To say the last few days of the traditional coarse fishing season were not as expected and hoped for is an understatement. The river had been out of sorts. It comes up quickly once the ground is sodden and the multitude of streams which enter its upper reaches make it react quickly. All sorts of Plan B locations were being discussed as a localised downpour put it up and over the banks for the last weekend of the season.
I still went for the last two days - I could not bring myself to fish still waters for these last two days. The river was the colour of weak chocolate - nearer Caramac. The temperature rose and it was shirtsleeve weather with poached feet in wellie boots - what's going on? Bumblebees, butterflies and sand martins made it seem not quite seasons end.
One visitor I was not pleased to see was that little bastard the Blandford Fly - the ale of the same name is alright I suppose, but this biting little critter made an unwelcome early appearance on both days.
The river actually fished alright, slowly, but just enough interest in the baited slacks of the river out of the main flow to catch a goodly bag of roach, dace and gudgeon. What lovely gudgeon they were - I lost count of how many of the greedy fellows I caught and am always flabbergasted to hear some of the old timers actually speak of eating them, how could they!
I am having a love affair with some of my lightly used Ambidex reels at the moment - they don't get used as often as I would like, but with a switch to a static bait on the bottom of the river it felt the right reel to use. I love the gawdy blue hues of these reels and the bakelite fittings.
A stroll downstream to see how the rest of our gather were faring, with the added hope of cake and tea, and I was overjoyed to see some river debris in the form of someones Christmas lights half way up a willow - lovely.
It was more of the same for day two - the river was still not in the best of condition and bites were much harder to get, but the company was splendid, tea magnificent and cake orgasmic. As the light faded from the day I had my last cast and the tiniest tremble resulted in that hoped for thud and lunge of a large roach. A huge roach. A giant roach. A Stour roach like this has been in my dreams for many years, but it was only to be the tale of the one that got away in the pub that evening..............another season ends and dreams, sometimes, maybe one day will become reality.
The last day of the traditional coarse fishing season is just as enjoyable as the opening day. A day to meet up with friends for a social day of fishing, chatter, tea and cake. Just after my last freezing trip to the river it poured with rain and the Stour duly came up and over onto the fields - it was totally unfishable for a few days and the colour of chocolate soup. It came down seven feet in one night just leaving it at the perfect height but still slightly too coloured for the last day. You can't have everything and we hoped our floats would dib at least once or twice.
Of course we still went fishing and had the most splendid day. I fished some glorious glides and had the most enjoyable time with plenty of fin perfect roach and dace for company. The landing net remained dry as they were all roachlings and dacelings but you just never know what is going to come next. Everyone caught - Kev had a few chub on his bread only diet, Merv some roach that did require the landing net and a solitary pike that had a taste for worm, Ferney and Max finally had their perch at last knockings and Demus, Steve and Hedge battled up river, out of the wind, with a good spread of species.
No swallows this year, but for me what really makes this day special is the company - the brotherhood of the angle was alive and kicking on the banks of the Stour..........along with copious amounts of tea and cake of course.
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| Here be Chub! |
It's always a bit hectic for me at the tail end of the coarse fishing season - I have even more of a desire to go fishing than I normally do.....last gasp effort and all that before the 14th March.
The last couple of weeks have seen me chance my arm at anything and everything on the Stour
, Avon and small streams of Wessex including the jewel that is the Ebble
. The full range of weather conditions too. Freezing, balmy, cold SE winds, warming spring sun, poachers moon and ice cold rain have made it challenging to say the least.
Some huge fish have been caught as I trundle along just doing my thing - today is seasons end and I will be fishing where I always fish on this day, the lovely Upper Stour
. The maggots are ready (curried of course), bread has been liquidised, big tub of lobs and away we go!
Only a short break until it all starts again with the trout and before we know it the mackerel will be in and it will be June 16th as the fisherman's year continues on its watery way.
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| Here be Grayling! |
........lowest ebb. So the old saying goes. I am fully signed up to this and only just start to come out of the gloom into February when the first of the snowdrops appear. After the Twelfth Night celebrations I sort of go into hibernation - sod all this get fit new year resolution malarkey. Who really wants all that during the glooming time of the year? Most folks just want to curl up in front of the fire with a syrup pudding open the port and just get through it, me included.......until about now.
There has been a paucity of posts and there is good reason - been too cold to go fishing, too cold and grim to do anything. But I do sense we may be breaking through to the other side. I do feel we are on the cusp of something. The light is changing, the birds are louder and the sun of the last few days is slightly warming when out of the wind. I even thought of dusting down the fly tackle in readiness for the spring! No doubt it will all come crashing down before then, but at the moment there is the end of this coarse fishing season to look forward to - anyone for a pike?
I am always nervous about taking someone fishing to a stretch of river or a lake they have never fished before - I am desperate for them to like a place as much as me, especially when it is somewhere so dear to my heart. I needn't have worried the other day. Even though my guest had paid hard £'s in an Avon Roach Project auction to spend a pampered day on the Golden Scale Club stretch of the Dorset Stour. He enjoyed it from the off!
Keith from River Reads in Devon was splendid company and it's not every day I get up extra early to go fishing, but Keith had supported a mighty fine cause and I actually arrived early in readiness to show him the river which is unheard of. Ferneyhough Yates would be joining us too, but I knew from experience that we would have the river to ourselves until he turned up in the afternoon. Especially as I knew he would not have got home after his night ramble in the countryside until at least 2am.
The early morning mist was soon burnt off by a warm sun...........one of the last, I fear, of this perfect Indian summer. The spicy aroma of autumn and hint of wood smoke in the air gave a sense of cooler days ahead. The Swallows were grouping in huge numbers and feeding over the meadows and river to prepare for the journey ahead - I thought they had already left, so it was a real bonus to share one last day with them. The river did not disappoint - a wonderful bag of roach, dace, gudgeon, perch, chub and even a couple of jack pike to make Keith think he had hooked a monster was enough to make this day memorable. After a splendid lunch and more dipping of floats we three ended up fishing on either side of the river to enjoy the last rays of the day in the most wonderful of landscapes and in splendid company - real boys fishing as Keith put it and I could not disagree.
The perfect fisherman's lunch. I am easily pleased. Cheese rolls with home made rhubarb chutney, home grown tommies, Discovery apple, Dorset apple cake and a bottle of light ale to wash it all down........if only the fish would oblige!
I had my first date slice from the rather good deli in Cley next the Sea about fifteen years ago. The Captain and I had a winter trip to search out, what was then, a rather unknown corner of the country for us and to also find the spot where BB painted a winter view of the famous Cley Towermill, marshes and River Glaven for me. It was one of the last paintings he ever did, but unbeknown to me at the time it was one of his "regular" pieces which he produced a few times a year for the market. I treasure it and we have been back every year since that first trip. Each year is like an adventure and we cannot imagine a time when we don't do it.
So, this humble date slice is riddled with memories for me - they all come flooding back when I bite into it (usually with a cup of tea). The good thing is The Captain and the nippers don't like them, so I don't end up losing half of it! Disappointingly there was a period when they stopped doing them, but they are well and truly back now. A friend brought me back a little box of them one year, just to keep me going you understand. How lovely is that!
It's no good - my belt is already in uncharted waters and then The Captain, with help from the nippers with icing, produces this little lot to get us through the next few days. I'll just have to do my bit like a good trencherman and get stuck in. Pass the butter please. Happy Easter!
