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.

Jack-a-nory

After a fairly lengthy bit of toil, I can finally breathe out again and give news that my next book project is imminent. A collection of past favourites and current work, “Tangles with Pike” represents a decade of writing. Well, strictly speaking that would be more like every year since the age of about thirteen being hypnotised, thrilled, baffled and sometimes just a little obsessed by Pike. We're aiming for a late November release, with both a full colour hardback and a special e-book. And while you wouldn't always judge a book by the cover, I'm thrilled to have a David Miller special gracing the front.

Pike are still my favourite fish on the planet. I think this is for several reasons. One is the fact that even twenty-two years since my first, they still have that ability to jam my heart into my mouth and feed me that irresistible cocktail of excitement and adrenaline.

Nowadays, I tend to think pike are one of the easier species to catch. At least, if they're hungry they will tolerate line you'd never dream of using for say tench or perch fishing. But I didn't always think like this. In the very beginning, my dad would occasionally bring a bung float and sprats to the bank and I can remember thinking "this is never going to work!" Compared to my roach pole, it looked like shark tackle.

My first success was lure fishing in fact. Which is spooky, because an exact replica of the first pike plug I ever cast (below) was recently given to me by Garrett Fallon (the book designer and editor of Fallon's Angler). It was fairly shocking, to be frank. Yes, it wiggled frantically enough to be grabbed by my first ever pike, but then in mid battle it came apart in the middle. And disaster was only averted when… (I'm going to be a sod here and just say look out for the book!).

Actually, this makes me think just how much better tackle is today. Those things I regarded as the height of sophistication in about 1990 (springy line, hooks with huge barbs, crappy fibreglass rods) were actually pretty dodgy.


Anyhow, the tackle might have got way better, but I'm still after pike with varying degrees of success so many years later. Having dreamt of opening the 2014 pike season for a while but tied up with the book, it felt like a full circle effect to take my dad (above), the very person who first started me pike fishing. These days neither of us is that partial to a bung float and a bag of sprats. We catch way more these days with a fly rod in fact than we ever did in those early days.


The Grand Western Canal looked beautiful, if a bit weedy still. Nor were the pike massively hungry as we walked for perhaps two or three miles, watching and searching. I'm pleased to report that even on a Sunday, we also didn't spot any of our illegitimate friends with plastic bags in place of landing nets. Funny, but in the midst of all the current paranoia around poaching and the business of "naming waters" it seems to me that the sport could actually do with more not fewer legitimate pike anglers on the bank. That, and having people willing to talk to those in the wrong and report things rather than just whinge.
It's very easy when you're having a slow day to make excuses on the level of "this place has been poached!". But the answer usually lies with the angler or the conditions. On this occasion, it was just way too bright for the first two hours. We barely even saw a pike, other than a tiny thing that launched itself at my fly- and missed.
Pike fishing is so often a case of either drama or disappointment, with not much in the middle. And so it was on this occasion; just as evening arrived, all the fish appeared, as if some conjurer had magically restored life to a dead canal. I caught two little pound-or-so devils on my eight weight, before a well-aimed shot under a bush let to a slightly better class of carnage with a lively fish of about four pounds which I watched trailing the fly before rushing in for the kill:

All good fun, even with modest sized fish and after so many years of piking. In fact the one thing I perhaps feel less need to do these days is to slog for hundreds of miles in the hope of something huge. I will definitely be dreaming of a monster from one of the larger lakes or rivers this winter, but actually just being there is often enough. Best of all, I just love the game of hide-and-seek that the small, clear waters can offer. These have fuelled my writing as much as the more famous places and big pike I was lucky enough to catch. But I hope that as well as a few monsters, "Tangles with Pike" will do justice to an extremely varied catch of absorbing and entertaining stories, rather than the standard "here are a load of big pike and here's how I caught them" affair. The aim is definitely to capture the atmosphere, besides the figures. And I want to entertain people, not just make them think "you lucky XXXXXXX".

Autumn Gifts

Sometimes in fishing it pays to... well, not pay anything. If I can make it, find it or tie it myself I generally do. This not only saves you a few quid but adds a certain satisfaction to the sport. I love catching on my own, home-rolled flies, for example. I also like swapping and receiving freebies from fellow anglers. As a fishing writer you have to make the most of these perks because, aside from the big stuff like books, much of the time you get the feeling third world child labourers are paid better.

This lovely perch was one of several taken on some cracking "Martin's Minnow" flies sent to me by Martin Smith (keep an eye on www.flyforcoarse.com for a step by step in the next few weeks- plus a link to order from him). I'd vowed to give them a swim ages ago but got snowed under with work. At long last though, I managed to take an evening stroll on the Grand Western Canal near Tiverton. Having located a shoal of fish under a bridge, I was happily wrestling one after another in on the flies- each as greedy, and small, as the last. I fancied a bigger one but thought nothing of it as I wandered onwards. However, on the way back to the car at the end the light was going and I had that gut instinct that makes many an angler late for dinner which says "I think I'll have just one more crack". I hooked the fish virtually on the bottom and it gave a nice deep, lolloping if unspectacular fight. With bits of dorsal fin missing and worn scales it had that retired, punched too many times boxer look. I love perch though- and at 1lb 13oz this was a good one for such a small canal.

Equally appealing to my cheapskate side was a trip to Creedy Lakes today using bait that cost only some work with a garden fork in the compost heap. Call me tight, but finances are only one reason for this decision. Boilies are not only expensive but overrated on busy fisheries, in my humble opinion. 95% of visitors must use them- and as often as not blank on them. Why such a stranglehold? Simple- the whole carp fishing world is full of anglers who get free bait in exchange for saying "you must use this to catch." It is of course utter horse manure, designed to separate pound coins from pockets. Yes, boilies have their uses and I have also been a bait field tester in the past- but I detest dishonesty. As I've explained before, I'll often use boilies for less pressured waters- but if everyone is using them, carp will become extremely suspicious and there are much more effective baits. Worms are one of them.
Anyway, I digress but the main lake at Creedy proved tough. Strange because I really fancied the end where a mild wind had been pushing in all week from the same direction. Nobody on the lake was catching anything. I had a couple of small "pasties" on the worm but just couldn't hook anything bigger, so I tried baiting with some chopped worm right in one of the craggy corners, where the bivvies steer clear. I didn't fish it immediately, but kept returning for a look. A swirling tail pattern told me all I needed to know a little later. Within five minutes of lowering in a double red worm bait, direct to a size 10 hook and 10lb line, I was in:

The fish ran like stink in the confines of a very tight swim. It was absolutely beautiful too, really long and strong for its' weight of fifteen and half pounds. When I think of how much tackle I had brought with me, it seems crazy that the only things actually involved in the capture were one rod and reel, a net, the most basic of float rigs and a handful of bait that cost absolutely nothing. Always a sweet, slightly guilty pleasure at a fishery where anyone not using three identical rods hurled across the lake is led to feel like they are some kind of lunatic.

Science vs Fiction

I always enjoy experimenting when I'm fishing. Without wanting to get pedantic, or overly scientific about it, I just find it interesting to make a few notes and try some fresh ideas. I blame my family partly, and their fixation with natural sciences. The sort of people who ruin a perfectly good science fiction movie with comments like "that's not actually possible".
On the subject of science, I've been having some interesting chats with my brother about global warming, along objective lines of inquiry like "what the bloody hell is going on with the weather this winter?" Totally unpredictable, fluctuating temperatures and water levels do little to reassure even confirmed Daily Mail readers that our climate hasn't become skewed. It says it all that many of the "Global Warming is a Myth" type studies have been run along similar lines to Manchester City- i.e. with oil company funding.



But I digress. Back to pike fishing and I've been thinking about what the numbers mean. It's a little geeky, but comparing trends on different waters can be revealing. To take a classic question: how long should I leave my bait in the water before moving on? If you look at the average time it takes to get a run, the results vary massively between waters. The optimum on small canals and drains, for example, is often around the 15-30 minute mark. On waters that are bigger, deeper or heavily coloured though (e.g. reservoirs, ship canals) looking at previous diaries it's surprising just how many runs occur well after the hour mark- or even the 2-3 hour mark. Makes you wonder- and whereas I once used to jump spots at least every hour, I'm growing more inclined to sit it out for longer these days.


Another notable recent trend has been the sheer number of runs occurring just before or just after dark lately. Is this the result of fishing pressure, natural feeding spells- or a bit of both? Geek theories aside, I just love that eerie feeling of a decent fish thumping away in the blackness! This nice net-filler came half an hour into darkness:


I've also been reaping the benefit of some local knowledge from fellow pike fishing reprobate Ian Nadin. He's had a cracking season so far, due largely to his intimate knowledge of the GW Canal. I thought we'd picked a duff evening for a fish yesterday. The water resembled chocolate, to the extent I thought we had more chance of snaring an Umpa Lumpa than a pike. Unless I'm on a nice river slack, coloured water often batters my confidence. Nevertheless, the power of large sea baits with a proper hum to them accounted for a couple of pike:


The really notable feature of the catch was that all the runs came on one rod, out of four shared between us. The difference? That one was the only set up using a swim feeder packed with bloody, fishmeal based ground bait. Definitely the way to go when visibility is poor- and it seems that feeder rigs are rapidly becoming the norm now in predator fishing.


One final reminder for all Westcountry anglers is to put a couple of dates in the diary for Jan/Feb. The Pike Anglers' Club is delighted to announce a joint talk on Tues 24th January, downstairs at The Mill on Exe, 7pm start. We have a cracking double bill of Worcester predator specialist Dilip Sarkar, along with brilliant piscatorial artist Karen Sarkar, who will bring a selection of her best loved works. See my links section at www.dgfishing.co.uk for further details on the Devon PAC Blog and Karen's site. We are also excited to be lining up the Devon Baits Pike Match in February- with free bait for every competitor! Watch this space for more info...

The Lure of the Little

The strange midway point between end of the coarse season and the slow waking up on trout streams is definitely a time to take stock and kill off a few of those jobs you should have done ages ago, from tying flies to fending off paperwork. After a fair old slog in the winter however, I can't wait to do some more light hearted fishing and get lost on a sunny little stream somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
And with cute, small waters in mind I've very much been enjoying American author Ron Swegman's terrific book "Small Fry: The Lure of the Little".
Some opening words sum up his position- "Catch BIGGER fish!... I have lost count of the number of times I have read this alluring phrase in fishing magazines. But what I am willing and ready to debate is the sport's obsession with sheer, or may I submit mere, size.... The highlights of my own fishing life have always involved a little more finesse and occured almost exclusively along small streams, glacial lakes or farm ponds." The book cuts an intriguing dash through hidden, intimate waters and a range of smaller but no less fascinating species from bass and bluegills on the fly to fishes more familiar to Brits such as perch and chub.


Truly a writer after my own heart, the book is great fun and in a way I wish we had more reference points such as this in UK writing. The yanks are miles ahead on this score with a real passion for fishing material that stands up as literature. Take a look at Ron's site for some great samples of his work and more info: www.ronpswegman.com
Strangely enough though, I got in touch with Ron initially on the subject of fishing in Central Park, New York- a subject to be featured in next month's "Fish & Tips", which behind the lads mag format boasts some refreshingly different and original content.
Back on small waters, I keep returning to the Tiverton Canal, for little reason other than the fact it is a perfect place to waste a sunny afternoon. It's cracking on a fly rod for silver fish too- although I'm still trying in vain for a tench here. At the risk of becoming an anorak, I'm quite fascinated by canals and my other current reading material is a history of the GW Canal, for the massive charity shop sum of 20p, some way short of the £220 000 cost of the canal- and that was some 200 years ago!

I should also add that the PAC has a friendly lure fishing meet up, 7 30am in Sampford Peverell (car park just after Spars on the right). This should be a lot of fun- non members are also welcome and there is a pub grub buffet. More on this at: http://devonpac.blogspot.com/
In the meantime however, I may sneak back out and see if I can tempt one of those tench. They don't seem to spook easily, but I'm sure their poor eyesight doesn't help them find a fly. It's a big challenge, but I've caught the species before on game tackle and some suitably big and unmissable treats are currently being cooked up at the vise:

Shivering near Tiverton

Somewhere between biblical style flooding and hell freezing over, the hunt for further pike continues this odd winter. After a muddy blank on Exeter Canal, it was time to return to Tiverton Canal if only because I am an impatient so and so and this little water is more pikey than Bridgwater Services. I had hoped to grab a photographer too- but with a no show it was the plan B of self takes. Even so, with a brilliantly frosty, blue and hazy pink winter sky reflected on the water it was difficult not to make the place look appetising.

Sadly the pike didn't fancy the combination of murky water and freezing temperatures. Whilst there's no shame in struggling then, I do start to get fidgety and swear by a few tricks. The most obvious is to keep moving; when the pike aren't patrolling or active, new swims and frequent recasts definitely help. I also like to keep fresh baits however and chopping used offerings into a bloody mash helps to put down some scent and stave off despair and pnuemonia.

It's also well worth presenting baits differently here: even after a bitter winter, the place is still weed choked and I like to pop up a deadbait on one rod, whilst setting another bait shallow on a second outfit to gently drift (hopefully) into view of a pike or two. This way I can also watch one set up, whilst the neccessary evil of an alarm will warn me about any interest on the other rod.

Ian Nadin joined me later in the morning- and persuaded me to take a decent walk to another area after three biteless hours. A bloody good idea. In a lovely reeded length the indicator finally dropped and the line crept away. A welcome pike of around eight pounds was the culprit- and to prove our hunch that the fish were dormant the beast was festooned with leeches! Five minutes later, a pike that was almost identical save a little less fat also followed from the exact same area. Thank you pike!