We were weighing up our options when, out of nowhere, I missed a take!
By then it was noticeable that the wind had dropped significantly, it seemed to make a difference and over the next three hours the wind remained calm and we managed seven zander between us. Although none were beasts they were nice fish and it was great to see some action; the day had been saved and it certainly served to whet my appetite to return and fish unhampered.
I returned the following week, on my own, only to be told that the wind was too strong to allow any single-manned boats out and so it was a four-hour plus round trip to take my tackle out of the car, just to put it back in again…
That weekend Andy and I had a boat booked on Chew Reservoir; I had only fished Chew once before, and Andy twice. We’d had a few fish on those trips and I was like a kid anticipating Christmas… It was the end of the first week of fishing and the rangers reported that the fishing had been slow – with only five or six ‘30’s’ out apparently: where else could that have been said other than at Chew?!
We hadn’t fished the venue enough to have any preconceived ideas of productive areas and, despite the temptation to follow the crowds, we decided to explore the neglected dam end.
We found feature after feature and took a roving approach and around late morning I had a very fat pike follow the lure all the way to the boat – before shooting off at top speed! As that was the only sign we had had all day it was a no brainer to set anchor and spend a little while with baits out. Around 30 minutes later something picked up my mackerel tail and after a very spirited fight, during which the fish left the water several times , (Andy you need to get quicker with that camera) we boated a stunning (and tagged) fish of 20lb 10oz.
We fished on in the area for another hour or so before we went roving again and explored the other end of the reservoir. With no other action and just an hour to go we returned to the spot I had caught from and with just minutes to go before we had to return to the jetty Andy’s float fished mackerel head went…
Just as he was about to wind down into it the float stopped – he hit it anyway and was met by…nothing, not even his bait. I think the upper, weight-bearing hook must have ripped loose on the cast leaving only a lightly nicked bottom hook. Andy was still cussing his bad luck when my rod twitched into action…and then stopped. I wound down and exclaimed I’d missed it, and then thump, thump, no, it’s on, then slack. It was gone.
With that we had to leave and I just hope we can get a day or two in next year’s draw.
The following week I was back on Grafham again and with the thought of taking seven fish from one spot just a couple of weeks’ previously still in my mind, a dull, misty day forecast and sea deadbaits now permitted (the first month is lure only) I really fancied trying deadbaits for the first time on the water.
I made a beeline for the same spot in 37 feet and anchored up. I had not had a chance to sort my gear since Chew so the first hour was spent breaking down and tying rigs and then it turned into another one of those days…
I got snagged on mussel beds cutting my braid, twice. Then I hooked into a fish and lost it winding in about three inches of what was a three foot fluoro trace. I found that I had left my hooks at home and only had the very large hooks I use for catfishing or trebles with me. I prefer to use singles, especially when fishing alone, and so persevered with the cat hooks. I was getting regular takes on strips of mackerel and despite landing a few small zander I was missing many more takes so reluctantly tied on the smallest trebles I had.
I then hooked into a zander that I could tell was a bit special. I was using my light jig rod with 10lb braid as there are virtually no snags (unless you let your braid settle into the mussel beds!) and I was only casting 20-30 yards from the boat. This fish was taking significantly longer than the 6-9lb average stamp of fish to play and I could feel the weight of it as she was now directly under the rod tip.
Three or four times I eased her up expecting to see colour at any second before she bore back down to the bottom. Foolishly I fumbled around turning the echo sounder on so I could see the mark she was making on the screen when, suddenly, everything went solid; she had found the only snag she could – the anchor rope. I grabbed the braid and as I pulled could feel her thumping on the other end before it all went slack as the thin braid parted against the anchor rope and she was lost…
Despondent at my own stupidity I re-rigged, not for the last time that day, and recast only for a good trout to take the bait on the drop. The fish fought well on the light gear and as she tore around near the boat I was not really in control. She took full advantage – wiping out my other rods – and I spent the next 30 minutes unpicking a braid tangle from hell.
At last knockings I picked up the smallest zed of the day that returned the trace that I lost earlier (the swivel end must have settled in a mussel bed causing the line to part) and as I slipped it back I noticed the other rod had been taken. I struck into it but the fish was already on the surface… A short struggle later and a lovely little brownie was in the boat. As I returned it I realised I was due in and had to make my apologies to the rangers as I arrived back ten minutes late.
And so I shall be returning to Grafham sometime soon as I still have not spent the day doing what I really love, vertical jigging and my day’s bait fishing served merely as a taster to what could have been!
