The River Arrow - Minnow Monsters and Millionocracy

I used to me a proper car nut back in the day and yet an invite over to some friends to see the new Mclaren Artura to be honest, didn't quite give me that 'feeling' that I used to get when seeing nice cars in the metal. I do enjoying seeing the fruits of my labour though and the next round of prototypes on the near 900hp electric 4 door GT I'm working are soon to be underway hence why I'm up to my neck in CAD releases at the minute.  No let up basically, fishing is a great tonic I must admit. 

Ben who loves watching Formula One couldn't wait to get a seat in it mind you and quickly felt at home in the sports car Sam, well he wasn't that bothered either having to cover his ears up when the engine was cranked up. 

I was looking at the cupholder and interior trim, prodding and poking, looking at the gaps and wondering why they didn't do this, and didn't do that !!! how tragic am I. Overall though a great bit of kit, near 200k mind you, but you can see why cars like this cost so much. 

The doors opened really easily and there must have been lots of engineering that went in to that, because I'd imagine those would need a heck of a lot of design and development. But being an old git just getting in and out of the thing was a pain in the backside. 

Anyway it was back to reality with a bang when we got in to the Jimny for this hour long morning session to try and track down some monster minnows, but it suits my needs heck, that's why I bought it, not many new cars I'd spend my own hard money on. 

To be honest I wasn't that bothered in going back the Arrow for a while but Sam had dug out the mini scales and his Star Wars rule the evening before as he wanted to catch a British record minnow and we were good to go, well apart from getting the maggots out from the fridge. It was heading towards 30 degrees later on in the day but with paddle boarding and also a BBQ with friends the gin would be flowing and I'd not manage any fishing and to be honest I'm not a lover of fishing when its a scorcher. 

So it was out with the tried and trusted whip and it really was a bite a chuck and they were up for a feed almost attacking the float as it hit the surface, minnow soup basically where they were even chasing the bare size 18. 

I'd dug out the battery powered livebait bucket and Sam went about the catching the fish before the sun got too much. In-fact stupidly I'd forgot to apply suncream so Sam had to use my cap for some shade. To be honest we were there at 8.30am and the Sun was already doing what it does best. 

Sadly nothing big was caught in this session before we made tracks as this 9 gram fish about the biggest Sam could muster up.

The one caught here last time really was a scale above so I'm sure we will be back to give it another go as I'd love to have known what that one had weighed. !!!

When are minnows at their biggest ? anyone know ? 

We'll be back I'm sure !!!!

The River Arrow - Gonk Hunters and Gobemouches

Now a professional clown couldn't have fallen off his bike any better than the leader of the free world Joe Biden, and he wouldn't have gotten a bigger laugh either, you see the last session here I actually laughed out loud too when a big chub gave me the two fingers when it threw the hooks and gave me a present in return which was a mangled manky shoe.

Now don't worry I'm plotting my return for the last laugh, however maybe when the conditions are a little better. Sam wanted in on the new stretch of river I'd been fishing too, you see despite me confirming there would be some nice super big chub milling around, Sam had other ideas after I showed him some swim pics.

"Daddy, there HAS to be some monster Gudgeon there, there just HAS to be"

"Just look !!!!, look at it"

To be fair up till now I never considered even trying for them, but now would be a good idea as the rivers are in desperate need of rain and at least the smaller fish would likely up for a maggot munch, even if the bigger fish were in hiding, being visible in the super clear water n'all.

So no lure rod or bread for this exploratory session but just some maggots, a whip and a light quivertip rod.

It was clear that minnows were going to be a pain as the maggots didn't have time to fall through the water column before being picked up by large numbers of them.

A swap to the quiver rod at least meant that the maggots could get to the deck without hinderance but again it was clear getting past the minnows was the biggest hurdle. 

Well I say that, the Arrow seems to have an abundance of silk weed at the moment and more often than not Sam was reeling in weed rather than a fish despite receiving a decent bite. A few swims we tried were the same, however one of them had at least a clean bottom.

Eventually the bites got bolder and the fish were getting bigger. No gudgeon to be found though but some miniature chub, dace, roach and rudd. Enough interest to keep Sam happy though however it was a gonk he really wanted. 

The bigger chub were nowhere to be seen either but with a few other anglers on the stretch fishing these tough conditions maybe they went in to hiding. 

There are plenty of hiding places too and places where an angler cannot get to really. You could don some waders I suppose and make your way down the river to find those hiding spots but you'd need a machete in hand that might not go down well with the locals.

Sam was having fun though and getting plenty of unhooking practice in, and now apart from perch and pike he is happy to handle any species really and is a dab hand at is.

Even using a disgorger which did take some time to get to grips with then again he's like his Dad, I'm certainly no expert. Anyway with the gudgeon nowhere to be seen at least some of the monster minnows that reside here kept his interest.

Some of them were getting on for 10cm's which in these quarters ain't a bad stamp of fish. In-fact I wish I'd have brought my mini scales just to see how much some of the bigger ones weighed.

After a rare wayward cast from Sam it was time to go. To be honest it was warm very warm and when you're often shoulder high in nettles a couple of hours is enough to satisfy the fishing fix. We need rain, lots of it which won't happen for a while I'd imagine but I'll be back in better conditions for sure. 

The River Arrow - Boots and Botanomancy

The opens-air life beckons every one of us whose days are spent in the fumes and noise, smell and smoke, of the big city. Angling takes us away from it all to the canal bank. There in the restful shade of the cooling towers we can settle down in peace, inhaling the breeze-borne scent of the rubber factory, to watch the sunlight playing on the scuds of detergent foam. 

We are disturbed only by passing coal barges, towpath cyclists, bovver boys, dogs whose attentions leave the groundbait soggy, courting couples and solitary men in John Lennon spectacles and long raincoats.

Here is where we sublimate our shallowly-buried hunting instincts, where we rip aside the thin veil of civilisation from our primeval urges and give a bloods-curdling howl of victory as we reel a two-ounce gonk to the bank. 

Here is where we can study the wildlife of water and bank. Where we can watch the rats sorting through the rubbish in the disused boatyard. Where we can observe exotic sparrows and pigeons pecking at discarded crusts.

Where a solitary seagull makes lonely circles in the sky, utters his call of a soul in torment, and delivers a message accurately into our open packet of sandwiches. Here we can admire the grace of passing swans, sailing like proud white ships to investigate our hookbait, responding with aristo-crat's dignity to a swift prod with the landing net. 

Here is where we can muse on the symbolism of the fishing rod. With it, a man is no longer limited in reach to the length of his arm. He is a man with a spea, with a finger fifteen feet long, from the end of of which he can cast a bait to explore regions forty, fifty, sixty feet and more away.

With the rod and its gossamer line he is able to penetrate a foreign and still largely unknown element. As the bait sinks and drifts across the bottom, the angler is in contact with the hidden mysteries below the surface, with the rusting bicycle wheels, with old sewing machines, pram frames, mattresses and dead

cats in weighted sacks, and forgotten boots. 

With a rod the angler is able to explore at close quarters the mysteries of the upper air. As he climbs a tree to untangle his line, he becomes aware of a whole

new world of caterpillars, spiders, earwigs, beetles dusty leaves and branches too delicate to bears his weight.

With a rod he can muse upon the Freudian interpretation of it as a phallic symbol, and suddenly enter a whole new dimension of hitherto impossible conquests and delights. With a little further thought, however, he realises that with a sixteen-foot match rod his troubles would only just have begun. 

With a rod he is the provider. Were our whole civilisation to disappear, he would be able still to feed his family. Providing he had an inexhaustible supply of hooks, floats, line, reels, rings, weights, and that his family were small enough to subsist on a daily diet of two gudgeon, four stunted roach and a one-eyed perch. 

By the waterside, the mind of the angler is free to roam, untrammelled, over all the little unimportant things that crowd him on a normal working day. 

He has time to think about whether the bank manager really meant what he said in that last letter,  whether the big end in the car will stand up for another six months, whether the dry rot in the loft will stop spreading, whether his redundancy notice will be coming through now that the firm’s been taken over, whether the boss has forgiven him for what happened at the office party. 

Anyway back to the fishing, I was back on the Arrow to try and spot some barbel (very much doubt it) so I baited a likely holding spot and went on the river with the little crankbait rod.

I love this sort of fishing especially when its a low and clear as it is now. Those deeper areas are often where the fish congregate and it didn't take me long to catch the first chub.

That properly nailed the lure on the second cast. The problem is in these sort of rivers his mates don't hang around long and roving is a must to get a few bites. One swim there was literally chub swimming around in one foot deep water and in plain sight.

The first chuck of the lure out of nowhere a big chub around 5lb or maybe more grabbed the lure and bolted off downstream however within a couple of seconds the hooked pinged out and I feel a dead weight through the braid.

Where yes, I drag in a bleeding size 10 !!!!

Now the other chub in the swim vanished completely however I caught another 3 more. Ok nothing of size but I do love fishing a crankbait in the summer. The minimum of tackle and decent sport on a light set-up.

I spotted two big Chub in one swim but couldn't get to them and the baited barbel spot was devoid of fish. Still a lovely part of the world which is deep in countryside and only a 15 minute drive away. Happy days !!!