The River Arrow - Loafs and Logocentrisms

I checked the river levels the evening before and the Arrow a ten minute drive away looked like it would be fishable so in the morning it was out with the John Wilson rod, liquidised bread with garlic and cheese flavouring and bread on the hook.

The river was turbid when I fought through the waterlogged country lanes and I did think if some worms or maggots might have been the better option, but then a bite came quick in this swim which sadly I missed put pay to that theory. 

Bread for chub is such a wonderful bait and they seem to love the stuff whether it's fished hard on the bottom, suspended off it or when floating on the top.

In these strong tea coloured conditions bread is about as visible as a bait can get so small rivers like this where roving from swim to swim bites can often come very quick indeed. Roving is the key to success this isn't a river to chose your peg and set-up station in it.  

So travelling light is the key and move from swim to swim to try and winkle out a fish or two. The water temperature was 6.4 degrees which wasn't as cold as I thought but it's a fair shallow river in the main and I think that helps.

The first chub was a feisty 2 pounder but as the session panned out it was clear the bigger chub that reside here were not up for feeding. This section of the Arrow seems to have a good head of chub and that was also one of the reasons why I headed here because it often is a decent stretch to get a bend in the rod.   

One out of three swims produced bites and like I said bites can come quick when you stumble upon fish in the swim. 

In one of those with a tree to my left and a slightly deeper trough produced two chub within subsequent casts so overall it was a pretty decent session. I reckon 7 or so chub were caught with the biggest just under 3 pound as a guestimate. An enjoyable morning and with only 2 more days of the river season left I'm hoping to cram another couple of sessions in. 

I'm unlikely to renew this ticket for next season even though it's a convenient stretch because I do like to mix my options up year on year.

I do like the Arrow though so I might look in to other stretches where those Arrow barbel could well be hiding. I have caught barbel on the Arrow in the past and although their numbers are dwindling I'm sure there are some big'uns still lurking about I'm sure of it.  

The River Arrow - Brushcutters and Bronchoscopes

Sam and I bumped in to the swim creator on the river Arrow and boy did he have his work cut out. The upstream pegs of the weir couldn't be more different than those below it, a canalised section of around 6 pegs that is around 8 foot deep in places and harbours some fish well worth catching.

Bream, big chub and even barbel...!!  

I might well give the area a go to see what I can winkle out. The problem is the opposite bank is a more heavily fish club where the stretch of convenience means, they can actually park behind their peg. When we went for a nose every peg was taken as I did fancy having a go for the chub, but you could literally lip read what the other angler was saying to his mate that came for a chat, errr, I'll leave it for another time.

So we went downstream for a rover to try and catch some chub using simple link ledger tactics and gob stopping pieces of bread. 

It came from 'Dead Man's Hole' or something like that according to the brushcutter swim creator (nice fella) because it was a swim I discovered myself fishing it for the first time where the SSG took a while to settle, it must be a good >8 foot deep hole, when even with a clear river, it's dark and dingy here. 

A good fifteen minutes without a bite once the bread had settled I did think about moving when a pull on the quiver tip I got a big drop back bite and a chub was on. An epic scrap on my prefered chub rod (TFG River and Stream) it was taking line and certainly didn't want to see the insides of ones landing net. 

They are in superb condition these Arrow chub, probably because the once resident otter that tapped its clawed paw on the shoulder of every barbel that once called this place home, probably upsticks and went to pastures new. 

Fingers crossed they make a come back but for now the chub are there to provide a bend in the rod. To be honest I've not made it a secret chub are in my league table above the barbel, but then maybe if I was closer to a water that has them in numbers those positions could switch.

Anyway usually in small rivers like this once a fish has caused swim carnage (weighed 4lb 9oz) that's your lot for a bit so as Sam gets restless like I do, it was on to the next swim.

This was towards the end of the stretch as I wanted to prime the banker swim with some mash before returning to it. A swim nicely cleared for a match that is on the weekend it's a snag fest here. The problem was despite carrying a tinge of colour because of the recent rain it was still pretty shallow and you could see the bottom in much of it.

We gave it a go though, Sam manning the rod because I'd caught a fish and he hadn't, and naturally it was his turn. I mentioned in another post, he his such a good angler know, he what to do when that chub heads for the snags. 

Which he played out rather well indeed because after trying a couple more swims without success, we headed to the banker swim where literally two casts two cracking chub. There is a fallen tree over at the far side and also a tree to the right where the chub tend to hang out, because they have plenty of escape routes, and they seem to be there all the time. 

Sam actually missed another two unmissable bites that for some reason didn't connect, so with those chub returned there must have been quite a few of them down there.

For such a small river the average size of chub is on the high side, and on return to the car we dropped in to the weir where I managed a nice one that after a huge drop back bite realised it had made a mistake and shot to my right a good ten yards in what seems like a couple of seconds. I thought I'd missed my chance but reeled in a load of slack and the fish was still there.

Another short but enjoyable session on the river Arrow where we both caught 2 chub each and all a high stamp. There was a 6lber caught here recently apparently and no reason to doubt that, so I'm looking forward to giving this stretch a go in the depths of winter.

The River Leam (Sorry Arrow) - Baumbach and Baculiforms

I’m not really sure where to start on Noah Baumbach’s “White Noise” on Netflix, the film’s first hour, which introduces the apparently but not really surreal setting, the neurotic characters and themes, works much better than the latter half, which feels sped-up, going from one strange moment to the next. Woefully miscast (every single role is off) and sloppily adapted to the point of schizophrenia. 

Massive budget apparently and yet for me and the Wife, it was dull as ditch water 

Now talking of ditch water !!!

Taking a look back at my blog I'd not fished the River Leam for nearly a year probably because the last visit here I blanked and I was not in a rush to go back. It's only a 20 mile drive so 25 minutes or so but I suppose the reality is I have plenty of small rivers closer to me that I've found much more productive. It's a river full of promise though, but more of that later. 

If I lived as close to the river as George Burton and some of the fellow syndicate members I'd be there all the time, because not only have some nice roach been showing >1lb 8oz'ers but some 4lb chub too. For a small river in these predated quarters the roach certainly have my interest. 

Now George has been putting the hard work in, so I'm not exactly going to ask him for a what3words location am I, but I kind of had an idea from the WhatsApp group the area I should be targeting. The river probably wouldn't be in the best of fettle for this session but for the first post of 2023 I wanted to fish a small river.

I got myself preoccupied with the bigger rivers, because lets be honest they hold larger fish of the same species but the roach, well they are worth targeting on the Leam and whenever I fish small streams and these diminutive waterways, I always raise a smile, they really are forgotten in modern angling and yet peace, solitude and nature are here in abundance, what's not to like. 

Now the chief changes in the river at this time of the year are absence of weeds, a lower temperature of the water, and, generally, an increase in the volume of water, and therefore an increase in the force of the current. 

The water may also be more coloured than in summer and consider the effects the other circumstances have on the position of fish. 

The fish having now no weed-cover seek the deeper portions of the streams, and are no doubt greatly influenced in this move by the change in the temperature of the water. 

Barbel, carp, gudgeon, and eels now cease to afford any sport to the angler, and bream and tench bite but rarely; but roach, dàce, perch, chub, and pike feed well in suitable weather, and are in prime condition.

If the water has increased much in volume, the difficulty is to find sufficiently quiet swims, for swims which were suitable in summer cannot now be fished on account of the increased force of the current. 

Chub will be in the same swims as in August, except when the stream has become too strong for them; but the other fish shift about a good deal, according to the height and colour of the water. 

If no quiet swims with gravelly or sandy bottoms are to be found, those with a muddy bottom may be tried. As a rule, most coarse fish which bite in winter are caught when rivers are clearing, and it is floods and coloured water which make the greatest difference in the position of the fish. 

Floods drive them into the eddies and quiet corners where they can get out of the great force of the stream, and  where, no doubt, their food collects. Colour in the water has the peculiar effect of bringing fish on to the shallows, and often the thicker the water, the shallower are the swims in which they will be found. 

Two reasons probably bring fish into shallow water when the river is coloured I suppose. First, because in the deeps light cannot reach the bottom, and food cannot be seen; and second, because many varieties of fish prefer shallow to deep water when they can safely come into such places without being seen by man and their other enemies. 

It must not, however, be supposed that there are no fish in deep, coloured water. Many are caught during floods in deep swims, but a much larger proportion of fish are found in shallow water in such circumstances. The best hours for fishing in the winter are from eleven to three I've found, but a good deal depends on the temperature of the air, the fish feeding best during the more genial portion of the day. 

I have, however, at the close of a bad day, known both roach and perch begin to feed voraciously towards sunset when the temperature fell and it began to freeze hard. When rivers rise in flood, and the water spreads over the meadows, the fish flock on to the grass, and feed on the drowned insects and worms. 

At such times it is, as a rule, not much use to go fishing, owing to the great difficulty of finding the quarry in a wide expanse of water; but an angler may unexpectedly stumble on a place where fish are collected together in great numbers, and have good sport.

Take the river Arrow you see, I had planned to go to the Leam to try for a roach but the river after being well up was taking Agggggggggeeeessss to come down.

The Stour as well was over the banks in places so for a small river fix I had the local Alne and Arrow luckily so I chose the Arrow for one's morning exploits. One swim I caught this little scout from was chock full of similar sized chublets. So much so I was getting through the bread rather quickly so had to get moving and to try and find the bigger fish.

It didn't take long to be honest because this stretch for example is very shallow indeed, and despite the river being up who in their right mind will reside in the fast water when the warmer holes and deeper areas will hold the fish.

There was a frost overnight here so that often puts the fish off because they need to get accustomed to the conditions like all cold-blooded poikilothermous vertebrates, but drop some bread on their noggins they are more often than not accommodating. 

Nothing big in this 3 hour session, but the solitude here is well rather nice especially when I had the banks to myself. I caught 5 proper chub and around 10-12 chublets so plenty of bites roving between swims but those larger fish that do reside here didn't make an appearance. 

An enjoyable first session of 2023 though and sadly it's back to work tomorrow, it's gone too fast, but as George says, nothing grows under my feet as I've certainly got out enough over the Christmas break. Will I manage more sessions then 2022 ? highly unlikely but you never know, I do seem to amass them rather quickly I must admit. 

River Arrow - Festive Fluvial and Fettle

 “So where to go, what to do?” Shakespeare never actually said that while staring into a grey Warwickshire sky with an easterly wind knifing through his thermals, but if he’d been an angler instead of a playwright, he absolutely would have. Boy it was cold the wind was proper biting !!

Now Christmas Eve normally finds me grafting away, dutifully shovelling hours into the working week like a Victorian chimney sweep, helping to prop up the nation’s delicate financial ecosystem of 29% public sector pension pots, unwanted hotel dwellers, and people who seem to have mastered the art of not going to work but moan more than I do !!. But not this year. No. This year I decided in a rare flash of self-preservation that I was taking time off. Proper time off. The sort involving rivers, bread mash, and talking to birds that don’t answer back.

With that decision made, and my halo of festive goodwill already beginning to slip at a jaunty angle, I found myself pointing the car toward the River Arrow, downstream of the familiar Alne haunts I’ve been haunting for years. 

The Arrow, for me, has always been one of those “I really should fish it more” rivers the angling equivalent of a dusty gym membership. The stretches I have fished are the proper countryside bits, where the only witnesses to your casting disasters are cows, pheasants, and the occasional judgmental heron. This time, though, I fancied something closer to town  but not too close. Close enough to be convenient, far enough away to avoid dog walkers with opinions.

The wind, of course, had other ideas. A proper bitter easterly the kind that doesn’t just chill you, but actively resents your presence. Still, I was the only angler daft enough to be out there, which immediately lifted the spirits. 

There’s something deeply satisfying about having a river entirely to yourself on Christmas Eve, like you’ve somehow booked the whole thing out for a private function. The setup was simplicity itself: roving tactics, liquidised bread doing its floral-powered thing in the margins, and a thumbnail-sized piece of bread on the hook. Honest, humble, and faintly ridiculous just how chub fishing should be.

The first swim was a classic “this should work” effort: snaggy, a back eddy, a bit of flow and absolutely lifeless. Not even a nibble. Just the river quietly judging me. Then, on the tail of the back eddy not where I’d have put money on it the rod hooped over like it had been insulted. Chub number one. Then two. Then three. All on subsequent casts, all but one taking the bait on the drop, all apparently furious about it. The swim was shallow, absurdly so, and completely against the rulebook which is exactly why the chub had set up camp there. Fish love nothing more than proving anglers wrong.

Each one gave a cracking account of itself, scrapping their way straight into the fast water like they’d just remembered they were late for something important downstream. Eventually the swim died, as good swims always do not with a whimper, but with a smug sense of completion. So on the rove I went, weaving along the Arrow and skirting stretches of the Alne, picking swims like a magpie picks shiny things. Nine chub followed. Not monsters, not record breakers, but perfect little powerhouses on light, balanced tackle. My sort of fishing. The sort where every fish feels like it matters.

Now, I’ll admit, there’s a special place in my heart for a float burying itself with theatrical flair, but these bites were something else entirely. Savage. Proper “are you awake at the back?” takes. Some of the hardest-hitting chub bites I’ve had since I dedicated a rod specifically to the species. No dithering, no committee meetings just instant, decisive violence. Christmas goodwill clearly does not extend to bread-on-the-drop.

Wildlife sightings added to the day’s entertainment. I disturbed a cormorant the black death itself which flapped off looking mildly inconvenienced rather than ashamed, which tells you everything you need to know. Later, I had a cracking chat with a club committee member who’d been fishing the river for fifty years. Fifty years. A walking archive. 

Sadly, he’d only been shooting grey squirrels with his air rifle, not the aforementioned aquatic menace, but still a man with stories. He spoke of decline, of changes, of rivers that once gave more freely post the introduction of the otters. The usual tale, told quietly, without theatrics. The river listened. So did I.

All in all, I faired rather well, and it reinforced something I already knew but occasionally forget: roving is king on small rivers. Keep moving, keep thinking, keep avoiding the trap of sitting in one place convincing yourself that “it’ll happen any minute now” while your toes go numb and your optimism evaporates. Rivers like this reward curiosity, not stubbornness.

So there we have it. A Christmas Eve spent exactly how it should be alone by the river, hands smelling faintly of bread, mind cleared out by cold air and moving water. Not a bad way to press pause on the grind before launching headfirst into another year of it.

Merry Christmas, blog readers. Tight lines, warm fingers, and I’ll catch you on the other side, I'm off to the pub !!

The River Arrow - Chub Lovers and Chronosynchronicity

Poaching is always a problem. It can take many forms, from the harmless attempt of a child to hook a trout on a worm and a bent pin to murderous high-seas netting that may destroy a complete river system's salmon stocks in a few years or even months. Individual poachers also vary enormously, from the small-time village poacher to the commercial gang bent on wholesale slaughter. Every now and then a poacher of extraordinary eccentricity pops up. 

One such was an elderly woman it was thought that she was a local retired schoolteacher of the greatest apparent respectability but with an inordinate passion for fish. She operated on the falls of a small spate river near her home. Whenever the river was up and the salmon were running she was always to be seen watching intently from a position about two-thirds of the way up the falls and off to the side. She never stood on the bridge higher up, but always on the footpath. 

For years, whenever she was seen in her favourite spot it was assumed that she was out on one of her nature rambles and simply hoped to catch a glimpse of a salmon launching itself into the air to clear the narrow falls and reach the pool above. 

So few people paid much attention to the fact that she always carried a large and curiously heavy-looking umbrella on her walks. True, it was often raining while she stood in apparent contemplation overlooking the river, but it was only much later that people remembered that, curiously, the umbrella never seemed to be open and in use.

Then one fateful morning the real purpose of the old lady's river watching was discovered. For her the discovery was sheer bad luck, for the other villagers it became a local legend that was talked about years afterwards. A newcomer to the village who happened to be a keen fisherman was out a little earlier than usual and decided to walk up the river to see if anything was happening. 

It had rained overnight and there was, he thought, a good chance that the salmon would be moving. The old lady was there before him. 

Having lived in the village all her life she knew pretty much the habits of all the locals. None would be out so early for a walk. 

As he reached the bridge above the falls the newcomer saw out of the corner of his eye an elderly woman he had noticed often around the village. He was about to shout 'Good morning' when what he witnessed left him completely speechless. 

Something silver flashed for an instant in front of the old lady and in that split second her arm, which had been holding a long, unopened umbrella aloft came down in a flash, knocking the silver object, obviously a salmon, out of its path. The newcomer moved quietly into a position that would give him a clearer view of what was going on. 

As he did so he saw the old woman leap like a girl of twenty down the steep bank and, using the handle of her umbrella, she pulled out an apparently dead, but perfectly fresh salmon. 

The newcomer was afraid the old lady would spot him so, rather than go any further on his walk, he retraced his steps back to the village, but resolved to investigate this business further. Over the following three months he saw the old lady several times in her chosen place, apparently innocently watching the falls, but she always happened to be there just after fresh rain and each time he watched her he saw that umbrella put to deadly use.

The thing that he found most astonishing was the old woman's speed and strength. She was quite clearly so experienced that she could time her blow exactly to coincide with the salmon's leap. Admittedly the river was so narrow at the falls that you could virtually jump it, but a leaping salmon is poised in mid-air only for an instant.

For the old woman that was enough no sooner was the salmon in the air than down came her umbrella with a mighty thump. The salmon crashed back into the river and she scooped it out in the calmer waters below. In an average year the old woman probably did little harm, but what she was doing was illegal. Now the newcomer was in a difficult position. He didn't want to make himself extremely unpopular in the village by going to the police, but he thought she ought to stop. 

After much deliberation he decided that the best plan would be to mention to someone, anyone in the village who was known as a gossip, that a group of schoolchildren had been inventing a ridiculous story about people poaching salmon on the local river using a strange new gaff.

Within weeks of setting the rumour going the newcomer noticed that the old lady no longer appeared at the falls and the salmon were left in peace to leap and soar free of the risk of meeting a rolled umbrella halfway to the top.

Anyway no umbrellas to be seen here !! before the season end I fancied trying to catch a nice chub on the Arrow. The Avon is proving hard work at the minute but the Arrow drops faster and obviously being a smaller river those fish are a little easier to locate.

When I arrived though the river was proper brown, a strong tea colour which when you have bread and cheesepaste not exactly ideal. Cheesepaste though I have huge confidence with and that would be the mainstay.

Swim after swim though not a bite however a missed bite in one of the swims I put some liquidised bread in and let it rest and that was the key. You see in half an hour on the way back to the car I managed three chub in less than half an hour and they got bigger with every bite.

A 2lber first, then one knocking on the door of 4lb and the last one a proper warrior of fish that give a cracking fight on light tackle going 4lb and 7 ounces. After those three fish the swim went quiet and sadly curfew came but cheesepaste was king. The bites went from zero to melt down and messing with the bait at all despite the cold temperatures. The glasses well, if they are yours let me know 💗, but they are now sadly armless but I thought rather fetching in the winter sun. I LOVE CHUB !!! 

The River Arrow - Pingdemics and Pinacotheca

With the mercury predicted to rise above that found in Ibiza this shallow stretch of the River Arrow is great as the kids can take a swim and a paddle, and it just so happens it is a pork scratching throwaway from a butcher we've been using for years.

To kill two birds with one stone and all that....

The quality of the pork shoulder and shin of beef is unquestionable as is the fact that chub reside here in the shallowest of waters. Not only the butchers too, but the local shops also has one of the best stocked off licences in the area.

Small rivers over time as they turn and twist over their route can change quite dramatically especially when the river is in spate and that means despite being knee deep to a grasshopper like it was today there are deeper areas that will still hold fish.

The kids and I don't particularly like the weather when its like this, 30 degrees is fine when I've access to a swimming pool or have an air-conditioned villa to kip in but with an insulated house in the UK, just to get to sleep is all a bit of a nightmare. 

So you have to do whatever you need to do to keep cool and your body temperature manageable.  

Now I'm an ale man really but this off-licence stocks Hacker-Pschorr Münchner Gold which is one of the most historic German Helles Lagers in the world. 

Brewed beer for the first ever Oktoberfest in Munich and inaccordance with the German purity law. This beer is a 5.5% golden lager with a lovely bread aroma with a lemon-like edge. It has a lovely smooth feel and crisp hopped finish. 

One of Germany’s best lagers and when drank proper cold is a thing to be savoured not knocked back in these ridiculously hot and humid conditions, and boy was it hot. 

We'd never wet a line here to be honest because we usually its coincided with the closed season but that was going to change for this post lunch family outing. We would usually bring some slices of bread here though and in one particular snaggy swim the chub were queuing up to intercept the floating bread.

Apart from the chub there are small roach, dace and millions of minnows knocking about happily going about their business without knowing that the following day will be the half arsed freedom day. Well it certainly won't be that for those hundreds of thousands that have been pinged by the NHS track and trace app and have been told to self-isolate. 

Now I used to fish the Arrow not far from here 6 or 7 years ago and it was a lovely little river that oddly I didn't quite gel with it. I caught a few barbel and some nice chub to be fair, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it the draw of the river wasn't quite what I expected it might have been given that I love fishing diminutive rivers.  

I have thought about giving it another go but I know from others that have been fishing it that it isn't fishing well at all. Some of the match results show that as well, still if you know differently please let me know because maybe it could offer what I've been seeking locally, a small river that has Barbel to catch. 

As much as I love fishing the Warwickshire Avon for them smaller waterways are more my bag. Anyway we'd a 7ft rod rigged up with a large hook and bread and that was it. Well apart from forceps and a phone holder on a bankstick. 

The Wife's eyes glaze over with anything fishing but she was off galavanting at the F1 at Silverstone with some friends as she was given a grandstand ticket for both of days as one of them is high up at McLaren. Daddy day care basically so we'd be left to our own devices.

How much trouble could we get in to ?

Well not that much sadly because the river is so low those fish holding spots that did have fish in them last time we came no longer had fish in them. Painfully clear too but after a good paddle in the lovely cold water eventually after feeding some bread at the tail end of the last swim eventually a chub showed itself. Sam grabbed the rod off me and I put on a huge piece of squeezed on flake and after the first trundle down he'd bumped a fish off straight away.

I thought that was his only chance but no after another few casts a chub had hovered up the bread and a fish was on. This little 7ft rod is great with 8lb line and a tight drag it is proper hit and hold fishing and Sam played the fish really well before I netted it and for its size it fought well above its weight. His brother Ben thought it was a Zander but Sam quite rightly corrected him. 

With the sun beating down and other fish being very elusive we'd decided to call it a day and headed back home for a well deserved ice-cream and for me anyway, an ice cold beer.

The River Arrow - Chubsters and Chrysoaristocracy

I'd not fished the river Arrow properly in Aggggggesssss, probably 8 years or so when I was a member on a small syndicate. I did manage some Barbel for the season that I fished it but it's just my sort of river.

Soooo much feature where one swim is shallow as you like then the next some deep holes with plenty of depth. The new club I've joined has probably the best stretch where some are easy access, some not so. 

For this short morning session I decided to go for a mooch, at the upper reaches which are only a fifteen minute drive away. I'm very lucky where I am, so much to got, almost too much, ok these smaller rivers are not for everybody, but they are my bread and butter, I love them. 

Now the Arrow is still very low and clear at the minute despite the recent rain but there are still fish to be caught. I didn't see any Barbel under my polarised sunglasses but plenty of chub. 

In-fact over the near 4 hour session I caught loads. Nearly all the swims had them in as well. Ok not huge fish but the majority seemed to be feeding one something, as they all seemed pretty plump.

I love these sort of venues and especially at this time of the year when wading through long grass is required and almost making your own swims. I caught on floating bread and also on slow sinking bread by pinching on a SSG shot on to the line and allowing it to move around the swim. 

The snake swim produced the biggest fish, ok only a 3lber, but it was on to the bread within a split second of it falling through the water column I saw it take the bait which is always nice.

No road noise, no other anglers, what's not to like ?

Well some of the bigger chub that reside here didn't show for this session but the way these things put on weight, find those older and wiser fish I'm sure a PB may well be on the cards. Watch this space !!!!

I finished on probably between 15 and 20 chub ranging from half pounders to this one which was the biggest. The more oxygenated swims slow sinking seemed to be the way to go with the more static swims they were up for taking it off the top.

I actually ran out of bread (not like me now is it 😀) which wasn't a bad thing as I really could have stayed all day. The problem is we need rain and lots of it which doesn't look like it will happen for a while. Still plenty to explore and fish to catch though so it's a good time to see the river when it's like this as it is easier to see where the fish holding spots will be. 

On to the next one !!!, they are coming thick and fast at the minute !!!