Back to the barbel - A tale of three rivers

It's fair to say that over the years I have pretty much ignored barbel during the colder months which is to some extent a bit odd as without a doubt the species is at its very best weight wise once summer is past. The thing is that although I do class myself as a specimen angler weight is not, and never will be, the full story when it comes down to my enjoyment of angling. There is nothing I love more than watching fish feeding around my baited rig, it is angling at its most intense. Throw a beautiful stretch of secluded river and a handful of hard fighting barbel into the equation and you have my kind of barbel fishing, pure heaven. However this year I decided that I would change things and when suitable conditions arrived I would have a crack at a whiskers or two during the colder months. Too many times in the past I've stubbornly ignored what I knew well to be perfect barbel weather as I had my heart set on other species, and after all a break from the routine to try something different makes fishing so much more enjoyable.

Trent barbel and the future of angling

Biggest of the summer

I kind of slipped sideways into some Trent barbel fishing this summer. It wasn't planned but the nature of the beast, in that it is generally an after dark affair, fitted in with the busy days that had become too common for my liking. The fact that I had made available to me a piece of water with easy access helped greatly in that I could arrive late and not have to worry about either long walks or remaining organised, everything just got thrown into the van which would be parked within spitting distance of wherever I decided to pitch up.

My first trip was shortly after returning from a break in Ibiza. Feeling refreshed and "up for it" I found myself surveying an area of river that I had never set eyes upon before but which right away struck me as being lovely. A mixture of sweeping bends and straighter sections with flow, and therefore depth, varying from rapid to a steady walking pace opened up lots of possibilities and it took me an hour just to decide on a swim. The spot I settled on was just below a protruding tree that forced a little crease into the current and would also have the bonus of acting as a filter for the bits of weed that I could see drifting in the flow elsewhere. My plan was to simply swing out the feeder rigs by a couple of rod lengths and see how things went, after all it was as much an exploratory trip as anything.

Estate lake tench - giving em some grubs

For the last couple of years I have said that I would drop my ticket for the estate lake but the fact is that it offers the best tench fishing for miles. When I say miles I'm probably talking about fifty as I think that the Nene valley would be my next best bet and with this water being a mere fifteen minutes from home it is difficult to turn it down. The chances of breaking my personal best are fairly slim I'd say but it does produce one or two fish that would make that mark each season and the head of back up fish is substantial, you can certainly go home with an aching arm if all goes to plan. A trip or two further afield after that elusive double may be on the cards in the next few weeks but until then local it is.

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 Trent barbel - mission accomplished

Although I had made a conscious decision to do more barbel fishing on the river Trent this season circumstances had until recently limited the time that I had available to devote to that plan. Although on paper the Level Two Angling Coach course takes up six classroom days over four weekends there is also the need to spend some considerable amount of time at home and on the bank carrying out practice sessions and planning. In theory I could have got away with spending less time on this but as the course went on I found myself revising my ideas constantly and in effect I went over the same ground a number of times which in hindsight was the right thing to do and is actually a fundamental part of the principles of coaching. The upshot of this is that I didn't really get stuck into a fishing campaign over the summer months. Short barbel sessions fitted in well but the Trent fish are much more cooperative after dark and short summer nights meant a lack of sleep which was too much for me to handle on a regular basis. A few outings for other species have broken up my time but effectively I've been down to one, or at the most two, sessions of only a few hours per week for a good while and that wasn't helped by me catching shingles, it never rains does it! The start of October saw me complete my course and it was time to snap out of the doldrums and get stuck in to some fishing proper once again, with the nights now drawing in fast it was prime time to get back to the Trent.

Big Derwent barbel - Jungle warfare

A little earlier in the summer I had been messing about in a swim on the Derwent that holds a lot of barbel but which is a devil to fish, the story of one particular session is here, Barbel stalking The long and short of it is that I can almost guarantee a fish per visit but I have never hooked more than one barbel and despite seeing one or two better fish in amongst the hoards have never had a double figure fish from there. It was on that last session that I got to thinking about an alternative line of attack. To say that the area is overgrown is an understatement and combined with high vertical banks which make fishing impossible along the majority of the stretch it was hard to see what else I could do. But after a bit of thrashing and poking about with a long bankstick I did identify a possible swim from which I could just maybe draw some of those resident fish to me, the problem was that it was somewhere in the region of forty yards upstream from the fish holding feature. Maybe next time I would give it a try.

River Trent barbel fishing - learning the ropes

The river Trent is about twenty minutes from my front door at its closest point yet over the years I have neglected it greatly in preference for the more intimate rivers that feed into it, namely the Soar and Derwent. I was probably fifteen or so when I caught my first Trent barbel, miniature rockets from Clifton Grove that did nasty things to a nine foot Silstar Matchpicker, almost as brutal as attempting to cast a 2oz feeder on the poor rod but that was the best I had available at the time and so it had to do.

Pocket rockets from down "The Grove"

Since those very distant days I have hardly targeted the rivers whiskered residents at all bar a handful of sessions in the last three years where a few larger residents have graced the net. Wether it be whilst playing fish or just going through the process of actually fishing you can be left with no doubt that what the Trent lacks in intimacy it certainly makes up for in raw power, not to mention it's huge appetite for gobbling up any tackle that you dare to risk by casting into it, she can be one unforgiving lady alright.

River Derwent barbel fishing - double trouble

It seemed that all hope of me leaving the barbel alone this summer had gone out of the window. A few nice fish in the net soon shelved that idea and I was once again captivated by the species. A few days after catching the brace in my last blog and after taking an hour to negotiate the horror that is rush hour traffic I was back in the same swim. Once again "le van" was to be home for the night and I would be up to get to work in the morning. I must say I'm finding the bigger van very useful in that respect. Previously my evening sessions tended to get short by me wanting to get home before 'er indoors was asleep so as not to disturb her, now my only concern is that I make myself go to sleep early enough so as not to feel like death warmed up the next day, a great improvement!

Estate lake tenching - all change

After a decent previous weeks fishing I was back at the tench lake for a couple of evening sessions after work. News from those already fishing when I arrived on both days wasn't exactly encouraging, the place had more or less switched off. Only the odd fish was getting caught and not a lot was showing either. One of my sessions coincided with a good heavy downpour which I fully expected to flick the feeding switch but no, they just weren't having it.

I had the chance to get in an early session on the Saturday and was in two minds wether to bother as it looked so grim but I decided to go for it and I was bankside before 5am. Only one other angler was on the water and we had a quick chat before I got set up a bit further along the field bank.The swim I chose is one of the few left on the lake that actually has any feature to fish to, that being the far bank which juts out forming a peninsula complete with overhanging tree's. My left hand rod was belted out at range to the end of the treeline while the other rod was fished much shorter and to the right, both rigged up with maggot feeders and fake maggot hookbaits.

It wasn't long after I had settled down that I noticed Ian into a fish and so i wandered up for a look. It turned out to me a cracker at 8lb+ and so I helped out with the pictures before returning to keep working my feeders. Ian was in again fairly soon and once again it was a quality tench of over 7lb. The camera man was starting to get that bridesmaid feeling and that was reinforced when Ian made his hattrick though this one wasn't of any great size.

Estate lake tench fishing

May was particularly unusual this year in that both of its bank holidays turned out to be quite reasonable weather wise, in fact that probably rates as nearer to miraculous than unusual. We spent Whitsun weekend down in Dorset and the nearest I got to fish was watching the mullet in Christchurch harbour linger beneath the swans in the hope of a few missed bread crumbs. Of course what goes up must come down and the sunshine departed quick time and was replaced by a very wet start to Tuesday which wasn't forecast to improve during the day and so of course the only thing to do was to abandon work and go fishing!

It was probably 10am by the time I arrived after picking up some bait first. Steve and Ash Burton were set up on the area we know as the lawn and I elbowed my way in on the end of this grassed area. The available bank space is probably only forty yards or so long but there is a large expanse of water out in front and plenty of room to spare so long as someone doesn't decide to attempt to take up the whole bank.

I'd decided that it was time to break out the big guns. My standard kit for tenching is 1 3/4 test rods combined with 5000 sized baitrunners which are fine in most circumstances but there are plenty of areas on this water that are out of reach of that set up, in fact out of reach full stop, and at times it can't be denied that putting a bait that bit further is of benefit. With that in mind I had dug out my ye olde 4500 Shimano's and my pride and joy, my Daiwa Amorphous 2 3/4 test  carp rods. Now to many I'm sure that that sounds like horrific tackle for tench fishing but treated with due care I was confident that I could get away without hook pulls, time would tell. To the less experienced I would never advise that kind of tackle, all you will do is lose fish and damage mouths.

It didn't take too long to put that theory to the test with a moderately sized tench and all went well. The Amorphous did gain the reputation of a serious long range carp rod in their time yet personally I've always considered them to be relatively soft in the tip and there was certainly no sign that the size ten hook had been moved during the fight.

Another five fish followed before I called it a day early in the evening, the best being a very nice male of bang on 6lb's which I commented was probably one of the biggest in there.

Wednesday wasn't a great deal better weather wise but I did get some work done in the morning before once again sloping off to the lake. The lawn was already occupied which wasn't a great disapointment. Although it has been the most consistent area this spring it is also right next to the majority of the public that visit the estate and given the choice I'd rather have some peace and quiet. Instead I made my way up to the field bank, still open to the public but the further you get from the gates the less intense they become!

The session turned out to be a real grueller and I was pretty sure that I was on for a blank though fish were being caught from the opposite bank. I was just rolling the brolly up at 8pm when I was away and into a fish though you couldn't exactly call it pretty, I took a picture just because of it's oddly rounded tail.

With the light fading fast due to the miserable conditions I contemplated not bothering to recast but then thought better of it. No sooner had I picked up the brolly again when I had another bite on the other rod, you wouldn't believe it would you, like buses. I had to recast after that one as they were obviously feeding but my time was running out as the daylight faded. I carried on packing up and had everything away except the rods which were left lying on the ground. I wound in the left hander and put it in in the quiver. I then picked up the other rod and as I started winding the tip bent down and I was in again, now that is what you call perfect timing. This felt like a better fish from the start and I wasn't disapointed, 7lb 12oz right at the death and in circumstances that I would remember for a while.

7lb 12oz

 Since starting to use the heavier rods the result was nine tench hooked and none lost and so I couldn't see any point in changing back. I now had the option to fish at range if need be but was confident that I could use them close in too if that's what was required.

On Thursday it probably rained! Either way I was on the bank by late afternoon and dropped into the same swim as the previous day. Now obviously I could be forgiven for expecting any action to come later on after the last session but no, the water kept up its unpredictable performance which has been on show most of this spring and I started to catch almost straight away. By pack up time I'd had nine bites and yet another male of exactly 6lb's was the pick of the bunch so either I had been very lucky over the course of three days or my assessment that a 6lb male was about the best the water could produce was absolute rubbish, I give up. Mind you this one was a bit more unusual in that it was missing an eye!

Eye eye!

And so that was May done for and as you will have noticed I was still done up to the nines  in a thick hoody, thermal coat and wooly hat, what an incredibly rubbish year it has been so far weather wise.

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.

Stillwater roach - the helicopter bolt rig

There is nothing more frustrating to me than having a lot of free time and not being able to fish, it is my idea of hell. When I say not able to fish that isn't of course totally true, let's make it not able to fish where I want and for the species I want and recently that has happened week after week. The weather people have now decided that 2012 was the wettest year on record, nice of them to announce it but I think we may just have guessed don't you? I watched a tv program on the year's weather the other night, one of those programs that just rubs it in a bit more but there wasn't much else on so I left it. It appears that the last twelve months or so has been messed up by the Gulf stream flowing too far to the south, of course you may have known that all along but I'm not a great viewer of the news and all that business so it was fresh to me. One theory is that this shift in the Gulf stream's flow is down to the melting of the polar ice and if so then this may just just be the start of things to come, and if so I for one am emigrating! Anyway enough of the depressing talk, let's go fishing.

Two or three winters back I spent several sessions on an old quarry after it's roach. There were rumours of 2lb fish and I did find a couple of pictures of a brace roach claimed to be that weight online though as they were in a net there was nothing to judge them against so there was only one way to find out and that was to fish it. I had been tinkering with the short hooklink helicopter bolt rig for the roach on my local reservoir and with the water in the quarry plunging steeply to twenty five feet odd it seemed that it might be a good idea to continue with the method on that water too. Nevertheless on my first session I went in on a standard feeder rig fished on the tip, plenty of fish were caught of all sizes up to a pound or so but I decided that I was going to fish two rods on my next session as it was obvious that I had to get through a considerable number of fish if I was to have a chance of a better one. Next time out one rod was fished on the maggot bolt rig and the other on a mini boilie in the hope of putting the small fish off, it did in fact it put everything off and only the maggot rod produced fish all day. The decision then was do I stick it out on rod rod with the boilie or switch both to maggot, I had tried the mini boilies extensively on my local and they didn't work for me, in that case they just didn't prove to be selective and caught roach of 10oz plus just as regularly as did the maggots, in the end I decided to go all out on maggot and play the numbers game. The end result of the mini campaign was a best roach of 1lb 7oz to me, Leo's biggest was 1lb 6oz and I believe Steve had one at 1lb 5oz, between us we had caught a lot of roach and my conclusion was that a brace of 2lbers was incredibly unlikely, maybe it could do a "2" but if so it would be a very exceptional fish for the water.

A nice fish from the previous campaign

So back to the present and a return visit seemed as good an idea as any of the others that I could muster up, at least I knew for certain that the place wouldn't be flooded. Leo joined me and we timed our arrival perfectly, a head torch was needed to get to the swims but by the time the kit was set up it was light enough to line up some casting markers on the far bank. Both rods had been rigged up with bolt feeders and I just had to clip on the hooklinks and get fishing. Hooklink material is one thing that I am still messing about with on this rig, almost all of my previous fishing has been done with 4.6lb (0.14mm) Silstar Matchteam, 3.3lb at times too, though as a pre-stretched line it does tend to kink and twist easily. I decided to try something out and started out on 4.6lb non stretched mono with a diameter of 0.18mm, tow rope to many roach anglers I know, most wouldn't have used the size 16 wide gape hooks with a single maggot either but my experience has been that you can normally get away with that or dare I say even bigger. I know friends who have scaled right down with the rig and who assure me that it was essential in the prevailing circumstances so I'll always keep an open mind but my current thinking is that with such a short hooklink subtle presentation may actually work against you sometimes. Compare it with the carp anglers stiff rig on a smaller scale, the fish only has a very small amount of play in the rig before hitting resistance. A stiffer hooklink combined with a relatively large hook in my mind exaberates the fishes problem in dealing with the situation, once the bait is in its mouth the more supple the link the easier it becomes to eject. Of course that only works should the extra stiffness not make the bait harder to take in the first place.

Two 50 gram Blackcap feeders were positioned about thirty yards out into the lake, in this instance clipping up wasn't practical due to the depth, on a shallower lake I would use a pole elastic stop knot positioned at the tip ring while the line was clipped at the reel and would lower the feeder down through the water by following the line with the rod tip. Trying the same technique in such deep water with a steep bank behind me to stop me sweeping the rod back wouldn't work and the feeder would swing back towards me spilling maggots during its arc, in this case the cast was so short as to be easy to judge anyway so no problem.For half an hour or so I just kept working the feeders, casting one after another every few minutes to get some bait into the swim and I then slowed it down to a cast every twenty minutes. It took an hour to get the first bite but once they had arrived the action was frantic to the extent that I considered winding one rod in. The fish weren't big by any means, mostly roach to 8oz's or so with the odd small skimmer thrown in and unfortunately a few roach/bream hybrids too. I don't recall catching any hybrids when I last fished the water so it was a shame to see them now appearing, of course they may just remain as an occaisional occurance but it still puts some doubt on the roach stock in future. It was bite after bite after bite for maybe an hour and a half and then it slowed down, by midday it had slowed to a halt which was a bit unusual. My first thought was to scale down and see what happened and one rod was fixed up with the 4.6 Silstar to an 18 with the other on 3.3lb and a 20, neither made a blind bit of difference with just the odd fish coming to either rig. I then swopped one rod back to the "tow rope" and size 16 and got the same result, just the odd fish, it makes you think doesn't it. In a nutshell I think that they had moved, I think that they were up in the water. A standard feeder rig with a long hooklink may have caught me a few more fish at that stage but Leo had been struggling all day for his chosen perch quarry and I was suffering considerably due to a stupid mistake I had made so we decided to call it an early finish.

The stupid mistake was to assume that the already wet inside walking boots I was wearing would be fine if I wore my Sealskinz waterproof socks, wrong, the socks made my feet damp and I froze, the Sealkinz are now definately for work use only which is what I bought them for. I should of course have been wearing my winter boots but since getting my new van I've discovered that the pedals seem to me closer together than in my old one and it isn't safe to drive in my size 12 snow boots, next time I'll not be so lazy and just get changed after the drive!

Here's a quick look at the short bolt rig the way I set it up, It's very straightforward, the most important thing is to try and avoid any twist caused by the hooklink or feeder. I include an extra swivel above the feeder which helps in that respect, a snap link between the two makes it easy to change feeder size/weight and a small piece of silicone over that stops the line tangling on it. The mainline is 6lb to cope with the continual casting, some use flouro but I'm just using bog standard mono. A small Korum quick change swivel is fixed between two grippa stops but either side of the swivel I use a tiny glass bead which keeps it all nice and free moving, I tried various tyupes of specific fishing beads but none are as friction free as those glass ones, you get hundreds of them for pennies on Ebay sold for jewellry making and I believe that they are 2mm in diameter. The hooklink which is tied to three inches or so in length is then attached via a loop onto the swivel. Tying the hooklink is by far the most fiddly part of setting the method up. I use a hook tyer and cut the tag end long so that I have plenty to play with, I then make a figure of eight loop knot as normal but keep a small baiting needle to hand. It makes it so much easier if you catch the loop with the needle and pull the knot together that way, a tiny piece of silicone float rubber then holds the link in place on the swivel. After casting the line is tightened right up and a bobbin is attached but instead of having a drop I fish it tight up to the rod, it is only there to indicate drop backs. I also sometimes clip the line to the rod just above the reel which aids the bolt effect further.

River Soar chub fishing - using my loaf

Although bitterley cold the weather had at last become dry, for a while at least, and the rivers were finally starting to get close to normal levels. Tuesday had seen me head for the River Derwent after the perch but a blank was the result, the water was holding a bit more colour than I would have liked and still a little bit too much flow, the stripeys would have to wait.

The two rod perch trick, watching tip and float at the same time, efficient but fruitless this time

The forecast for Wednesday was bright and sunny with temperatures possibly just creeping above freezing point at best but I've never known that to stop the chub feeding and that's what I fancied fishing for. The Soar was to be the venue and I am usually confident of a bite or two on my local river. I did consider picking up a few pints of maggots but I wasn't sure just how much water was on, it wouldn't take much to make maggot fishing very difficult and so I settled on a bucket of mashed bread with another loaf for hookbaits, a lump of cheese paste went into the bag as a reserve.

I arrived at the swim I fancied at about ten am and after putting my kit down threw in three good hand fulls of mash straight away, once that job was done I could take my time setting up knowing that the swim was building. I had bought one of the Marco Cortesi centrepins a couple of years ago, more because it was a bargain than anything else to be honest but it certainly does seem to be a cracking reel for the money. The daft thing is that it had yet to see water and I thought it really was time that I had a go with it, there was no wind to speak of so that wouldn't cause me any grief so why not. I rigged up a 2 1/2 swan shot chubber with the 4lb mainline straight through to a size 6. A few practice casts were always going to be needed but a few ended up being about twenty and no matter what I tried I wasn't getting the range required to send the float along the far bank tree's, there was no point in fishing short of the cover so the pin came off and on went a fixed spool, the pin can wait until I fish a bit closer in.

With the trusty Carbomatic now in place and a dose of Mucilin applied to keep the line floating I was ready to go. The first few trots down were ignored but I gradually increased the depth until the float vanished after a few yards on one cast and a fish was on. I don't float fish anywhere near as much as I should and I tend to forget how much better the fight is without a feeder or weight on the line, the chub wasn't much more than 3lb's in weight but was good sport nevertheless.

A little un for starters

The next cast produced another fish proving that they were hanging near the bottom and wouldn't come up even for a tasty lump of breadflake., This one was a bit bigger and after returning it well upstream I introduced more mashed bread and sat down for twenty minutes to rest the swim. A few more casts gave me two more chub with the best 4 1/2lb's odd and again the swim was rested after being baited. I watched a fox work it's way across the frozen field, scratching away for anything it could find no doubt in the harsh conditions and it occurred to me that being caught isn't actually too bad a price to pay for a fish when it has had a good feed thrown in for it's trouble.

The fish were now definately starting to become a bit wary after four of their mates had gone missing and it took a good half dozen runs through apiece to bag the next two, the last one coming to a cast as far over as I dare let the float run. I knew I was starting to push my luck at this stage particularly as I had to limit the session to four hours but I gave it another rest and managed to scrape out one more small chub before deciding to move upstream for the last hour to fish the tip.

My favourite banker swim on the stretch was the obvious place to visit but I knew that it might not be a viable prospect with the extra water on and I was proved right. The chub in that swim hang right over the far side in a big back eddy, the main flow pushes through the inside and even with the rod as high as possible it wouldn't be possible to hold the line out of the turbulence resulting in the rig being constantly dragged out of place. There was one more possibility and I heaved the rucksack back on and trudged on upstream.

That swim was looking more like it, a few surface boils were visible on the near side of the crease but I was sure that I could get away with an medium sized open ended feeder. First cast resulted in a great big drop back bite and a good old scrap under the rod tip before a fish of maybe 4 1/4lb's was in the net.

 
It took a while to get the next indication but eventually I landed chub number nine before stopping for ten minutes to chat to a bloke walking the field who told me about the otter he had seen in his swim at the weekend. That is getting to be a very familiar tale this season and I wonder how much longer we have left before we notice the barbel population start to suffer. I had said that I was going to hang out for fish number ten but time was running short and I ended up bottling out on that one, nevertheless I'd had a cracking days sport when not many would have bothered to have left the house.

Bolt rig for roach - the two pound dream

Thursday the 11th to Saturday the 13th of March 2010

Up until late November 2009 my pb roach was 1lb 6oz, that had stood for about 20 years, maybe even a bit longer. Over the winter I had a little campaign locally and pushed that  personal best up by an ounce which was certainly good news though nothing amazing on a grand scale of course. More importantly I spent a lot of time using the bolt feeder method and was happy that I had got it about right, it's good to practice on somewhere prolific as you learn very little about rigs and methods when you aren't catching fish. However you can only catch what swims in front of you and big roach in Leicestershire are very few and far between but I had found a venue containing some serious roach down in the southern counties and just had to have a go at them.

Local roach

The alarm was set for 3.30 am though when I looked at the time on awakening it was 3.18am, how do we do that? It has long been a mystery to me and happens far too often to be coincidence. By 3.45 I was out of the door and starting the 3 hour journey down south. The trip had been planned for a few months and I was originally due to have a mate with me but unfortunately he lost his job earlier in the week and had to pull out. I was gutted as I would have loved to have shared the experience but in a way it made me more determined to get stuck in and do my best to achieve a result.

I arrived just before 7am to find the lake empty which was a bonus With the pick of swims I plumped for one with a gentle wind, albeit a northerly, into my face and got the rods set up, two rods both rigged with feeders fished helicopter style with hooklinks of about 2 inches in length to size 18 hooks. The hooks were to be baited with maggot and fished on buzzers with the line pulled bowstring tight and a heavy bobbin clipped on right up against the rod blank creating an efficient bolt rig.

At 8am and I had my first bite, to be honest I was feeling more than a little dazed and confused after the early start and combined with an overdose of energy drinks to keep me awake and everything was a little surreal. I lifted into the fish and gently guided it the twenty or so yards to the net where I saw that it was a cracking looking roach and blow me if the scales didn't declare it to be a pb! 1lb 11oz, I was chuffed to bits, on the first bite too!

I soon discovered how difficult it can be to photograph shiny roach

By midday I had landed five fish and what a cracking stamp of fish they were, only one under a pound in weight and the others making 1lb 8, 1lb 6 and 1lb 4, I was loving it. I rigged up a waggler and had an hour fishing it down the side but my eyes were in bits due to lack of sleep and I just couldn't fish it effectively. The bites carried on steadily all day, averaging I guess about a fish an hour and when I decided that I really had got to wind the rods in for the night at a quarter to ten I had totalled seventeen fish and pushed my pb up again to 1lb 13oz. I did in fact attempt to leave the rods out but every time I pulled the sleeping bag over my head I got a bite, I couldn't cope with that and I knew i'd be in no fit state the next day either and so the sensible decision was made.

1lb 8oz

1lb 13oz

On Friday morning I was up at 6am and started to build the swim up again with frequent casts of the feeder although it took until 8.30 to get my next bite, another cracking roach of 1lb 13oz, the next fish was at 1pm and the one after that at 5pm, it was a tough old day and no one else was fairing much better, my only hope was that it might pick up after dark, little did I know!

Late in the afternoon it hammered it down with rain and then the hail arrive. The ground was wet to start with but it became evil, really evil, and after i'd been paddling in it for hours I only made it worse. My boots weighed a ton from the accumulated clag that hung from them, everything was covered in a layer of sticky brown muck and that included me, at one stage I could hardly see the skin on my hands and the clawing nature of the mire made everything hard work.

Filth!

As dusk fell everything changed, the days struggle was long forgotten as I became enveloped in a constant blur of catching fish, recasting and tying fresh rigs, it went absolutely mental. I managed to stay awake untill 1am thanks to a large quantity of strong coffee and ended the days fishing with twenty four roach. If anyone had told me that was about to happen I would have never believed it but amongst those fish I was blessed with something really special. A 2lb roach was the first benchmark specimen weight that I came to know as a kid, a fish of a lifetime that every angler aspired to and I had only gone and caught one, a 2lb 1oz bar of silver, pure magic.

Dream roach

I woke the next morning and didn't bother recasting the rods, I didn't feel the need to catch anything else, I packed away slowly and then pointed the van north. The end result was forty one roach, thirty three of which were over a pound and eleven of which were over 1lb 8oz.

Mission accomplished! 

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.