Through the Lens: The Fens "Ruddy Great Sport".

Pukka fish aren't they!

 Rudd. One of the country's prettiest species, in my opinion they only rank behind the Tench, Grayling and my favourite species, the Roach. Catching them on the Fens was at first bit of challenge as the concept of fishing from a boat posed a few more thing's to think about, flying hook in the side, falling out of the boat in excitement and the possible action of my crew-mate pushing me in should I have caught a monster. As it transpired the real monsters over the course of the summer had decided that just showing themselves was enough for this season, baby steps for me then. Thankfully the act of mutiny did not take place.

 With the baby steps I managed six Rudd over 2lbs with my best at 2.06, conditions more often than not were not ideal for free-lining or float fishing, but when a 190 mile round trip is made no matter what was thrown at me I stayed and fished, sometimes cursing my luck but it did pay off at times. For all the hours I put into it over the summer there was probably 3-5 hours of perfect weather for spotting and stalking big Rudd.

My first 2lb+ Rudd in over twenty years, caught last summer.

 The fishing was brilliant and I learnt so much, next year I will target it unforgivably, the target will be an elusive 3lb jewel, of which over the years I've been lucky enough to catch, on a single morning's fishing with my father we had what was a "session of a lifetime", a phrase that is often coined when big fish are caught, this however at the time (1994) between us we probably caught braces of Rudd that broke the British Record, special fish indeed and something I strongly believe will never happen to me again. My brace at 3.08 and 3.13 with my fathers brace at 3.14 and 3.10, these weren't the only "three's" we caught that morning either, it was simply unbelievable, to this day it is still our fondest memory of angling. The greatest shame was those captures must have been when the Rudd were approaching the end of their lives, we never did see them again and believe me we both went back on numerous occasions. They went as quickly as they came. Special memories for sure, much to our regret we never had a camera with us and to this day vowed to remember the camera before the rod!. I love a photo now, they remind me of the great times and when the fishing is tough they give me the kick up the backside to continue as another special session could be very close.

 Last season I started to target Rudd in the Somerset levels and on my first attempt I caught a 2lb Rudd, my first since that day back when I was six years of age, some 22years later, far too long and now I'm hoping to make up for lost time, here are some photos of some stunning Rudd and the beautiful surroundings, can not beat a trip into the countryside, us Brits are blessed with how stunning our country is. Angling at it's best.

War torn Rudd, full of character!

2.02

1.14

2.04

Season best at 2.06

Small dinner plate of gold.

A right royal pain in the ....

Sheer bliss, Me, my boat and I.

One of many Grebe's that work the healthy rivers of the Fens.

Stunning.

Miles from civilisation and just how I like it, in the wilderness you
feel so insignificant but as close to nature as possible
as the resident Barn Owl glides past.

Can't wait to get back.

These were typical of the sunset's in the Fens, often bringing
about the best feeding spells but I couldn't find that leviathan.

Chub Rescue a Perch Blank.

 For the first time this season I ventured out for Perch, I was heading north with the view to seeking out some real monsters, having never been there before and very little to go on I packed as light as possible so I could cover as much water as possible, the bait was live Gudgeon, under a 5swan shot loafer I was looking for structure to trot my livey, conditions were poor as the previous days rain had dislodged loads of loose weed and put a lot of sediment into the flow, all of which coupled with the bright sunlight meant that the Perch fishing was a non-starter from the beginning.

A spot of low profile trotting, the Chub were just downstream.

 Knowing it was going to be tough I still gave it 3 hours before throwing in the towel, I really didn't want to but from experience fishing for Perch elsewhere I know that I was seriously up against it. There was only one thing to remedy the dire morning (angling wise), a spot of trotting for Chub was called for, a small loaf of bread and some liquidised bread was all I had.

 After walking a few miles in the morning I decided to build a couple of swims close together and simply trot through the runs and hope for the best, I arrived at the river with maybe an hour or so left of sunlight and I could make out dark shapes cruising across the bottom but seemed very cautious, to get them feeding I had to wait almost for dusk, the liquidised bread started to work and the float slipped under on maybe the 50th trot, a good scrap was ended fairly quickly but not before it made a dive for the bankside vegetation. On the scales, 4lb 9oz.

 Not a monster but certainly a start, the next few trots produced tentative tugs on the float but were totally unhittable, I think that fish switched back off again, so I stopped fishing for a while and fed it up, by the time I cast back out it was almost dark, so I cracked out a night-light and proceeded to trot, first time in a long time I've trotted at night and it was an instant success, first cast a Chub around 3.08 came to the net. Within six trots I had a further three Chub with the best nudging the scales at 5lb 5oz. A good fish, plenty of room to grow aswell, so I'd be delighted to catch that in March next year. A certain disaster of a day was avoided, even when the Chub are feeding very cautiously they can still be caught.

Best of the evening at 5.05.

In Search of Monster Chub: Part Six.

 Friday's visit last week to the River Frome was a complete success, the capture of that Grayling just half hour before dusk was a prime example of why even when the fishing is tough anything can happen. On our walk back to our pits for the evening the clouds vanished and a clear cold night settled in, it turned out to be a bitterly cold one. My net was frozen solid and took a while to thaw out before regaining its shape, it was unfortunately the first frost of the Winter, fishing was going to be hard and we knew that bites would come very few and far between. Lucky that we are both fairly patient. We needed it.

The Stour steaming in the morning after the brisk night.

Even just for a walk it's nice to be out, but armed with a rod just feels so much better.

-1c does this to nets!

 The frosty morning revealed a beautiful sunrise, the kind of bite in the air that would deter most anglers from making the effort but for me I love it, blanks are usually inevitable after a sharp frost but the scenery is so relaxing and you get to really enjoy the countryside in those conditions, you almost vanish into it, sometimes I just put the rod out and sit and watch the time go by, the ever present Kingfisher's flashing past, the watchful Buzzards and Kestrels searching the fields for their next meal, the enigma which is the Otter, slipping in and out of the water and keeping tabs on me as it searched the margins for fish, all things I don't see in London so for me this are treats.

 I started the day searching for anything, whether it be Grayling, Chub, Barbel, Roach and Dace. Trotting maggot and sitting behind a quiver-tip rod in the hope of the rod hooping over. For hours the float top remained above the surface or the tip remained motionless, the frost really had put the fish off, as the day wore on I could only think that the best chance we had in catching a Chub was setting up camp in a single area and await the time when they would feed, dusk was probably that window.

 That small window came and went very quickly, thankfully I was in the right place at the right time. My boilie rod twitched and then lurched towards the river, no invitation needed I lent into a good heavy fish, the fight was fairly decent but it was certainly no Barbel, the weed was still quite thick so I had to put the head torch on as the light had almost failed completely by that point, in the light I could make out a good sized Chub that looked to be approaching the six pound mark and shortly after seeing it she was in the net.

5.13

 That window I alluded to shut after that Chub was landed, a quick couple of photos, a spin on the wheel of fortune and slipped back into the dark abyss. An hour more of lifeless rods meant the time had gone and we headed off home. I feel I am getting closer to capturing that monster Chub I seek, just got to put the time in and it may just happen.

Striking the Pewter Mine.

 Grayling. Arguably one of our countries prettiest species, a fish that is clever in the way it manages to elude even the best of anglers, I personally love catching Grayling and how it took me until 2014 to target them is beyond me, since then I have been fairly successful and my most recent trip to the Frome proved to be very hard but the reward was enormous and I obliterated my personal best for the species, something that I knew was possible but somehow doubted myself that it would happen as numbers of Grayling at the weights I hoped to catch are very low, alas the doubts were banished in spectacular fashion.

 As the early hours of the morning ticked away Brian and I headed into deepest Dorset under the cover of darkness with a plan, the plan was plain and simple, to break our PB's 2.01 and 2.02 respectively. Numbers in general are low in comparison to their sister rivers (Test & Itchen) so bagging up on them was unlikely too. Once we arrived on the river we had a short walk downstream to have a look around to try to locate the small pockets of fish we would be targeting, often big specimens tend to hang around by themselves, living a solitary life at times, these were the ghostly shapes we'd be hunting for over the vast gravels.

 First area we stopped in looked good but we decided just to stop and get set-up, or so I thought, after little deliberation Brian decided just to cast out blind and his float slid away almost immediately, he was met by a very powerful lunge and the rod hooped over, within seconds the culprit rolled on the surface and revealed that "Jammie Bollox" had nailed the very fish we sought in a matter of seconds, I couldn't believe it, she was enormous, we both went into panic mode and I think if making up a net were to be an Olympic sport then I'd have won gold by a considerable margin, I can only remember saying to Brian don't force it, don't rush it before it lay in the net recovering. Easy. As. That.

Brian releasing his new PB of 2lb 9oz.

 I'm thinking of not inviting him to join me anymore as that took the biscuit, "challenge? what challenge?" I could hear him thinking. He however would learn very quickly just how tough it can be, all he had to do was watch me. I tried most if not everything bar static corn for a bite, I found it very hard. The weather started off perfect then a dreadful coastal breeze whipped up and bought a system over that rained on us for over 6 hours unabated, soaked through to the bone, the line kept sticking to the rod, the pin kept stopping, I swore so many times I must've turned the air blue, nothing was going my way until I caught a pretty Grayling of maybe 10oz which brightened up my day slightly but did very little just justify the 230 mile round trip.

 The only cause for joy was when the rain did one around 4pm and bright blue skies appeared, with this new found hope that I could find a Grayling (large) I was off on a march, during the rain I popped into a few runs at the head and introduced corn to try and get some fish committing. Second swim I tried this in and three casts in the moment I had been waiting for came, the fight was extraordinary, one of sheer power and guile. Not for the first time this season I felt rather undergunned when I bent into what can only be described as a true monster, to me anyway. A huge sail like dorsal fin broke the surface followed by the back half of the fish......stunning to see such strength in action but what happened next surprised me a lot, I hooked her in a very shallow run at the tail of a pool and instead of the fish coming into the pool to play out the fight she went broad-side to the current and charged downstream, with the light gear I had on I simply could not pull and force her up, I had to grab the net as I scrambled down to follow it.

 100 yards downstream and this lay in the net awaiting it's one very elated captor to baulk at it's sheer size and elegance. Exquisite puts it perfectly. Pressure? what pressure.....well if I was putting myself under any to catch there certainly wasn't any after seeing that. I shouted for Brian who thankfully was close by to do the honours of taking some brilliant photos of my prize. Amazing memory.

2lb 11oz of pure pewter. Awesome.

 Off for beers and curry in celebration and a brisk 2½ mile back to the hotel half drunk, worth it.

First Pike Trip of the Winter.

 Winter and Pike are almost inseparable, when you think of one you automatically think of the other. Crisp mornings by the river as the time ebbs away and the aching arm of a great days fishing is the ideal conclusion, not always reality but when the countryside that we are lucky enough to be able to enjoy lye just an hour or so away who cares, just love to be out and in with a chance to catch a fish of a lifetime. But there is also the opposite side to the beauty of our countryside, the town and city waterways which arguably hold fishing opportunities just as impressive as those unknown stretches that are seldom targeted by anglers.

 For my first trip of the season I fancied a short trip after work close to home, a quick scoot down and the rods were baited with smelt and in position, location of bait fish I feel helps with catching Pike on the Thames, seeing as it's so close to home I felt I had to give it a go and it'll be on my radar for a majority of my Pike fishing this season. The Piking pirate joined me for the short trip and it didn't take long in our 2nd spot for his rod to come alive, a small Roach was snaffled by a scrapper of maybe 5lb and not long afterwards my upstream float vanished from sight. A short fight resulted in a fish of similar size, between 4-5lbs....not a monster but it was action and seeing as by Thursday night we haven't had a frost yet the silvers were everywhere, with the silvers being very widespread I suspected the Pike were also going to be spread out.

 The theory sounded plausible but after catching my first I cast a new Smelt straight out on the spot of the first take, forty seconds or so passed when the float bobbed and then slipped under, winding down slowly I lent into a slightly heavier Pike which gave me a good fight, a few minutes later a nice Esox between 8-9lbs lay resting for a picture, before we could do that it flipped on the mat and caught my hand and gave me one of the worst raker rashes I've ever had, not very pleasant I tell you.

Best of the evening, twenties do call this home though.

 The short spell of action was short lived and after about another hour of trying to find some more Pike we gave up as a two-day trip down south beckoned, we didn't want to leave it too late to grab our forty winks!

Through the Lens, Carp.

 Carp, a species that is probably as prolific as flies, everywhere I have fished across this country seems to have them in. Rivers, Canals, Drains, Lakes and Reservoir's, they're everywhere. Arguably the most cunning but obliging species on their day, I have been partial to targeting Carp for over twenty years, much of that was targeting a couple of local lakes where they grew to over 30lb, by the age of 6 my personal best was in excess of 25lbs, a serious fish but I had my father to thank for that, specimen angling was very much blooded into me before I started secondary school.

Stalking Carp in lakes when this picturesque can be a welcome distraction.

Releasing a mid-thirty.

 I can't say that I was disappointed in being taught to fine tune watercraft and sharpen my ability to catch the most smartest of fish whatever the species, whatever the condition. Summer was spent stalking large scaled Carp, the tactic is still one I use today......the one and only free-lined breadflake, the cost of 40p and it gave me enough bait to last me a week, perfect bait at a perfect price for a child, there would be times in the summer that I'd leave the house under darkness in preparation for sunrise where I could stalk the marauding fish, 4am in the morning and I would be twenty/thirty foot up a tree watching every move my targets were making and after working out what they were doing and where they fed it was time to get amongst them. At times it was very easy, I remember one morning when I believe I was 9 years old I had a quadruple of mid-upper 20's, the largest tipping the scales at 28lb 10oz, my father couldn't believe it but when the going was good a foot could hardly be put wrong.

A lovely 22+

 Winter only meant that the fishing was slightly harder, a bit colder and shorter days. Catching was never a problem except for the odd occasion, there were times when I experienced blank sessions, those blanks only served as a reminder that I can't always catch, regardless of how much I thought I could. Sometimes conditions made fishing difficult but it can never be an excuse to not catch, it simply made want to find a way to still be successful, to tell the truth I found it easy at times. 

I needed all my Weetabix that morning.

 I think the reasons behind me not fishing so much for Carp now is that I fished so heavily for them as a youngster, the only times now that I fish for them is purely spontaneous, whether it be on a river or canal, lakes personally just don't offer enough of a challenge but that is just me, I'm sure that there are many big lakes in England that are rock-hard to fish and to nail just a handful in a season is often the case. For me though the thrill of stalking them on a canal or river is right up my street, clarity is often the deal breaker, gin clear water often puts anglers off, for me it gives me added stalking ability and location on a waterway like the Grand Union is paramount as Carp are extremely nomadic and a shoal may consist of 3-7 fish then nothing for miles before you'd stumble over another pod, that for me is fishing for Carp at it's best.

35.8, brutus.

 This season has only seen a few trips committed to just Carp and managed a stunning river Common Carp of 25lb 6oz, the canal Carp have thus far avoided me, having found a small shoal approaching the mid thirty pound mark it was the sort of Carp I've been searching for but I simply couldn't get them to commit, the largest was a huge Mirror that I estimate to be 34-36lb, a huge frame and one that I really wanted to catch, unfortunately over the course of five trips throughout July I didn't manage any of them, maybe next summer.

A cracking Thames mid-twenty, stalked on breadflake.

 Going back to the days when I fished for them I found most tactics worked but stalking was by far the most successful and I have caught a few thirty pound plus Carp using the tactic, actually all my thirty plus Carp have come to free-line bread or dog biscuit. Great times and maybe at some point in the future I may rediscover my love for Carp fishing but if I were to it would only be stalking trips on canals and rivers, the lake Carp scene I can't deal with, I personally feel more at home, actively hunting rather than lying in wait. Who knows, maybe one day I will my angling philosophy may take a slight detour.

Jungle warfare Carping.

Pleasure Fishing with the Mrs.

 The last week has been very hectic with work and trying to find time to do some Barbel fishing after work had been impossible, so much so that I only looked forward to the Saturday to see where I could go to get my fix before another very busy week starts. I thought I'd swing an idea past the Mrs and she was more than happy to join me on what is a probably the prettiest setting an angler could find him or herself in this country. Diminutive but home to some truly special fish, but today as I was out with Lucie, my partner of nearly 10 years the intensity level of today's fishing was dumbed down.

 It has been kind to me over the last few years, good Grayling over two-pounds, Roach touching the magical mark and ample Trout to fill a larder thousands of times over, sometimes they can be a nuisance but on an occasion like this where anything will do, the Grayling however were our main target. As we both walked the bank with a rod between us and both donning a spiffing pair of polaroid glasses the Grayling were visible on the vast gravel beds and it didn't take long for Lucie to latch into a decent fish, unfortunately a Brown Trout intercepted the grain of corn before the Grayling could.

 A healthy spotty made the Mrs work hard as it stripped yards of line off the spool on a couple of occasions, not quite the power of a 60lb Mekong (which was her last fish) but in a river like this it made use of all the space it had, great stuff.

  We planned to only fish a few hours, or whenever the significant other became bored with proceedings, much to my surprise that didn't happen, we happily fished numerous straights, bends and pools which provided some lovely sport, I even came across two separate shoals of Roach both of which comprised of huge specimens approaching the 3lb mark, the average weight appeared to be low two's to high two's, as much as I tried though their sizes were to remain mere guesses, out of maybe forty Roach I managed one of the smallest around a pound.

 Yesterday was a day of strange going's on, the weirdest has to be the capture of a pound plus Grayling caught fair and square in the gob on a 4g spinner which was intended for a Perch or Pike, something I couldn't believe as it charged at the gold spinner with complete focus, amazed was the initial feeling then perplexed that a Grayling would be attracted to something like a spinner. All in all it was a lovely few hours fishing in stunning surroundings and shorty enjoyed it too which was most important. Dare I say it but she may one day fancy another trip out......I may soon find myself dusting off the clubs.

My best of the day, with some serious dorsal fin.

Lucie's first Grayling.

Stunning Brownie

Otter damaged Rainbow, fought like stink.

Blondie's PB Brown Trout of nearly four pound.

Young Pike, certainly knew what to do to evade capture, this time it failed.

Through the Lens, Barbel.

A recent shot of me trotting for Barbel and Chub.

Barbel are simply stunning creatures. (12.6)

 This particular post is looking back at some of the great times in my Barbel fishing. The countless hours spent searching for them as a species has taken me to some special places, with a few of the areas I had fished a certain amount of judgement as been needed. After hanging from branches peering into the water at double figure Barbel weaving in and out of the weed I have put myself in some very precarious situations but the end product has almost always been worth it, even if I have fallen in a couple of times.

Floodwater double.

 Over the years I've fished most of the rivers in the southern half of England for Barbel and various other species, I feel that nobody could argue that the River Avon is by far the very best. That has to be my favourite but many come close for different reasons. So here are a few shots of Barbel and some lovely looking spots, the fight's always remind me of why I continue to spend time searching for them, a few blank sessions are inevitable but certainly worth it when the rewards are so great.

My personal best Barbel, of 14.06.

My personal best revived and back home.

Vantage points are ideal for spotting feeding Barbel.

Double figure Barbel carefully released after a great scrap in freezing conditions.

Amazing looking waters flow through the Avon Valley.

Just resting up, one of eight from that morning's fishing.

A good double that was spotted from a tree, one that didn't manage to get caught.

A perfect specimen from last season.

One in tow and not giving up.

Barbel on the float are great sport.