Modest Viands

 

Roadside Stalls No 2

The drive home along some winding north Dorset roads yielded this treasure trove of locally grown apples from a smallholders orchard...

Roadside Stalls No 1

Marshwood Vale, West Dorset

First knockings....

I like the prospect of a dawn start which coincides with the high tide...it's the best start to a day, especially when the forecast is set good and gives me the rest of the day to do other things as well. 

The beach car park was busy at 4am - a mix of anglers, beach campers, dog walkers and those recovering after too many libations around the fires which now smouldered in the early morning hush. As per usual I walked as far away as I possibly could from everyone. The terns confirmed my plan a good one as in the distance I could see a few diving for whitebait.

Within half an hour the old Dennis Pye was casting out, not to the distant horizon but a fair chuck where the fish were hitting the tiddlers - it wasn't long before a hollow in the shingle was the final resting place for my mackies.....these destined for the freezer as winter pike bait. 

The Kelly was duly fired up for the first brew of the day and tackle changed to catch a couple more on a small lure close in before the tide changed. It wasn't long before it was all over and another angler decided to fish next to me.....with miles of beach he decided my spot was the one....I decided on another brew before heading home.

That contemplative moment when all is done and all is good is magical - time to just watch the day unfold...a mix of birds coming in...egrets, yaffles, swifts galore and then the cry went up from the terns....a peregrine. The other angler didn't notice. No response either as I wished him tight lines as I headed back up the beach. It was a joyous drive home along the Jurassic Coast Highway with the swifts still screaming above.  

Rude veg

It's juvenile I know, but what with the current craze for wonky veg (you're all light years behind me by the way) I couldn't resist these two recent finds. The carrot was my very own and the butternut squash was in our veggie box - I am sure the box chaps do it on purpose as this is not the first ummm, well you know, appendage, ummm thingummy shaped squash....it won't be the last either I bet. 

The social pike

I hadn't been fishing for weeks and weeks. You know how it goes....stuff comes up from all angles and it just doesn't happen. The date had been in the diary for weeks. It was never going to move as it is one of the most eagerly awaited trips of the fishing season - The Christmas Pike Social.

I fish with my pal Jim regularly, but this trip involves another good friend who I sadly only seem to see on this festive social trip and we enjoy the day from the minute we start planning where, what food, what libations and then it stumbles to tactics and weather until the day finally arrives and we greet each other like excited schoolboys.

The Dorset Stour is always our venue of choice and we were lucky after some recent lumpy weather that the river was just fishable for our day. Colour had only just dropped out and the level was down by quite a few feet. We exchange small gifts before we start and then the most social of days begins.

It's not just about the pike. I am pretty sure we three have fishing as an excuse for actually just being there in the landscape, in nature, breathing it, smelling it and seeing it. Each year this trip provides us with pleasure for what we see - otters, egrets, lapwing, water rail, kingfishers galore, sparrow hawk and an amazing rook display at dusk. 

Even though an otter had obviously taken a liking to my pike at some stage during its life I still do get a feeling of complete excitement when I see one on my fishing trips. 

The wind was biting. One of those squally windy days which Simon said "send kids and cats loopy" - it was cold too. They generally are from the east. We would be fine though as the social provides - Kelly Kettle tea, pork pie, mince pies, stollen, whisky and pickled onions.

The fishing was hard as it can be on such days, but the river did grant us a wish to see a fish or two and bring some Christmas cheer. We three, kings of the river for a day reflected on what had been a special day as we trudged across the fields to the twinkling festive lights of the village and home to warm fires and liquid cheer....

The fruits of a plentiful season

It's been a splendid growing year. One of the best ever. The currants plentiful, apples smaller but sweeter and cucumbers galore. We have just reached the end of the tommies and chili with no green ones for the annual chutney session, but that will not stop me having a big making session in the next few days. The marrows will add the bulk and I am sure I can obtain some tommies from gluts elsewhere........so let the chopping commence and the fumes of vinegar and spice be intoxicating. 

It must be getting better?

Minor victories day by day now. The butter is spreadable and we are having what must be one of the best wild primrose displays in recent years, the birds are louder each day although our gull population do drive me a bit crackers with their incessant chuntering and "goings on" - the joy that is banty eggs, my first this year and a most welcome gift. Small and bursting with flavour. What shall it be? Scrambled on buttery toast? Happy golden days.

Three cheers for Christmas

The annual Christmas pike social is an eagerly awaited day in my anglers diary - to be honest it is not just about the catching of pike for me, but the joy of being out before Christmas when others are rushing about with last minute preparations. The joy of good company, fine pork pie, mince pies, tea, Christmas spirit and all being well a hip flask of medicinal spirit to keep the chill away.

This year did not disappoint - they never do. Always some drama to make then day memorable and this year there was the added spice of a new stretch of the Stour to fish. I have an obsession with the writings and fishermen of the Victorian age and I like to think old Francis Francis and JW Martin would enjoy these days, so I always think of them on such occasions and raise my bankside glass to them - never forgotten.  

The river looked perfect as it had just fined down after the recent heavy rains. We exchanged cards, presents and stories and it was one of those days when watching the nature around us would have been just enough. The pike had other plans though and it was not until later in the day as the light was starting to fade that our bauble like floats twitched as pike started to search out their festive feast...........we had devoured ours and it was their turn now to seek out the spratts.

Much merriment, landing of fish, the drama of unhooking, admiring, nurturing of such a fine species before being gently returned to their watery Christmas home. The glass of Christmas beer I raised to old Esox was very sweet that evening as I sat in quiet contemplation of a day most generous. Three cheers for old Esox and three cheers for Christmas!

If you see someone, tell them that someone is safe

The blog has suffered from radio silence for a while – the dreaded blue screen of death appeared and I thought all was lost. A lifetime digitised and not backed up. I closed the screen and thought that I would have a little sleep and see what happened…….nothing happened so a technical expert was called in whilst I went fishing and forgot about it for weeks.

Success! Normal service resumes…….

I have just returned from a delightful adventure to the River Severn in Shropshire. The annual pilgrimage to a water of my youth is now, hopefully, a permanent fixture in my anglers calendar. I have written about the place before, which sits in a quiet fold of Shropshire cattle countryside, where memories are fond and paths well-trodden. They say never go back, but I think once a year is just enough to keep the old memories alive.

It’s barbel  and chub country and I rarely fished it years ago if the river was anywhere near the level it was on this trip – flood conditions were the time to head to the river and huge lumps of Spam (4 hook baits from one tin) on a size 1 Aberdeen hook. Big bait, big fish.

These days it’s a tad more refined, you have to find fish along a long stretch as the barbel have certainly dispersed and are not there in the numbers we enjoyed back in the 1990’s. The locals blame a few summer floods which wiped out the ranunculus beds which the barbel loved, but who knows……….

The fishing is not important to me really, the joy is friendship. Friends who never change, unlike the river, and have their own lovely ways. For that the trip was memorable and I can’t wait for next year.  

Season of plenty

It's been a great growing year for us - after constructing planters last year, a tad late to grow anything worthwhile we have found it hard to keep up this year. The spuds are Pentland Javelin and wonderful roasted with herbs and oil. We are still cropping, but I have no idea what these behemoth spuds are. The soil to fill the planters was moved from another part of the garden, so these are self-setters.....absolutely huge and the size of rocks. Ideal baking potatoes.

The season of red cabbage or cabbo as we call it has also arrived. It means to me Autumn is nigh and roasts, sausages and all the comfort food is upon us - I am not complaining as there is plenty to make meal times special. The beetroot has been a success along with the peas and beans. The garlic has just been pulled to spend a few days drying in the sun. Hang on, is that a falling apple I hear?

Finnicky feeders and the price of gold

After a break from Blighty (more of this another day) it was a joy to return to my favourite crucian pond and watch the comings and goings of all that live on, in and around this haven. I, of course, spoil the whole scene as I bimble through the undergrowth, brew tea, eat inordinate amounts of pie and pork products whilst watching a float which remains motionless for great parts of the day - the general public if they were to view such a scene would probably think I was mad.......I know otherwise, I am in heaven.  

Not much has changed in the few weeks since my last visit. I was pleased to see, if anything, it was more overgrown. Obviously very few other anglers have been to fish and the weed growth was a tad dense and the lily pads were still in fine fettle. I have sensed a slight change in the season these last few days......you can sniff autumn is in the air and as I settled down the wind was blowing in the trees around the pool and the leaves are just on the turn. I love these subtle changes and they make the year of the fisherman all the more memorable.  

The crucians had obviously had their breakfast as my float did not stir for some considerable time. This does not matter in the slightest as there is much to observe and take in - the dragonflies were active as were the birds around the pond - long tailed tits were on the wing and having family arguments about the insects they were consuming on a sallow. It always surprises me when the float stirs. When it does it is like a little electrical charge which makes me almost jump from my idle thoughts.

The first crucian of the day is a perfect little bar of gold, a delicate delightful fellow who is handled with such great care as in my eyes he is worth far more than gold. He is admired with wet hands and gently returned to the pond.

My tackle at these two Saxon ponds is delicate - for there are two, one upper and one lower and both completely different in appearance and atmosphere. A small quill float which is gently shotted coupled with my 1950's Hardy General rod and Overend's Speedia reel. That's it - I keep it simple and it will not change for the summer and early autumn here. 

I have not caught a single tench all summer although today I lose one in the pads as my mind and eyes wandered - there was the most amazing spectacle of a Brown Hawker dragonfly chasing his lunch through the trees, the most amazing acrobatics I have seen of late. Just as the afternoon moved towards evening I continued to catch a few more of these little chaps and was joined by another angler (Stephen) who fished a little further along the path. 

The time the float moves and you are coupled to a larger specimen always surprises me, it is one of the joys I guess, and at a tad over 1lb 8oz I was really pleased. Another chubby one graced my landing net and it was soon time to leave.

Stephen and I discussed the atmosphere here, it can be strange and is not surprising for such place of antiquity.......you just know when it is time to pack up and the silence and darkening skies told me now was the time.

Stephen was at the gate and had come with the most welcome of gifts....a jar of his home made jam which, like the crucians, was worth more to me than the price of gold.

The mighty radish

I dread to think how many posts I have done over the years about my radish obsession - apologies, here we go again!

Like the turning of the seasons, the comings and goings of birds my radish season is something I eagerly await. Succession sowing means they come thick and fast now. I'll keep going until very late in the summer and, luckily for me, I'm the only one at Straker Towers who likes them! 

Chocolate soup for diabetics

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.