He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops. | |||||
A gudgeon takes me back in time. Perch, grayling and brown trout keep me in the present. And an afternoon with a marker float helps me with the future. Talk about the weather being unpredictable, but where I live, the last week of February saw every conceivable facet of weather possible. I do not exaggerate in the slightest if I say that we had snow, bright sunshine, sleet, gales, frost and downpours all in the space of seven days. The air temperature ranged from minus three through to fourteen degrees. On the one day in particular that the temperature hit those dizzy heights we were inundated with midges that hatched due to the out of season temperature. Yet, that same night, a sheet of frost descended over the ground. Well, as you can imagine, this yo-yo weather did not do much for my fishing.
The humble gudgeon I don’t know if you can remember your first fish? Mine was a gudgeon, caught from the Staffs/Worcs canal at a place known as The Bratch, in Wombourne, Staffordshire. Certainly in the last few years, specialising in bigger fish, I haven’t caught many gudgeon. So, it was with a certain amount of nostalgia that my mind went back to those childhood days, when I would tie the rod to the crossbar of the bike, pull my haversack over my back and pedal through Gospel End village and then onto the canal. But back to the sessions on the canal. As I unhooked each fish I marvelled at the beauty of the humble gudgeon. They’re the piscatorial equivalent of the starling. They can appear dull, but when the sun catches them, there is a lovely shiny purple gloss along their flank. And again, my mind went back to when I was a child and I used to fish a local brickworks pond. I used to lie on a high bank overlooking the shallow end of the pond and watch the shoals of gudgeon turning in the water, and the resultant flash of silver as they caught the sun. I used to be fascinated by the fish and would literally lie there for hours observing them, sometimes throwing in maggots and then watching them feed. It’s said nowadays that the attention span of the average child is measured by minutes, which I personally find quite sad. Plan of attack By the time March came upon us, the rivers were back in decent condition. Determined to make the most of the last couple of weeks, I visited the River Teme in Shropshire the first Monday of the month. I have fished the stretch before, but when it has been exceptionally cold. It has always struck me as a venue that has real potential and so I was looking forward to fishing it with the conditions being favourable.
I also caught a brown trout, a small fish of about four inches. The further up the Teme one goes the more prolific is the trout population. As I was fishing well up the river it was not an unusual catch at all. I had one over a pound though a couple of seasons ago further downstream at Cotteridge, and that was more of a surprise, particularly as I caught it while barbel fishing! The rod bent over The stretch I was fishing in Shropshire no doubt has the odd barbel, as they are found quite some way up the river, although the general rule is that the bigger fish are found the further down you go. But as the day began to wear on I switched to fishing for chub. Changing tactics and tackle, I now presented a big piece of bread in a likely looking swim.
Spurred on by the fact that there was the great possibility that other big chub were present, I tackled up again and re-cast. Unfortunately, the only time the rod tip moved again was when debris wrapped itself around the cage feeder. Eventually, after I had ‘the last cast’ and then, ‘just one more’, followed by, ‘and another one’, I decided to call it a day! Planning ahead Driving back on the A456, I went through the usual ‘if only’ scenario in my mind. Entering the last week or so of the season I knew the possibilities of returning to the same spot on the Teme in the next ten days were slim, as there are a few other venues that I want to fish. Still, there’s always next winter when I’m sure my lost chub will still be waiting for me! Finally, I like to plan my fishing well ahead, and even though the river season is still in its last throes, I’ve been planning ahead for some time as to what I will be doing during the March 15 – June 16 period. There is a venue that I will be focusing on over the next three months. It is a very large Midlands gravel pit. I’ve already been to have a look at it and I immediately liked what I saw. But I am also realistic and my thoughts were that it would be very difficult to crack. But I’m going to give it my best shot.
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