The River Arrow - Interlopers and Infundibuliforms

I wouldn't say I sneaked out the house, but I felt a bit guilty when I closed the door at just gone 6.00am to head down to the river Arrow. There was no way Sam would get up at that time, but he was up for going again and was a little peed off when I came in to our bedroom to see I wasn't there.

I could have twiddled my thumbs for an hour I suppose but last time here Sam did most of the fishing and I hardly got a look in !!!

Armed with some lobworms I fancied to see if they would tempt anything other than Chub that we've been catching using our standard breadflake approach. Perch being the obvious culprit to take the humble worm, but maybe even a long extinct barbel if there was one still lurking on this stretch.

The river was low and gin clear in places but small rivers like this often have deeper areas and obviously lots of cover where the fish can get some sanctuary. 

I started at the downstream pegs and worked my way up where I'd finish up in one of the deeper swims above the weir that is much wider and slower. The lobworm was getting interest straight away in most swims but the bites were just coming from the chub.

Not the bigger ones that reside on this stretch but a next year or two group down. 2-3 lbers but in lovely condition like most of the chub are on this stretch. I thought I'd have a perch or two, but they were suspicions in their absence even though I'd spotted a decent fish here the other day that was almost by my feet. 

I caught a 3lb 6oz trout here back in March and I was always wondering since that capture if there were still some milling about. But no it was chub all the way for this short session, I'm sure when there is a little more colour in the water that would help, or maybe I'll try an evening in to dusk instead.

I do love catching chub though and I finished off on 7 of them so plenty of bites. Even the weir didn't produce a bite on the lobworm which I was surprised about. 

For the part of the session I gave a swim above the weir a go but not even a bite up there when downstream I was getting little indications on the tip there was small fish nibbling at the worm. I'm a rather impatient angler though as I'm sure if I move the bait around the swims a bit I'd have managed to get a bite.

I got home to Sam having a moan 😝 but then he had a right to do so. I promised to take him later anyway, unless he changes his mind that is. !!! So a little disappointed with this trip but I'm sure the conditions didn't help. There is a match on here tomorrow so hopefully they will fair better than I did.  

Warwickshire Avon - Ghosts and Ghawazees

JHR Bazeley was a keen fisherman who wrote several books about his favourite sport and though they are all out of print and largely forgotten now they include an account of a most strange day's grayling fishing high up in the Yorkshire Dales. Bazeley left Leeds early one morning in December and by the time he arrived at his favourite stream it was just getting light. Snow still lay on the ground and he relished the crisp, clean air after the fog of Leeds.

Having eaten a hearty breakfast in the local hotel, he walked the few miles to his favourite spot and began fishing. Within an hour he had nearly a dozen good grayling in his basket. And so it continued throughout the day. It seemed as if he could do no wrong.

With just a few days to go before Christmas he was lucky to get a room back at the hotel, but the fishing had been so prolific he could not bear to return to Leeds, which had originally been his plan. We

Next morning he set off for the river again and fished down the first pool.

Immediately he was overtaken by a curious feeling, a feeling that someone else had just fished the same spot, yet he knew this was highly unlikely as he'd reached the riverbank just as the sun came up.

A few moments later Bazeley landed a nice fish and decided to move further down the river. As he turned the next bend, where the stream rattled over golden pebbles, he saw a dark figure a few hundred yards ahead of him, kitted out in waders, rod over his shoulder and just leaving the pool to move downstream. 

Bazeley followed and fished the stream the old man had left. He did extremely well and caught several excellent grayling, but this was odd since the previous angler must have disturbed the water and in the general run of things he'd have been lucky to catch anything arriving so soon after someone else had left.

As Bazeley moved down to the next pitch, his bag already groaning under the weight of several fat grayling, he once again saw the old chap in front make a move. It was as if the old man, knowing the instant Bazeley made the decision to move, would each time make way for him.

This continued throughout the day but, judging by the superb sport Bazeley enjoyed the old man's presence was, if anything, having a beneficial effect on the water. However, it was decidedly odd because, try as he might to vary the amount of time he spent on each pool, Bazeley always seemed to be the same distance behind the old man when he moved.

Dusk came on and Bazeley decided enough was enough. He packed up and walked slowly along the twisting, overgrown lane towards the hotel. To his delight he saw the old man from the river walking in the same direction. Perhaps, concluded Bazeley he is staying in the same hotel and we will be able to talk fishing this evening. Bazeley hurried to catch up with the distant figure but failed. Then he saw the old man turn in at the door of the hotel and thought, 'Aha, I have him now!"

Moments later Bazeley was taking his boots off in the rod room. 'Where's the old man who's just come in?' he asked the landlord. 'Which one, sir?' came the reply.

"The old gentleman who just came in wearing thigh boots and carrying his tackle bags,' said Bazeley.

Bazeley was astonished at what came next.

'You must be mistaken, sir. You are the first fisherman we've had staying for more than three months.'

'But I saw him come in the door just a few minutes before me!' came Bazeley's astonished reply. He then gave a lengthy and detailed description of the fisherman whose steps he had dogged throughout the day.

The riverkeeper who had been standing nearby throughout the conversation spoke. 'Can you spare a moment?' he asked indicating that Bazeley and he should retire to a quiet corner of the dark sitting room.

When they'd settled down on an old sofa by the fire the keeper spoke.

'The old chap you saw. I think you did see him right enough. He used to come and fish here for grayling every winter and he was just about the only one mad enough to fish every day whatever the conditions. 

We could never stop him even in the worst snow and frost. He had many narrow escapes over the years, but they never slowed him down. 

Then one day he failed to come back. He'd slipped into that pool by the willows. It was weather very much as it is now and Christmas was just as nearly upon us. 

Deep snow made the going difficult and no other angler would have been crazy enough to go out, so there was no one around to try to save him. 

We found him a few days later tangled up in the roots of an old willow and now every Christmas Eve he is seen fishing his favourite pools again."

Anyway talking of pools, on to the fishing !!!

I wasn't feeling 100% for this short after work in to dusk session so fancied a bit of chill out sat behind a rod, after a quick dabble for chub off the top obviously. 

I was here the other day struggling to catch fish mainly because it was really shallow and gin clear and the fish were as cagey as anything. 

I did see a couple of barbel in one swim though so with the river slightly up and hopefully carrying a little more colour, I'd fish in to dusk where hopefully the odds were more in my favour.

For the first hour and a bit I roved around to try and catch a chub and the 3rd swim came up trumps with a small fish nailing the bread a good 30 yards down the run.

There was plenty of reeds in the swim and it must have tried to get in to every single one of them so I had to be a bit of a bully to get it out from them and getting itself snagged up.

There was a couple of anglers on this stretch and a natter with both of them and we actually arrived back at the cars the same time post dusk. One of them managed 6 chub and 1 barbel all from the same swim. I well not much to write home about because after the initial chub pulls and bangs eventually one hooked itself that was only around 2lb or so. Sadly no barbel for me, at least I know they are here though, so I'll give them  another go soon me thinks. 

The River Severn - Scooters and Scoptophobia

Trotting for Barbel didn't go that well on the Wye recently, they just didn't seem to be in a feeding mood. They could have well been in their smoking jackets with a big fat cigar post spawning, not ready to engage in some fishing frivolities, which is a shame as despite catching plenty of chub on the float, it was a barbel I was after. Even Nic struggled on that day, where usually he is baggin up as usual. 

 

Blog reader Jon Pinold who makes these cracking floats with glowing tips messaged me after reading the post and said, get yourself down this bit of the Severn, where "the further you walk, the better the fishing gets."

The Wye only takes me an hour and fifteen minutes but this bit of the Severn is even closer and much less miles too, so I could get to the parking spot in not much more than an hour.

A good mile walk to the fishing mind you, which to be honest, isn't a problem. I fancied wading if I could so thankfully the Diawa waders I have are relatively light and they do seem breathable rather than sweating a one-legged man at an arse kicking contest,which to be honest was the issue with the last cheap pair. 

Waders were the right choice because the grass was wet and it was often up to my waist. Google maps told me it was 2 miles to the very end of the stretch and it certainly felt like that. There were shallower areas of the river I passed to get to the first swim but one I earmarked looked a nice comfortable swim to fish. 

The river looked to be carrying a tinge of colour and as expected as I made my way downstream you could see it's rarely fished compared to the first meadow that looked well trodden. I dropped in to swims for a nose on this new stretch of river to me and actually bumped in to an angler who was trotting 'the hot peg'

He had already caught a few chub but "doubt it will be that good today, was probably hammered the weekend" That was decent walk as well to be fair, but a hot peg would always get more attention to be fair. You could see it was a well fished peg as well because it looked like Charlie Dimmock had been looking after it.

To walk to the end of section 4 took an hour thankfully I travelled light, but to be fair you could possibly do it in 45 minutes or so if you didn't drop in to swims like I did.

I actually covered 21k steps during the trip so not for the fainthearted when loaded up with gear and with waders donned, To be fair I could have got away with just wearing wellies and waterproofs in hindsight but my wellies are Muckboot Artic Sports so rather overkill in the mild weather and also rather heavy too.

 

Maybe Nash can bring out an electric scooter geared for the roving angler in mind !!! (Jon you should have taken out a patent on it !!)

Anyway to the fishing, I settled in to the first trotting swim that looked ideal with fast water over at the far side and a nice crease as well. 

It was relatively shallow but the float was going through nicely indeed and it was a decent long trot where you could alter the line to alter the speed of the bait trundling down. 

As I was preparing to cast something big launched out of the water upstream of me and it looked like a barbel from the short glimpse of it I had, it was certainly a decent fish thats for sure. 

What I didn't expect a few runs down of the large 4.8gm stick it shot under and I struck into a solid lump on the 15ft Diawa Connoisseur.  That was quick !!!

It was nodding its head so I knew it was a chub where I teased it up out of the fast water to thankfully water with less pace because it was giving a good account for itself. A decent size chub as well and worth weighing when it was gracing the landing net. 

It went 4lb and 14 ounces and the hook quite far down its cavernous mouth where it must have nailed the piece of meat. Wow what a great start, but then as the session played out I peaked too soon.

The fishing was patchy to say the least and numbers of fish were just not showing for me. I caught maybe 6 or 7 from this swim but there was a good wait between bites and I gave it a good 4 hours with a small rest in-between before trying some more swims.

Again patchy sport where these chub seem to be getting smaller and often snatchy at the bait where at one point I came back with a decent sized scale, which I assume was a decent chub again. 

I dropped in to the 'hot peg' to see it vacated by the angler who I spoke to when I first got there. Maybe he wasn't having a brilliant day either. To be fair it looked a cracking peg and I did manage to catch a few chub and lost one, but the barbel just were not showing for me sadly, so much so I ended up calling it a day with around 8 hours of fishing, with around 16 or so chub. 

On the way back to the car there was swim after swim now occupied and all sat behind their feeder rods, where a couple of swims had two anglers sharing the same peg. Maybe I was missing a trick for the barbel ? I'm not likely to rush back mind you, so despite the scenery, the relative solitude if you're prepared for a long walk, I couldn't quite put my finger on why it could well fall off my radar. 

The journey there only a hour, the journey back where I clearly left at the wrong time, 1 hour and 15, and it's only 36 miles. Nic from Avon Angling had messaged when I just got back to see if I wanted to share the swim with him because he was bagging up on chub on one of the noted pegs, and fancied a rest 😫

I was tired though, all day trotting and all that walking with gear I was done in. So in less time to drive to Quatford and the walking to get fishing Nic had caught more fish than me, 18 if I recall from 3lb to 5lb, and it's just down the road for me 😁, the Avon isn't so bad after all.