Leaves on the Line

The past couple of weeks have been varied in all manner of ways.

A return to The Stillwater is imminent but a mixture of lake, canal and river have kept this soldier of the angle busy meanwhile, if punctuated by the odd blank.

I asked my colleague to do a raindance for the rivers and it worked, to a degree. In fact it was the degree, or lack of them, that ultimately scuppered that plan with two frosts in that period.

So there's been the chance of the odd fish, by hook or by crook (perhaps attached to an orange 1970's fibreglass pole) and an inexplicable influx of our biggest finch, the hawfinch, with its massive bill (Greater Invoice Finches?) has occurred over the past week or two. Odd individuals and groups into double figures have been turning-up 'all over' and having a bird-conscious sideline has never been more timely. Plus winter visitors are arriving in force when it only seems like yesterday that summer visiting warblers were singing from every tree,  thicket, reed and hedge.

So it was with an eye to the tip or float and another to the sky (Marty Feldman again) that entertainment was sought.

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It would be misleading to say the good days outnumbered the bad in angling terms but without doubt there have been some highlights in a phase of such variable global warming-induced weather that made the seeking of regular decent action improbable.

This 'bonus fish-hunting' lark is nothing if not regularly rewarding but it would be too easy to plunder the same stretch of canal that has given-up some double figure bags of bream and hybrids.

Fluctuating river levels mean occasional days with floating vegetation gathering on the line and the need for colour in the water make it constantly sought after, yet not often present.

Angling is nothing if it is not a challenge.

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So what have we encountered?

Starting with the highlights, the list is quick to define through it's lack of depth.

Top of the list, without anything coming close, was catching a stationary stoat in the headlights on entering a fishery. In turning to face the light it exposed an inverted triangle of pure white chest crisply set in chestnut flanks before bounding into the verge and the consolation of darkness. The nearest warren would soon be on the highest level of alert.

Next, a bruiser of a barbel from below the weir, a fish that somehow managed to find itself being replayed a week later in the Club newsletter. This capture was unusual in the way the swim was fished.

Unbeknown to me the depth of the river changed dramatically precisely where I sat. If I swung a lead under the near bank to the left it suggested around 5 to 6 feet but to the right it was comfortably into double figures.

Given that it wasn't deepest winter the shallower area was favoured. A couple of handfuls of meat went in, the big fish rig was lowered to join it and left to simmer while a light liquidised bread feeder was cast a third across hoping to bring that area to an immediate boil seeking that elusive big river roach.

The latter didn't occur, the best of seven fish going around eight ounces.

An hour and a half in however, while fiddling with my tackle, the 1.75tc rod attempted to take off. Instantly dropping what I was doing, I managed to grab the handle and adjust the clutch to suit.

The fish fought like a champion. Tearing off diagonally downstream initially away from the bank and then back, kiting, deep in the strong weirpool flow. Then it was off again this time closer and almost under the bank. Close to capture, the fish was in and out of the net twice and landed at the third attempt.

A public location...a crowd had gathered.

Various uneducated questions were asked and  responded to. It was a barbel, not a tench and, no, I wasn't expecting that but I did hope for it. Then a guy with a unit conversion app advised me it was 11lbs 3ozs with the net, which, by this time, was large and sodden and upon deduction brought a notably chunky barbus to it's true weight of 10lbs 6ozs.

The fourth and smallest F,F&F Warwickshire Avon 'double' of the season/lifetime.

Delighted?

We were.

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Beyond stoat and whiskers it's been a case of digging deep into the notes to find no.3 in this week's chart...

The increased flow and depth of local rivers had engendered a certain misplaced excitement yet with little to report. Not surprising at this time when water temperatures are still unsettled but on a general downcurve.

So we go back a fortnight and into a slightly questionable decision. A visit to a short stretch of Grand Union that produced a rare ruffe in the summer occurred.

Knowing it might produce roach, bream and/or hybrids was of use but the worm sideline failed miserably for predators.

The session was entirely predictable in that it took time for the fish to find the feed. When they did though things instantly became just a tad interesting...

Three hybrids ranging from 15ozs to 1lb 10ozs started the action off followed after a lull by a twelve ounce roach. I felt I may have started too close in and so fed again further out after the first boat.

Crayfish were a real problem, constantly pulling the bait around, but a decent flake popped-up out of their reach and soon something somewhat more substantial was attached. At first it swam toward the bank and I lost direct contact thinking it was lost and then maybe that it was a smaller skimmer but when it turned, perhaps having seen me, it stripped line off the centrepin for a few yards. Being a fish of its species however it was never likely to be the battle to top them all and soon it caved in, flopped on its side and was directed over the net to be recovered for inspection.

Now at this point I must explain that I do not know how big my biggest canal bream had been. It will have been caught in a match on the Grand Union, probably at or near Fenny Stratford, but won't have been weighed separately. I have therefore been 'seeking claims' from myself at a minimum of 3.8.0, so to speak.

This baby went 3.10.3 and therefore now fills that previously vacant spot. Which just shows that the area one might often walk past should not be ignored when the time might be right.

The most bizarre thing of all is that this little event had gone partly unrecorded. No notes left in the phone, only part of the story in the log book but with points claimed for The Challenge.

Otherwise three things are worthy of note - a dace of a few drams larger than previously claimed and a one pound, twelve ounce river perch for challenge points together with a straggly flock of around 150 migrating golden plover over the Warwickshire countryside.

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BLOGGERS CHALLENGE TOP FIVES
Rivers:
1/. James Denison 523
2/. Sean Dowling 314
3/. Brian Roberts 308
4/. Mick Newey 272
5/. George Burton 268

Canals:
1/. George Burton 296
2/. James Denison 206
3/. Russell Hilton 180
4/. Daniel Everitt 119
5/. Sean Dowling 95

Stillwaters:
1/. Brian Roberts 301
2/. James Denison 296
3/. Daniel Everitt 249
4/. George Burton 249
5/. Russell Hilton 147

Overall:
1/. James Denison 1025
2/. George Burton 813
3/. Brian Roberts 654
4/. Russell Hilton 576
5/. Daniel Everitt 541

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A typical current river catch. 4lbs or so of rosch, dace and chublets

To conclude this particular post then -
A small number of good fish but with plenty of quiet sessions in between; some nice bird sightings but no hawfinch (yet) and plenty of the season left to go at.

Bring it, and the proper cold weather, on!

Instant Autumn.

 
There's no way through!

  My annual claim that this week is peak canal angling time may be under threat. The temperature has taken a sudden dive, day and night, and the extended mild period abruptly ended by quite heavy frosts. 

 

 The forthcoming conditions were likely to be more of the same combined with unsettled weather including rain. 

 

 I walked our stretch of the river last weekend and recreated the half dozen or so swims that the -topography allows but the water was dark and clear such that I have written off the possibility of prospecting there for the present. 

 

 Last weekend the canals were already clearing with visibility generally between 9" and 15", dependent upon the stretch and it's capacity to retain some colour, as both falling boat traffic and temperatures take the sediment and  suspended life  from the water column. 

 

 While the water cleared however the surface could be supporting the cast-offs of the over-hanging arboreal accompaniment.



 It was to be hoped that the combined impact over the past few days would not affect the chances of fish too greatly. 
 

 ---- 

 

 SATURDAY:
2degC. Frost. North-westerly breeze. 

 

 Trudging the Grand Union towpath early this morning east of Braunston Tunnel the water looked a little clear but it was still quite dark and so I chose a sheltered peg away from the breeze. As the light levels increased however it became apparent that the near shelf was visible over two feet down.

The fish were frantic but tiny. The bait and float constantly jerked around but the majority were unhittable due to their size.

This soon became tiresome and another peg was sought but this produced nothing and I was soon forced to contemplate a change of venue altogether as the water became so strewn with fallen leaves - as though autumn was instant. 

 

 In the direction of home I passed a stretch of North Oxford Canal that in hindsight would have been more promising. I sat right next to the bridge in a particularly narrow peg with the intention of working my way out into the country.

By now it was 08.45 and boats could not have been long to hit the scene.

Five minutes later, the more coloured water here giving protection and confidence to fish, the float dipped and pulled away to the left underwater.

The moment I struck I knew we were into the target.

Unmistakable big roach. 

 

How big though? 

 

 The feeling of excitement at the initial view of a large roach in these waters is promulgated by the first greeness of the back and a certain orangey hue to the fins until they hit the surface and the silver and red become clear. This one was no different and it's size was immediately impressive.

Faffing with two much line out, it took rather too long to net the fish but it was well-hooked and when suspended under the scales it dragged them down to 22.5 ounces, or 1.6.8 in our usual language. 

 

 Another to slot into the top six for the campaign. 

 

 Nothing fishy followed but, on the return journey, whispering death. 
The Michael Holding of the bird world. 
The Sparrowhawk, this one a female, slalom-ing the hedge top and suddenly springing on an unsuspecting but, fortunately, quickly reactive magpie. Big bait for this predator but sufficiently elusive in this instance.

 

 ---- 

 

 

 

 Midweek the birding interest had been stop-off golden plover migrating through Warwickshire with a group of ever less frequent lapwings.

Always a welcome sight in spring and autumn. 

 

Max zoom is never a good thing without a dslr



  ---- 

 

 SUNDAY
Weather - more of the same. 

 

 The combined GUC and OXC would be the venue with its abundant raven presence and sparse fish population.

Somehow it felt colder. The nip on the fingers like getting fish fingers from the freezer and holding then just too long.

Selecting an area screened from the rising sun this clear morn it was never going to be easy.

It took some time for a fish to fight it's way through the incessant signal crayfish activity but eventually the float popped-up and a 10 ounce hybrid fought like only they can. 

 

 The hedges were full of tits, finches and thrush species but it wasn't enough to maintain the attention without further bites.


Soon pastures new were sought and I headed south to the Oxford Canal 'proper'.

This stretch I had never even walked before and a quick peek at an aerial view indicated little in the way of tree cover apart from the first 100 yards or so.

 

As (bad) luck would have it the chainsaw had clearly beaten me to it. The stark clean-cut limbs of ancient willow a hint at what might have been just a few days ago. 

 

I walked on (with hope in my heart!) and, after a good distance, came across a few bushes that shielded the otherwise exposed water from the uncurtained sun.

 

There was a worry I might have brought too much gear!

 

 

The water looked very turbid for the time of year and was at least a foot shallower than the roach peg of yesterday. Hopes were not great. 

A good while later a tentative lift among the occasional crayfish interest and a 14 ounce roach resulted and that was it for the canal fishing day.

 

A kestrel, using the breeze lifting it from the high hedge, drifted overhead, muscles relaxed, as I studied the water on the return and resolved that it would be time to return to this stretch (that reminded me of my very first solo visits to the canal in my teens, with pasture rolling down into the water) on a heavily clouded day.

 

 ----

 

Sitting in the driving seat texting news of an eventless morning thus far I got the call. Sunday dinner ingredients required.

 

Via lamb, cabbage, carrots and tatties the urge to have a few somewhat irrational moments on the Leam surfaced.

 

Irrational they certainly were. Never had I seen it so clear. The Leam almost always carries a hint of murk but all manner of debris could seen cast across the bed by the previous flood.

 

Constant twitches were provided by tiny fish, much as Saturday had started but the fish I sought were too bright to be caught-out at midday.

 

Last cast and the tip started gently wagging as if caught on a fine twig waving in the minimal flow and on lifting out - resistance. A green chub surfaced of around a pound. "A green chub?", I thought and started to take a closer interest in the bandit that had stolen my bread.

 

It was a pike barely worthy of the name 'Jack', more of a Jackie, as Jacks might be called as toddlers.

 

 

His teeth were no less worthy of his species however.

 

 ----

 

 So change is upon us. Things will be tricky for a while I suspect. As I write, it is minus one degree centigrade but prospects suggest no freezing nights ahead.

 

----

 

BIG CANAL ROACH CAMPAIGN 2015/16 TOP SIX:
 

1.15.5  GUC

1.9.11  NOXC

1.7.6    GUC

1.6.8    NOXC

1.4.10  GUC

1.4.6    GUC
 

16 over 1lb to date.

 

Losses and Gains; Swings and Roundabouts; Snakes and Ladders and The Like

 

Dank dawn

As the hook pulled-out for the third successive time it was time to question all in life.

The scapegoat was the hook. Ripped from involvement and cast aside. Replaced by a smaller, bright, young, more attractive model. 'Twas ever thus.

No further losses. Youth is the future.


A steady, regular, intermittent fluting cut the dawn air. Out of sight but consuming the mind.

Curlew pitch it was, but no upturn toward the end. The likely comparison call note was golden plover. Anything is possible here within a stone's throw of Draycote Water and a dried pea throw of an extensive escarpment running south-east.


A move, and into the target straightaway. Three roach in as long as it had earlier taken to have a wash and, in clearing water, these beauties were approaching their winter peak. Thickening of gut, sparkling of scale and fighting fit. Not the usual washed-out complexion from this oft deeply murky canal.

1, 2, 3 or, more precisely, 1.1.14, 1.3.6 & 1.3.0. Yet the last one is the only one that looks big. The angle of the shot is all.

Visibility had increased from nine inches depth to around eighteen since last Sunday. Three days. Much more clarity and things could become rather too challenging.

The shoal found, the boats increased and the end was upon us.

No sooner had the beginning drawn it's draughty early morning breath than it was wheezing the end through funnels and smoke as a steam narrowboat forced it's industrial scale prop past with deep thumping kinetic drive.


That earlier sound stiffened the ears again but this time multiple calls and, overhead, five plover hung on the breeze contemplating decent. So it certainly wasn't a curlew then. They drifted north and out of sight over the high hedge that had protected all that mattered from the early wind.


Returning yesterday to trial underwater filming in cahoots with The Boy Wonder we found aquatic visibility still at around 18" at first light. The sun would rise promptly without any cloud cover to assist in the attempt but limit fish feeding.

Two roach gave themselves away to the baked sensation. The first just eight ounces; the next established it's position twice in also being runner-up to date in the current big roach campaign list

I cannot recall a more perfect canal specimen than this. 1.4.10

The filming needs work but the principle is firmly established. Switching the camera ON before filming for an hour will make results improve, we fear.

Big Canal Roach Campaign current list:
1.7.6
1.4.10
1.4.6
1.4.2
1.3.6
1.3.0
1.2.5
1.1.14
1.0.10
1.0.8

The above takes us back to the first year of this obsession when the fish averaged around 1lb 2ozs on the North Oxford Canal until, during some kind of death wish session, 3 handfuls of mash were introduced at the off. After that change to increased feed fish over 1.8.0 became regular.

Recently, perhaps the equivalent of half that volume has been used so there's an area that might improve things. There must be a limit though and over forthcoming visits we'll find out.

Yesterday evening, an hour before and after sunset picking-up on the long-established River Leam 4lb chub hunt, and 20 minutes into dark this:

3.5.10

High on the Leam list at this weight and with the fight to test the tackle to its limit but the clutch was set just perfect for the bang-crash-wallop event in a swim just 2.5m wide, and full of potential banana skins, and within seconds he was banked and not best pleased about it.

Three pounders are not that common on this small river and it makes a nice start to go with the 2.12 fish of a fortnight ago.

Having ditched the membership I had last season in favour of stretches further downstream the clear difference in weight is immediately confirmed. If there is indeed a four pounder out there this is surely where it will come from and the 3.13 fish taken had three years ago will be that big by now - if dear old Lutra lutra hasn't had nabbed it yet

Parting thought...

It's tough being a spaniel

Birds and Fish do Mix, Eventually

 

Sun rising on the swollen river

The Leam was two feet up today and falling. Two inches in the time I enjoyed at it's side in fact but 1.5m lower than at it's post-storm peak.

Parps and I have been fortunate enough to agree exclusive terms for a short stretch of what I would describe as the upper-middle river for the next five years. Pegs have been identified and carefully created without any obvious loss of cover, some even given names...tree hole, willow, the pipe, rush bed...nothing too imaginative though!

Thus far my partner has only managed to be ill at the critical times and so I have been sussing it out on my own. Three visits now and two chublets below a pound to show for them plus the rod pulled out of my hand well after dark on the one occasion

This morning those new pegs were starting to be exposed again after the floods by the falling water. A slack below a fallen tree was initially intended to be targetted with bread but on approaching the river bank it was clear that this frosty morning would be more than just a fishing opportunity this festive season as a flock of seventy or eighty golden plover rapidly wheeled in a synchronised flashing of brown and then white as they sought safe morning foraging in the water meadows downstream, ready for sunrise

As I settled in the silt-covered margins wrens churred and complained at my presence and a pair of wild duck took flight from the next field down. Pheasants crowed to celebrate the dawning of a clear day as the water spilled through the far side of the swim leaving somewhat slacker water close-in and leading down to an aquatic chicane created by opposing bushes at its termination. The glide seemed perhaps a touch too turbulent to be of any great benefit to the catch but it was comfortable and there seemed to be enough steady water in places to make the pursuit worthwhile

A couple of handsful of mashed bread went in by my feet in the hope that the flakes would dissipate through the swim under their own steam and the peg was searched from head to tail over the ensuing couple of hours before the need to wander overcame me. Avian fortune had been on my side while I nursed the swim to a couple of faint tappy unhittable bites with winter flocks of pied wagtail, blue and long-tailed tits landing close-by in search of sustenance. A robin and an expectedly nervous pair of dabchick also used the peg as a commute to their destinations

Dabchick behind (part of) bonus moorhen

Dark, but a hint of rising sun on the face of this somewhat flukily captured long-tailed tit 

Venturing upstream, the carcass of a pound perch cut-off by the receding waters had lost its eyes and a pair of snipe were flushed from the path to reacquaint themselves with the earth in an apparently frozen marsh further from the water after rapid, low, zig-zagging flights. Quite a surprise but not the greatest of the day

A few pegs were tried but insufficient slack was generally evident at this water level. What was obvious however was that with another foot or so off the level there would be some tempting glides in need of searching for roach with balsa or small avon

Blue tits twenty feet above my head, tricky shot

Soon the top of the stretch was reached at a fallen willow and the return trip offered two opportunities that looked different when viewed from an upstream direction; again no interest from any inhabitants but as I stepped into the next reed-lined spot a blue striated water bird flew from under my feet and, with down-curved blood-red bill and trailing legs, sought its escape mid-river before sharply angling right into the bank 30m upstream - water rail - a not uncommon bird but rarely seen except under extreme circumstances such as these

One final muddy promontary was selected for the last hour before yet another festive family lunch, seriously I have never put on any weight in my entire adult life but this Christmas it'll kill me if I don't, and probably if I do . At this point a moment of wonder as I found a tub of small worms and on they went. Taps ensued and then a proper bite which I actually connected with and a severely scale-challenged chublet came to hand - last cast. Phew, that was close!
And the moral of the story is, never put all of your bread in one basket