really relaxing, I could try that." A mild month and suddenly new rods are desired, flies and baits are bought; magazines sell and visitors book local guides. Is that really so surprising? Even the die hards are craving some sunshine and milder climes at this point. But anyway, enough of my rambling and onto the fishing. Yes, it has been icy. Thank goodness therefore for the obliging species like perch and skimmers that play ball on any given day. Not that they get easier to catch- quite the reverse. Hoping to overcome the elements, I had a testing day's fishing on a remote little stillwater with Russ Hilton. Where exactly you set up is the first sticking point. Usually my first option after weeks of biting cold would be deep water- but on this occasion we avoided the deepest bank as it had been totally lashed by virtually two whole weeks of easterly winds. Two calmer spots offered more sheltered water, but would there be enough depth? On plumbing up, we were relieved to find four feet or so, even close to cover. It was to be a day to demonstrate the value of patient feeding and relatively fine presentation. I really mixed the baits up. I based my attack on three lines: a maggot spot, a chopped worm line and a pellet swim. I also mixed up a large bait tub of groundbait (50/50 mix of Bait Factory Bio Bloodworm/ VDE Supercup) which was carefully riddled to remove the lumps. The beauty of a varied menu is that you always have a plan B and C to fall back on. Careful feeding was the watchword. It's tempting to feed and then stop when things don't take off, but I intended to keep trickling bait on three lines. The maggot line worked straight away- but the pellet line to ok ages and my chopped worm swim seemed to be raided by tiny silvers rather than perch. Nevertheless, every 10-15 minutes in went another little ball of groundbait containing two chopped dendrobenas, using the pole cup for accuracy. A similar feed rate was employed for the pellet line, while I flicked 4-5 maggots into the near side every other minute. I was just starting to wonder if anything better would turn up, when a switch to a 6mm pellet produced the first bream of the day- a better skimmer and a proper pull in the elastic: If ever a day illustrated the value of persistent, light feeding, this was it. Russ started hitting into some better perch, including a 2.06 pounder, but neither of us was really flying. Finally however, well over four hours into our feeding regime, the fishery really woke up. I had a solid 3lb bream on the pellet before my next worm fish really took the pole for a dance- other than the fly rod, there really isn't a more exciting way to play tug of war with fish like this 2.03lb perch. Russ was also now storming away, landing a PB perch, but I don't want to steal his thunder (and his "Tales from the Towpath" blog is always worth a read). So, with literally hours of light, regular feeding the machine started paying out. It begs a question really: were these better fish always right there but not in the mood? Or did they begin to patrol once the water warmed up a little in the sun? To really emphasize the point, I then tried a worm on the inside line at last knockings. I had trickled maggots here for literally the whole damned day. Over six hours after that first helping, the float settled and just kept going. The fish plunged hard on a light hollow elastic, heading for some sunken branches initially, before steady pressure took the fight to more open water. I thought this was a good one, but once in the net it looked especially broad and thick. A very respectable 2.12lbs made this a great finish to the day, not to mention a reward for persistence.

Bread, flies & floods

Some things in fishing, you can legislate for. Others keep you guessing. The location of fish is just one area nobody can predict with unerring certainty. Such was the case on a pole fishing trip, where I fancied another crack on breadpunch with Russ Hilton. We picked the wrong pegs at first- there had been fish around Charlton before in this particular area, but we couldn't buy a bite for a whole hour- and punch seems to work quite soon or not at all. Undaunted, we upped sticks and took a walk before deciding on a new area. The banks were horrendous, but we could see lots of silvers and several pike nearby too. It was bite a chuck fishing from the off, but rather a struggle to get anything over about an ounce. The place was absolutely heaving with small silver bream, and in fact the only thing which prevented constant bites was the odd pike boiling in the swim and sending the little buggers scattering. In the end, we knocked the session on the head and grabbed pike tackle. Drifted deadbaits were accepted in no time at all, with several runs in the space of perhaps 90 minutes. The pike were on the small side, as is typical for the cut, but fun nevertheless. Otherwise, It has been a period of hectic sorting things out, including a trip to hospital rapidly followed by the final, concluding day for my Level 2 Angling Coaching badge. The paperwork has been a nightmare- but the course itself worthwhile and I've learned a lot. By the end of it I needed a relaxing day out somewhere, and fancied a bit of stillwater fly fishing. I also caught up with the two Adams, Aplin and Moxey, for whom the whole idea of "catch and take" trout fishing was totally new. A pretty scene at Blakewell it was to, and as well as trout we could spot perch in the margins. Sure these never used to be here- contrary to the wishes of the management to remove them, I like seeing perch in trout lakes. Adam managed to catch one on a damsel nymph, while things started slowly with the trout. The first hits came not on naturals, but by switching to a good old Woolly Bugger: Funny how fisheries can change. Once upon a time, it felt like the fishing was almost too easy at Blakewell. On this occasion things took a bit of sussing- and the fish seemed to want a lure presented nice and slow, rather than stripped aggressively. The real turning point was switching to that purist's nightmare, the blob. With less weight than the goldheads, this fly could be fished much slower without dropping into the weed and it led to a hectic final hour. It's always especially pleasing to introduce others to a new type of fishing too, and it was brilliant to watch Adam Aplin play a first ever rainbow trout that leapt clear three times before hitting the net. A third new species on the fly rod for Adam then- and one very happy camper! On a more sobering final note, the damage to the Grand Western Canal has been a horrible shock. Even to the most ardent fisherman, when folks have to be evacuated, it does put the welfare of fish into perspective. I gather there is now a floodwater lake formed near Greenways. For man and fish alike, let's just pray things settle down.

Red Letter Crucian Fishing

There's a lot to love about crucian carp. You've all heard the cliches- the naff "bars of gold" descriptions, which is why I wanted to start this blog with a simple picture of one of these unique fish. They're cheeky, dainty mouthed creatures- or at least the little Devon runts I'm used to are. At Marsh Farm however, they take on a different character altogether. On arrival, conditions looked more suited to rounding up animals and building a sodding ark than spring crucian fishing. After about an hour without a sniff I was already steeling myself for a long, damp wait when the tip flashed under. The fight was funny- a circling, almost fluttering feeling through the blank. After seeing a rounded, yellow-gold fish roll, I knew it was a crucian- a big one! Bloody hell, it looked big. Over three pounds? The scales settled on 3lbs 7oz exactly and I approached something approaching delirium. "It's like a crucian, only bigger!" were my exact words I think. With the pressure well and truly off, it was time to party. The weather was horrible, but by gently yet regularly feeding two lines, the bites slowly increased. Tench arrived too, like this thunderous Tinca just three ounces shy of six pounds. Now, any of you who know me well will also know I am to the world of specimen hunting what Emile Heskey is to quality finishing. I find multiple rod fishing using up excessive amounts of time and bait is not only boring, but quite soulless. I could get used to this "ultra light" specimen fishing however, with one rod, fine presentation and careful feeding. For perch, roach, rudd and crucians you can't beat a bit of classic, light float fishing with baits like worm, caster, hemp and pellet. I love a long rod for this, a 15ft Hardy Marksman to be precise, along with a centre pin and fine pole float set up. It takes me back to my match fishing days in fact, and I always learn from anglers like my pal Russ Hilton, whose pole fishing skills seemed tailor made for the fishery. Any fool can pile in bait and sit on three rods- it takes real skill to coax a peg to life and build a mixed net. I'm not sure I've ever witnessed one angler slay a swim for so many tench as Russ on wednesday afternoon. Even with the fishery insisting we emptied keep nets at four hourly intervals, there were some impressive bags. Russell also added his own specimen crucians, taking two over three pounds like this cracker: Some glowing crucian pics don't tell the whole story however. Like the 4am departure from Exeter, or sheltering for dear life under my father's green 1970's umbrella, a piece of kit older than I am. And then there are the fish. Crucians are wily things at the best of times- but old, cagey fish well accustomed to fishing pressure are even more so. A lot of them seemed to be "one hit wonders" -a quick dip or lift on the float, a missed strike and a long wait until the next knock. But I ramble; and I'm saving all the other twists and turns for an Angling Times special on this delightful species. One last twist in the tale could be yet to come however. When the rain finally abated, we noticed several good crucians roll on the surface- and one or two gulping. We also spotted dozens of hatching buzzers. Shucks like this littered the surface at one point. Could this be a rare recipe for crucians on emerged style buzzers or dry flies? My instincts tell me it's possible- although perhaps more tenable on a clearer fishery. Perhaps next time! I also wanted to thank all regular followers and friends for their recent support. I've been absolutely blown away by the response to "Flyfishing for Coarse Fish"- with orders coming in from as far afield as Finland and Canada. I'm already running out of first edition copies in fact, so if any of you had your heart set on a signed copy do give me a shout (or an email at info@dgfishing.co.uk).

Bonus Time

Fishing is always such a subjective pastime as far as results are concerned. Weights, for example, are such a relative and often poor measurement of enjoyment. Would you rather catch a stack of fish from a heavily stocked water, for example, or a hard earned net of more realistic specimens from somewhere fairly wild? Canals are a point in case- unpredictable, fascinating places where it still represents some kind of achievement to winkle out a nice bag of fish. Russ Hilton, another big fan of more traditional waters, would no doubt agree. I had intended to take him fly fishing, but we decided to drop onto the Grand Western Canal for the morning first. We tackled up with bonus fish in mind, with relatively cute tackle and baits like caster, worm and hemp on the menu. Russ decided to use the pole, I went for a light waggler outfit. Sport was hardly hectic, but by feeding regular little helpings of bait several nice bonuses came our way. I usually feed a maggot line to keep me out of mischief, while letting a "bonus" line settle further out with regular doses of caster and chop. After some fun with small rudd down the middle, I was instantly rewarded casting a worm over my far bank line: I'm wondering if we should have weighed this perch in fact- it hardly matters, but it was a cracking fish for a little canal. Surprisingly the bite was quite slow and shy. It seemed to be worm that the better fish wanted, although it was such a cold start the swim had to be coaxed to life carefully rather than bombarded with bait. Russ was next to strike with a tench, also to worm. I wouldn't call it a red letter morning of fishing, but it was great fun and a typical slice of canal sport. The odd local chatterbox, twitchy rudd bites and some bugger's dog jumping in to finish off a swim that was already waning by midday. Bringing up the keepnet, I perhaps had a few more fish than I thought, not masses of bites but what was there was good quality. After an all day breakfast and a strong coffee to wake us up again, the second half of the day was spent fly fishing on the Lowman. A good decision it seemed, because after a quick casting lesson for Russ, we spotted several wily little trout and even some hatching olives. It's always a great pleasure to introduce another angler to something you enjoy so much yourself, and in no time Russ was pitching a dry fly into little runs and pools. A Beacon Beige or Klinkhamer brought them up a treat for some lively takes on the top and a stack of lively little trout, along with missed bites and the odd bit of tree. It took me right back to last season in fact, and my trip with urban fishing fanatic Theo Pike. The same spots were just as alive with trout and, lo and behold, the shopping trolley that features on my cover shot for Theo's new book is still exactly where it was before! With several entries on Devon waters, "Trout in Dirty Places" comes highly recommended for any of you looking for low cost (or no cost!) fly fishing.