Firstly I’d like to take the opportunity to thank everyone for their feedback on last month’s submission, which focussed mainly on various aspects of fishing related sponsorship and consultancy. As I’ve said before I’m always very grateful for any comments and constructive criticism I receive and I’ll do my best to reply and/or say a quick ‘thank you’ to everyone who forwards a personal message.
I should also remind everyone that there’s an opportunity to forward comments and feedback directly into the FishingMagic forum, with a separate thread related to each article available to anyone who has registered on the site. I’m sure Ian and everyone else connected to FishingMagic would welcome some lively feedback and debate on all the various articles and submissions, so if you don’t mind your comments becoming available to a wider audience, or even fancy entering into a little debate and on the public forum, then please feel free to create a post using the ‘comment’ link at the bottom of each article.
I’ve heard people referring to a game of football that has changed dramatically after half-time as a ‘game of two halves’. Well, I reckon I’ve had something similar happen to me with the month of November, with some dramatic changes in the weather conditions and a bit of a swap-about with my work stuff, which in turn have both had an impact on my fishing related activity and results.
The first half (more like a third really, but let’s not complicate a perfectly good metaphor), was most definitely the better half, with things changing very much for the worse, in terms of the fishing at least, in the second half.
Before I launch into the details about the first half I’d better prepare you for some rather amazing news. In fact it might be worth ensuring that you’re sitting down and fully prepared for a bit of a shock. The amazing thing is that not only have I had a bite while bream fishing back on the massive expanse of Ferry Lagoon gravel pit, it’s actually turned out to be a fish and not a tufty!
Right, if you’re fully recovered and have dusted yourself down I’ll give you the full story.
As I mentioned towards the end of my last piece I’d put some reasonable effort into trying to catch a massive perch from the reservoir but again it looked as though I hadn’t managed to get my timing quite right. After making a very brief appearance when a couple of big fish were caught within a few days, the perch appeared to have done a quick disappearing act and had swum off somewhere seemingly out of reach of the fishable banks just as suddenly as they’d appeared.
In past years I’ve fished hard for these perch when it was almost certain that they were nowhere near the sections where fishing is allowed and have therefore probably wasted a good chunk of useful fishing time. This year I was determined not to sit it out for the perch during the hard times when there were potential opportunities elsewhere, so with some favourable conditions coming up and my good friend Ken keeping a watchful eye on the reservoir I planned a session back on the big Cambridgeshire gravel pit to once again have a go for the massive bream that I hoped were still alive and well and swimming around somewhere in the vast expanse of windswept water.
As it often does, fate eventually dictated that I wasn’t able to organise a session for as early as I would have liked, and what I had been hoping would have been a nice long three or four night session was starting to be compressed into something a little shorter.
So that I could fully maximise the available opportunity and ensure that I had baits in the water for as long as possible during the best parts of the day (which are the evening and early night periods), I decided to stay until as late as I could manage on the last ‘day’. This would mean missing out on a bit of sleep, but I’d feel better for having made the most of the time available.
Arriving quite early on the first day gave me a bit of time to have a good scout around before deciding where to plot up for the start of the session. It looked as though I had the entire pit to myself, which is handy if you don’t want any competition for swims at all, but it’s also sometimes nice to have someone else around, even if they might be a good half a mile away on foot, if the impossible happens and you need someone to photograph a fish.
I do find something smugly satisfying about having the best part of 200 acres to myself though, so I was totally happy with things as I went about getting the rods set up, baits out and the bivvy set up to give myself a comfortable base for the session. The wind was just right in terms of producing a nice steady ripple on the surface without being so strong that it presented problems with getting the baits into position. The wind direction was nice as well, with my swim choice meaning that I had the wind coming at me from the right at about a 45 degree angle, which in turn meant that I could stay relatively cosy, but with a nice spread of baits, with one positioned as far over to the right as it was possible to go, I was confident that I’ve have a bait or two in some good areas.
I’ve found the most likely time for a bream bite on most of the big pits and reservoirs that I’ve fished in the past to be from late afternoon, through the evening period and the first part of the night up until about midnight or so. However this all passed without incident on the first day and I’d enjoyed a few hours kip in my cosy sleeping bag when without warning a rather unexpected thing happened.
I hadn’t been awake for very long. Often when I’m bivvied up for a session, even if I haven’t set the alarm on my mobile phone, I’ll find myself waking up a little before first light and I’ll frequently drag myself out of the bag and sit drinking tea while enjoying the new dawn and looking for signs of fish activity.
This particular morning was no exception in that I’d found myself gradually coming to life just around the time of the morning when I’d have expected the very first signs of approaching daylight to have made themselves known. However there was no chance of fish spotting on this occasion as there was a pretty dense, misty fog hanging around and I could only just make out the silvery metal studs on the end of the rod butts through the gloom as I surveyed the scene from the comfort of my sleeping bag.
I’d just about decided to give the idea of getting up early a miss and had decided instead to stay warm and toasty and treat myself to an extra hour or two in the bag when, without warning, my remote was indicating the alarm on the right-hand rod was signalling a take and within a second or two it was urgently shrieking away in a single-toner!
It’s fair to say that big stillwater bream haven’t really got a reputation for putting on a turn of speed at any point and, despite catching a fair number myself, I’ve never had one that’s belted off on feeling the hook and given me a one-toner. Therefore I was pretty sure that it wasn’t a bream responsible for the screaming take that had me jumping out of the bag and stumbling to the rods. I’d have preferred it to have been a bream bite, but to be truthful any sort of action on this place is a pretty remarkable event so it was all very exciting as I picked the rod up and prepared to do battle.
I’d guessed that a carp was the most likely culprit almost before I’d picked up the rod and the fight itself never really gave me cause to change my mind. I’ve had one or two good carp pick up my bream baits on this particular pit before but this fish, despite putting up a decent account of itself, didn’t feel like it had any great weight behind it and before long a plump low double found its way into the landing net. I’d have been enormously pleased if it had been a bream of the same weight, but any fish from this water is a rarity and are all prizes worthy of respect. There had been very few fish caught at all from the pit since the spring floods and I suspect that this particular fish may have had its original home in one of the carp waters further up the valley and then found its way into the pit during these last big floods, when nearly every pit in the area became part of the general flood plain that covers this section of the Ouse Valley.
A quick weigh and a couple of ‘on the mat’ photos later and I carefully slipped the little carp back into the margins. The water was covered in fog and I hadn’t got a hope of locating my far bank directional markers so, rather than guess at the proper spot and risk spreading bait about indiscriminately, I decided to wait until I could see what I was doing before repositioning the end tackle.
As it happened the mist didn’t lift sufficiently until nearly lunchtime and it was early afternoon before I’ve got the right-hand rod repositioned and the other rods refreshed with fresh hookbaits etc.
The rest of the day passed without incident and the evening went by without any sign of fish activity to boost the enthusiasm. It wasn’t long before the second night of my session turned into another foggy one, prompting an early retirement into the comfort of the sleeping bag, but with half a bottle of red wine and a good book for company it was all very relaxing. In fact before I knew it the night was over and another day started, albeit rather reluctantly, as it again took ages for the mist and fog to clear.
I decided not to reposition any of the end tackles for the following evening as I felt there was already enough bait out there and I didn’t want to add any more to it. As is usually the case the last few hours of my session came around far too quickly, but I felt strangely confident of some sort of action and very reluctant to pack in and head for home.
I really stretched out the session for all its worth but eventually got everything packed away and I was left just sitting in the dark on my bait bucket with the rest of the kit stacked up ready to be carted back to the car and only the rods left out. At this point a tiny little newt decided to keep me company for a while and I dug out the camera to take a few photos of the cute little critter so that I could try and identify him (or her) back at home.
Eventually it was nearly 1am in the morning and I really couldn’t stay any longer so I reluctantly reeled in, knowing that with a change in the weather forecast due and a very busy work period on the horizon, it could be my last bream session until next spring.
The forecast for a change in the weather certainly wasn’t wrong and the following week was cold and wet and really not at all inspiring, especially from a fishing perspective.
Also, as predicted, my work related commitments really ramped up and practicalities meant that I only had the option of snatching a few hours’ fishing here and there with no possibility of managing a full-on session anywhere.
Therefore, in the end, the second half (more like two-thirds) of the November period just fizzled out to nothing much. I knew in advance that I would probably have some major time restrictions, but normally at this time of year I could have relied on getting down to the river for a spot of chubbing or something similar and still be in with a chance of catching something well worthwhile. However the weather just continued to generally deteriorate all over the place, with some serious flooding in many parts of the country, and it seems that I’ve always been way too busy to take advantage of any brief periods when the conditions have been a little more stable.
I mustn’t grumble though as I’ve generally managed to get work and suchlike organised in such a way to give myself a generous amount of fishing time. Time does still appear to be the commodity that I never really seem to have enough of though, and with another year end fast approaching it amazes me just how fast time flies!
Which reminds me that my next piece for FishingMagic won’t be appearing until sometime in January, so I’d better take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
