Warwickshire Stour - Fish Spuff and Fistuliforms

Well a dedicated set of fishing reading glasses is a must these days for me because after ruining another set because of getting covered in fish spuff, luncheon meat grease, fish scales, halibut oils and God know what else that just won't budge no matter what I try to clean them, that cannot happen again. 

So I've a work pair and a fishing pair now (and lots of cheapo spares) and that will have to suffice, and ok the fishing pair is still like looking out of the bottom of milk bottles but at least I'm not too worried about that now. Luckily I can claim through work as another pair would have to come out of my coffers and decent glasses are not cheap are they. 

Well what a glorious Sunday morning it was down at the Warwickshire Stour. I had planned to go to the river Alne which is 5 minutes away but a quick look at the back of the club card there was actually a match on, so that put a kibosh to that, the Stour it was then, but then I do love this diminutive waterway. 

Anyway the Stour which is a tributary of the Warwickshire Avon is home to my river roach PB of 1lb and 9 ounces and there are certainly bigger fish to be caught I know that for certain. Chub well I've had 4lbers and that's not bad for a river that winds itself through farmland in the main. 

The conditions let's be honest were not exactly ideal !! clear blue skies in the main and the Stour which usually carries some colour was as clear as I've seen it. It was also very low indeed which meant some tricky landing of the fish from the elevated banks. You often have to make your own swim too, so it's not easy fishing really.  

What I didn't expect was a chub with the first cast of the scaled down chub rig, a small cage feeder full of liquidised bread and a thumbnail squeezed piece on the size 12 Guru feeder special hook. I've been using this rig on the river Leam and I've huge confidence in it. 

These sort of small rivers you need to move from swim to swim and try and locate the fish and those bites can come quick when you actually find them. I didn't take long to find the next fish either in-fact it was the next but one swim after this and a fish of similar stamp.

That came from the pool swim where looking at the far bank I usually fish this swim when there is at least another couple of foot on. It seems to always hold fish this swim and Nic from Avon Angling loves this little river as much as I do. 

The sun highlighting the chub bronze colourings and again a fish of similar stamp to the first. They do fight well these small river chub especially on light tackle and if anyone has a TFG River and Stream gathering dusk and wants to part with it give me a shout, as I'm on the lookout for another one, it is probably my favourite rod. 

Another fish came from this swim below where a large slack looked a perfect area where fish would be sheltering away from the main flow. After missing an unmissable bite !! I got the rig out a again and this time hooked in to a hard fighting river chub. 

Ok not the biggest admittedly but I wasn't complaining as I thought I'd struggle for bites on this 3.5 hour session. The best was yet to come though as the last swim I fished I couldn't believe my luck because a bite on the drop first cast I managed to catch 3 chub out of the same swim all in the space of 10 minutes.

I really didn't expect that !!!

The biggest was slightly under 3lb but all in decent nick and like I said considering the conditions to go away with 6 chub at the end of the session I was well happy. Those roach didn't show though sadly but to be honest they rarely show up, when they do it's usually a good'un !!!

I really do love sessions on small rivers especially when the weather is as nice as this. Ok the wind was chilly but that sun made up for it and as usual here I had the river to myself, well apart from the kingfishers and birds of prey 😎

Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.9

A gin clear Warwickshire Avon is never a good proposition really when piscatorial pursuits are on the agenda, because invariably you know the outcome of the session before it has even started. It's just tough as old boots out there usually and unless you fish in to dusk and beyond often those bigger fish just don't show up at all, they are not stupid...

....unlike the snot rocket the Pike mind you often they go against convention and decide not to use their brain even though they have one. 

Talking of which, these carp below are on a technology park I work at a few days a week and they are certainly not stupid because at lunchtime they all congregate near a walkway bridge to be fed by those that work at the site. Sadly the site is CCTV's up to the eyeballs as I'd have a go for them. It would be like fishing at Tunnel Barn in the summer I suppose, but with the added attraction these carp will be worth catching, with the biggest grass carp I would say were over 20lb. 

Now a northern pike's brain is small relative to its body size, making up only 1/1305 of its body weight. This is typical for most fish, whose brains are usually about one-fifteenth the mass of a similarly-sized mammal or bird. Some biologists believe that the small size of a northern pike's brain may explain why they are not concerned about predators. Others say that their sharp teeth mean they don't need to fear anything that moves in water, air, or on land.

In comparison, the average human brain is about 140 x 167 x 93 mm and If spread out, the human brain would be roughly the size of a pillowcase. Talking of pillowcases I was surprised I managed to get out of bed when the Fitbit vibration alarm jumped in to life because I was nestled between a couple of warm pillows myself and I didn't sleep particularly well if I'm honest, so I could have stayed in bed and enjoyed the sanctuary. 

But no, I stuck to my intended mission and with one pike rod and a packet of smelt decided to try and winkle out a Pike from the syndicate stretch. I'm an inpatient angler I must admit and a roving one at that so sitting it out in one swim is just not for me so this sort of session is perfect especially when I wanted to case out a potential trotting swim.

I'd taken more of a look at one of the swims I made the first time I was here and it looked ok to trot, however with many of the stingers now wilting and dying off because winter is on the way it it looks a much more comfortable swim to fish nowm, and this session confirmed it was good to go. 

Anyway I didn't have long because I had a busy day ahead but enough time to try and winkle out a pike or two. I arrived just after 7.00am and as I hot footed it across the wet grass a 40 strong group of cormorants flew overhead most likely having just left their roost ready to plunder the fish stocks somewhere in for them anyway, perfect belly filling conditions. 

I got fishing anyway where it wasn't until the third swim the smelt got some attention. A bob of the float at first which I saw out the corner of my eye, where after nothing developed a twitch of the bait to get to rise off the bottom soon led to full on run.

I tightened up to the circle hook where the pike went off on a chub type run trying to get in to very bit of cover. Its spirit was no match for my dedicated pike rod setup so it was soon in the net after a decent battle. A lean pike that could do with a feed and was probably circa 7.5lb or so but it certainly brightened up the relatively gloomy day with a nippy wind.

That sadly was my lot, I fished another swim however that was the only bite of the morning. A blank avoided and if I'm honest I was quite happy with that. There was literally no fish topping or showing whatsoever, so this face was most welcome. 

The River Leam - Thrutching and Thremmatology

I have this mate called Long Tall Tony who climbs mountains and is always going on about thrutching.

'Sssh!' I said once in a posh pub. (You could tell it was posh by the way the barmaid stuck out her little finger when she picked her nose.) 'Sssh! There are ladies present.'

'No,' he said. "Thrutching means having a hard climb. Really having to work to get to the top. I bet you have to do lots of thrutching when you're out fishing.'

'No,' I said. 'We don't go in for things like that.'

I lied. We do. Thrutching really means doing things the hard way. Which, in angling terms, is fishing by the book. Doing what the experts tell you. Which always works out more expensive, more nerve-racking and more muscle-bending than doing what comes naturally.

Thrutching means breeding your own maggots. Having the shed, the garage, the loft or the back end of the yard permanently ponging like a knacker's yard in a bank holiday heatwave. And neighbours getting up petitions.

Thrutching means tying your own flies. Going boss-eyed and getting the trembles of the fingertips which precede the total seizing up known as Dapper's Doom. All to produce something that looks like a badly made bog brush.

Thrutching means stewing your own hemp. And having the wife storm out of the house. With the kids. And the pussycat and hamster. Pausing only to call in at the solicitor's to file papers for mental cruelty and misuse of her nonstick pans.

Thrutching means getting your own wasp grubs. At short notice. And thereby having neither the protection nor the armoury. Going out on a Sunday afternoon to Big McGinty's compost heap. Armed only with a spade, a bait tin and an aerosol thing that claims to kill all flying nasties stone dead. Leaving you backing away, squirting like mad at the kamikaze wopsies who don't know they're supposed to be dead, and who sting you in places you never knew you had.

Thrutching means making your own groundbait. To the jealously guarded secret formula. Setting fire to the oven in which you left the breadcrusts while you popped out to the Nag and Knocker. 

Forgetting that 475 degrees Fahrenheit or Gas No. 9 is not exactly a low light. Coming back to be greeted by the jolly lads from the fire brigade. Who haven't been around since you tried to bake the wasp grubs.

Thrutching means making your own floats. Slicing chunks off the left thumb as you shave down bits of balsa or trim the old quills. To produce a thing like a pot-bellied ballpoint refill that sinks at the first cast. At a cost of only £35.37 plus VAT and french polishing the table.

Thrutching means collecting natural bait from the hedgerows. Like elderberries. Which come off the trees in lovely great bunches and fill up the spare room until you can get round to preserving them. Leaving plenty of time for the forty thousand earwigs hidden in the bunches to abscond and take over the whole house. Playing hell with the cat's peace of mind.

Thrutching means stalking the fish. Crawling to the water in camouflage gear and with burnt cork or Cherry Blossom all over the old mush. Which gives you spots and gets you arrested as an IRA suspect or illegal immigrant. And which, if you don't actually overshoot the bank and fall in, leaves you with earwigs in your ears, hares in your hair, daddies in your long legs and bot flies up your nose.

The lesson is plain. If you feel a thrutch coming on, go and sit in a nice safe pub until it wears off.

Alternatively, be strong. Nip it in the bud. Knock it on the head.

Kick it in the thrutch. ☺

Anyway back to the fishing !! 

A short session after work this where after leaving the office in Ansty in Coventry I could be at the syndicate stretch of the Leam within 15 minutes where I'd arrive just as the sun was setting. That would give me some time to set myself up and bait up a couple of swims with liquidised bread around half an hour before dusk.

Simple tactics again with a small cage feeder filled with squeezed liquidised bread and then I'd fish either worm or a thumbnail piece of bread on a size 12 hook. 

Small rivers like this the bites often come quick if you're on the fish so after around 15 minutes without a bite I moved swims which was the first swim I primed where I had an indication straight away. Within 5 minutes of that fish pluck the 1oz glass tip jumped in to life and after a couple of pulls I had a drop back bite and hooked in to a fish.

I was expecting a chub but it was the distinctive fight of a roach and sure enough when I landed it under the head torch it was a decent one. It went 14 ounces on the scales which is a nice roach in my book. 

I reabited and cast out in the same swim and 10 minutes after a proper pull round from nothing and I struck into something more solid this time that was giving me the run around. I netted it eventually after a good strap and it was a nice chunky small river chub that went 3lb on the nose. The fish were certainly on it now and after that swim disturbance that I managed another one soon after this one smaller at 2lb and 3 ounces. 

Then the swim went dead where I switched to worm as it was now dark but despite the pungency of the wrigglers I didn't get another bite and decided to head home with a few nice fish caught in little more than an hour and a half of actual fishing. I've said before small rivers suit me perfectly, I love the mystery and ok the fish are not likely to be huge but there are certainly gems to be had.