New Year’s Day Magic

As usual I had planned to give myself plenty of time to allow for any mishaps; I would leave at 10am and should be comfortably in a swim by 11.30 at the very latest, after all it was only a 20 minute drive to the river.

The wife asked me if I was going fishing, so I said, okay then if you insist, but only if you liquidise some bread for me first. This is how to do it lads, you have to make them think it was all their idea.

“the sound of the liquidiser busily humming away”

As I was packing my gear into the car, to the sound of the liquidiser busily humming away, Ship’s Cat from next door came out of her house with her arms outstretched saying she was sorry that she had missed me last night at twelve o’clock. There was nothing for it. I was trapped. I braced myself against the fence and let providence take its course. With a bit of luck, I would be making contact with another kind of whisker once I got to the river.

At 10am I was on my way, but I noticed the fuel gauge on the car was reading empty. A quick detour around the corner to my local garage only to find it was closed, so I thought I would call in at the petrol station by the motorway. Jeepers! This was closed as well. That was it, I would have to take the long way round and call at another garage on the way. The next two garages I came to were also closed, so now I was getting worried. Would I have enough fuel to make it into Knutsford? Or should I turn back while I was still mobile? I decided to take the chance and carry on, thankfully I found somewhere that was open and was able to carry on with my journey.

I arrived at the river at 11am, and there were only two other cars there, so my chances of fishing the peg I wanted were looking good. For some strange reason I had packed my fishing brolly, which as a rule I never take when I am chubbing. I loaded up with my gear and strode off across the fields. The swim I wanted was empty, good, in fact brilliant Baz, me old son.

I set my stall out, as one thing I do more than ever now is to make sure everything is to hand. The rod rests are positioned correctly by the side of my chair, bait bucket to hand, bait the hook up and away we go. The last thing I needed to be doing on the treacherously slippery banks was standing up searching for tackle.

As I made the first underarm cast, there was a gust of wind that put three wind knots in my line and tangled it around the end of my rod. Oh, please don’t let this be a sign of how the day would unfold. I finally got things untangled and made another attempt at casting, this time the end of my quiver tip came out, and I got in a bigger tangle still. I doggedly refused to get flustered and set about sorting out this second unholy mess.

It was now twelve o’clock, and I was ready to try again. This time I remembered to wet my line (braid) first to help alleviate any more wind knots, something I remembered Rik mentioned on the forum. The river was pulling through quite fast but I had some extra lead strips which I had packed the night before, I think the total weight of my feeder was somewhere around three ounces which is a lot for me, but never mind, if that is what I would need to hold bottom then that is what I would have to use.

As mentioned, I was using braided line for the first time because I wanted to see what, if any, difference it made. The rod was a Shimano Stradic Specialist fitted with a 3oz tip, attached to this was a swivel and twelve inches of 6lb Maxima hooklink. The braided mainline was 15lb breaking strain but only had a diameter of 1.5 mono. The reason for this was so that I would only have to change my hooklink if I decided to have a go for the barbel.

At 12 o’clock exactly I made my first decent cast. Five minutes later the tip went round, and I had my New Years Day chub (3lb) in the net. Thank you Lord, thank you very much indeed. After such a bad start to the day, I was more than pleased to let the chub go back in the swim I caught it from.

“I was more than pleased to let the chub go back in the swim I caught it from”

It was some twenty minutes later when I was beginning to think I had made a mistake by not releasing the chub further up from where I was fishing, when I got my second chub. This one was a little bigger than the first at four pounds. This one I decided to release further upstream from where I was fishing, as you know when you get that feeling that you may be on to something of a session.

The first few drops of rain began to fall so I put the brolly up and found I was an overcoat warmer out of the wind. Then it started to hailstone, but I was warm, dry and comfortable, plus I had caught my chub. The sky went black, the rain and hailstone really began to come down quite forcefully, driven by a howling wind.

I was sat under the brolly thinking to myself, “please don’t let me get a bite now!” As I didn’t fancy getting a good soaking. No sooner had this thought gone through my mind when the tip went around yet again, and I landed another four pounder. There was no way I was going to walk up the bank in this weather, so I let it go in front of me. I don’t know about anybody else, but personally I have never actually caught when it has been raining, let alone a storm like I was experiencing right now. I couldn’t believe these chub were going mad in such atrocious weather conditions. I don’t know if it was because of the braid or not, but I didn’t actually strike into any of the chub, they seemed to be hooking themselves against the tip of the rod, all I had to do was lift into each fish. One thing is for sure, I could feel every bump and ripple on the river bed when ever I reeled in to re-bait. As for the chub themselves, they were fighting every inch of the way, throwing their heads from side to side trying to shed the hook.

This was madness, all through the storm the bites kept on coming. My hookbait wasn’t holding where I wanted it to hold, each time it rolled out to about five foot from the far bank, but it always settled in the same place, so it made sense that any food coming down the river, natural or otherwise would follow this same path.

At 3.45pm I had caught a total of nine chub, and most of them were four pound and over. I was now clinging to my brolly by the crook of my arm to stop it from disappearing into the next county. I decided to call it a day as the trees either side of me were bending nearly to the horizontal. Plus, I had just had a cracking session and was one every happy bunny, nine chub in three and a half hours, I can’t ask for more than that.

I would like to point out at this moment in time, that last year Andy Nellist gave us all some advice on fishing in adverse weather conditions. Do not be put off by bad weather, get out there and give it a go. This is the second time I have taken Andy’s advice, and it has paid off for me on both occasions. Little wonder that he is one of the country’s better and knowledgeable anglers.

One last thing before I sign off, I spent a small fortune on baits and flavours this Christmas. But I’m sorry lads I can’t let you into the secret bait I was using today.

Lastly, I would like to wish Mr Warby a very happy and prosperous New Year.