Fishing with Mr Cherry and Jim....and Tim

Market Finds No 23

"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.  

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.  

Record Breakers?

Hardly! The roach you see here were about as big as they got, but who cares. They are delightful and show what fine fettle the river is in as they cover all the year classes and sometimes, just sometimes you may get lucky and catch the roach of your dreams.

It was an opportunity for me to use a recent market find - the Allcock Record Breaker reel would look much more at home on the rod of the same name, but coupled with my 1950's Hardy General it looked just the ticket.

Not a free running trotting reel, it needed more than a helping hand to trot my River Stour glide, but enjoyable all the same. 

I was joined at the river by Chris and Merv and a very welcome gather it was too. By nature I am a solitary angler, but these last few weeks of the season usually involve fishing with friends which make them a much looked forward to season in my anglers calendar - Chris nabbed hooks and bait from Merv and I a float - this is pretty much how it goes these days. One of us usually forgets something and all being well the more organised among us has what we are after. Thanks Merv! 

A glorious late afternoon that chilled quickly at last knockings saw a slow, but steady trickle of roachlings, chublings and dace come to my float fished curried maggots. As has been the norm over the last few weeks the scene was sound tracked by the most wonderful bird song - song thrush and blackbird singing in perfect harmony. 

I was for once grateful of a thick jumper but annoyed at forgetting fingerless gloves and a flask. These early days of bright spring flowers can catch you out. Slight warmth by day and quickly chilling as the afternoon wends its way into evening.

There aren't many days left now before the season closes on March 14th, but each trip will be eagerly expected just as we do for the glorious opening on the 16th June - we anglers are lucky, not only to fish in such wonderful landscapes, but it brings out the little boy in us all, the feeling you get before Christmas and long may it continue.  

We trudged back to the cars as darkness quickly descended, sharing our tales of fish caught and plans for the last two weeks of the season, but as always ever grateful for what the river has given us..........and Merv of course for floats, bait and hooks!

How does it feel?

A day riverside is the perfect tonic indeed. Even though the conditions were far from ideal it was good to be in the open Stour valley landscape. I was probably the only one enjoying all the river had to offer on this particular stretch. I laid new footprints in the dewy wet grass as I walked upstream to where I felt there may be some hope of actually catching something, but to be honest, just being by the river was enough.

Rain after a very cold period is never that good a prospect - not only is the river coming down after a brief period of being high it usually means the fish are hunkered down and waiting for food to pass them by in the quieter areas of the river. The roads have been plastered in salt of late and most of this gets washed in and adds to the soup which no doubt puts the fish off their stride.

I always have visions of those lovely illustrations by BV in Mr Crabtree that show you each species of fish that will be in each part of the river - he would have been proud of my tactics today!

Trotting with a float sees two dace caught and it's hard going - cold, drizzle leading to longer spells of heavier rain which gets blown intermittently away by the odd heavier gust of wind. For once I was glad of an extra large flask of tea as brewing with the Kelly Kettle would have been hard work on a day like this. The flask of sweet tea offered instant gratification.

A change of tactic to lobworm tail hard and fast on the bed of the river in a quiet slack eventually lead to a goodly bag of roach up to just over the pound mark - they do amaze me how they find the worm in coloured water. Tentative plucks on the bait before a nice hard rattle on the rod top - all is good with the world.

The owls started their call earlier than usual - the church clock hadn't even struck five and the last cast comes much later than previous weeks. We are getting through the dark days now, slowly but surely. 

I lost my hook on the last cast at last knockings to an unseen underwater snag so called it a day. A lovely stroll away from the river - two fingers held aloft in the V sign - not to the river which I of course gave thanks, but to Blue Monday which I had firmly kicked up the arse this year.

Blue Monday

There is no science behind today being Blue Monday and I don't mean a day of appreciation for that revolutionary New Order song of the same title. In offices everywhere there will be folks having what is more commonly known as a shitter - a crap day. A crap day for a multitude of reasons, but in the main it's the one day of the year when sickies are at their peak, duvets pulled back over heads, resolutions broken, the drafts and overdrafts through bank accounts are as huge and as whistling as they could ever be after the Christmas indulgences and generally a black dog will be peering over quite a few shoulders.

Not me - for this year I have beat the bastard at his own game and by the time you read this I will be cold, possibly wet but loving every minute of it by watching a bright tipped float drift down the Dorset Stour. If I catch it is a bonus, for I will be making tea, making plans for the year and hopefully admiring some of the rivers finest silver darlings. 

Keep your pecker up! We are nearly through the dark days - don't beat yourself up if you had that extra slice of pie or that extra libation this January just revel in the joy that lighter days are not too far away. There is always tomorrow to get things back on track. 

A very nice find Mr Wilkes

I wrote about a pre Storm Angus trip last week and the local rivers are only just about fishable now. I managed to squeeze a short afternoon on the Stour just before this cold and frosty snap. The weather is up and down like a you know what and recently, what with the ground as dry as a bone, the run off into the river was a sight to see. It came up as quick as anything. Don't get me started on maize crops near the river either, a real beef of mine, which has seen some of my local rivers resemble chocolate soup rather than a river in flood. 

Anyway, this short trip was fruitful - not only did I catch my first river perch of the season, but I also used a new winch. Yes, another market find and one which is very pleasing to the eye and pleasing to use as well.

Bakelite and made by Henry Wilkes & Co Ltd of Studley, Redditch, England - what a name and what an address. Hopefully Mr Wilkes had his workshops on the banks or within sight of that lovely river the Arrow? Who knows, but it spins well, looks good and is a fine match for the Hardy General. It will look even better on my 1946 Hardy General which it will be joining once I can shift myself from the fireside armchair. 

The fishing was slow to start with on trotted maggot using my old Ambidex reel. A nice bag of roach and dace were coming together and all went quiet after catching the perch. As soon as I changed to the Wilkes it was like fishing a different river - lobworm tail was the bait and anchored to the bed using a couple of swan shot resulted in roach after roach and some lovey fish needing the net as well.  

This continued as dusk gathered and the owls called - I packed up and said a hearty thank you to Mr Wilkes as I walked back to the car in an already clear and freezing landscape. Thank you very much indeed.

Seasons end

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.   

Ace Dace

Old Somerset & Dorset Joint Railway Company gate 

A sneaky late afternoon visit for last knockings. I had a feeling where I would like to be, but Prof's favourite swim is taken by a poacher! He deserves it after a longer drive than me, but I am rewarded again in freezing temperatures. The glide I end up in is one I have not fished for a few years and was possibly designed by Mr Crabtree. I often fish a swim and think how much BV would have liked it and talked so enthusiastically about all of its nooks and crannies. This is such a swim.

The river has been up after the snow and sleet of late and is just coming down, but slightly coloured. The maggots soon lose all feeling and hardly move in my tin, but just enough to land a lovely small bag of dace and a couple of solitary roach from the glide.

My fingers too lose all feeling and I pack up a little earlier than usual as three Little Egrets fly overhead in the clearest of skies. The light disappears very quickly at this time of year, so I am grateful to fellow brother of the angle Hedge who leads the way back up the embankment, along the cinder path and back to civilization. I am so cold I do stop off for a swift libation and a toast to me old mate Prof in what was our regular "stopping off" pub on our way home, The Green Man. Cheers my friend!  

Rustic Roach

I love the tail end of the season. As ever it creeps up on me and I end up trying to squeeze every last ounce out of it until the 14th March. In fact, I probably like it just as much as the start of the coarse fisherman's season, the glorious 16th June.

I have been unable to get near the river for weeks and weeks due to it being in flood and as ever it is around late Feb and early March when it actually becomes fishable again. 

I arrive in glorious sunshine with a coldness that brings the smell of snow on the wind. Another outing for what is now becoming a favourite rod once more, my old Hardy General. Hollow and split cane it's a veritable wizards wand of a rod. The perfect rod for roach on this part of the Stour and more than suitable should a large chub or perch make themselves known.

The light changes every few minutes - these before and after shots (below) all taken within a few minutes.........

....and this is the culprit. A band of sleet, hail and snow which sees the temperature plummet and make everything just wet enough to be a pain. My maggots seize the opportunity to make their escape making the muddy bank look like a disco inferno - I like multi-coloured maggots. I always come close to not bringing a flask of tea, but I am most grateful for a cup of the anglers stewed brew today. Just enough to keep me going.

I am rewarded with a succession of glorious roach, all the size range and year classes along with a few dace and a solitary chub. The float dips at the very spot you expect it to and the gentle plod and thump tells me this is no ordinary roach. My antiquated scales and improvised weigh sling tell me it is nearer to two pounds than one, but who cares at the end of the day - it's a beauty. A clean young looking roach and one that gets the special green ink treatment in my fishing diary.

There is just life enough in my fingers to make one final cast as the sleet comes down again and a goodly perch makes an appearance - it is most welcome and gently returned to his cold and safe home amongst the hawthorne roots.

My journey home is memorable as my route to the river always is - this time the landscape is white with snow and I only just get back to the slightly warmer coastal temperatures of home to a fireside libation and a toast to season's end.