It has to be said at this point that after writing accounts in Fishing Magic I have received much advice regarding changing venues, the Wye is often quoted, as is the River Trent and I thank all those who have posted suggestions. The Wye and Usk Foundation seems fantastic and I’ve been meaning to go for two years but never managed to fit it in, where does the time go? As I said we’d delayed the trip for three weeks so it came as no surprise that the forecast was for bright sunny weather and dreadfully low water levels, the very conditions we were hoping to avoid. When they’re low rivers become more ‘peggy’, which is okay if you’re a local, or a professional ‘guide’ who can pick and choose venues and timings.
We decided to fish the Kinver Freeliners day-ticket stretch on Sunday which has a good bit of variation. We arrived to find that the river was, as expected, very low and clear. About four or five hundred metres or so downstream there is a shingle beach which was exposed more than I’ve ever seen it; the river narrows down to about twenty metres; the flow is pushed over to the far bank. I quite fancied it but it didn’t look much like a ledgering swim: at least I could give it a try. Micky and Glen walked further downstream and fished where they had done last year. At the pre-break meeting we discussed the low water levels, about smaller baits, a bit more subtlety perhaps, and a bit more roving which seemed to be forgotten at the riverside.
I settled in at the far end of the gravel beach and attempted to ledger. I tossed out a two ounce lead which struggled to hold bottom. After three or four casts it didn’t seem right at all so I did what I always do when I’m not happy, I set up my float rod. Using my 13’Drennan Matchpro with a centre-pin, a home-made float and two red maggots I had a bite third trot down and struck into a small chub of about half a pound which was a great surprise. Immediately afterwards the canoeists started arriving and dragged themselves onto the gravel beach upstream of me with a great deal of noise. There were around twenty canoes and they all made their way, noisily, to the pub for lunch. While all this was happening I was rediscovering the many difficulties of casting into the wind. Every other cast the line seemed to tangle around the bottom ring so I changed to casting forehand which improved things. The water was quite fast and the bites were occurring as the float drifted just out of the main flow, about twenty metres downstream. I lost a couple of smaller fish then hooked and landed a two pound chub which was a result as far as I was concerned.
When the bailiff came for my ticket about 12.30pm he told me he’d seen Micky and Glen and had apparently told them they were fishing it all wrong. They were using the same methods as last year; large cage feeders, halibut pellet, heave-it and leave-it tactics. The bailiff said that this was no good in these conditions and that he was catching on 8mm pellets and the lightest bomb you can get away with. I imagine that was the last thing they wanted to hear but he was only trying to be helpful.
He suggested that I should move a bit further down where it gets a bit deeper if I wanted to catch chub. I moved into the next swim down and for the rest of the day I caught small dace, roach, gudgeon, perch and the occasional slightly better chub of half to three quarter pounds. I really enjoyed myself on the float; the lads blanked.
The next morning we called in at the local tackle shop run by S R Lewis, sadly we were informed that Stan had passed away but his shop is still open, just a little tidier and more organised. It’s a very sad feeling, I’ve only met Stan in the shop on about half a dozen occasions but he was a truly remarkable character and is much missed.
Fishing upstream from the Hampton Loade Ferry car park it’s a long walk to the top of the fishery; we were knackered when we got there. I had won the draw for the first peg and chose the ‘hawthorn bush ‘ swim, I don’t remember seeing a large rock protruding out of the water about half a metre; the water was that low. I lobbed out my feeder but after half an hour tackled up my float rod with another homemade ‘Avon’ float this time and fished the rest of the day about two rod lengths out, and loose feeding maggots every other chuck. No bites for an hour and a half, then I caught a dace about four or five ounces; a few more dace then two very nice perch, one nearly a pound. I’d probably only caught about three pounds of fish but I’d thoroughly enjoyed myself again. And I reckon that I had as much chance of a barbel as anyone; the lads blanked.
That evening we ate in ‘Spoons’ and discussed changing venue. I’d printed off some BAA alternatives, with directions. I fancied The Avon at Pershore but democracy prevailed and we opted for Ripple Meadows on the lower Severn.
The next morning at breakfast there were about fifteen or sixteen anglers who seemed to be staying at Wetherspoons whilst they fished a series of matches at Larford Lakes. I have to say that if they were a representative bunch of anglers then our future is far from assured. I don’t know what the collective noun for a group of anglers is but looking at this lot I would suggest ‘a wheeze’ of anglers. They were coughing and spluttering their way through assorted fry-ups.
Arriving at Ripple Meadows, through the farm gates and parking at the bank I was dismayed that all the swims were on wooden platforms. I don’t like fishing off wooden platforms, however, someone has gone to great trouble and expense putting them up and they were in very good condition.
We asked a chap who is just setting up about the fishing. He was very helpful, too helpful actually, he filled the lads’ heads up with tales of giant shoals of bream, huge barbel that rip the rod out of your hand never to be seen again, fantastic pike. They lapped it up and couldn’t tackle up quickly enough. Glen is particularly susceptible to this sort of talk, he believes everything he is told; it seemed a shame to spoil his day so I encouraged him to get cracking while I chose the swim next to him. It looked like float fishing was off the menu today; I plumbed it and found about 16’ at my rod end! I tried a swim feeder and maggots but I’m pretty nervous. I’d listened to all that hype from the chap about bream and barbel but to be honest it’s deep, it’s slow and it looks full of eels to me.
The fish of a lifetime!
Even though it hadn’t rained for weeks there was a powerful current moving my swim feeder so I was never very sure of where I was fishing or where things were settling on the bottom. After a while I get a bite and reel in a 4oz perch, I was chuffed, another blank saved. Bits and pieces came along, little skimmers, more perch, a few roach. Anyone expecting a fairy-tale ending is going to be disappointed but I did have a fish of a lifetime – a 3oz Tommy Ruffe which I reckon is the biggest one I’ve ever caught, it filled my hand at about 12 -13cm: as the current British record Tommy is just over 5 oz. I reckon that’s as good as catching a 12lb barbel (I wish); the lads blanked.
Andy Scholey 2016
