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

Chew Valley reservoir pike fishing - easy does it?

I initially said that I would have a couple of days fishing for the monster pike of Chew Valley reservoir just to say I'd been and leave it at that. Those first two days were fished just over a year ago and I've added another six days since, I'm weak willed you see! Well in fact that isn't fair, the lure of the place is hard to resist, you truly do not know what could be swimming in front of you at any given time to the extent that it is almost frightening to contemplate.

Chew valley reservoir pike fishing - The only way is Essox

Just after New Year the phone lines were opened at Woodford lodge to accept bookings for pike fishing at Chew reservoir. This is the first year that this system has been used and it was obvious that those telephones were going to be on fire with hundreds of hopeful anglers attempting to book some fishing. There has been plenty of criticism of the old system where you had to email or write in to request dates which were dished out lottery style but the new system must surely have caused all involved more headaches and I think ideally somewhere between the two would make a happy medium. I was lucky in that I got through on the phone quickly and as my plans for the rest of the river season were already laid out I just booked a couple of bank days in November and left it at that. Later in the day I got a call from Phil Smith asking if I fancied a two day boat trip in February. I was in two minds to be honest, I've done very little boat angling but I do know that a day out on the water in the worst that February can throw at you wouldn't be pleasant especially as my back was still a tad iffy after the motor accident late last year. However you've got to be in it to win it so after checking with 'er indoors that it wouldn't clash with our holiday plans I rang Phil back and the trip was on.

Looking at the weather forecast a few days before the trip one thing stuck out like a sore thumb, wind and plenty of it. Cold weather we would just have to cope with but wind could well mean no boats were allowed onto the water and I didn't much fancy a 150 mile drive to be told that we couldn't fish, what I didn't realise is that if the boats didn't go out you were welcome to bank fish. Phil rang the lodge the day before we were due on and their assessment was that it was looking unlikely boat wise and if we wanted to bank fish that was our choice so I packed the van with the extra kit needed and set the alarm for far too early before turning in for the night. As I have come to expect I was awake before the alarm went off, in fact if I was awake much earlier I wouldn't have been to sleep at all. I had considered not bothering and driving straight down the evening before and kipping in the van but thought better of it, some sleep is better than none when you've got a long drive in front of you.

The rods were cast out into the half light of dawn, both with a sardine attached that I had collected on a mad dash around the supermarkets of Leicestershire the previous afternoon. I fell lucky at the fourth shop, on any other day the flaming things would have been falling out of the doors but no, when I'm in a rush they'll be like gold dust. The wind was howling over our shoulders with a vengeance and neither of us expected the boats to be seen so we were happy that we'd made the right move. I stuck my shelter up and sat back for a long wait only to get disturbed not long afterwards by the sight of Phil picking up one of his rods and striking into a fish. That was a brilliant sign so early in the day, a definite confidence booster in the shape of a snapper just shy of 16lb's.

Not long after we'd sorted that fish out and returned it I was standing behind my rods when the right hand drop off hit the ground and line very slowly started to slip from the spool. I picked the rod up and let the line tighten to the tip before whacking into the fish. From the fight it didn't feel a bad fish but I soon had it close in over the shallow water where Phil scooped it up with the net. First impressions when peering into the mesh were that it was going to be twenty pounds plus but I hadn't allowed for just how deep these trout water fish are for their length and once it was on the mat it was obviously going to be well into the mid twenties. In fact it went 26lb 4oz on the scales and was the biggest pike I'd had by a few pounds, you can't get a better start to a session than that.

26lb 4oz

I was chuffed to bits at that result and would quite happily have blanked for the rest of the two days without complaint but fate threw me a very lucky hand less than two hours later when the same rod showed another take. I was a bit fortunate as I bent into the fish a bit further back into the strike than I would have liked but the hooks were set nevertheless and this pike was a lot livelier than the first. Almost straight away the fish shot off to the right at speed and I had to be quick off the mark to stop the line catching in a small bush submerged in front of the swim before legging it into Phil's swim where we had to do the old under and over dance to untangle my line from his. I ended up in a small gap to the right of the swim and I thought I'd pretty much got the fish under control as it came in under the rod tip but it then did an about turn and shot off towards the far bank turbo style, throwing half of its length clear of the water as it did so, I won't forget that for a while, absolutely brilliant! That little trick must have worn the pike out and I'm not sure that my ticker could cope with a repeat performance anyway so it's probably a good thing that it was soon in the net. After seeing the previous fish I now had a good idea of what I was looking at and the reading of 27lb 10oz on the scales wasn't as much a surprise as the whole experience was mind blowing, talk about a bit of luck eh, stunned probably best sums it up. I certainly can't claim that there was much skill on my part involved in the captures but that's fishing isn't it, as someone said to me last week sometimes most of the hard work is in actually making the effort to get to the water and he was right. A small jack came to the rods a little while later but that was the end of the day's action, you won't hear me complaining though.

27lb 10oz

Not long after I had returned the 27lb fish news started to filter through about the very sad passing of Terry Lampard. The huge number of tributes posted on the internet speaks volumes, most of us didn't know or even meet the man but his impact on the angling world was huge, a truly great angler. It certainly put the day's events into perspective, no matter what you catch at the end of the day it's just a bit of fishing isn't it. 

Though we had a boat booked and paid for it didn't take much thinking about to decide to stick with the bank fishing for another day and a phone call to the lodge confirmed that it would be ok to do so. I spent my first night kipping in my new luxury fishing accommodation i.e. the van, and despite having my doubts I slept like a baby which was probably something to do with only having three hours the night before. Dropping back into the same swims we again had the baits out for first light and settled back to see what the day would bring. There was a very sharp frost that lasted well into mid morning and though the wind had dropped to just a light breeze it was still from the north and was far from warm. Phil had a take early on that produced a fish of just under twenty pounds and the trout were much more active with a good few twitches and pulls that resulted in mashed up baits but other than that the day was quiet. I did have a fish pull the line from the clip right on last knockings but the strike met fresh air and I suspect that another trout was responsible, like I said to Phil if that had been my only decent indication of the trip I would have been left wondering what might have been.

Apologies if I have subconciously pinched the "only way is essox" bit from someone, it came to me in a state of sleep deprivation and made me chuckle so if you thought of it first, nice one!

Small stream chub fishing

Well what a year it has been weather wise, when you think that it couldn't possibly rain any more it comes again with a vengeance and the ground is so saturated that even a small amount of the wet stuff finds its way into the rivers in an instant. I had finally sorted myself out with a new van on Saturday and was raring to get back at those river perch but there wasn't a cat in hells chance. The rivers looked awful and every time a glimmer of hope shone in my direction another cloud drifted across and blotted it out.

I was getting seriously fed up, without my fix of angling I get tetchy and restless, something had to be done. My stillwater options were limited to two venues that I wanted to fish, one has only just returned to lake status after being joined to the Trent, the other is chocolate brown from the massive influx of water, I fancied my chances on neither. Then a thought occured to me, why not have a go on the brook that runs through my village, I had fished it a couple of time previously and for such a tiny watercourse it held some nice fish, nothing of specimen proportions but nevertheless great fun and something very different.

The brook flows through a reservoir before meandering along the fields and beside a housing estate then back out into farm land as it heads towards the nearby town. There was always a population of small rainbow trout present when we were kids, no doubt from the reservoir though I've not seen any in recent years I should imagine they are still about. There are certainly some lovely little brownies though and I caught one of a pound and a quarter a couple of years back. The same day I located a shoal of perfectly conditioned roach in a tiny pool between fast runs and took fish to almost 8oz's though a mink kept popping his head up from amongst a pile of wood on the far bank and I feared for their well being. Fishable spots are few and far between, most of it's length is fast  and turbulent and so narrow as to be jumpable in places. A conventional rod would limit those fishable spots even more due to the bankside foliage and so I dug out an ancient Silstar match picker tip rod, at only 6ft in length I could poke it in to the smallest of gaps.

My first port of call was the pool that had given me those roach previously. The approach across the fields was waterlogged and as I neared the bank the amount of debris that had been shifted in the flood was incredible. Great piles of sand had been deposited in places, obviously scoured from the stream bed, and foot thick rafts of crop stubble lay in curved banks where the water and driven it. The water was still well up and quite coloured but I still rated it as good for a roach or two. The pool in question is I would guess twenty feet across at its widest point and is formed by a bend where the full force of the flow pounding into the far bank has eroded it over the years. This has created a fish holding spot on a stretch that is so shallow for several hundred yards both up and downstream that only the smallest of trout, maybe sticklebacks and the odd bullhead could survive. With the increased flow the majority of the swim resembled a washing machine but a back eddy on the inside of the bend right under my feet looked to have potential and I flicked a few bits of bread flake down the edge before setting up the rod with a simple link ledger rig. The piece of fishable water was at the very most eight feet long by a couple of feet wide and I gradually covered the entire area over the course of a dozen or so casts without an indication from anything other than a considerable amount of debris that was being circulated in the eddy. If the roach were there I would have expected a bite quickly and I couldn't imagine anywhere else in the swim that they could be sitting until I spotted a piece of slack water tight in to the far bank, totally unfishable from my bank but certainly big enough to hold fish. I decided that it was time to move on and I hoped that the roach were still there and didn't get wiped out by the mink between my visits, I will go back for another go soon so we shall see.

The next fishable spot that I remembered was another three or four hundred yards downstream but I followed the course of the brook anyway just in case the flood had created a new area, nothing was quite fishable as yet but a couple of bits had future potential. The swim I had in mind was a U bend which sooner or later will cut through to create an oxbow. The last time I had fished it I had sat at the upstream end of the curve but the flow was too powerful on this occasion, the point where the bend began to open up was perfect though and would let me fish upstream into a nice steady run. I mashed up a slice of bread and fed it into the fast water to allow the flow to send it into the potential fish holding areas below before settling down in my little nook, possibly a spot never before fished and it isn't often you can say that is it.

I flicked the two swan shot link the required few yards and took the slack out of the line allowing the tip to find it's own curve. If the opportunity presents itself I will always choose to fish an upstream ledger, it offers much less resistance to a biting fish and the bites are normally much easier to hit. Within thirty seconds of the rig settling the method proved itself as two small taps were followed by the tip springing straight and I almost rolled over backwards as I tried to pick up the line with the tiny rod, maybe I should take the eight footer next time. With a rod designed for scratching small fish out of canals the fight from anything even half decent was always going to be fun and the chub of not much more than a pound had it hooped over double as I attempted to keep it from burying itself amongst the nearside foliage.

I would normally return the fish some distance away to save spooking any others in the swim but finding somewhere suitable would have meant a long walk so I had no choice but to slip it straight back. Mind you that didn't seem to make too much difference as after throwing in some more free offerings upstream the next cast produced an identical bite instantly. This fish ran towards me so quickly that I had to wind down before I could bend in to it right under my feet where it gave me a right old run around before I scooped it up, a bit bigger this time at pushing two pounds I suppose. I thought the chances of another bite after that were pretty slim but that wasn't going to stop me trying. I was right in my thoughts though not for the reason I had in mind as just after I had plopped the rig out the far bank collapsed with a mighty crash destroying any hope of a bite, I didn't see that coming!

I decided to call it a day at that point quite happy at having had a couple of fish and knowing that the next promising area was probably a mile distant. I squelched my way back along the hedgerow accompanied by a flock of Redwings leapfrogging ahead of me making the most of the berries and turning my thoughts to what might lie ahgead weather wise. Cold to any extreme I can cope with, so long as the rivers keep flowing and I can get to them I am confident in catching fish, rain however I have seen quite enough of for one year thank you very much.

Chew Valley reservoir pike fishing

In December of last year I along with many other anglers sent a letter off to Woodford lodge at Chew Valley reservoir asking to be added to the lottery for pike fishing dates. After a couple of months I had heard nothing which is a familiar feeling to many that apply and I put the matter to bed as just bad luck.

Sometime early in September I was perched rather precariously on my stepladders while cutting back ivy from a house wall when the phone rang. Normally in such situations I ignore the call but on this occasion I pulled the handset from my pocket and looked at the screen, Woodford Lodge calling, eh? Well I wasn't going to ignore that ring was I and a good job I didn't too as it was the fishery enquiring as to wether I would be paying for my allotted days, eh? It seems that the letter that I should have received at the start of the year had gone astray and I had been sitting on a two day permit for two anglers on the pike mecca for nine months without knowing it! Leo had also applied and the agreement was that it if either of us was successful then the other would go on the trip too.

We were all set to go and looking forward to it when I had my motor accident just over a week before the date which was the last thing I needed. With a hire van soon arranged all was looking well again but then I started to suffer some side effects of the bump with back and neck trouble on and off, nothing severe but the worst part of it was that I was struggling to sleep comfortably and I am not good at all without sleep. Within a few days of the trip I felt lousy and in all honesty wasn't looking forward to it at all, to arrive in Somerset at dawn would mean leaving Leicestershire somewhere around 4am and that was the last thing I needed but I couldn't cancel the trip, that would mean letting Leo down and missing out on an opportunity that we might not get again so we were going and that was that.

The journey was mercifully pretty straightforward until we got within a few miles of our destination but three hours of sitting had caused havoc with my back and I really needed to get out and move. Our problem started when we were trying to find specific areas of the reservoir as the access roads are poorly, well actually not at all, marked. We went back and forth for the best part of an hour before deciding that we need to ask someone and so headed to the lodge where thankfully were directed to some entry points. By this stage I just needed to get myself sorted and we decided to forget our original plan to fish Wick point and to fish the Nunnery bank instead.

The Nunnery bank had four anglers already set up but thankfully there was room for the two of us in between with room to spare and the rods were soon out and fishing on a variety of dead baits. The shelters were up soon after as it started to drizzle and I collapsed onto my bedchair feeling like the living dead, but at least we were fishing. The day passed in a kind of groggy haze with a distinct lack of activity on the part of old snaggle tooth. The lads down to our left caught a fish of 14lb's odd and had a couple of dropped trout takes but our swim was dead until Leo decided to send a sprat out which prompted several trout attacks, none of which were landed. The drizzle had given way to thick fog by early afternoon and I was pretty happy to be sitting on terra firma rather than testing my slightly dubious boat handling skills in that lot.

Leo surveys the murk

We found our Bed and Breakfast after another tortuous trip around in circles down the narrow Somerset lanes not helped one bit by the fog and dumped down our kit before heading off for a meal. We ended up at a curry house in Bishop Sutton called Sutton Spice and I can definitely recommend it, the best curry I've had apart from at my local for years and we aren't short of good Indian restaurants in Leicestershire. After that it was time to crash and get soem very much needed sleep, we had been advised to get on the bank early to secure a swim but that wasn't going to happen, 6am would be quite early enough.

On Saturday we headed straight for Wick point, this time knowing exactly where to go although it did mean driving through a rather large puddle, in fact it could have been classed as a small pond. We had been told that we would hate fishing this bank as it was boggy and they weren't wrong on that description though it was certainly nothing to stop us fishing.

A waterlogged Wick point

As we were setting up the lads to our left seemed to be getting take after take which boosted our confidence though we later found out that all bar one or two were dropped trout pick up, something we were about to find out about ourselves. My first indication came within a half hour of casting out, as I held the rod line wasn't being taken but on tightening up I could feel a tap tap and hit into a fish. Whatever it was it wasn't heavy and when it surfaced some distance out from the bank we both said trout straightaway. It turned out that we were wrong though and I had a Chew pike on, all 3lb odd of it complete with a nasty flying treble just waiting to get stuck into someone's finger, luckily that someone was Leo and not me!

Looking up the reservoir towards Woodford lodge on the left and Denny island on the right

We then had a spell with quite a few little bangs and knocks where the trout were having a go at the baits though only one was hooked and Leo managed that one, quite a spectacular fight on heavy gear it was too from a fish just short of 6lbs. The middle of the day was very quiet before the trout turned up for another go towards evening, again none were hooked and they started to become a bit of a nuisance to be honest but let's face it we wouldn't be pike fishing the place if it wasn't full of trout would we!

So that was our Chew trip, hard work but just sitting there considering what swam in front of us was an experience in itself, quite frightening even. As a send of we were treated to a spectacular sunset, with a bit of luck maybe we'll be back to see it again.

A week after our return Chew Stoke made the national news for all of the wrong reasons when torrential rain left the area severely flooded and one poor bloke drowned in his car. Sometimes you have to step back and forget your few minor troubles and think yourself lucky.

Rutland zander fishing - jigging the day away

Sunday the 11th of November

Andy Lewis of Piscatorial Pastimes contacted me at the start of the week to ask if I fancied joining him afloat on Rutland water for a day as his intended boat partner was ill and I jumped at the chance. Up until a couple of weeks ago I had never fished a trout water and with two days booked on Chew reservoir also coming up and now this I was suddenly in overload. I was really looking forward to the trip and then on the Wednesday, as mentioned in my previous blog, all hell broke loose when I had an accident in my van.

Thursday dawned with the realisation that my van was never likely to roll again, I had sent Andy a message to let him know what had happened late the previous night and it seemed that the trip was off. I made the necessary phone call to my insurance company and from the short conversation it seemed that things would be sorted out without too much bother and that I would have a hire van delivered the next day. I didn't want to let Andy down if I could help it and still wanted to go myself so the trip was back on.

The journey from my town across to Rutland is one of meandering country roads rollercoasting through farmland and rural villages and giving a great view of the wakening day. The mist hung heavy along the Wreake valley and my thoughts turned to monster roach as I passed the lane leading to where Guff (here) caught his two pounder many years before. I would dearly love to have a go for a big Wreake roach but I fear that I would most likely be chasing ghosts, this lovely little river has been hit hard by the cormorants and being so small a watercourse there is little room to hide, very sad.

I met Andy just before opening time and was very glad to get out of the van, sitting still for an hour had done my back no good at all. After a quick natter we got the boat loaded up and headed out into the vastness of Rutland water.

The captain at the helm

I've visited the place plenty of times in the past with the mrs but when you are out on the water somehow it suddenly seems so much bigger. We had been told in advance about a few areas to try and initially headed up into the south arm for a few drifts out from the sailing club. The only thing that was hooked in that area was a manky old coil of rope that I managed to haul up from the depths and after a couple of hours or so we moved across to the area of an old trout cage. That area was sheltered by the headland seperating the north and south arms and we made quite a few drifts out from a small bay past the cage into the reservoir before Andy hooked into a fish. The little Drennan spinning rod that he was using bent double as something bored away under the boat and we both soon decided that it wasn't a zander and pike came to mind, after a bit more of a tussle we decided that it might be a nice pike and were peering into the depths looking for a glimpse when up popped a trout foulhooked near the gill, no wonder it scrapped.

The next stop was a mark in the north arm and we set up for a long drift parallel to the peninsula. The wind had by now picked up considerably though I guess on dry land it would have just been a breeze, it was rocking us about quite a bit and I switched the drogue from coming off mid boat to being fixed from the bow which settled the boat nose into the wind and helped a lot. My back was starting to give me a bit of grief by that point and I don't think I could have stood that rocking and rolling for much longer. Without the wind hitting us side on the boat was also slowed down considerably and I was quite happy with how the lure was being presented, too fast a drift and it just gets lifted off bottom which is no good whatsoever. I'd spooled up a reel with 6lb bs braid for this trip, the low diameter really helped with lure control especially when used with a heavy jig head. I found 30 grams to be about right on the day and could easily feel the jig touching bottom when I lowered it down several times a minute to make sure that it remained in the bite zone.

My weapon of choice

 

A small selection, the yellow shad top left produced the bites

I certainly felt that I was using the method more efficiently than on my first attempt on Grafham water a couple of weeks previously. I was just starting to think that we should perhaps motor back up wind when the rod went over and I was in, I'm not sure if it was a heavy take or if I instinctively struck at a tap, these things happen on auto pilot don't they, but a fish was on and in no time at all was on the surface and netted. The Rutland zander are generally quite small, certainly compared to the Grafham fish, and this one wouldn't have been much more than two pounds in weight, a quick snap and I dropped it back from a height to shock it into diving back into the depths.

My back was really aching now and I was getting occasional tingling shooting down my arms into my fingers so I can't say that I was disapointed when Andy suggested that we move back into the south arm which seemed calmer. We finished the day back at the sailing club after dodging through the sailing boats to get there, I thought we were in the race at one stage!

A bit close for comfort

The wind dropped off almost completely as dusk approached and the drogue was stowed away. Lure control was as good as it ever could be with the braid cutting through the surface film almost vertivally from the rod top. A few small knocks indicated that fish were in the area and then I hooked into another which unfortunately came off after a few seconds, the last chance of the day.

The sun falling to the horizon made a lovely end to the day as we motored back to the jetty. The other boats had all found the fishing to be slower than expected though some had taken up to a dozen zander after finding them in very deep water around the 70ft mark. I'd had an enjoyable day though and Andy was good company, thanks for the invite mate. It was only when I looked at the picture later that I noticed how the zander's eyes were bulging, obviously from coming up from the deep water. It concerns me a bit to be honest as I don't go fishing to harm what I catch and I had some worries about wether or not the effect was reversible, I hope so and the fish did appear to swim off strongly.

Like a different day