A specialist anglers year, part one

Despite my best intentions to try and resurrect my writing at the start of last year it all went to pot I'm afraid. After taking over the new business we really needed a buffer period to settle in but the customers thought otherwise and along with trying to aclimitise to our new venture we experienced a surge in sales. Of course in theory that's good news but it also resulted in a large dose of stress and a great reduction in free time. Blog writing? No chance! As with many things in life once you've fallen out of a routine it is hard to get back into it again and so it has taken until now to try and kick start things. I have to say a thank you to a few people that I've met recently who said that they used to enjoy my ramblings, you gave me that little shove that I needed to get on with it.

I'm going to have to start with a recap of the last years angling just to fill in the gaps. Apologies to those who have seen all of this before on Facebook, I'll try and keep it fairly concise.

2015 started on the rivers perch hunting and it was hard going, despite a fair few sessions I only managed one mid three pounder which brought my winters total to three perch.

Equal best of the winter

A good old lump for the river but not a perch!

Between perch trips I had a couple of visits to the Dove in search of grayling and as usual enjoyed it greatly. The first trip was quite productive with a good few pound plus fish and a beautiful bonus brown trout. The second trip was much harder fishing wise but was memorable for the sight of a number of hares boxing in the adjacent fields, something I'd only ever seen on the TV.

It almost stayed still, almost...

Spotty invader

February saw me bobbing up and down on Chew valley reservoir in the company of my mate Greengrass for a couple of days. I did actually manage to land my first Chew pike from a boat though it was about 10lbs wet, still more than enough to get the heart going when it pulled the float under I can assure you.

Chew teaser

Desperation time

I finished the river season off with one last go for that monster perch and to be honest conditions looked as good as they had for months. When the tip juddered round and I struck into a weighty fish I really thought I'd cracked it, until a 5lb tench popped up!

With the weather warming up I took my dad for a session on a local commercial, I say warming up in the loosest sense as once on the bank the wind was bloody evil. The place is solid with fish so you would have to try very hard to blank no matter how cold so we had a bit of sport. I even got my dad fishing the method feeder for the first time though he did manage to cast it out complete with mould attached on one occasion!

I spent a few over night sessions after slightly larger carp, midweek making the lake a much more appealing prospect, weekend lakes rammed full of carpers are something I just can't cope with nowadays.

Best one from a brief local campaign

I decided that this was to be the year that I had a proper go for a double figure tench and after a bit of deliberation came to the conclusion that the venue was going to be Larkfield, in Kent, a mere 155 miles from home and on the wrong side of the dreaded M25. In hindsight that was a bit of a brave move particularly as for years I've been telling her indoors that Kent is too far for a weekend a away, oops, a bit of back peddling was required at that point.

My first trip was during the third week in April and I found the journey much less of a chore than I expected, granted I left home in the early hours to arrive lakeside by 7.30am but it really was a doddle. That was a good thing as I then proceeded to blank for three days. Fortunately as the weather warmed up so did the fishing. In fact to describe my next trip as hot would be something of an understatement.

My starting point though I went on to catch well on 6mm boilie too

The action started with a rude awakening just as dawn broke. The fight was not particularly spectacular and the only real drama was when the tench, for that's what I still assumed it to be, kited to my right through a semi submerged tree. As you do in such circumstances I sunk the rod tip and gave it the butt, feeling various bits of woodwork ping off the line as I drew it back towards me. It was only after the fish swirled near the net that I realised that 24 inches of pan net probably wasn't going to do the job. Luckily I had decided before starting on the water that I would carry a carp net just in case this "problem" should arise, unfortunately said net was now ten yards away on the other side of my rods and up a rather slippery section of steep bank but after a bit of frantic scrambling I manage to grab hold of it. I still didn't grasp just how big this fish was even after I had scooped it into the net, I certainly knew it was bloody heavy when I attempted to lift it up that ledge onto the bank. It was soon quite obvious that my 40lb Avon's weren't going to do the job and I had the embarrassing job of waking up a carp angler on the adjacent lake to borrow his scales. He recognised the fish straight away as the biggest in the lake and when the scales span around to 47lb also declared it a new lake record, oops!

No. definitely not a tench

The action didn't stop there and over the next two days I went on to land a new pb tench at 9lb 11oz plus a great big male of 9lb 1oz and two more carp at 25lb and 27lb.

9lb 11oz

9lb 1oz male

25lb 8

27lb 11

Talking to some of the carpers on the lake the general consensus was that it was hard fishing, one bloke had gone two years without a bite, yet the tench anglers caught a fair few while I was there including a 36lb common within 24 hours of my big one. The story on other waters was the same, carp that have seen more 16mm balls than a little are much less cautious when they come across a bed of mixed particle and groundbait, maybe maggot and caster, and in my case a tiny little 6mm boilie topping off the meal.

The fishing on my next visit was much slower. The Tenchfishers had booked the lake for a weekend social and a few fish had been out all over the lake but nowhere in particular seemed to be producing any great number of bites. One swim had been closed for a few days as the carp had been spawning in there but with a change in the weather they had vacated and it seemed a pretty good option to me so that's where I plumped for. The first day passed without a hint of anything being present within a mile of me, not a sign of a fish, however true to form at the crack of dawn the next morning I found myself playing a fish, the fourth time that this small window had produced a bite in five nights fishing. I certainly can't claim that the fight was spectacular, more of a waddle into the net job to be honest, but I'll happily let the little uns fight and the monsters surrender, this was a monster alright. I had come to catch a double and I had surpassed any hopes that I had by a long way, as I write this nearly a year later I'm still not sure that it has really sunk in.

Bugger me that still looks huge! 11lb 9oz of huge!

 After that bombshell I had only a couple of weeks before the rivers opened and with a weeks holiday mixed in the month soon slipped by without much to show on the fish front. In fact July wasn't exactly spectacular either, very low water levels weren't helping at all and in all honesty I wasn't too bothered. A spectacular visit to the Royal Air Tatoo to see the Vulcan bomber in its last year and a bit of tootling around on the river in the dinghy kept me entertained. I rounded off the month with a Trent barbel trip which produced some action, a cracking days roaching on my local reservoir, and another commercial trip with my dad. I was hoping that the weather would break and give the rivers a much needed flush through but only time would tell.

Beetroot head

Underwater barbel and the realities of big bream fishing

X marks the spot

Back in the autumn of 2013 I received an email from a lad called Jack Perks (check out Jacks website here - click me) who wanted to know if it would be possible to use our club water on the River Soar to film zander underwater. My response was that he could try but I didn't fancy his chances one bit. The species are far from thick on the ground in our area and add the generally low visibility and you have a needle in a haystack scenario. Ok, next question, did I know anywhere suitable for filming barbel? Now we were getting somewhere. One swim on the Derwent in particular came to mind immediately and I would be more than happy to help Jack get the footage he needed. Mother nature then did what she does best and threw in a curve ball, the rains came and the limited window of opportunity before winter set in was lost.

Big river perch, in fact monster perch!

For the majority of the country's river anglers the winter just gone was incredibly frustrating, I kept telling myself that it was selfish to moan about not being able to fish while elsewhere in the country lives were being ruined by the incessant rain but deep down that didn't help, What compounded things was that my chub fishing had been going really well and I knew that I had located a group of fish that stood a good chance of giving me my target, but I just couldn't put a bait anywhere near them for week after week.

Big river perch - the grand finale, kind of

After the cracking brace of stripeys shown in my last blog my end of season plans were set, I was just going to go hell for leather at the perch and see what happened. The nasty easterly wind was seemingly relentless and even when there was some sight of respite it came from the north, hardly worthy of digging the shorts and flip flops out for that's for sure. One saving grace was that the rain did hold off, mostly, and the river was more often than not fishable, which after the last twelve months was something to be grateful for at least.

During the penultimate week of the season I fished four sessions which again included one overnight stay in the van to fit in a dawn assault. Apart from finding what could quite possibly be the best chippy in Notts the week was a complete right off, it's a good job I'm so easily pleased isn't it!

So that left me with four days to play with up to March the 14th and I could fit in another three short sessions. One side effect of the lousy weather is that the gardening year is miles behind, in fact I'm writing this on April the 1st and we've just taken the dog for a walk and seen someone skiing, I kid you not! Fishing wise that meant that I had time to spare, unfortunately though fishing doesn't pay the bills but when opportunity knocks I'll not refuse.

Monday afternoon saw me setting up in a swim that I had fished last autumn but which had only produced one small perch to me in three previous attempts. When I arrived I had stood behind the swim contemplating whether or not I should give it a go and reflecting back on the winter's results. I had certainly had a perch season beyond anything I had imagined but it is easy to gloss over the journey and just pick out the destination. I have had a lot of blanks and done a lot of travelling for those fish not to mention putting up with what can only be described as an awful few months weather. The way I look at this perch fishing is that it is all about being on the fish, you are either on them or you aren't and from my experience it isn't always a case of dropping in a previously productive swim, I now think they move around a bit more than I had previously considered. If the conditions are right, meaning the water level and clarity are good, then I am pretty confident of getting a bite from any perch that lurks in front of me. Water temperature doesn't bother me too much other than sharp decreases and let's face it this year the water has been cold constantly, after all they catch perch through holes in the ice in Scandinavia don't they. As a rule I rate them as easy fish to catch, it's everything else that has to fall into place that causes the difficulties. So the question was were they in this swim today, only one way to find out.

Now I've fished in some cold conditions this winter but that afternoon took top spot in the brass monkey awards, the wind was absolutely evil and cut straight through several layers of clothing without trying. It's rare that I resort to a waterproof coat on top of my Snugpak jacket but it was essential in this case though once sat down I found that I did actually have an unexpected bit of shelter caused by a small hump behind me, which was nice. Being positioned between two near bank trees allowed me to fish a rod to each, the upstream one was set up on the bite alarm and bobbin while downstream I would concentrate on the quiver tip. As usual I got the bait dropper into action straight away and deposited a mixture of maggot and chopped lobworm and dendrobaena onto each spot.

With the upstream rod in position and fishing for itself I set about dropping the other rod into the same spot that I had fished previously only to find that the floods had dumped a snag there resulting in a lost rig straight away, not good. I tried casting a hookless rig slightly to one side and the other to check the extent of the problem but could still feel it clipping some structure so ended up fishing directly off the rod tip, not a complete disaster with a good ten feet of water under my feet.

The afternoon drifted by quickly, the sun was beaming down but slipped behind the tree I was fishing to well before dusk and so cast shade upon the area which made it look a whole lot more promising but that didn't do the trick. The light was fading fast when I had a single bleep on the bobbin rod, I took my eyes off the quiver tip but the bobbin hadn't budged at all. I then looked along the rod and noticed the tip was tapping so struck straight away and was into a fish. Why hadn't the bobbin moved? Because the rings had frozen up that's why. Unbelievable, in January ok sometimes I can accept that glycerine may be needed to keep the guide's ice free, this was supposedly spring!

After a brief scrap I bundled a chunky looking stripey into the net, fat as butter with spawn, the scales went to 3lb 6oz. I left it in the net in the margins for a minute or two while I set up the camera and then lifted it back out and into the weigh sling to carry up to the top of the bank for a few pictures. The change in temperature as I poked my head above that hump of bank was unbelievable, I'd go as far as to say physically shocking in fact! I put the tripod down and flicked the camera on, knelt down with the fish and was amazed to find that the weigh sling had actually started to freeze in my hands, I can assure that I wasted no time in getting those pictures done my hands felt like they were going to drop off.

That was my one and only bite of the session, on packing up I found that my landing net handle was frozen solid at ten feet long and it was touch and go as to if I would have to hide it in a bush until a later date. I can honestly say that I have seen enough cold weather now.

The next day saw me in another swim I had tried before, this one with more success. It was certainly a more pleasant day to be next to the water that's for sure. Once again I only had one bite and it was from a fish of 2lb 14oz, not to be sniffed at and this time last year it would have been a fish I was very pleased with but now the bar has been raised. My final attempt was on the Wednesday and was a complete blank, not a sign of a bite and in a way a bit of an anti climax but you can't book the productive days in advance and if you could who would go on the blank days eh?

And so that was my perch season over. I've had a great winter and have really enjoyed my fishing but I'm now ready for a change and that's the beauty of fishing for lots of different species, there's never time to get stuck in a rut and become bored.

Big river perch fishing - a bracing result

After returning to blighty from far sunnier climes I had two weeks of the river season ahead of me and I really wasn't sure what to do with it. I had fully intended to leave the perch alone but it felt a bit late to start getting stuck into something else and, after all, those perch were only getting fatter. Common sense said hold out for another couple of weeks, in all honesty I was becoming a bit bored of the same old style of fishing but soon enough there would be lots of options for something different and so I decided to push myself and stick at the perching. Bored of fishing? Well that isn't really a fair description, ready for a change is more apt, sometimes though persistence is what catches you fish. And so within a day of stepping off of the plane I was once again digging for worms. The downside of the holiday was that my back had once again started to play up and that became more obvious when digging. Sitting static for six hours in a cattle wagon with wings followed by a good dose of sun lounger seizure and another helping of cramped plane to finish off with didn't do me any favours, not what I want just as work should, in theory, pick up after the winter very soon.

My first session was to be a dawn assault, miraculously the weather had settled quite nicely and although the easterley wind was bitter the ground was relatively dry and it was actually possible to get some work done, three hours fishing could be fitted in first though.

Dry, kind of

I had decided on trying a swim new to me a little further along a stretch that I had fished before Xmas, a big willow drooped into the water at various points and along with other now unattached branches protruding up out of the water it looked like perch heaven. I had miscalculated my timings and I was still racing east along the dual carriageway as dawn broke in front of me, not what I wanted but it was too late to do anything about it now.

After several months of fishing in the same manner everything is set up and ready to go in no time and the dropper had deposited a bed of perch breakfast just on the downstream edge of the branches. The thing with early perch sessions is that I tend to think that my chances diminish as times goes on and the day becomes brighter, fishing later in the day the opposite happens and confidence grows. When the tip hadn't moved by 7.30 I was starting to think that my chances were slim, the sky was virtually cloud free and shafts of sunlight beamed through the hedge line behind me. Beneath the tree remained in shade though and thankfully the perch were still happy with that as one picked up my lobworm just before 8am and pulled the quiver tip sharply round. The fight was slow and plodding indicating that something decent was on the end of the line and I wasn't disapointed when a big stripey flank broke the surface, that would do very nicely. Fat as butter in its pre-spawning state the scales pulled around to 3lb 11oz and what a cracking looking fish, I was certainly having one great winters perch fishing.

3lb 11oz

I quickly got another hook bait into position but I was on borrowed time, my cut off point was to be 9am and then I had to leave no matter what. With fifteen minutes to spare the tip knocked a couple of times before sweeping round and I was in again. The fight was a pretty pathetic affair but then that isn't always a bad thing with these perch, the smaller ones tend to fight harder more often than not and that theory was proved right as another good lump of a stripey came to the net, at 3lb 8oz it made for a stunning brace and I didn't grumble at having to pack to get to work after that result.

3lb 8oz

Well I was understandably fired up after that kind of morning. I couldn't get the thought of a return trip out of my mind while I was working and went flat out to get done, I was going back that evening, considering that I was finding the fishing a bit stale I had managed to change my mind pretty quickly! Now the round trip to this particular stretch is probably about fifty miles from home but seeing that I now have a van big enough to sleep in there was nothing to stop me kipping over nearby and fishing at dawn again the next day, that sounded like a plan.

Something told me to try a different swim for the evening, I'm not sure why but I just had a hankering to fish this particular spot. Sometimes these hunches pay off, this time it didn't. The swim was big enough to accomodate two rods and I set them both up on bobbins and alarms, as I had no need to rush off I decided to fish on well into dark and see what occurred. The hot period at dusk came and went without a sign of a bite but I stuck to the plan and kept the baits in position. Perhaps an hour after dark the left hand rod gave a couple of bleeps before the bobbin cracked into the rod quick time. I struck almost instantly and the rod was wrenched down hard as the fish felt the resistance, whatever this was it wasn't a perch. I struggled for maybe thirty seconds to gain some kind of control but I couldn't do a thing with it and inevitably the fish ploughed straight into the nearby tree before snapping my hooklink. I'd like to know what that was, possibly a big chub or maybe even a carp perhaps, I'll never know.

Nothing else happened during the evening and after a cosy night in the van I was up at 5.15 am and stuck the kettle on for a quick brew before dawn. I've been accused of being mad for stopping out all night without a rod in the water but to me it beats getting up even earlier at home, losing more sleep and getting moaned at for waking the mrs up too, it's a no brainer. After packing up the previous night I had decided to try a swim that had produced a few fish for me before which was situated close to a car park further downstream but on pulling up I found a carp angler already in situ so that plan was scuppered. With no time to mess around I headed back to the same swim I had caught yesterdays brace from and got stuck in.

It was tough going, not the slightest indication on the tip from dawn till 9am. I was just about to consider calling it a day when I hooked a fish which gave me the right run around, as I said often the smaller ones fight harder and at 2lb 8oz that again proved the point. I pushed my luck and gave it another hour but that was my lot. Some you win some you lose but one thing's for certain, if you don't try you definitely won't win.

River perch - when your luck's in

I really fancied getting another session in while the snow was still on the ground but it was a bit of a toss up as to what species and where due to the conditions. In the end I decided on perch but my first choice of venue, the Trent, was a no hoper due to the water level and so I decided on the River Derwent. I bought a new ticket this season that gives you the best part of ten miles of the river to go at but to be honest I've hardly fished it bar a few barbel trips last summer and a few perch trips in the autumn though it had given me some quality fish so I decided to give it another go for the perch. The main roads weren't a problem after several days of gritting but when I turned off into the narrow lanes I started to think twice as in places they were just a sheet of ice. I made it through to the fishery in one piece though the car park was like an ice rink too and I did wonder if I would be sleeping in the van for the night, I'd deal with that later though, at least I had got there ok.

I found a swim between a couple of trees that looked the part and cleared enough snow out of the way to allow me to set up comfortably. There was enough room to fish a couple of rods in this spot so along with the usual quiver tip set up I rigged up another running feeder rig to be fished on the alarm and bobbin. Half a dozen droppers of chopped maggot and a couple of chopped worm were positioned in a little line between the two trees and I flicked the worm baited bobbin rod to the upstream end and the quiver tip rig to the downstream. I was late in arriving at the river and within an hour the light was just beginning to start fading as the bobbin started to creep up slowly before I hit into a fish. I had actually thought that my best chance would be at the very last minute due to the snow causing such bright conditions but I was proved wrong. It felt like a good fish from the start and put up a good solid fight right under the rod tip, diving back down to the bottom several times before I could bring it to the net where it certainly did look to be a hefty old perch. As I usually do with fish I want to photograph I unhooked it and weighed it before returning it to the water in the landing net while I set up the tripod and camera. The scales made it 3lb 10oz and I was chuffed to bits with that especially in the snow, this was going to make a cracking picture. Once everything was set up I lifted the fish out onto the mat and flicked the camera on, I pressed the button to activate the intervalometer and then the shutter release to start the timer. No sooner had I started to pick the fish up than the first shot fired, no problem as it's set to repeat continuously, I was just about ready for the next picture when it fired again and I was about to adjust my position a bit to get it spot on for the third shot when the camera turned itself off with a flat battery! I popped the perch back into the water while I tried to sort the camera out, I stuck the battery in my pocket for ten minutes to try and revive it but eventually had to accept that it wasn't happening, the cold had just killed the remaining power, my fault for not having to charged to the maximum in the harsh conditions. I've only ever had that happen once before and that was when perching in the snow too funnily enough, as soon as I got home I was going to buy a spare battery and make it a rule to keep it in my pocket in very cold weather in future. Fortunately the second shot was just about reasonable.

3lb 10oz

The result of a dead battery from a year or two back, snow joke!

I decided that I was going to go home after that, I wouldn't have been chuffed if I had caught a monster with no camera to record the event and I was more than happy with what I'd had anyway so no problem there. I managed to drive out of the car park without too much bother and was tootling along down the lane nicely when the back end of the van slid out and I ended up pointing back the way that I had come, that was too close a call I can tell you, especially in a new van.

Big river perch - a dream come true

River levels were finally starting to get somewhere close to normal and about time too. There was never much doubt as to what I would be angling for when the opportunity arose and in preparation next door's garden had been dug yet again and the bait bucket was topped with a more than respectable helping of lobworms in anticipation. As I wrote in a blog a couple of months ago the perch fishing had become hard work for me to the extent that it had become a grind, now I've put a lot of effort into my fishing over the years and will continue to do so but when it gets to that stage it has to stop. It wasn't the fishing itself that was getting to be hard work. I can, and do, blank with the best of them and that I can handle but the continual driving back and forth through heavy traffic day after day for sessions of only two to four hours was becoming very tiresome. As it turned out my self imposed break turned out to be considerably longer than I had intended due to the persistent rain but absence makes the heart, and determination, grow fonder and I was raring to go again.

My first session back left me a bit disappointing as soon as I arrived, for some reason I didn't expect to see the Trent carrying as much colour as it was and these preconceived ideas can so easily dent your confidence before you start. However I wasn't about to turn around and go home so I just got on with it, baited up via the dropper as usual with maggot and chopped worm and sent a lobworm on a feeder rig out into the depths before allowing my mind to linger on the water conditions. The irony is that it was almost certainly that self induced state of mind that caused me to miss a bite, what an idiot! Even more annoying was the fact that it was the only bite of the session but it was a certain indication that the clarity had not totally scuppered my chances. I would have put money on a perch being the culprit, an initial tap tap followed by a short pull on the quiver tip which held for a split second before pulling right round, how is it that I can relate that bite so precisely and yet still miss it?

What a trip like that tends to do to me is make me itch to get straight back to try and put things right and that's exactly what I did and so the next afternoon saw me going through exactly the same process but with a totally different outlook. Isn't it strange how something as brief as that one bite can change things completely, my confidence was so much higher than twenty four hours previously and as I've always said in this game confidence can be everything. You approach a session with no confidence and you are off on the wrong foot straight away, quite often I find that one thing leads to another and I've packed up and gone home more than once because of just that. So with me being raring to go I knocked the perch for six and bagged up, right? No, I didn't have a bite. It's enough to drive you insane this fishing lark.

A couple of days later and I was heading north once again, arriving at the river for 1.30pm. I had decided on a change of swim before I left home but not on a specific one just in case it was occupied, to be honest there are plenty of likely looking spots anyway so no matter what I would certainly find somewhere that looked good. As it happened I ended up in a peg that I had caught perch from before that gave a reasonable 6ft or so of water close in next to an overhanging tree quickly dropping down to 8ft plus within a few feet. The water clarity had improved somewhat and something told me that I had a better chance today. The dropper was hooked on to the rig and out went half a dozen drops of maggot followed by two of chopped worm smack up tight against the outer branches. I then unhook the dropper and clip a feeder on to the paternoster link. Leaving the feeder on while using the dropper can cause the whole lot to tumble and lose you accuracy let alone what effect it may have on the door opening.

An hour later and doubts were starting to creep in, the light levels looked ideal due to the low cloud base making for a murky day but the tip wasn't moving. I was just starting to wonder if I should have gone in another swim when I noticed a small tap that got my attention and I was looking at the rod end intently when it wrapped round and a fish was hooked. Within a second my thoughts were that this wasn't a perch, it ploughed up and down in the deep margin like a thing possessed and I was pretty sure that a chub was responsible. At one stage I even had to lock up and apply side strain as the fish heading back into its snaggy home so when it finally tired and a stripey flank popped up I was more than surprised. It wasn't a monster perch by any means at two ounces short of 3lb's but blimey it had certainly had three Weetabix for breakfast I've never had a perch fight like it.

Well as we all know once one fish has seen the inside of your net it becomes all systems go. I had returned the perch a couple of swims downstream and as soon as I got back to my kit I put six more droppers of bait in, possibly a brave move but if one fish was willing to have a go then the chance were that it wasn't alone. Half an hour later and I was proved right as the tip danced again and I was attached to another striped warrior. This fish was much chunkier and was obviously 3lb's plus, in fact the scales made it 3lb 7oz's and it was a cracking looking fella. It's strange how the colours vary on these fish even though they are living under the same conditions. Perch in constantly coloured water tend to be pale in general but I wouldn't have thought that so much difference would be seen as is apparent in these ones, with a bit of practice you can also pick up different patterns in their stripes too although individual fish are more easily recognised due to blemishes and damage to fins I find.

3lb 7oz

Again the fish was returned downstream though this time I held back on the dropper and relied on the small blockend feeder to top up the swim, time was getting on and I didn't want to push my luck too much. I settled back down in my seat and adjusted the tip by backwinding slightly while noticing that the isotopes were starting to become more apparent as the first signs of dusk crept in on me. Time to dig out the headtorch I thought and then in the next click of my brain I knew exactly where that headtorch was, sitting on the side in the kitchen while it's batteries were on charge. Of course that didn't stop me rustling through the rucksack with my left hand while the right hovered over the rod but no matter how I tried to wish it to appear it wasn't going to happen. Ah well not to worry these things happen I thought and at the instant round the tip jagged again in three steps, bang bang bang, if I hadn't of struck I think it would have just kept going to be honest it was that violent an attack. I played the fish out while enjoying the half light, what it is that makes those twenty or so minutes at either end of the day so much more special is hard to say but it always adds something to the atmosphere doesn't it. Again this fish was definitely in the very respectable weight range and it registered 3lb 6oz's on the balance, great stuff that was a trio that no one would be disappointed with. There was enough light to manage the pictures without having to resort to propping my phone torch up against the tripod but only just and after slipping the fish back I decided that it would be sensible to call it a day.

3lb 6oz

 That evening I had perch on the brain, the wife suspiciously said that I was being nice after I had made her the second cup of tea so I made sure to leave it for at least another hour before mentioning that I would be getting up early the next morning, I don't miss at trick me! Suspicious or not I got away with it lightly and my kit was left just inside the door ready for a quick getaway.

The alarm had been set for 6.15am but that was a wasted effort as by 4am I was wide awake and in fishing mode, brain constantly turning over different scenario's and not a hope in hell of getting back to sleep. I gave up trying at 5am and got up, by 6.30 I was opening the gate to the fishery and making my way up the track. There was no chance of fishing straight away as I couldn't make out the edge of the branches but I was in no hurry in fact I felt strangely calm which was a contrast to my normal rushed start to a fishing trip, somehow something just felt right. I took my time setting everything up and then had a wander along the bank listening to the birds wake up until I saw the sky start to lighten in the east signalling that it was time to get back.

There was just enough light to make out my target area and the half dozen bait droppers full of maggot followed again by two of chopped worm were soon laid out perfectly. The tail end of a fat lobby was nipped off with the scissors and the hook slipped into the cut end before being pulled back out through the side giving a perfect presentation with hardly any chance of the point being obscured and then the loaded feeder was swung out into place.

I had only just got myself comfortable and started to settle in when the tip jabbed and then whipped right round. I wasn't going to miss that bite even though I must admit that it did come as a bit of a surprise straight after disturbing the swim with the bait dropper. The fight was pretty pathetic though before I saw what was on the end of the line I had a gut feeling that it was a big fish, often their bulk makes them poor fighters and blimey I wasn't wrong. I looked down into the net in the margin and knew that I had a personal best. I lifted it out onto the mat and turned the torch on, now I knew that this one was going to be close to the magic 4lb. I started to get a bit jittery them so I unhooked the perch before lowering the net back in to the water and securing it with the rod rest while I got myself together. I was rooting around in my rucksack when I panicked and dropped everything just to make double sure that the net was safe and the fish couldn't escape, dear me what a mess! With the sling wetted out and the scales zeroed the fish was hoisted back out and I parted the mesh to have another look, I wasn't so sure now, maybe it was a big 3lber. I popped it into the sling and lifted it up to hook on to the scales, I don't know I thought, it does feel heavy. I paused for a second just to contemplate what was happening and to consider that this could be the fish that I had been chasing for a long time and then bit the bullet and slipped the hook through the loops. I swung the scales round to face me and peered at the dial, just to prolong the agony the lens was all smeared up but when I wiped away the muck a great big fat smile spread across my face and I shouted something out, I haven't got a clue what! 4lb 3oz's of lovely fat stripey perch, a long standing ambition achieved and I was flying. I popped it back into the water for a while I let daylight develop for the photographs and just sat there grinning away like a lunatic. Then I decided that I may as well cast back out, two minutes later I decided that I didn't need to cast back out so wound in. Five minutes later I thought don't be daft cast out again, another couple of minutes of fidgeting and I wound in and gave up, I just didn't need to fish.

Once the light was sufficient to make a decent job of the pictures I quickly got those done, just me and my perch sitting in the wet grass without a care in the world. I walked it back down to the margin and held it flat in one hand just above the surface before letting it slowly slip back in to the water and watching it waddle off into the depths.

Simply stunning

In all honesty I should have gone home there and then but I stayed and I enjoyed being next to the water even if my heart wasn't really in the fishing. I did have another fish mid morning, a chub of three and a half pounds odd, but I spent more time wandering and nattering to other anglers than I did fishing. Late afternoon I saw something that did make me glad that I had stayed though. An angler along the bank asked if I would photograph a chub for him, not any old chub but one that weighed 6lb 12oz's. Blimey it must have been the day of the big fish, what a cracker that was and maybe that will be what fires me up next.

Barbel forays and more commercial perch

On Sunday I conceded and spent the four hours that I suddenly found that I had free barbelling on the River Soar. The temperature was well up and the river was just about within it's banks, so I was told, plus I couldn't think of anything else to do at short notice so I went for it. Pulling up at the road side I looked across towards the river beyond the lake that the field had become and it looked like I could make it to the bank, Once I'd got within twenty yards of the lake I started to have my doubts but I found a fairly narrow crossing point that just about failed to swamp my boots at full tip toe.

Just about within its banks

 Starting at the top of the stretch I worked my way through a swim an hour most of which required five ounces of lead to hold steady, but of the whiskered ones there was not a sign. What I did see though were some tracks running along the bank in the freshly deposited silt. It would be very unusual for a dog to be in the area and I suspected that it was an otter which I confirmed when I compared them to some pictures on the internet. Sightings are now being reported on a very regular basis on most of the stretches of river, only time will tell what impact they will have.

It looked the part

The far bank snags looked a bit iffy!

The warm spell continued into the week inspired I was not but eventually the need to fish persuaded me to visit another commercial fishery to try for a perch or two. This particular fishery had been kind to me in the past and in fact was where I had caught my biggest stripey to date at 3lb 11oz's several years previously on a day which had given me another three captures in excess of 3lb's, I say captures and not perch as one of them visited me twice in the space of half an hour or so.

Was this fella still there?

I arrived at dawn to find the place empty which was not unexpected to be honest seeing as it was midweek after a holiday. My mate Rob would be joining me later but until then I had solitude which was some compensation seeing that the water isn't what I would call scenic, more functional in the normal fashion of this type of fishery. I started off on the windward bank and float fished a prawn down the edge in four feet of water over a bed of chopped prawn and maggot. After an hour and a half I got wander lust and wound in to have a look at a swim in the opposite corner that covered the largest reedbed on the water, it certainly looked good. As I was debating the move Rob pulled up behind me and after five minutes of chatting I had convinced myself that it was the place to be, Rob was going to drop in further along the bank towards where I had started.

Once I had got myself reorganised and had plumbed the depth in my new swim I started to feed a pinch of maggots every few minutes along the reed lined margin while I set up another rod with a live bait rig. Within twenty minutes I had the odd fish boiling sub surface, this was starting to look good. I decided to give it half an hour on the prawn before trying to catch some bait but that didn't produce any positive bites so it was time to get the maggot on. Straight away it was a bite a chuck, a couple of micro perch first, then a 6oz roach that I returned as being a bit big for what I wanted, then a small carp of some description, possibly one of those F1 hybrid type things, it certainly didn't look quite like a true carp anyway. The bites kept coming but very few were from my perfect bait sized fish. Eventually I had three small roach in the net and gave up at that, I stuck a prawn back on the float rig after I had swung out the paternostered roach on the other rod.

This time the prawn was getting more attention, mostly nibbles from small fish but I had two more small carp and a bream of about 2lb's, no sign of the decent perch at all. A shout from down the bank told me that Rob was getting a similiar result, he'd just been given the run around by a carp of 3 or 4lb's. I gave the lure's a go for an hour before dusk and thought I felt one possible hit but it could have just been debris. The method was very productive on the water previously and I was starting to think that maybe there was no longer a head of larger perch present. I don't plan to return any time soon to try and find out to be honest, it was a days fishing and it was nice to get a few bites in these hard times but I do find many of these commercials to be soulless places especially in the depths of winter.

I needed to get back on the rivers, levels were almost back to normal on the Soar and with the weather being incredibly warm for the season I decided on another barbel trip. The stretch that I had in mind had been difficult to get to for quite a while due to the floods and I wasn't certain that I would be able to park in the usual area, there is a layby that can be used but memories of broken windows from years gone by puts me off of that one if at all possible. I drove slowly across the first field avoiding the main ruts and it was looking good, then I saw a very soggy looking patch of grass ahead and no way was I going to risk that so I swung the motor off into the rough grass and carried on towards the second field. Within a hundred yards I could see that I wasn't going to make it and decided to park where I was and carry on by foot, the field was a mass of mud made worse by a heavy vehicle of some sort that had been through making walking tricky and driving suicidal.

As I suspected the banks hadn't seen much traffic since the flood had receded and as I also suspected the going was tough, it was slippery as hell and great clods of mud stuck to my boots making every step hard work. I started off in my old faithful spot which was looking in great condition with the floods having pushed away a lot of debris while also scouring away the river bed to create what will be an excellent sight fishing spot next summer. if we get a summer that is.

Thoughts of summer stalking came to mind

Two rigs went out complete with pva sticks of small pellets and crumbed boilie, a spicy tuna boilie being on each hair. After an hour or so the downstream rod banged over a couple of times, no doubt due to a chub attack, but other that that it seemed strangely dead. I stuck it out for three hours which is much longer than I would normally stop in a swim on the Soar but I was confident that barbel weren't far off, eventually though I knew that I had to move.

I walked another three hundred yards downstream to an area that I've never caught a barbel from which is a strange choice maybe but I know that they do turn up there at times and the more I blank the more I want to catch one from the spot. Again I only made one cast per rod and just with a small pva stick for a bit of extra attraction, despite it looking good for a bite the last swim had proved that the barbel weren't ready to crawl up the bank so there was no point in going over the top on the bait front. I sat down and surveyed the huge amount of debris deposited in every bush and tree by the high water, almost entirely plastic of some description and the vast majority of it will still be there for months to come. Even if the rubbish does get dislodged the problem will only be elsewhere, many plastics take an eternity to degrade and even if they do so they release toxic elements into the environment. It's a sobering thought to consider that we have only relatively recently been producing these materials, what kind of state will we be in another few hundred years?

Rubbish,  that just about summed the day up

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a swirl mid river and twenty yards downstream that caught my eye. I stood looking directly at the spot and suddenly there was another swirl that developed into a bow wave that travelled for a few yards before disapearing, then two more big swirls heading into the near bank. That didn't look like any kind of fish to me, the nature of the bank stopped me from seeing any further along the bank and no other activity was seen, was it another sign of an otter? Whatever it was it was the most excitement that occured all day, it seemed so right but it obviously wasn't.

On the way back to the van I stopped to check the permits of two anglers piking. They too had struggled with only one jack between them when they would normally expect more, it's a funny old game this fishing lark. Talking about it later someone remarked that the day in general had seemed strange with hardly any bird life about and when I came to think of it he was right. No matter what we think we know there will always be a lot that we don't understand, it makes things so much more interesting, and frustrating.

Commercial perch fishing, or was it roach...

The next stop on Thomo's magical mystery tour was to be a commercial fishery that Leo had come across a year or so previously with the intention of catching a few perch and which was fairly prolific. I was well aware that I was flitting from one thing to another but by this stage I had come to accept that I just had to grab what I can until the weather settles down and be happy with a bite or two whilst praying for the flaming rain to stop.

As you might expect it was indeed raining as we arrived just before first light and unloaded two sets of kit onto a piece of grass that was more fluid than solid, it actually turned out that that was a dry piece compared to the track that we trudged along in a slip sliding manner to reach the lake. The wind was piling in to the first bit of water that we came to and it took little persuading for both of us to carry on walking towards the calmer water. We passed a couple of blokes with shotgun's in arm who remarked that we must be mad as it was going to rain all day, not what my forecast had told me and I hoped that my version was the right one.

Leo had told me that prawn was the way to go on this place, fished close in against the reeds and topped up with a flick of maggot every now and then. That sounded good to me, it's always nice to break out a float for a change and in fact I'm starting to find it becoming a more regular thing and I'm enjoying it. Many of the platforms were submerged and I plumped for a spot with a bit of bank to one side giving me access to a substantial bed of reeds. I decided to give the centrepin it's second ever sight of water just because it needs using to be honest and coupled up with my 14ft carp float rod it was just a case of an under arm swing and the bait was positioned a foot or so out from the foliage, game on.

You know you are bored when you start taking pictures of a motionless float

Well bar the occasional small twitch of the float the only entertainment I had for the next couple of hours was in watching Leo attempt to burn off the Xmas calories by moving swim, twice, well it was either the fitness regime or a case of the grass being greener. The grass may have been green but the perch certainly weren't, or more likely were elsewhere as by early afternoon neither of us had a stripe to our name and I decided that it was time to make a move myself. As I squelched past Leo I made a sarcastic remark about his backside being welded to his seat as he had managed to stay put for a couple of hours but he assured me that he was going to see the day out in that spot. I went another hundred yards along the bank and started the process again, within ten minutes something caught my eye to my left, it was Leo's brolly being folded up. Two minutes later he was passing me loaded up with kit muttering something about kicking his maggots over and that it was a sign, he was right, it was a sign of being a clumsy git.

As Leo toddled off round to the far bank and sat directly in my line of sight behind the float sitting motionless in my margin so I couldn't help but see what looked suspiciously like a strike not long after he had cast out, and then another, and then I got a text saying that it was a bite a chuck, I was off round there like a shot.Leo had actually already surveyed the area for a prospective move earlier in the day but had discounted it due to the waves rolling in and the fact that the bank was virtually submerged but there was a strip of dry ground just big enough to accomodate me in a swim just a few yards from Leo. From the first cast my float was knocking and bobbing almost constantly, you wouldn't believe that the fish could be so concentrated in a small area would you but they were, it was like fishing a different lake. It was obvious that most of the bites were from smaller fish than we were after though Leo hooked a small'ish perch early on. I was missing quite a few bites and had the option of scaling down the tackle to try and hook them or sticking with the bigger bait for a perch, I stuck at the perch plan and increased my hook to a size 8 with a slightly larger piece of prawn attached. Within ten minutes I hooked a fish but would you believe it, it was a roach, talk about reverse thinking. It was a nice fish though and after both guessing wether or not it would make a pound we decided that it had to be weighed, the scales made it 14oz's which was bigger than I'd had while fishing for roach a few days earlier.

Desperate times!

My float continued to bob almost as much even with the bigger bait and hook and a couple more suicidal roach were banked while Leo netted two more perch up to mid two pounds in weight, not the session that we had envisaged yet again but we had escaped the Xmas mania for a few hours if nothing else.

River Derwent perch fishing - the grindstone

After my last perch success on ther Trent I mentioned that I fancied a change and so started to fish the Derbyshire Derwent. The river has treated me quite well in the past but it seemed that it was payback time.

Week commencing the 29th of October I managed to fit in four sessions, on each occasion the time actually fishing was two or three hours at the most. As darkness proper now falls before rush hour my travelling time was extended to an hour or so in total, much of which was spent crawling along in traffic, the round trip being in the region of thirty or so miles I guess.The sum total for all of that agravation and effort was one perch of about 8oz's, you don't have to be mad to be an angler but it certainly helps.

The next week saw me back again on the Monday and I went straight into what has been a reliable peg for me in the past, three hours of intense concentration later and I had upset that track record, another blank.

I returned once again on Wednesday the 7th and walked further downstream. I knew the swim had pedigree but had never personally fished it, it certainly looked the part and it blatantly obvious as to how it should be approached. With a tree to either side of me and a good nine feet of water off the rod top I was soon lowering the bait dropper straight down into the margin to bait a float spot., A feeder was fished to the downstream tree and the two rod rests were positioned so as to allow me to watch float and tip at the same time. The weather man had predicted a bright clear day but just for a change, cough cough, was wrong, and for once error was in my favour as the light levels were really low long before dusk, I really did fancy my chances.

I was in a world of my own, day dreaming about something or other, when I thought I saw the float move, and then I definately saw it move. The chubber was slowly moving out into the river and then it bobbed twice before sinking into the depths, a very perchy looking bite. A strike was met with solid resistance for for a seconds or two I was very pleased with myself, then whatever was on the other end powered off towards mid river and my heart sank, if this was a perch it was in double figures. No it was another worm snaffling pike, good sport on the float rod but not really conducive to building a perch swim. Eventually I managed to get it into the net, not a bad fish at approaching ten pounds I would think, and relocated it a few swims along the bank. Full darkness was just about upon me, I could just make out the shape of the float sitting in the reflection of a fluffy cloud when it disppeared and I struck into a perch, no grand finale to this story though I'm afraid as once again it was a little fella.

The traffic was particularly bad on the way home and I sat there thinking that I really was ready for a break from all of this. In fact I had been thinking similiar thoughts for a couple of weeks or so and mentioned it in a previous blog entry but as I am prone to do I pushed myself on for a while longer in the hope of a result, sometimes I don't know when to stop.

Back at home I sorted out something to eat and did a bit of tidying up, rammed bits of tackle into any available space as usual and was about ready to put my feet up at half past eight when I remembered that I was out of coffee and decided to nip out and get a jar. There are three supermarkets within less than a mile of my house and for some reason I decided to go to the one furthest away which involves driving past the other two. I passed Tesco and was a second or two from the entrance to Asda when a car pulled out straight in front of me and inevitably my van ploughed straight into it. Why didn't I go to Tesco?

The recovery vehicle finally got me and the van home, all of a few hundred yards away, at eleven pm. The van was looking considerably worse for wear, more than likely a write off, it seemed that like it or lump it I would be getting that break.

Back on the big perch hunt

Tuesday the 23rd of October

I was Trent bound again by mid afternoon after seeing more than enough of work for one day, we are well into the period when the gardens never really become dry and scrambling about on hands and knees in the muck and damp takes some motivation I can tell you, motivation that seems to diminish each year.

Ten minutes of dodging cowpats found me back in the area of my previous success but I had my eye on a new swim this time, once again an near bank tree gave plenty of cover and was hopefully home to some stripey sargeants. The feeder fished on the tip rod was going to be the approach but there was room to sneak out a second rod to be fished on the bobbin and Delkim too.

I whiled away a couple of biteless hours by recasting the feeders on a regular basis and swearing at the cormorants that seemed to be almost constantly in transit up and down the Trent valley, sticking two wings up at us anglers down below. I was just contemplating how many fish the birds had bagged from the river during the day compared to the anglers present when I was shaken from my depression by a bite on the alarm rod. It was only a little fish of not much more than a pound but it was one that the black plague had missed, as I felt compelled to inform the next passing pterodactyl.

I had not long slipped the fish back and settled down when the tip gave a couple of taps, almost always the preliminary to a good positive pull but it didn't happen. I left the bait static for another five minutes before recasting, no signs of damage were visible on the lobworm hookbait so it could have been a small fish. A couple of minutes later another couple of taps on the tip and then whack, round it went and up went the rod in my right hand. Have you ever noticed that when you are really in tune with a method that you act on auto pilot when a bite comes and quite often can't remember what happened before you struck? I've taken friends new to quiver tipping fishing before and tried to explain to them when to strike and when not to and I find it incredibly difficult it just becomes an in built instinct. That instinct had obviously worked its magic anyway as I was attached to something doing it's best to get stuck in a dead reedbed in front of me. A bit of pressure from directly above did the trick and up popped a lovely big perch that I soon scooped up. It turned out in fact to be the biggest perch that I had caught for some years at 3lb 8oz's and was in great condition.

That was my last bite of the session but who cares eh!



Thursday the 25th of October

I felt like a change of scenery after spending so much time on the Trent recently and so headed to the river Derwent after work, the river has good perch form and has previously produced a number of fish over 3lb's for me. Having joined a new club this season I now have access to maybe eight or ten miles of this lovely river, any section of which could throw up the stamp of fish that I am after.

I picked a swim that allowed me to lay on with a float close in which was a nice change after the methods I had been using on the big river but within minutes I found a problem, leaves. Leaves drifting, leaves on the bottom, newly fallen leaves, partly rotten leaves, but leaves everywhere, loads and loads of the flaming things that made fishing the spot a nightmare. I persevered for half an hour, kept reducing depth until I was just tripping the bottom and recast every few minutes but the underwater scene must have resembled a kaleidoscope of russet and gold, it was impossible.

I moved upstream by a couple of swims and started again, this area wasn't suitable for float fishing so I concentrated on the tip rod after depositing a good helping of maggot and worm into position via the dropper first. Two hours later one half hearted pull was all the sign of fish that I had seen and my times was up.

This perching lark is getting quite wearing now, I do find it quite full on constantly rushing to get to the river just to snatch a couple of hours bankside when the round trip takes the best part of an hour. When I'm there I am always very aware that the clock is ticking and that I have to keep on the ball to maximise my chances, relaxing it isn't but the rewards are there. I need to step back a little and take a deep breath, tell myself to slow down a bit and to remember that this should be fun.

River Trent perch fishing - Finding my feet?

Thursday the 11th of October

After the previous days result I was keen to get back to the river for another crack at the perch and arranged work so that I could be bankside for 4pm. I had been thinking about my tactics overnight and had decided to fish both rods on the bobbins this time the thinking being that when using a quiver tip rod a bleep on the other rod always draws the eye to that set up and opens up the possibility of missing a bite on the tip, I thought that two rods fished side by side would be more efficient.

With a bed of bait applied by dropper both feeder clad rods were swung out three rod lengths or so to the near side of the crease and recast every twenty minutes with a top up of maggots. With the light levels already ebbing it wasn't long before a bobbin twitched indicating some interest before steadily climbing towards the rod. The strike was clean and so was the hook, I missed it which seemed a little strange considering that the bobbin was definately still climbing as I lifted the rod. Not to worry I thought and sent another little package of goodness out into the depths. Ten minutes later and the same thing happened again, a very confident bite was missed leaving me scratching my head and wondering what on earth was occuring. I lifted the rod rests up slightly to allow a longer drop on the bobbin in case I wasn't hitting the bites before resistance was felt and hoped that may help, the rod tips were pointing virtually straight at the rigs so I didn't think that rod pressure was the issue. Very soon another bite was indicated and this time I was into a fish, not huge at maybe a pound and three quarters but satisfying after the two missed affairs and it left me thinking that I may have solved the problem. I wasn't thinking that for long though as up until I packed up I missed two more cracking bites which left me more than a bit frustrated and cursing myself for not fishing the tip as I am certain that I would have converted most of those bites into fish, you live and learn. Nevertheless it intrigues me to know what was going on, without a doubt the bites were struck as the bobbin was moving which naturally makes you think that the bait was still in the fishes mouth, interesting but as I have the upmost confidence in converting bites on the quiver tip then I decided that would be my approach from now on.

Week commencing the 15th of October

I'm going to condense four short trips into one write up here, the river was up and down constantly and despite my best efforts, bordering on madness to be honest, it was never going to be a greatly successful week's perch fishing to be honest.

Monday was my most successful day, once again I only fished the last two or three hours into dark and using the tip rod this time I turned three bites into three fish. Although the largest was only maybe a pound and a quarter it was good to be landing fish rather than missing bites.

Tuesday evening was a right off, the river was on the up and the autumn leaves knocked from their perches by a feisty wind were coming down the river in hoardes making fishing a nightmare, if it wasn't a leaf catching the line I would wind in to find one impaled on the hook.

Wednesday saw me making the morning rush hour trip to the river only to take one look and turn around, are you starting to see some signs of obsession creeping in yet? A check of the EA river level website late in the evening seemed to indicate an improvement so another trip was on the cards for Thursday.

Thursday morning saw me on the bank before first light, in the gloom of dawn I thought things looked quite promising but stark reality hit home as time went on and more and more rubbish was seen making its way downstream. I poked a stick into the bank at water level for some reason even though it would only tell me the obvious and it did just than, an hor later and the water had crept up its length. The river was getting more coloured at quite a rate and I reluctantly decided to call it a day after three hours, not before a jack pike had given me the run around though.

Sometimes you really ought to just leave well alone and wait, unfortunately this addiction that I suffer makes that hard to bear though after a week like that I do look back and wonder about my sanity.

River Trent Perch - Back at the big girls

Wednesday the 10th of October

I had a hankering to get back at the river perching and after my zander session the Trent was the venue I had in mind, some friends have had some excellent results recently proving that the river holds a good head of perch and plenty of good sized fish over the 3lb mark and beyond. Three pounds plus is my benchmark for stripeys with a 4lber my ultimate target but I'll never complain at a "3", when perch get to that size they really do start to look big and though it's a tough decision I think they have to rate as my favourite species and rivers are by far my favourite place to catch them. My biggest perch came from a commercial stillwater and those venues are now well established as producing specimens. The downside is that the water in these venues is invariably constantly coloured due to the high stock levels of carp and as such the perch that live in them lose a lot of their vivid colouration, river fish rarely show this. River perching also usually means close in fishing which brings some intimacy, you can't beat watching the tip go round or float sink and then bending into a good fish right under your feet.

I didn't get to the river until about 4pm and with dusk falling at around 6.30 was anxious to get into a swim as soon as possible though I bumped into the bailiff just as I was about to leave the car park and ended up nattering for twenty minutes or so, another ten minutes walk to my chosen area followed and by the time I was set up and swinging the bait dropper out to the edge of a near bank tree time was getting on. On the smaller rivers I usually fish a light link ledger rig but with this swim being deeper and the current a little stronger I plumped for a blockend feeder which I filled with red maggots on each cast, chopped worm having already been introduced with the dropper and a lobworm impaled on the size four hook being the main course. I had my other rods that I use on Swithland with me and so decided to flick out a second rig which would be fished on an alarm and bobbin, that was positioned slightly further out on the edge of the flow.

I was feeling a little bit wound up after rushing to get to the river and then getting delayed but on the first cast the quiver tip knocked and then pulled round steadily and the stress soon forgotten as I hooked into a fish. A lively little tussle under the rod tip for a minute or two told me that it was a half decent fish but I wasn't certain that it was a perch until it surfaced right under my feet and allowed me to slip the net straight under it, at 2lb 9oz it was a good start in a new swim and a lovely looking fish too. I fired off a quick photo and slipped it back then got a bait back into position.

I was expecting more action from the tree but time passed by without so much of a twitch, then the Delkim on my other rod gave a few bleeps and I looked down to see the bobbin steadily rising, a small perch of about a pound was the culprit. To be honest that took me by surprise a bit, the quiver tip rod was in what I took to be by far the most likely spot to produce perch and the other bait was more of an afterthought. I kept both spots topped up on a regular basis but dusk passed without any other positive signs and it was fully dark just after 7pm when I checked my phone and started to think about getting packed up as I was sure that my chance had gone. The brolly was down and I was just putting the lids on the bait tubs when the bobbin rod signalled another bite and I struck into something much more energetic than the last fish. Another couple of minutes and I would have been on my way home but the flash of a substantial stripey flank in the torch light made me very thankful that I wasn't, the scales were pulled around to 3lb 1oz and again it was a cracking looking perch that put a smile on my face as I made my way back over the fields to the van.