Footloose Fishing

Whilst the public cliche of angling is of a dull, static occupation, nothing could be further from the strereotype than lure fishing. Miles of bankside covered, albeit not a lot to show for it of late- or am I being miserly? Perch and jack pike are usually pretty obliging on canals (Grand Western and a return to the Kennet and Avon recently), and what beautiful settings these are in autumn. In truth I'm quite happy walking and casting whatever the outcome- at least this way there's no wrestling with yourself over whether you picked the right spot in several miles of water.

Otherwise, night fishing has been the main option- if only to fit around work. Angling experts always tell us about the best conditions but lets face it, for the vast majority our fishing is dictated by where and when we get the chance. Even if that means at night. In the middle of the city. With creeps. With teen boozers falling down a grass bank. With assorted crud floating past. With a pissed bloke in a gym slip asking "what are you doing here?"- a question he should probably be asking himself. No pike sadly. Just other wild animals, although Rob Darby and myself are convinced that somewhere in these concrete waters lies a big surprise.

Lured to Reading/Monster chub!

As a bit of a canal fishing addict, I always look forward to trying a new length of cut. A long walk with Seb Nowosiad was the plan, with the aim of fishing ultra light lures and searching as much water as humanly possible along the Kennet and Avon canal not far from Reading. Little did we know the surprise we were in for!

We set off early on Sunday. Very early, eschewing sleep in favour of an early hours drive to our destination. Weird places passed at strange hours in search of a coffee-I wonder if anyone else has noticed that the winding trails of the Newbury McDonalds car park resemble the inner circles of hell itself, complete with spaced out freaks walking about with no shoes on. Makes us look relatively normal.
Blackness covered the water for a while- torch light on the water revealed what allegeddly makes the chub and perch grow big here; crayfish! The canal was beautiful at first light though. Trout streams and estate lakes are always more celebrated, but is there anything more beautifully English than a canal? We cast amongst narrow boats and cover, keeping mobile but all we found early on was a small perch. The beauty of fishing small lures however is that you just never know what you might hook next. What Seb first thought was a reasonable pike suddenly emerged as an incredible, huge headed chub!


It was an ancient looking chub- more awesome than pretty, with one or two old scars. I knew it was big, but never expected an insane 6lb 15oz registering after we had carefully checked the reading! We were both absolutely gobsmacked- it was immensely long, its huge mouth having intercepted Seb's lure (a small Kopyto "Relax" shad) with an almighty bang. An incredible, special capture- lucky perhaps, but there is nothing lucky about the way Seb astutely works a small jig. Man alive what a chub! Perhaps it isn't such a miracle however- the water here is thick with bleak in places.
Bizarrely it was otherwise a tricky days fishing and we couldn't believe the lack of action given just how fishy the water looked. A very cold night and bright, sunny conditions didn't help and it was getting dark by the time I finally managed to connect with a couple of pike:

A Night on the Town

Traffic hissing, dead leaves drifting. Boozed up yobs braying and the river licking past like black diesel: such are the strange sensations of friday night on the Exe slap bang in the city centre. There's probably a reason few people tend to fish here-and I was glad to be in the company of Rob Darby for a few hours piking.
If nothing else, the town sections are well lit; just as well as we left it late, rushing to the bank as the day gave out. With my last deadbaiting session way back in March, it had been a case of scrambling through various gear to tackle up for the evening. Quickly grabbed were some mackerel, wire traces and a tin of bitter for good measure.
For perhaps two and a half hours nothing happened, save odd twitches which were probably small eels. We avoided eye contact with one or two groups of young boozers and some truly idiotic comments from local neanderthals- but such is fishing in the city centre. Hence the obvious need to keep a low profile. Finally though, my pike float wavered amongst the dead leaves before sneaking under and away. The fish did little until it neared the bank- then suddenly taking offence and making the reel groan. A lovely pike to kick off the season, long and looking well fed:

Safety issues aside, a two man operation also made for much easier handling and a swift release after one or two snaps. A fine result after all those obligatory "you won't catch nuffink there" comments earlier on. The only other encounter of the evening was with a retired gent who told us about his salmon fishing and shooting exploits whilst using more foul language than the townies themselves in the process!
Urban, it might be then, but the Exe proved more productive than my other trip for the week, to Creedy in search of carp. Clear conditions didn't help- but I really did fancy some kind of action by fishing maggots and bread in subtle fashion. I like to go lighter here- the carp are so accustomed to boilies and bolt rigs and yet I always seem to catch more on bread and scaled down tackle.

Paul Hamilton also drew a blank for the carp, unusual for him here, as did the whole lake aside from one very small common. An hour of trying into darkness only yielded an eel to Paul's lobworm. Frustrating stuff- although a good deal safer than tackling the town.

Strange Quarries

Two unlikely recent leads of late. Both a bit of a longshot, if I'm honest. But I do love following up accidental clues- whether it's old cuttings, local rumours or simply that little water you drive past by chance. The first trial has been, quite literally, the pursuit of a strange quarry. A flooded quarry, to be exact, along the backroads of mid Devon. What might you find here? I had only the vaguest idea. With quite imposing depths even close in, I was glad to have brought a 6m float rod- a really useful tool for awkward waters. Typically, with the trout season just over, the first fish to take a maggot hookbait was a brown trout. All head and no finesse this one:

The shady banks looked tempting all around- but the next surprise was the less welcome sight of around two dozen canoeists. Oh Jackson Pollocks! I had to wrestle with myself to keep well mannered as my swim was churned up by flailing paddles and splashing kids. Non anglers just don't get how easily fish are spooked- as I'm sure most of you already know! When things had settled down however, a few more bites arrived and a pair of supremely dozy bream capped off a more peaceful end to the day:

Tenuous lead number two has been the pursuit of barbel in the tributaries of the River Exe. Whilst he adult fish are small in number according to local sources, small barbel are becoming a more frequent capture throughout the system. Russell Hilton joined me on a very muddy River Culm to take up the challenge as we tried meat, worms and other baits in the coloured water. Encouragingly, Russ took two little 6-8oz "barbelettes" not far from here this summer. Are these invaders breeding?

We moved onto the Creedy with a similar lack of any action- not even a dace come to think of it. So where are these Devon barbel? The trail quickly gets as murky as the rain swollen river itself. When the rain stopped however, I was surprised by just how mild the day was and just how many mini beasts were on the banks. An hour or so with a macro lens proved a good deal more entertaining than the fishing in the end. Sort of in my blood this kind of thing- my grandfather ran a microscope company in Manchester many years back and I spent a lot of my childhood looking at bugs and all manner of oddities from blood cells to bee stings at extreme close range. Here's a rather handsome grasshopper from the river bank. What a poser! He was even well behaved enough to let me set up a tripod and get right up to him:

Surprises on a fly rod

The end of the trout season is very much looming, but there are plenty of other reasons I just can't put down the fly rod currently. Indeed, I'm beginning to think that the fly is a lot more versatile than many would believe. An ultra light session on the Bridgewater to Taunton canal proved a real safari with Seb and two local bailiffs. The lads chose lures, and the initial aim was pike- but with so many other species showing I soon got "distracted". First up were some lovely rudd.

My tackle was rather heavy for these, so after spooking a few I tried a much longer leader with better success. I only had a few small flies, but emergers seem to work very well- if the fish take off the top, fantastic, but if not then it's just a little tweak and you have a sinking fly. And it was this tactic which also snared a real bonus in the form of a tench!

This fish had been spotted cruising around the near side. I still had the emerger on, but again cast well ahead of the fish and gave this a healthy pull to sink it. A little twitch as the fish approached and the tench homed in, before to my surprise he hovered right over the fly and gobbled it up without a second thought. A quick strike and it was on- rather hairy on rudd tackle and just as well it was a small one. A crazy catch then- and I also added roach and a jack pike, and hooked and lost another nice rudd on a small streamer! The lure anglers had no pike, but completed a real A-Z of canal fish with some flawless perch- just look at those autumn colours:

What a crazy day- definitely in the "you couldn't make it up" category! The fish were great, but I think we may have been over optimistic judging by the landing net size- although the head bailiff's daughter made a very cute ghillie:

The trout season also ended on a high at Roadford with a short, breezy session after browns. The margins were a little wind- churned, but just beyond the colour line were plenty of trout, all more than willing to snatch a small dark fly. A zulu or cruncher seemed to work best, whilst some little perch also showed up to small lures.


After all the fun and games however, a day on Chew proved less successful. After several hours with no sign of pike, we switched to trout. It was one of those sessions however- lots of buzzers coming off the water but surprisingly fussy trout. Dries earned a few takes in the end but it was a tale of hooked two lost two. With such a dry summer you can also see just how low our lakes are, and perhaps some decent rain wouldn't hurt (be careful what you wish for Dominic!):

Time Flies

If I had to choose just one species of fish on one method... I couldn't do it and would probably just go mad. It's impossible. There simply isn't the time for even half the fishing I would love to try. Given a choice however, I'd say that a fly rod is about as much fun as it gets.

No military preparation or ton of tackle required- just simple kit and a bit of thought. With just a little scrap of summer left I've been back on the coarse species- first of all carp. Yes, they take dog biscuit type flies. But I'm more intrigued by using snails and other natural patterns:

Are they as efficient? Probably not. But the process is somehow more rewarding. Both Millhayes and Padbrook Park have proved good fun in the last few weeks.


Better value still is the canal, where roach and rudd continue to provide great sport on dry flies. Some days the wets work better- but lately little parachute style emergers are even more effective. A light tippet is a must though(2lb or so), for this approach which is surprisingly selective. A small fly landed gently, just in front of but not too close to a moving fish, is often taken without hesitation. The art is in making it look like something edible has just dropped in the drink. Again, it's not brutally efficient but a lovely way to pick off some nice fish:

These leisurely little sessions are great, but bigger excursions have also been calling in the desperate push to get features covered. A bit of a discovery this week too- you would be hard pressed to find a more beautiful small stillwater than Tinhay Lake (below), near the famous Arundell Arms hotel.

The grown on rainbows at this flooded quarry are fantastic fish- stupendously fit and fresh looking. Even better, the way to get them is often with emerger buzzers and dries. Local guide and former angling Editor Tim Smith was a great help in taking some shots and also passing on his intimate knowledge of this cracking water. Long, degreased leaders were a must on a calm day after fussy fish. We managed some smaller but nonetheless stunning rainbows, but my most vivid memory of the day remains a lost fish that sprinted an outrageous thirty yards across the lake, taking me into the backing in jaw dropping style before coming adrift. So much for the cliches of trout fishing as a sedate pastime! The Arundell Arms is well worth a call- the lake is booking only, but well worth a visit (www.arundellarms.com). Look out for the feature this autumn in Total Flyfisher. A big thanks to Tim for taking some pictures and being so helpful- as you can see below, you won't find finer looking rainbows anywhere in the Westcountry:

Less sedate is perhaps my most unlikely recent haunt, the urban River Exe, the subject of my Angling Times story this week. Empty tinnies and concrete... but also leaping salmon and some surprisingly rewarding fishing for a whole range of species. Exeter based reprobates will recognise the spot instantly (and probably steer well clear!):

A Day on the Dart

Besides its meandering tourists and centuries of strange history, Dartmoor is also home to some of the most perfect little streams on the planet. I simply love it here- its beauty isn't the twee, picture book type but a wholly more stark, rough cut variety. Cold, twisting rivers fringed by boulders, bogs and barbed wire. Real country.
Andrew Pym joined me today to capture the mood- although starting out in the fog at Two Bridges, you could scarcely make out the other side of the river let alone any rising fish. Prospecting with a small hares ear or spider was the way forward, several cracking little brownies striking at a wet fly.

Slowly but surely, the mist cleared and we moved on to an even smaller stream, Cherry Brook, also now on the Westcountry Angling Passport scheme:

This is extreme close quarters fishing on a waterway often no wider than a fly rod, a case of creeping as close as you dare and dropping a dry fly into the brook to resemble an insect that just tumbled off the heath. Dynamite! Many splashy takes were hit and missed in what proved to be a fun challenge with these vividly coloured, wilder than wild trout, some very diddy but all stunningly marked.

One more stop was in order before calling time, this time on the East Dart at Post Bridge, where you can pick up a fishing ticket at the post office and get straight into the river. No need for wet flies or fancy tactics here- just more wild browns than you can shake a stick (or fly rod) at. They kick, they jump- they slash at anything small and dark. Indeed, when fishing is this much fun size really isn't everything. Credit also due to Andrew for wading through the boulders with an expensive camera- brave man!