dorsetandchub
Well-known member
A morning session on the Stour at Longham. Armed with a 14ft Normark Titan and Daiwa 125, 3lb line and, via a Drake stick 4BB, to a Kamasan B520 size 18 for trotting, I also packed a recently acquired Drennan DRX river feeder with a Preston PXR 4000 and 5lb main, to a 2oz Kamasan black cap feeder and a Kamasan14.
I stationed myself on the weir at the end of the run as it's an area that not only looks inviting but has given up some decent fish in the past. There was only one other angler on the walk down and his report of one small chub didn't take long - or inspire much confidence.
I had to admit to myself a nagging doubt about this stretch until later in the year and, presently, what I feared might happen did. The minnows were everywhere and no maggot was safe for more than six seconds.
They got to the trotted bait before anything substantial could so, after a very short period, the float rod went up the bank. The hemp filled feeder was flung mid river, a few feet to the right of the weir's overspill, in a most inviting looking area. I sat back with some confidence that the impaled cube of luncheon meat would bring some trade.
In short, it didn't. It brought one rattle that, looking back, I think may have been a liner as there wasn't any "feel" of a fish.
I felt a change may be needed and put two grains of tutti fruiti corn on, carried on with the chilli hemp in the feeder and hoped this flavour fest might do the business.
About half an hour in, another missed bite had me thinking it may have been small fish, even the dreaded minnows having a peck but, again, nothing.
Back out and the tip bounced and the resulting strike told me it wasn't the double figure barbel that fill my dreams but a dace, all 4oz of it.
Not the most magical christening of my river war horse but, no worries, one has to start somewhere I guess. I laughed to myself as I wondered if the river Kings, Binks and Neil Maidment, ever have days like this.
Back out and another wait. The tip eventually flexed again and, this time, a bit more muscle was the root cause, a chub a couple of ounces over the pound. Again, modest, but a definite increase in returns.
In short, I had two more, the first around a pound and the second a sparklingly fit example around two and a half pounds.
The waiting periods were getting longer so I thought I'd see if I could get through the minnows on the float but got hammered again until, by sheer chance, a roach around 3oz got to the maggot first.
An early finish awaited as much to do awaited. An enjoyable, quick session but, in all honesty, not one which will live long in the memory.
A week of no fishing awaits but then back on the bank after that. Roll on next week. Best to all.
I stationed myself on the weir at the end of the run as it's an area that not only looks inviting but has given up some decent fish in the past. There was only one other angler on the walk down and his report of one small chub didn't take long - or inspire much confidence.
I had to admit to myself a nagging doubt about this stretch until later in the year and, presently, what I feared might happen did. The minnows were everywhere and no maggot was safe for more than six seconds.
They got to the trotted bait before anything substantial could so, after a very short period, the float rod went up the bank. The hemp filled feeder was flung mid river, a few feet to the right of the weir's overspill, in a most inviting looking area. I sat back with some confidence that the impaled cube of luncheon meat would bring some trade.
In short, it didn't. It brought one rattle that, looking back, I think may have been a liner as there wasn't any "feel" of a fish.
I felt a change may be needed and put two grains of tutti fruiti corn on, carried on with the chilli hemp in the feeder and hoped this flavour fest might do the business.
About half an hour in, another missed bite had me thinking it may have been small fish, even the dreaded minnows having a peck but, again, nothing.
Back out and the tip bounced and the resulting strike told me it wasn't the double figure barbel that fill my dreams but a dace, all 4oz of it.
Not the most magical christening of my river war horse but, no worries, one has to start somewhere I guess. I laughed to myself as I wondered if the river Kings, Binks and Neil Maidment, ever have days like this.
Back out and another wait. The tip eventually flexed again and, this time, a bit more muscle was the root cause, a chub a couple of ounces over the pound. Again, modest, but a definite increase in returns.
In short, I had two more, the first around a pound and the second a sparklingly fit example around two and a half pounds.
The waiting periods were getting longer so I thought I'd see if I could get through the minnows on the float but got hammered again until, by sheer chance, a roach around 3oz got to the maggot first.
An early finish awaited as much to do awaited. An enjoyable, quick session but, in all honesty, not one which will live long in the memory.
A week of no fishing awaits but then back on the bank after that. Roll on next week. Best to all.
