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).

Cheap Seats vs Exclusive Beats

I've never been one for forking out mega bucks for my fishing. It's not any lack of love for stunning private waters, but more lack of funds. You do get the odd perk out of writing about places, but the phrase "there's no such thing as a free lunch" also applies. Just like I'd never want my output to read like a sales pitch for a sponsor, nor should it read like a fishery brochure. And besides, I quite like it when my viewpoint comes from the cheap seats. Where there's muck there's interest. Where there is dirt there is truth. This is why Rimbaud and Baudelaire frequented gutter bars and cemeteries rather than five star restaurants. That, and the fact that they were perpetually wrecked on absinthe. This week has been a tale of two very different river settings. Firstly, you have the free stretch of the Culm. I've never investigated this place properly before, hence it was a bit of an awakening. Sadly as well as butterflies, birds, chub, dace and trout it also has litter and dodgy types; cows and dogs disturbing the water in at regular intervals. Not surprisingly the best fishing came from taking a walk (or should I say a wade) away from the better trodden areas. Like that craggy bit by the M5. You know the one, the place you must have scanned 1000 times from your car and thought "I wonder what's down there?" Well, I gave it a crack: Was the fishing electric? In a word, no. But varied and challenging, yes. I fished a Klinkhamer and hares ear combo to find dace and a couple of sporty trout, as well as losing what I suspect was a half decent chub. The dingy bits were so overgrown I stuggled, but on some of the shallow, sunny runs I got some lovely rises to the dry fly. Beautiful too, are these Culm trout. Sunny gold and vivid. This bit of the Culm might not be Premier League fly fishing then, but hey- it's free. My next outing couldn't have been more different. An invite to spend the day on a quiet -and usually very private- stretch of the Exe through the kindness of a family friend wasn't to be sniffed at. It was a place so beautiful you had to keep reminding yourself that you weren't trespassing. My brother was already frothing at the mouth with the prospect of salmon, but I wanted to make sure I put something in the net first before giving them a cast. Grayling are a particular favourite. They definitely thrive on neglect- and of all the fish I believe they are the most fragile and easily killed by careless anglers. The nice thing about grayling on salmon waters is that you know virtually nobody is fishing for them. I found plenty of lovely, steady paced runs with 2-3 feet of water and rising fish. Most wanted the dry fly: It soon went from good to outstanding, as the rises increased and Ben hooked a salmon further up. The next grayling I hooked was in a different class to the rest, vast in length by comparison. They are one of those fish that really tantalise as they come towards you; I love that moment the dorsal fin is hoisted and for a brief moment the fish is perfectly frozen before you. My brother had the only scales sadly, but it was 17", quite possibly a two pounder. Who cares, figures are for maths teachers and it was exquisite: I've written before about the huge influence confidence, or a lack of it, can have on fishing success- and on this occasion you felt anything was possible. Ben had already caught a salmon too, so there was only one way to try and finish the day. I aimed an orange Pot-Bellied Pig into various tempting, boiling spots along a far bank channel. After about cast fifty, I was still hoping and almost tempting fate asked Ben "so do I strike when I feel something?" The answer to that is generally "NO!" -a better answer would be to grit your teeth, give line and try not to die of shock. The thing I was attached to flew downstream at a scary pace before throwing itself into the air. Pure adrenaline. In fact, the next time someone even suggests fishing is boring I'm going to slap them. "It's going to be a decent one," and "it's well hooked I reckon," were comments that only added to the tension. The fight was manic, but under my brother's expert guiding hand I eventually managed to bring it to the net. A first ever salmon for me, on the fly and one of the most nerve shattering battles I've ever had on a fishing rod I'd say. The fish, a male, made a steady recovery before making his way homewards. As for me, I've only just stopped quaking.

It's a Stick Up

The words "free fishing" are enough to make any angler's eyes light up. They're not always accompanied by the words "surprisingly bloody good fishing" - but in the case of the urban River Tone that's certainly the case. Busy yes, but there are plenty of swims to choose from, and when you find a bite every other cast on a chilly, blustery day you know you're onto a good thing. A very good thing- in fact when I reflect on it, there are few more enjoyable ways to spend a day then trotting a stick float. The dip of an orange float tip quickly dispels any cold and I love the variety of a nice mixed river. My first five fish today were five different species- a pretty grayling joining a chub, dace, roach and trout. It's on a chilly, windy session you really appreciate the need to fine down and feed carefully. I took a while to find my rhythm and get the presentation just right, as it needed to be at times, with 2lb hook lengths and small, fine wire hooks the order of the day. Quicker off the mark was Russ Hilton- who had his stick float set up spot on for a steady stream of fish. There were some lovely trout in amongst the silver fish too, including this little beauty, a really mad mosaic of fine spots: I'm already thinking I must return here in the warmer months with a fly rod for trout and chub. On what Russ considered a pretty "mediocre" day, we each had no shortage of interest. Not just from fish either, but the odd curious and accidental visitor. And that's urban fishing- for every loveable eccentric there is that shifty bugger covering the banks- or the one who spills out their life story to anyone who'll listen (regardless of whether or not you give a toss). Nevertheless, we had a blast- and if this is the kind of net possible on a "slow" day I'd love to see what the red letter version looks like!: That little lot came readily enough before we hit one of the weirs for a change of scenery before sunset. A good move not only to capture some shots of the golden last light, but more dace and grayling in the faster water. I thought winter fishing was meant to be bleak? You can also find Russell's new blog on the "blogs I'm following" link- if like me you love old school canal and river fishing you'll enjoy this one. In fact, it's turning into a blog frenzy at the moment- Chris Lambert's "Fish Tales" blog is another one to watch for anyone who casts a line in the Westcountry.