Stewart Bloor
The Reverend Stewart Bloor, perhaps better known as Sedge in the pages of FISHINGmagic, is an ordained Minister and Director of the Sedgley International Christian Ministries.

He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops.

Pilgrim’s Progress – read it everyThursday!

Chub from the Severn, canoes on the Teme, but no tea bags on the Sow

Wales, the land of the leek, the daffodil, Rugby Union, Plaid Cymru, male voice choirs, red dragons, funny sounding places that begin with LL and tackle shops that don’t know the difference between a chub and a grass carp…………and the River Severn, or at least the first few miles of it, from source until it says ‘Au revoir Wales’ and ‘Bonjour England’.

Leaving the country – but no
border patrol guards in sight
And that’s where this week’s Pilgrim’s Progress begins, in the land of song. I headed for the upper Severn to do some chub fishing. Driving through Shropshire I was amazed to see a rookery in full swing, complete with a dozen or so birds. It was barely one and a half weeks into the New Year, and already very early signs of Spring. Still, I’m not complaining.

I entered Wales in the county of Montgomeryshire. I suppose I am quite a traditionalist in the sense that the administrative reorganisation of Great Britain in 1974 didn’t do anything for me. I now live in the county of West Midlands, but I much prefer the historic Shires of Staffordshire, Warwickshire and Worcestershire that all previously contributed to the conurbation.

But it’s nice to see what they have done in Wales in recent years, by returning to the counties that are part of our history and heritage. The administrative names such as Powys, Gwynedd and so on are used for such purposes, but the original centuries old counties have also been restored to their rightful place.

Realistic but optimistic

It was a new stretch of the river that I headed for. I had already passed over the Severn at Bridgnorth, and glimpsed it at Cressage, so I knew it was in good condition. I felt confident, but then again, the optimist in me always does. Although I’m realistic when it comes to my angling, there is always that element of me that anticipates that something really good could happen every time I go fishing.

I fished with a cage feeder and tackled just two swims. Due to the recent thawing, the banks were treacherous. The stretch I fished was very natural, there were no convenient fishing sections cut into the grass. Consequently, due to the steep banks, swim selection was crucial in as much as safety was the overriding factor. Fortunately, I found a couple of swims twenty metres apart on a wide bend.

Mashed bread proved to have
the pulling power with
this week’s fish
A number of initial repeated casts into the swims meant that a nice attractor bed of bread mash was laid out, like an underwater buffet, inviting the chub to dine. I had to wait a couple of hours before my first bite, but the pulling round of the rod told me that a decent fish had taken the bait. Although the fish fought well, I was always in control. A deep and wide snag-free river meant that the odds were heavily stacked in my favour.

A new PB, thanks to Mrs Sedge

And so, the contest ended with a chub being scooped up in the landing net. I’ve only been serious chub fishing for the last couple of winters. And last year was not up to much because of a combination of the weather and the foot-and-mouth disease. A glance at my fishing records shows that, of the best 25 chub I’ve caught, 24 have been in the last 18 months, so it’s a relatively new experience for me, fishing for chub. And although I’ve had a lot of fish over 4 lb, the biggest I had caught was only 4 lb 2 oz.

Looking at this fish, I could see it had the potential to beat that. And so it did. Not by much, but at 4 lb 4 oz, it was a new personal best. It wasn’t a very attractive looking fish, in fact it looked as if it had been in the wars. Talk about going 10 rounds with Mike Tyson, the fish looked as if it had been in a fight with every pike in the Severn catchment area.

But, at the end of the day, I thought to myself, this is not a beauty contest. I’d sooner catch an ugly looking double-figure barbel rather than a pristine conditioned five pounder. After all, I only want to weigh it and photograph it, not marry the thing.

I’m a happy man – A new PB chub of
4 lb 4 oz from the upper Severn
I only managed one more bite during the session, but with another four pound chub posing for the camera, I was a happy man. The second one weighed in at 4 lb 2 oz. So with a couple of 4’s I headed home, looking for a McDonald’s on the way, so that I could celebrate with a Super Size vanilla milkshake. But alas, my celebrations were put on hold, due to no big ‘M’ sign lighting up the night sky, until I reached home and tucked into my favourite meal, a Mrs Sedge Chilli.

Mrs Sedge actually played a part in my fish. I had been undecided whether to tackle the new stretch or visit one that I have previously fished. So, to decide, I asked my wife which one I should head for. ‘Try the new one’ she replied, ‘you never know, you might catch a record’. Well, I didn’t catch a record, but I was happy to settle for a new personal best.

Interview on the Teme

I’ve recently been asked to write a feature for an angling magazine on the River Teme. Most of my fishing is conducted mid week, but I had a free Saturday afternoon, so I headed off for my chosen stretch of the river to take some photographs to accompany the article and to ‘interview’ any anglers that were there.

When I got there the cupboard was bare, so to speak. Not a soul in sight. Anyway, I was rescued as an angler arrived just as I was about to leave the car park. So, with his permission, of course, I got out my note book and put on my Jeremy Paxman ‘head’ and grilled him. (The magazine wanted a few photos and quotes from regulars who fished the river).

As I had travelled across to the Teme specifically for the article research, I decided to make the most of it by taking my rods and doing a bit of fishing after I had finished ‘business’. I set off for a stretch upstream of the one that is due to be featured in my article, and with only 3 hours of light left, I set up. It certainly looked promising, and the first couple of casts produced bites, which I missed.

The Severn comes up trumps again,
this chub was 4 lb 2 oz
Curse of the canoeists

Then about to cast out again, I was aware of noises from upstream. A couple of canoeists were on a paddle down the river. Not content with shouting to one another, right in the middle of my swim, one of them suddenly noticed a bird at the water’s edge. Doing the boating equivalent of an handbrake stop, they then proceeded to paddle like mad against the current while they discussed this bird.

To say I was not happy would be a correct assumption! It was actually a fairly shallow stretch I was fishing and one didn’t need to be a pessimist to say that the swim was well and truly killed. In fact I only had a few hours on the stretch because I was in Warrington the next day for a Church preaching engagement, so didn’t want to be out too late.

Now, I know as anglers we are not keen when boats plough through our swims. But in all honesty, they have as much right to be on the water as we do, even though we may not like to admit it sometimes. But what particularly annoyed me is that these canoeists knew exactly what they were doing. For example, when they came through my swim, they never even looked at me, even though they could see me. In other words, they knew that their presence wouldn’t fill me with the joys of Spring. So, why then, did they then go on to churn up the swim while they looked at the bird?

We’ve all had boaters come through our swim who smile, say hello and wish us a good day. They simply don’t know that they’re not particularly welcomed by the angling community. But, as I’ve already commented, they have as much right as us to be there. Without jumping to conclusions, I can only assume that the canoeists knew exactly what they were doing. Now, it may be that they have had trouble with anglers before. But two wrongs don’t make a right. And why take it out on me because of some other angler that they have crossed swords with? I’m not a vindictive person, so it won’t affect me in any way, shape or form. The next time I see a boater on his way down stream, the hackles on the back of my neck won’t be raised. But one can see how situations like this polarise people.

No tea bags, but a 3 lb 3 oz chub made up for it
A chub bagged but no tea bags

My next trip, which wraps up this week’s Pilgrim’s Progress saw me back on the River Sow. From front door to river is just over twenty miles, and with good roads I can do it in no time at all, depending on the time of day, of course. It’s the ideal venue for when I go straight after work and fish from late afternoon right through into darkness. And that’s what I did on this occasion.

Grabbing all my gear, I checked and double checked everything to ensure that I wouldn’t be without essential items. All was in order, and within the hour I was on the banks of a low and clear river with rod in hand. It didn’t take long for a bite, as a matter of fact, I hardly had time to put the rod in the rest, before the tip started to pull over. A minute or two later I was posing for the camera with a chub that registered in as 3 lb 3 oz.

I felt like Leeds United, who in the previous few days had scored after 25 seconds of the game against Newcastle. Unfortunately, they went on to lose 3-1. And I suppose the parallel continued, because that early fish proved to be the one and only bite I would get on the session. Still, it’s better than blanking. My winter’s been OK so far. I’ve had the regular, often solitary fish, but more importantly, I’ve been catching.

Footballers celebrate their goals by pulling their shirts over their heads and then running around the field. Well, I’m much too dignified for that, not to mention that it was very cold. So, I celebrated my fish by re-casting and pouring a drink of tea from the flask. Even though I had checked everything very carefully, I had obviously forgotten something very important.

The water came out the flask fine. And it was boiling hot, so no problems there. I’d even put the milk in when I made the flask up. However, I had forgotten the most important ingredient as far as a cup of tea is concerned -the tea! A quick trip to the local village remedied that though, and it was back to business as usual. No more fish, but as long as an Englishman can have his cup of tea, it’s not the end of the world.

Next Thursday’s Pilgrim’s Progresstitle is in code only anglers will understand. Join me as I tell youhow I caught ‘A Slimy and a Whiskers from the Severn and Stripiesfrom the canal’.

After a slow start to the year,I’m now in full swing. Well, I’ve definitely moved up a gear anyway.So join me next week when all will be revealed. See you then.

The Reverend Stewart R Bloor
Sedgley International Christian Ministries
PO Box 1216, Dudley. DY3 1GW.
Telephone : 01384 – 828033
Web site : www.sicm.org
e-mail : missionscentre@sicm.org

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