Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.18

I'm all for making life easy for the angler. (God knows, I need all the help I can get.) But I would respectfully suggest that the electronic lure invented by a biologist at the Severn-Trent Water Authority has gone a bit too far in that it's far too good.

First of all, the lure hypnotises fish with electronic pulses in tune with their brain waves, such as they are. When they get close enough, its power locks their muscles rigid, leaving them paralysed in the water for the angler to net at leisure. 

Not only that, the lure can be tuned to different wavelengths to attract different kinds of fish: eels home in on three pulses a second, pike on ten and carp on twenty. 

The biologist, Dr Richard Spray, pulled in 169 pike in 22 hours from a two-mile stretch of water during one of his experiments. And then went on to work out the wavelengths for other fish, including trout.

Dr Spray sees the main application of the lure in fishery management. But if lures tuned to salmon and trout ever get on the market, there'll be a lot of non-management persons wandering the bank in the dead of night with a warmed-up and unlighted Land Rover parked under the trees.

Is not the lure the answer to every angler's prayer? Dr Spray thinks not. 'It'll take the fun out of fishing,' he says, 'so I don't believe the ordinary angler will want to use it.'

Such faith in human nature is touching, but can you see the average cack-handed tiddler snatcher passing up the chance to sit in the pub and boast: 'Yerss... Not a bad morning. Shifted 169 pike first thing, then beamed into about 450 bream and finished up with 50-odd carp from the pool. Not a patch on last week, mind you...'"

Anybody getting down to the water behind that lad I would be on a hiding to nothing. Talk about first up, best dressed. Even if the first angler returned the fish in double- quick time, to have the 'fluence put on them by the next comer, it's doubtful if the fish themselves would think much of the performance:

'I'm getting a bit fed up with this, Simon. Five times I've been beamed up this morning. Not had a chance to eat a thing.'

'Me too, Mick. Ooh, me 'ead..."

Perhaps Dr Spray would consider re-directing his research into the brain waves of anglers. Not only could local publicans beam out the message that their establishments were open for quenching the thirsts of the gentry, but they could use the pulses to guide anglers unfamiliar with the area to their very doors.

Or perhaps not. Surveys have shown that the average angler knows immediately when it's opening time, whether he's carrying a watch or not. Something to do with his biological rhythms. And he seldom has trouble locating the nearest boozer: he just follows the pulsing in his nose.

There's also the danger that such a sophisticated system of mind control could be misappropriated by the anglers' Nearest and Dearest to call them back from the bank and home for their tea. What a horrifying prospect: hundreds of zombified anglers packing up and lurching slowly along the bank, arms stretched out in front of them. Walking straight past the pub and chanting: 'I come, my love. I hear... I obey...'

No, it wouldn't do at all. In fact there's a deal of danger in any interruption of the angler's mental functions when he's near the water, as Doc Thumper will confirm.

Doc lives on the Thames, lucky lad, and can fish from the bottom of his garden. When he's on standby, just in case he's wandered along the bank, he carries a bleeper which allows Misses Doc to warn him of any emergency calls.

This worked fine, until one day Doc was having trouble with a chub which had made for a half-sunken tree. He was balanced precariously on the sticky-out end of the trunk, trying to turn the chub's head, when the bleeper went off in his pocket and imparted a severe shock to the system. What followed was not a comfortable experience, but it did lead Doc to one important discovery, that, unlike Dr Spray's lure, the common-or-garden bleeper does not work six feet under water !! 😛

Be careful out there chaps, the banks are muddy, the river cold, don't go falling in there if you can help it. !!!

Anyway I was back out again on the syndicate stretch this time with a pint and a half of bronze maggots to see if I was missing a track, oh and to see if I could catch something other than chub. The rain was easing up and that lovely tinge of green was gradually turning in to weak tea as the session played out. The bites were at a premium too with some small roach caught and then after a couple of hours with my hands now pretty cold, I managed a couple of chub must have ventured out from their hidey-hole, and succumbed to the maggots.

They came on subsequent casts dragging bottom however no more showed and after another 40 odd minutes trotting with even the roach now suspicious in their absence, it was time for the off. A very cold morning indeed, the river however was a tad warmer than I thought, as it was 6.1 degrees, maybe that rain wasn't as cold as I thought it would be.  

Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.17

Well the weather really was pants when I woke up, cold, dull and rain rain rain rain. It was quite nice having a rare lie in and the morning passed rather quickly I must admit. Thankfully the rain eased up and with the Wife and kids happy to have a chill day in the afternoon I was getting restless, so there was only one way to get over that, and that was to go fishing.

I decided to go and fish one of my local haunts where the Avon is at its smallest and also with plenty of features, the Chub can be found swimming around the snaggy waters. 

That was my plan however as I was nearing the venue the bleeding road was shut the access now restricted with heavy machinery, a dug up road and an earth pile you'd need an oxygen mask to negotiate. Oh well, so it was off to the syndicate stretch instead where after getting through 2 sets of temporary traffic light eventually I managed to get to the river.

It didn't fish at all well last time where I blanked but this was another day and I had a new batch of cheesepaste that the chub needed to try.

In the winter I really do have confidence fishing cheesepaste and these days I tend to put a piece folded around the hook rather than add some to one of my 3D printed paste cages. I make the cheesepaste a little softer than I usually do however it firms up a little when it's been in cold water for a while.

Anyway a roving session spending no more than 15 minutes in each swim....

It didn't take long to get a bite either when a primed swim produced this hard fighting 4lber that gave me a right run around. By now the drizzle was getting worse thankfully and a bit of a surprise because I caught another chub in the next swim after the bait had been out for short time. 

This time the fish must have hooked itself because the bite was barbel esk and  if I wasn't watching the rod it would have been in the water, it was that powerful. 

No little taps or pulls, the rod just went into meltdown in a split second !! 💪👌👏

This was only a 3lber or so but most welcome I must admit because the weather wasn't very agreeable at all. Now I did think I was on to something with those relatively quick bites, but sadly I peaked too soon because another 4 or 5 swims fished, not a sausage, nada, zilch !!

With an hour left till dusk the mist descended and the drizzle turned in to light rain so I decided to call it a day and return tomorrow with the trotting gear. I've some bronze maggots and fancied trying something new on this stretch rather than trot with bread all the time. I'm just praying that the river won't rise that much as it's a nice level at the minute.  

Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.16

So the 5lb Untrodden chub hunt continues with another short after work session to try and winkle out a chub that is over that magic barrier. Ok I've caught bigger chub on the Warwickshire Avon with the biggest being 6lb 2 ounces not far from here, but there is something special about ticking off that milestone capture on a relatively un-fished stretch. 

It's still nippy out there with water temperatures still below 6 degrees, and as someone who accidently cut a 1.5inch tramline in the side of my head and now sporting a No.1, that thermal hat was definitely needed 🌃. Now the chub is a most handsome fish with its red-tinged fins, large scales, dark brown on the back, lighter brown on the flanks and a dead white belly, oh and who could forget the bronzed gills plates. 

I like the build of chub best though, those hefty shoulders and tapering rounded body simply shout power and speed as you look at him.

Now in days gone by, you will put a chub back into the water without a second thought. There is no temptation to keep it for the pot, apparently they taste like blotting paper and tin-tacks cooked in rancid margarine. 

In Britain today coarse fishers return their catch. This is not surprising, you see apart from the increase in popularity and resulting pressure on water space, tastes have changed with changing social conditions.

Besides many these days rely on convenience and many wouldn't fancy, or have time for, dressing pike or skinning eels; all the fish you need are easy to cook and readily available in the local supermarket. Nevertheless, many fishes seldom seen the marketplace are valuable as food, indeed less affluent societies they would be eaten with brisk and cheerful readiness.

At the moment though, the chub are safe down at the Untrodden 😁, even if the further expected tax hikes from Rachel from Accounts are going to kick in. we are thankfully blessed with Zander in the Shires, they are literally chalk and cheese where food palates are concerned. Chub the Spam, Zander the dry aged galician blond.

Anyway to the fishing, a well planned military operation this, you see I'll bait one, two, three, four, FIVE swims with some liquidised bread and then fish them in to dusk and in to dark to try and winkle out a decent Chub. 

So walk to the top of the stretch, make my way down baiting the swims and then work my way back up. If a chub is there they show themselves rather quickly, so 15 minutes biteless ?, it's time to move on.  

They are tactics that do seem to work and confidence is the key isn't it. So that's why for this session despite making up another batch of continuing festering cheesepaste, it was back out with the ever reliable bread, and try and put that plan into action. 

The plan wasn't going very well though because swim after swim that quiver didn't move an inch. The colour looked perfect for a bite and yet the fish were having other ideas. Dusk is usually when the fish come out from their hidey-holes so I settled in a swim that usually that gives a bite, but dusk came and went and the quiver now illuminated with torch light didn't jump in to life like I wanted it too.

Bites usually come quick if there is a fish in the swim so I gave it another fifteen minutes and headed up the stretch to fish those swims that were primed at the start of the session. I get impatient during these short smash and grab sessions and 

I had a curfew to leave which was 6.50pm and that came around much quicker than I thought and another 3 swims covered without even a nibble whatsoever. I changed to meat for the last twenty minutes but even that was untouched by the piscine brethren.

A moving bait has been doing the business for me and others and with the weekend on the way maybe that is the way to avoid a blank. A blank is rare on this stretch to be fair, oh well, on to the next one !!