Showing posts from January, 2018

Winter Roving, Excellent Sport.

 During the winter most barbel anglers either go static in their approach or completely put their gear away and await the opening of the new season, I, however look forward to the time of the year when we have increased flows and less weed to work around. Long trots using bread, free lining or rolling all manner of baits is very much the flavour of the winter and this doesn't mean just big rivers, it's also a good tactic for smaller waters where stealth is absolutely integral to catching.  Last weekend I had a short session squeezed in after a morning of clearing up and I wasn't left in any doubt that it was a great decision, not even three hours of marching around, possibly trying my luck in twenty spots I had the pleasure of three fighting fit barbel, all of which were of good size with two weighing 8lb+ ( 8.02 & 8.06 ) and the biggest at 10lb 6oz. The 8.02 which was a real stunner. This was the double in fine fettle. The bend on that !  The Mark I

Chub Challenges.

 When it comes to winter fishing the Chub are a very obliging species to target, which is good for me as I leave home sometimes deciding what I should go for, often I make my mind up on route to wherever it is I'm going. Leaving the manor without a concrete idea on what I'm angling for does put me at a disadvantage occasionally, that however is the way I've always fished.  Three days of solid fishing which began not 3 hours after arriving at Gatwick. Through the border control, then waited twenty minutes for the backpacks to come along the carousel, then a brisk march along the winding corridors into the terminal building, then onto our train back into London. Barely home for an hour and the gear was packed, I was ready to go. Bait wise I didn't have much but four pints of maggots, a loaf of bread and a tin of meat, the bread was my obvious choice to start with and within ten minutes my keep net was in position with a lively Chub of 4lb+ thumping the end of it tryin

Frome Frustration.

 Ah, the Dorset Frome, equally as pretty as it is hard most of the time. I, in eight days spent fishing it have never experienced " a good day", infact that's a lie, I had one once upon a time otherwise it seems to either be hard or very hard, not that it dampens my spirit of course as why would it? what other hobby gives a human the need to get out in such brutally cold conditions? I don't think theres many anglers out there that would undertake something as mad, was possibly -5c when we arrived. The Great British countryside in the depths of winter is as beautiful as it is the summer, just without the midges and scores of nettle stings. A sky of fire!  It's a long drive down, 2hr and 20 min on a good run or 121 miles each way, before starting off, in the dark of the night I was sifting through my "Angling Compound" for the remaining bits of kit I'd need for the day trip as *it is criminal making such a journey for a day's fishing* ( I

Dace O'Clock, the Hens Begin to Show.

Looking splendid in the frosty morning sun.  Before I flew off to Asia for five weeks over December to Mid January I did embark on a couple of trips, one which I'll touch on in another post and this one, a short trip to a favourite chalk stream of mine where big Dace take a leave of absence for what seems like a couple of years. For possibly ten years, maybe even more I have conceived every possible reason for their miraculous disappearing acts, one season it's boom, the next, bust. Quite often more.  This season however I have already located a shoal of possible monsters with a couple spotted likely to get close to magical barrier of a pound, the premier league of Dace weights. Knowing where they are doesn't guarantee you one, furthermore, they seem to move with great mobility. Many times I have done my level best to keep track of them, yet a shoal, sometimes sixty strong in a hole the size of a dustbin lid under a bush and you'd never know they were there. Th