The Ise is a river of insignificance to some, but a river flowing with wonderful memories and some fabulous fish and fishing, especially for those in the know.
Part One – My Childhood Memories.
An Introduction
The river Ise, or Ise brook as it’s better known as, has it’s origins in a part of Northants called “Naseby Field”. All you history buffs out there may recognise the name for it was here on the 14th of June 1645, forces belonging to King Charles the 1st, took what was really a damn good hiding from Parliamentary force’s “new model army” led by Sir Thomas Fairfax and one Oliver Cromwell. This was the first battle undertaken by the Parliamentarian Army, employing new weaponry, armour and new methods of fighting, during the English Civil War. The Battle of Naseby, ranks alongside Hastings and Bosworth as a major turning point in English history.
The path of the Ise has changed over time, probably none more so than to accommodate the building of the A14 link road, but as you travel along it’s banks, beauty and points of interest and history abound. A sight of scientific interest, a peasants rebellion against the local gentry and subsequent massacre, the English seat of the Duke of Buccleuch and various documented hauntings, which include the mysterious ghostly figure of a monk (that bloke gets everywhere) are just some of the points of interest to be found, before the Ise joins up with her big sister the River Nene at Wellingborough, also in Northants.
The Journey Begins
The stretch of the Ise I am most familiar with runs between the village of Warkton and Wicksteed Park, both of which border the town of Kettering with the Ise dissecting the town in half. It was here along this vast stretch where I spent many happy hours as a child and basically learned to fish. I would explore, climb trees, paddle, swim and fish without fear of being robbed, attacked or preyed upon by perverts and after school or at weekends, all roads led to the Ise.
I now find myself standing on Warkton bridge, looking down stream at some horrible black pipe which is spoiling what was a wonderful view. Behind me is land belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch. Forbidden waters and forbidden fish lie within it’s boundaries. I have a quiet chuckle to myself as I remember past excursions into this no-mans land with family and friends and memories of fish both big and small come flooding back.
Tackle for this sort of water is simple, the same as it was way back then in the 70`s. Back then I used a solid glass rod by Edgar Sealey, white in colour with vivid blue whippings and a blue coloured handle, it was indeed the “Carlos Fandango” of rods and this was teamed up with a good old intrepid reel, the black prince model.
I remember being taken to the tackle shop as a child to purchase my first rod and reel by my father who was also a fisherman. Every shelf in the shop was crammed with various goodies and bits and pieces and I gazed with wonder at these magical things not knowing what they did or what their use was. My dad knew though, he knew lots of things, he knew everything.
The shops owner was called Norman and, so I have been told by my father and mother, I used to stand and stare at his rather fetching ginger wig, national health glasses, hearing aid and runny nose!!!
I gather my simple tackle for this trip down memory lane from the back of the car……a small two piece fibre glass rod by E.R. Craddock, a small pin reel and a couple of floats with a few hooks, shot and float rubbers are also gathered, these are kept in my jacket pockets, bait is a tub full of red maggots. A landing net with a long handle is recommended for this brook style of fishing as it will easily reach down steep banks and over nettles and long grass etc…..
The First Cast
As I begin my walk along the bank, I stop and look at how the years of flooding and howling gales have gouged out new channels, washed away gravel banks and brought down some of the overhanging trees that adorned it’s banks. Areas where myself and friends netted crayfish, stone loach, sticklebacks and bull heads by the bucket full have changed quite dramatically. I’m sure these smaller residents are still about but fewer in numbers and a lot harder to find.
I come to my first swim, it’s only a small run through and it involves a little climb down the muddy bank to the remains of some brick structure. The run is only about 20 ft or so long and about two feet deep, neighbouring it are fast gravel runs of only a few inches in depth. I flick in a few maggots and prepare to cast.
No fancy Wallis casting is needed here, just a loop of line and a gentle swing is all that’s needed to get the chubber float into position for the first trot of the day. I make half a dozen runs through before winding in and moving on, but not before flicking in some more bait for later just in case.
The Walk Continues
I carry on downstream, only stopping to watch a red kite circling a neighbouring field. I kneel down to re-tie my boot laces and look skyward again, to be greeted now by two red kites, these magnificent birds of prey have really taken hold in east Northants since their re-introduction a few years back. I carry on walking, looking for likely fish holding areas and one swim in particular called the red tree.
This swim gained it’s name many years ago, due to a partially felled tree that local kids painted red for some reason. Besides this tree was a deep hole of about four feet, cover was provided for it’s occupants by overhanging bramble bushes and it was here that monster perch lived and were caught. Myself and my father personally witnessed a 4lbs perch being weighed here some years ago, a fine specimen indeed for this river.
Much to my disappointment, it has all long gone. The tree became a victim of the councils health and safety brigade, cut up into small pieces and removed in case anyone should fall while climbing it and injure themselves, so i found out.
I continue and come across a swim with good potential, a clear run through over a silty bottom, over hanging grasses and bushes and I have just spotted some roach holding current.
I position myself carefully, flick some maggots in and bait my hook. The roach take the free offerings with gusto, in go some more morsels and I make a cast. No fish on the first cast but on the second one, all hell breaks loose as roach scatter and I find myself playing a chub. This cheeky little chevin of about 1lbs gives a good account of himself before being netted. He is unhooked and returned safe and sound, along with some more bait to hopefully tempt those roach. Two more hopeful casts are made and a nice little roach of about ten ounces is landed.
Time to rest things and move on
Return to Pike Bend
Perhaps the most famous swim on this stretch of the Ise, is the notoriously sounding ‘pike bend’. This was the deepest swim on this section of the Ise, on a bend with an undercut bank running along the inside in which fish would hide and wait for passing food. The outside of the bend also had a smaller undercut plus overhanging cover as well….this is where the pike would hide. They were only jacks but when you’re a kid, they seemed like scary monsters!
Roach to 1lbs and chub up to 4lbs have been taken here. On my way to this swim I spy out of the corner of my eye some roach moving in and out of the main current, in a swim that looks perfect for trotting. I decide to creep back above the swim and my intended targets, I settle down and a flick of the wrist launches out some bait, I then wait a few seconds before making a cast.
After two casts it’s wham! An unseen chub has done a smash and grab raid on my baited hook and is desperately trying to make a dash for cover. The roach have scattered and he has made it into some weed but a little side strain and some gentle persuasion (effing and blinding) brings him to my waiting net.
Again, he’s not a monster, but a pleasing fish none the less, he poses for a photo and swims back to his lair; time to move on.
I am nearing very familiar territory now as I can see ‘pike bend’ and I see another angler walking towards me. I am greeted by a friendly English accent as there have been tales of some anglers taking fish and hand lines being found in the Ise. A work colleague and fellow angler found a hand line a while ago and not knowing what it was there for and what to do with it, threw it back in. I berated him when he told me!
When we meet, the usual pleasantries are exchanged and we chat about how we fished along the Ise as children. He also mentions the Holy Grail of the Ise -grayling, fish have been spotted recently and I’m told roughly where. The Ise holds the only self sustaining population of grayling in Northants and I think I’m right in saying that they were originally stocked by the Duke of Buccleuch. Trout can also be found in the Ise, brownies and rainbows, these would have also been stocked by the Duke’s estate.
I arrive at “pike bend” and survey the scene, the steep bank and undercut on the inside of the bend are long gone, but are the fish still here? People still fish here, the angling related rubbish mixed in with drink and food trash make that quite apparent. Litter, whether in the street or found while fishing etc…. really annoys me.
I decide my plan of attack, trundle the float along the preceding shallows, into the bend and allowing the current etc. to take the bait past the far side cover before arriving at the shallows at the end of the swim. In go the usual freebies, I make adjustments to my float’s depth and I am just about to make a cast when a large fish has leapt clear of the water and made a big splash! Because my eyes were averted at the time, I didn’t see this mystical fish and I curse my luck, but carry on in hope.
Several casts are made before I get a bite and a small roach slips the hook as I lift it clear of the water. Some more bait is flicked in and a few more casts made but no luck. Perhaps the mystical fish that made such a commotion earlier has put the mockers on things. Oh well, that’s fishing.
I stay kneeling down and decide what to do next, shall I carry on downstream to the ‘Roman bridge swim’ or make my way back to the car and perhaps have another dabble in previously visited swims? The dulcet tones of Motorhead “The Ace of Spades” comes blaring from my pocket, it’s my mobile and ‘er indoors wants me to hurry up home and bring in some provisions. A walk back to the car it is then!
The Walk Back
No further fish are landed from previously visited swims as I make my way back to the car and after packing my stuff away, I sit down in the back end of my Mondeo and pour a well needed cuppa from my flask.
I think about today’s events. Could I have fished any better or any differently? Are the stories of fish thefts true? Are there any big fish left in the Ise?
A certain saying about returning to the scene of past glories and being disappointed in what you find also comes to mind. OK, so it wasn’t as prolific and instant as some people seek and demand from their fishing, but if I’m honest, I didn’t think it would be. I’m in no way disappointed though because as I’ve got older, I have come to realise that there is more to fishing than just catching fish and I will carry on with my journey along this wonderful river, revisiting those special places of yesteryear and also discovering places new. And who knows, lady luck might just smile down upon on me.
Next time
In part two of my “Ise Odyssey”, I will endeavour to visit some of the forbidden swims on the Duke of Buccleuch’s estate I used to fish as a child. Poaching m`Lord? The thought never crossed my mind! I also want to visit a stretch I always bypassed as a child because of bloomin’ big stinging nettles making access rather tricky but a good friend has spotted some rather large chub residing there recently and reckons it should come good. I will also revisit what was the most popular stretch of the Ise, which was famous for it’s big roach, with fish up to 3lbs putting in an appearance.
Tight lines,
Nick.
