Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.25

Now fishermen are notorious for losing things. Every year thousands of baitdroppers, fly boxes, rods and reels are left on riverbanks and lakesides. Fishermen who wade regularly are prone to drop watches rings, hats and flies into the water and it is very rare indeed for them ever to be found. But it does happen and every now and then it happens in the most extraordinary fashion.

A fisherman who came every year from London to try for the salmon in the North Tyne was in the habit of taking his gold signet ring off each morning and putting it safely in a drawer before setting out for the river. Then came the fateful morning when he forgot and on reaching the river and beginning to wade, he discovered that he was still wearing the ring. He was a superstitious man and as he'd always caught plenty of fish while not wearing the ring he was not going to risk everything by keeping it on today.

He tucked his rod under his arm, carefully slipped the ring off his finger, felt for his shirt pocket and dropped the ring straight into the river. He saw it glint for an instant and then it was gone. The ring was not particularly valuable but it had enormous sentimental value and the fisherman was not prepared to lose it without a fight. All thoughts of fishing vanished as he took his rod and began his search. The water where he was wading was not particularly deep, but it was fast-flowing and the golden gravel on the bottom made the perfect camouflage for a gold ring.

The fisherman tried dropping stones that he thought were of similar weight to the ring in order to see how far downstream they travelled before reaching the bottom. He then raked over the area with his distance gradually from the spot where the ring was lost in case the wading stick. Nothing. The search continued and he increased his current had carried it further than he'd first thought. Still nothing. Hours later and too despondent to fish at all, the fisherman returned to the cottage he'd rented.

He searched again the next day, having carefully marked the where he'd first waded, but still no sign of the ring could be found.The fisherman tried to forget his loss and continue with his fishing holiday but somehow it was spoiled and he left early to return to London.

His landlord happened to call in on the day the fisherman was packing up to leave and he nodded sympathetically when he heard the story, but expressed the hope that the fisherman, despite this disaster, would return for his annual holiday the following year.

One year later the fisherman drove up to the door of the cottage he'd rented now for ten consecutive years. He'd almost forgotten the lost ring and was looking forward to a week on a river that, from reports he'd received earlier, he knew was in excellent order.

He parked his car, opened the front door of the cottage and turned on the light. Just as he threw his bags down he saw it. The ring he'd lost the year before was right in the middle of the hall table. The fisherman simply couldn't believe it. 

He rang the estate lodge and spoke to the manager who explained that another visitor fishing the same stretch of river just a few weeks ago had hooked it. He'd thought this such a remarkable occurrence that he'd mentioned it to the estate manager who immediately remembered the tale of the missing ring.

Perhaps the most curious aspect of the story is that the fisherman who caught the ring had been fishing almost half a mile downstream from the point at which the ring had originally been lost.

I definitely need some luck because my results have been rather medicorce of late however with one day left to fish there was always another chance. So yes back to big fish central the syndicate stretch of the Warwickshire Avon. George pictured above was on the stretch as well as another WBAS member Jacub and we were all hoping for some success. 

I had trotted bread for an hour without even a nibble so after chilling for a while when a cormorant literally appeared right by my feet, I baited up a little I went for a natter with George who was just putting back a near 5lb chub fishing meat in the swim I saw Barbara the Barbel.

So it was out with the ledger gear for myself where I'd also fish some luncheon meat. !!! With the Avon here pretty clear I expected the bites to come as the last faded, but some meat went out and I was going to chill out for a while with a cuppa but then a sharp twang on the tip it pulled round and I was in to a fish myself.

It felt decent having to steer it away from the near margin escape route it could only be one culprit and that was a chub, I was right on the money, and it looked a good'un too !!

It wasn't that long but when I lifted the landing net and saw its girth, it looked a 5lber so out with the scales where they settled on 5lb and 10 ounces, my biggest chub of the season and a rather nice fish to end the season with. There was still some time to go though and I gave myself a curfew which was half an hour in to dark.

Oddly to all our disbelief on the stretch the swim(s) went dead and no more fish were caught, however some positives, it's good to see some specimens appearing on this stretch and what other surprises might appear when we are good to go again in June. For now it's the canals where hopefully some nice roach and Zander will grace the landing net. 

Warwickshire Avon - The Untrodden Pt.24

With the new (and now spare) landing net in its rightful place I can relax for future sessions if I ever left it behind again, oddly it jogged my memory, you see 10 years ago 👀 I devised the Gluttonous Chub Poka-Yoke Rig as I was being pestered by greedy chub when they were getting to the bait before the barbel which I knew were there. 

This stretch was on the grounds of Charlecote Park now in National Trust hands which is a rather grand 16th-century country house, surrounded by its own deer park, on the banks of the River Avon in Charlecote near Wellesbourne.

A lovely place and convenient place for me to fish however that was short lived when they decided to stop the fishing within the park and like me, the other anglers, had to take their maggots and luncheon meat elsewhere.

It was a shame as I got to know the patrolling ground staff quite well and I was on first named terms, mainly because my watch was slow 😉 and they had to remind me that I should have been off by now, it was dark after all.

"Mick, you again !!"

Anyway a rather extreme rig I suppose but it served its purpose rather well and banked me some barbel over the time I was fishing it, and as the crow flies its not far from these pastures new down at the Untrodden. 

So with my barbel rut as deep as the mariana trench I decided to have another got at these hallowed banks, you see not only do we think that Sean 'we assume' has caught Barbara but Eric caught his first Warwickshire Avon barbel recently (watchout for the blog report) and ok, it was only half the size of Sean's net buster, but it looks like there is more barbel to caught on this lightly fished stretch.

Could there be bigger ? well James Denison thinks so and that's good enough for me. 

However I need a change up !! My conventional tactics haven't been working whatsoever and my luck could well need a change of approach, so ok we had a hard frost overnight but I fancied trying something a little different, and with only two more days to go of the fishing season, bugger it, out with Dinky David and Giant Goliath, to at least appease my desperation.

Two rigs of completely different scales, one a size 12 hook with bronze maggots, the other an overly large 30mm pellet from Dynamite, which is a belachan Fermented Shrimp concoction that has a 3 day breakdown apparently where I think I would need a few years due to my recent form 😜 but fishing is fishing, we don't want it easy now do we.

 

(well sometimes we do, and I'd like luck thrown my way, shovel loads of it, if that's ok)

If you're an avid reader of the blog you know I like experimenting, so if nothing is producing the goods, there is no harm in trying something else, fishing could become monotonous and we don't want that now do we.

Like I said not ideal conditions for a last gasp barbel before the drawbridge goes up, but at least fishing maggots one of those rather large chub that also frequent this stretch might slip up even though the gobstopper would likely be too much of a mouthful. 

But then these are chub we are talking about they are the next species of fish after the mud sifters (carp) that might need to be prescribed Mounjaro and Wegovy (weight loss meds apparently) with their gluttonous habits. Anyway enough of this waffle better get fishing !!

Let's catch a barbel !!! (in my dreams)

Anyway two swims to be fished and I put a small amount of freebies in both and got fishing. Dusk was around an hour away and after putting out the maggot rod within 10 minutes I had a bite. I struck and something decent was on but the way it was wriggling about it was only one culprit, yeah a pike !!

It looked around 6 or 7lb so I would have liked to have landed it but the inevitable happened sadly. I can only assume it grabbed a small maggot muncher on the strike or it's got a taste of maggots.

Dusk came and went without much action and the temperature had dropped considerably and I was getting a little chilly. I gave myself a curfew then out of the blue a whacking bite on the huge pellet rod that didn't develop, damn it !!

It was most likely a chub that grabbed it, but that was my lot sadly. I stopped a good hour in to dark and that was good enough for me, those restless legs got the better of me and walked back to the car with one's tail between my legs again. 

One day left, one last hurrah ? Errr very unlikely with my current form 😀 

River Wye - Gravestones and Grithbreachs

Ever forgot something, and you realise when you've arrived bankside ? there is a good reason why I have a range of items either in my bag or actually in my car, because it seems to be a regular occurance. A rod rest head, a bankstick, even a spare landing hand handle. 

When I placed the tackle at the top end of the stretch I was fishing and after negotiating 'heart attack hill' and what seems like a mile of walking, it dawned on me, nope not the catapult, but the bleeding landing net FFS. As I pinged in some pellets in a couple of the swims an otter with a smile in it's face popped his head out one of the swim I was going to fish, and then continued to stare at me as it proceeded to waft down the river. 

Bugger !!!, I dumped the tackle and then decided to check the car but then after retracing my steps I rang the Wife and she confirmed "yes it's still in the garage !!!, not like you to forget things is it". Sooooo only one thing for it, onto Google to find the nearest tackle shop and thankfully the Angling Centre Limited was only 17 minutes away and they surely could get me out of the predicament I was in ?

They open at 8.00am which I was surprised at so after arriving at the parking spot at 7.15am that was perfect really, because loaded with tackle it took 20 minutes just to get to the area I was fishing, and then another 15 minutes to get back to the car, up the 'heart attack hill' which now has some newly built steps, and then a short drive to the tackle shop.

I ended up with a Dinsmore Shake n Dry landing net which came with its own storage bag, which is perfect really as I will now leave it in the car. A pony though, £25 quid so this trip is certainly adding up. It was a nice size similar to my Guru specimen net but a nice rubber finish, which does often repel the fishy pong landing nets are prone to. 

So back to the stretch again which took a little longer it was school starting time and the traffic was worse. Phew !!! I can relax now, wasn't too bad, despite me being the cause of all these problems. I fancied chilling out for a bit behind a rod for an hour before trotting the stick float and the first chuck of the feeder in a clear and lowish river, but that never happened.

The chub were on it straight from the off and it didn't take long to have a fish in the net to christen it because after after some ridiculous really powerful pulls on the tip, I switched to a small piece of meat on the hook rather than boilie on the hair and within  a few minutes a fish had hooked itself with yet another powerful bite. 

Then it was fish after fish after fish, nothing big from just under 2lb to around 4lb but I was enjoying this and in the end switched back to boilie on a hair just to revel in the ridiculous bites I was getting. I prefer to trot if I can on the Wye and it was a barbel that I wanted so decided to move upstream to the croy and have a go off there. 

I had already pinged in some pellets in this swim and it only took 15 minutes to get a bite trotting small cubes of meat when the float buried and I was in to a fish. The head shakes gave the game away and another nice chub was in the net after an enjoyable fight on the 15ft float rod.

I had quite a few more fish over the next couple of hours but there was no sign of the barbel. After taking stock with some lunch I decided to check the water temperature which was 9.9 degrees. So a nice temperature but I could see the bottom in most of the swims so I'm sure being clear wasn't helping the barbel front.

I tried another swim next where I have caught barbel before trotting but after another couple of hours with only chub again and the float now becoming difficult to see at the very end of the run, I decided to set my stall out to try and catch a barbel. 

This swim is renowned for the barbel that like to hang around the rocks but fishing a feeder you risk the chance of snagging up and losing gear, which happened twice. In the end I cast to an area that gave a satisfying donk on the feeder that seemed clear of any issues.

Chub after chub again and when the light started to go I though the barbel might come out to feed. The fry were being chased by the perch and activity seemed to increase, with a couple of Goosander popping up in my swim with one of them with a gobful of what looked like a dace. The bites seemed to get more violent if that was possible and a few of them were 100% a barbel bite, until I lifted in to the fish.

The barbel just didn't show for me at all and curfew time came where I reckon I must have had over 30 chub, with the best maybe a scraper 5lber. A really enjoyable day on my tod, but at the moment for the life of me I just cannot seem to catch a barbel. They seem to be a bit of a bogey species for me where on my headstone I think I'll have the chubmeister.  

A chub fest, which I don't mind as you know that, but the barbel again seem suspicious in their absence, but then this is Piscatorial Quagswagging, this is the humdrum. I've another couple of fishing sessions planned before the season end, and to honest I'm stuck in rut really, I think the closed season will be a good thing where I can take stock, sell my rods and take up flower arranging or bird bothering (the feathered variety !!)

I love the Wye though, I've said before it's like entering a different world there really is nothing like it and works wonders for the mind. It's only an hour and 15 minutes away by car as well, so I need to fish it more, not just a handful of times a year. I love long trotting on a BIG river, it feels like proper fishing rather than being stuck behind a rod which as you know my restless legs often kick in.