The Tiny River Alne - Gone Fishing

Chilling is something I rarely do, and to be honest with the World Cup on I thought I wouldn't bother with the games, but with COVID kicking in like a bad cold, it's actually been quite nice doing naff all for a few hours here and there. 

I certainly couldn't be a couch potato given my restless leg issues but just sitting there in-front of a roaring open fire certainly has given my wellbeing a much needed boost considering, well what's happened recently. It is going to be very odd picking up my Dad's death certificate Monday, but's that exactly what I'm doing, it hasn't properly sank in yet. 

The best tonic though is fishing, it always has been, it just gets me in a better frame of mind and when I'm fishing, I rarely think about anything. 

My mind is blank, that often turbulent thinking time turns to all things fishing related. You only have to look at my post count to see the increase in fishing and there is a good reason for that. So with some lovely fat lobworms literally in-hand I ventured to the Alne for a couple of hours which I knew would be in decent fettle. 

I remembered a session here where the dace and chub were really on to the worms so I thought I'd give it another go to see what was doing. 

The bridge of death despite showing the debris of the recent high water was easy to navigate and I was quickly in to some fishing. 

The key I've found to these sort of rivers when it's up and strong tea coloured is to find the fish by moving from to swim. If there are fish there in the swim you will know on the tip pretty quick as they are on the bait quick sharpish. 

I was still feeling pretty tired though so my pace not the usual speed and I probably stayed in swims longer than I usually do. 

It was just nice to get some fresh air and as usual the whole stretch to myself. I have thought about getting rid of this book next year, but it's so convenient it's hard to give it up.

The solitude too, usually in abundance if it wasn't for the leaf blower making a racket in the distance. Still I managed 3 chub and lost one that gave a bite like a Barbel. 

Nothing big, but then that's not the point of these sort of rivers where a 4lb'er would be a giant. The fish I lost the hook came back with a scale, and a decent sized one as well, so it looked like I'd been mugged off by something far bigger than the three I caught, which were similar stamp. The dace, well that what I was after really, but they didn't show whatsoever. 

And that was my lot !!!!

With George blogger taking a writing break (brain fog apparently, his words not mine) managing a Barbel on a shared syndicate stretch I'm sorting the gear out later to try and tread in his footsteps so to speak. I've tried quite a few times now for Barbel down there and haven't caught one yet, will my fortunes change.

Now my Dad was a very stubborn angler, he rarely fished any lake other than the one literally from a stones through from his house, where you had to be on a long waiting list and also needed to live in the village. I offered a few times to take him somewhere else for a shared session to no avail, but then fishing is what works for you. I bet he probably caught the same carp over and over again, but for him, so what, it's what he wanted to do. 

But like me, that was his 'me time' that we all need. I've no idea how much tackle he has but I've got some sorting out to do and depending on how much he has, donate anything I won't use to charity. I'm hoping there is a decent reel as it would be nice to have something he used to catch fish on, so I can do the same. Quite appropriate this song Chris Rea - Gone Fishing is going to close the funeral service as the coffin is taken away. 

Give it a listen, very appropriate I say !!!