The feast of Saint Mark commemorates Mark the Evangelist and today is St Mark's Day. A national holiday throughout Italy and a day that is celebrated lightly here - for me, the angler and especially one who is fishing for trout with artificial imitation flies at this time of year I give thanks to St Mark.
I will doff my cap to St Mark the Evangelist, but raise my rod and a libation to St Mark the fly! A little known insect that gives me great pleasure at this time of year - the Hawthorn Fly (Bibio marci), also known as the St Marks Fly.
I have always had likings for it - a friendly sort of insect that usually coincides with my first real trout forays of the season. The large females hatch around now,although the males have been around for quite a few weeks on my local West Dorset Streams and the trout have been enjoying them.
The nippers asked what do they do? Do they bite? The answer is no of course and they are one of the unsung heroes as far as pollinators go.
The deceased example you see on my fly box was not hurt as part of this post - it was found in a web on my fishing shed window. So, if like me, you are fishing today or this evening and using a Hawthorn pattern please give thanks to St Mark as well as the fly of the same name - it's always good to cultivate your luck where fishing is concerned.
"to remind you of the sport we both love so well" - what fine words indeed by the Skipper, fine roach man of the Hampshire Avon, Captain LA Parker. I know the coarse fishing season is now over and we bimble towards the opening of the trout season down here in Wessex (this weekend), but a recent market find needed recording.
I was lucky, some years ago, to purchase a signed copy of his fine book "This Fishing or Angling Arts and Artifices" which details his time angling for roach around Downton, Breamore and Fordingbridge from his base at The Bull Hotel in Downton (now a shadow of its former self I might add). This went very nicely with my old Bull Hotel fishing tie that does get an occasional airing by the river on special roach days!
More recently I managed to purchase a later edition of the book which has a lovely picture of The Skipper on the cover - what a fine and happy fellow he looks. A fine market find indeed.
The annual Christmas Pike trip is something I look forward to very much indeed. It's always memorable for many reasons and this year was even closer to Christmas which added to the enjoyment of this festive period.
The day, as you can imagine, is not just about the fish. The company is as splendid as ever. We enjoy a natter, freshly made tea, pork pie and mustard and later mince pies with cognac. This year we were also blessed with suitably chilly weather coupled with a slight north easterly which cut across the Hampshire Avon water-meadows.
The pike obliged. This one was a tad under 15lbs and the fight was full of drama and close shaves. One low double was caught twice and in the afternoon I switched my attention to chub. Trundling a lump of chopped ham and pork to try and tempt something was the order of the day until last knockings at dusk. Two fine chavender graced the net, but only just. The second and biggest of my pair was duly grabbed by a pike in clear water just at the net. It frightened the life out of me let alone the poor chub - I hung on to both fish for about five minutes until the 20lb pike decided to let go.
The startled chub recuperated in my net for a while before I let him go to hopefully dodge being a pikes dinner. The moorhen and water rail which were shyly going about their business looked slightly more nervous than usual.
A lovely festive fishing day, Francis Francis would have been proud - raise a glass of cognac to Christmas and Christmas Pike everywhere!
I am not a pike fisherman. I am a fisherman who occasionally fishes for pike. When I do actually go pike fishing I enjoy it so much that I tell myself that I must go more often, but I enjoy my pike fishing more so if I am with friends. My first "proper" pike trip of the season usually falls around the festive period and is what is more commonly known as the Christmas Social.
In previous years the ground under foot has been hard with frost and one year we actually had snow carpeting the ground and covering our brollies, but this was the first social where the temperature had been above ten degrees - it was fifteen degrees, mild, wet and unseasonal.
Bumblebees were active, daffodil in flower en route to the river and for two days before the trip there had actually been a dawn chorus.......I had to pinch myself when it started but the robin was a lone voice getting it going and by the end he had everyone joining in.......what is going on? This year more than ever the weird weather has had an impact like I have not seen before.
The Christmas Social is a day for fishing close together - brewing fresh coffee, tea, eating pork pie, mince pies, Tunnocks Tea Cakes, drinking brandy and yarning about anything and everything...........oh and casting the occasional deadbait for a pike.
It's a miracle we catch anything, but we did get some action. The old Dennis Pye pike rod did me proud and my rancid deadbait theory worked again. The company as ever was splendid and even though we didn't catch our expected amount the fisherman's calendar would be rather a sad affair without the annual Christmas Social. I just hope that it's a bit colder next year!
Over the last week the landscape has changed considerably. Leaves fall like confetti and even though the temperature has been fairly high in the day it drops swiftly at night, but not quite cold enough for a warming fire. As I have said in a previous post the rods have been getting a number of outings of late. The photo above was just before the leaves turned and only a week or so ago - I was in shirtsleeves and mighty glad of my wide brimmed hat - as per usual the chub obliged to the mighty lob.
It then got colder, wind from the NE and the river as clear as gin. The fishing much harder, but still the chub obliged. I never tire of them - some Avon anglers don't give them the time of day, but for me they are one of the Avons blessings.
The weir pool was a good shout as it had depth, but still so clear. I love the weir pool and have a secret nook that hardly gets fished - I sit on my log, gnome like, drinking tea in quiet contemplation. It's one of those spots you can happily stay in all day which is rare for me as normally I am a roving angler. Would the barbel be holed up in the oxygenated water? That would have been a bonus, but what brought me the most pleasure was a fish I was secretly hoping I would catch. Again, not high on the Avon anglers list of "loved" specimens but one who also loves the lob. The bream flashed like a golden dustbin lid once hooked and then made use of the weir pool flow and his depth to move like an aquatic kite. Me in thick coat, hat and scarf........but at over 6lbs that would have been enough to warm me on such a day.
I am not fond of the fishing term "blank" - otherwise known as a blank day, catching nothing or blanking. How can you ever have a blank day? Yes, you may sometimes not catch a fish, but you are always the richer for time spent by running or still waters.
I didn't catch on this Hampshire Avon trip, but I wasn't just fishing for any old fish. The carp that inhabit my particular stretch are mouth watering beyond belief. All can be quiet and nothing stirs in the crystal clear waters and then suddenly ghosts appear the size of battleships. They home in on the free offerings but there is much in the way of natural food to tempt them, so it doesn't take much for them to move on.
They moved on - my line remained motionless and I was left to enjoy the bird life, hornets and the Spitfire which flew over. Definitely not a blank day.
I have fished for carp quite often on the Avon and I freely admit that it feels weird. Almost like I shouldn't be doing it, but I just can't help myself. The nearest I guess to my much loved wildies, these king carp have no names, no photographic record from birth and have most likely never been caught before. That's good enough for me.
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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! |
.....than catching fish.Years ago a day without fish, or blanking as it is more commonly known would have bothered me. Not any more. A day riverside is a day to be remembered even if the pike don't bite. They didn't this time, well not as I was expecting. A small jack pike was all I could show for my efforts, but who cares......conditions were far from perfect. Rising levels after heavy rain made for difficult fishing on the Avon.
A day roaming in the wilds of Wiltshire is a day well spent. I had my jack early in the day to a new old rod and it all sort of fizzled out after that. The wildlife was spectacular however. A roe deer flushed out of the undergrowth as I crept upstream, snipe everywhere, a flock of 100+ long-tailed tits and cloud formations to die for were more than enough to make the day memorable. The best was yet to come though. I know the peregrines nest a short distance up river in Salisbury Cathedral, as they do at most of the big ecclesiastical establishments, but the sight of a pair hunting around me was a sight to behold.
At last knockings I returned to a favoured spot I call whispering reeds and was again treated as three barn owls ghosted the scrub around me and on the other side of the river. You can just make one out in the photo below. A blank day? I don't think so.
They say the next best thing to actually fishing is reading or talking about it. I do agree, but also include walking by water - rivers or lakes where one fishes or intends to fish. I needed a fix and my favourite venue never fails. Only a few weeks left of the coarse fishing season and the Avon was slightly coloured and tanking through after some heavy rain of late. Really looking forward to squeezing in some tail end trips, but this wooded glide won't be one of them. Wrong time of year.
The conker copse is one of the best places on the estate to wind down and contemplate a barbel in the early autumn. After then it seems to get harder to catch the fish. I don't think they stay here all year round. The barbel are few and far between, but monsters do lurk around these chestnuts. Recognise the glide above? Autumn Glory in the delightful A Passion for Angling series by the lovely Hugh Miles and starring Ferney and "him who we don't talk about". This is the scene of the conker match and barbel capture. Moody today in its winter cloak.
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...semper tibi pendeat hamus. Quo minime credas gurgite, piscis erit.
Roughly speaking means: there is scope for chance everywhere; let your hook be always ready. In the eddies where you least expect it, there will be a fish.
There is always a chance indeed. My mate Jim says that I could talk my float under, but that is just how I approach my fishing. Days have been written off before and then bang! It happens. Ever the optimist.
Not on this day though. Although I did will my sprat to be investigated on two occasions by an unseen predator on this freezing festive afternoon. All I had to accompany the scene was a flask of beef tea and the soothing sounds of the river, wind and the whispering reeds.....next time!
I often get asked by angling friends and also by those who have never fished what my favourite fish is - it's easy. The roach of course. It has taken me a few years to realise that this is the case mind you. In the 80's and 90's when I would drive the length and breadth of the country at all hours of the day and night to get my fix of barbus I would have answered differently. I am as chilled out now as I will ever be with my fishing and get more chance to contemplate and reflect. The roach has given me the most pleasure - as a boy, teenager and adult. The red letter days in my diary are usually associated with the fish of red fins.
The annual bash and fund raiser of the Avon Roach Project is eagerly awaited each year. It is a chance to support those splendid fellows who do so much to preserve an iconic species on an iconic river that I love so much. I have written before of their work which I find totally inspirational. A change of venue this year and very lovely it was too. I had to check my diary when I got home, but I hadn't fished this particular stretch of river since 1992 and whilst contemplating my surroundings over a bankside cuppa I realised I had fished this glide before......there had been a stile here on my last visit some twenty odd years ago and with a sense of melancholy I found the flood warn remnants of the stile post (see picture above). The memories came flooding back of trips with friends, some no longer around, and carefree days when fishing was the be all and end all.
It was fitting that I should use one of my more recent purchases in the rod department. A lovely late 1940's Sowerbutts Roach Master (151 Commercial St, London E1). More of a general coarse rod than a roach rod, but a lovely thing nonetheless. Found by master tackle sorcerer Jason White - he knew that I would be unable to resist. Lovely agate rings, stamped handle collar and named rod bag - I could not resist!
A delightful day - I have never seen so many grass snakes, wild bees, hornets and even a very late hatch of mayfly in temperatures more suited to August. No roach today though. Just a net full of chub, dace and grayling and on the last cast a pike that took my chubling............I'll be back! I won't leave it twenty two years next time.
The river has held its own since the worst of the winter weather. High groundwater levels have meant we have had higher flows on the Avon than we ordinarily see over the summer months. It has only really been these last few weeks that river levels are starting to look like they could do with a top up. The temperatures have been unseasonably high too making the scene positively balmy. Not like autumn at all. Real Indian summer conditions.
My first forays of the autumn after Barbus barbus have seen me in shirt sleeves and packing bottles of water rather than a Thermos - if only the Barbel would oblige. They are there, but only come out at dusk from the shelter and cover of the Ranunculus beds for a tentative nose around, but as the old saying goes there is always a chance.
I thought my luck was in the other evening. Two huge fish were spotted nosing around my carpet of free offerings (spam, hemp and sweetcorn). The sort of sight that almost makes you hope they don't take the bait! A fine and handsome Avon Chub was first on the scene. He had a liking for my huge lump of Spam and was most welcome. They don't hang about with their greedy bully boy tactics.
Then at dusk the rod thumped over.......for the first few seconds I thought I was going to catch my first barbus of the season. It's not only Chub & Barbel that have a liking for the meat - a fine Pike of around 7lbs decided on a meat rather than a fish supper. True, there is always a chance, but it will have to wait until next time.
