Arthur's Basket

Isn't it annoying that the YouTube videos glanced at long enough to start rolling before ones very puzzled eyes find their way into your watch history by default? 

I suppose I could bother to set it so that it doesn't, but then I'd be content, and how boring would that be?! 

History in angling is very much at the mercy of the memory and, at that, the memories of others, often unknown and far away. Unless it is deemed by the journalistic community to be of National significance, or committed via the words of a book, the truth is often difficult to pin down. 

Now, fishing information is often distorted we find, do we not? 

If it's not a match angler cringingly under-'estimating' their catch, it's a carp angler claiming an unwitnessed pound roach, caught overnight of course, to be a 'three'; or that person in the tackle shop (remember those?) who just cannot recount a tale without it growing one and running away with him, or her. 

If only. 

Just occasionally however the truth really can be the best story, honest, and, similarly often, there's one right under one's nose lost in the vast expanses of plain sight, and so it is with this. 

When I was a boy, my grandfather, 'Pap', who was blind, could be found, daily, sat on a wooden dais, with his dog 'Sal' next to him on her blanket, weaving in his outhouse (he was weaving - not the dog). 

Cane would be soaking in a vast tank of black treacly water while he felt his way round the seat of a stool or chair and made a perfect job of it without ever having seen it. To a youngster, and that being all I had ever known of him, it all seemed unremarkable and it's only in recent times that I wished I had taken more notice and perhaps even learnt how to do it myself. Apart from new stools, repairs, handled shopping baskets, etc., Pap also made the most sought after fishing baskets, 'creels' to some...to measure, and they could be seen standing against the wall of this house on fine days. 

Owning such a basket was a commitment. As they dried they would creak and eventually take on a fearful lean. It was a requirement of the contract to own one of these beauties that it were to be submerged in the bath every so often to swell the cane, tighten and straighten it up. The more diligent would varnish theirs every close season and thus they took on a regal depth of woody hue that couldn't be beaten, but at a cost, they would get noticeably heavier with each coat. 

The Old Duffer, as Pap's son, once had a basket made to the exact height of his flask, with 6 legs, and, once delivered, it was like the woven equivalent of a Chesterfield Settee. A work of manually-laboured art. A pale off-white cane for the panels and a richer red for the base, rim and lid. 

I recall the little fella (5'-3" on a clear day) returning from its maiden voyage to announce, "It's no good. My feet didn't touch the ground!". I seem to recall he cut an inch off the legs and thus became happy again. 

Many would paint their initials on the side so that they didn't get mixed-up on the club bus trip to a far flung river and end-up in someone else's shed. Things moved on though. In came vast solid fibreglass seats with a veritable rectal effigy cast into the lid. The scrawl was on the creel from that moment. Slowly, in fact probably quite quickly, baskets were discarded or handed down to sons or, more rarely then, daughters, and the brand battle in angling began in earnest. Stephens of Birmingham, Steade-fast, Brennan & Hickman. These were the forerunners of today's commercialised angling world. 

So the dear old characterful basket was soon extinct. A demise caused by man, but without any hint of global warming. 

Or so I thought. 

A while back The Old Duffer's old fishing pal sadly passed. He was visibly shaken by the event and, as a memorial to their many years sat on sunlit banks together, his dear wife, 'Aunty Ann', she who once got her dentures stuck together on the riverbank on a Quality Street toffee, to the concerned accompaniment of cackling friends, gave the basket to him. A varnished one, for Arthur was indeed diligent. A man who always had the best cars but also the most terrifying cough that put my little heart in my mouth as a boy whenever he burst into one of his explosive, crimson-faced fits. 

Time passed, The Old Duffer hung up his float tube, and now finds his entertainment at his marvelous care home in dominoes, quoits or snakes and ladders, but the reaction to an angling tale is always there via a twinkle in his eyes and fleeting smile, "That's good", he'll say, "I like that". 

Slowly, over two years, his tackle has been distributed among the needy, but Arthur's basket?, well that stayed put and, as the ultimate inheritee, it recently came into and under my guardianship. 

On Christmas day that great giver of gifts from the North left me with a dream materialised. 

A split cane rod, or two.

10'-6" of dreamy, historic and quite beautiful, handcrafted exquisiossity by way of J. Aspinall's 'Avondale' float rod (thanks again Andrew!) comprised one half of the pair. Matched with the J. W. Young 'Trudex' centrepin acquired about 2 years ago (thanks Martin!) there was only one conclusion...

The antique rod and reel then magically conjured a single half pound skimmer from a disgustingly-coloured Oxford Canal but it was a lovely if brief session, with a warm glow in the frost and all made possible by the beautifully preserved Arthur's Basket. 

It was only right.

The Intentional and Unintentional Roach Angler

Strange Roach?!

The, so-called, tench campaign out of the system, it was time for a new challenge but not before the usual period of indecision when confronted by the sudden ditching of a plan, and this was an end as abrupt as Thomas crashing into the Fat Controllers house at breakfast time

For a start, no feelings arose as a guide for that next step. Nothing at all in fact. So we had a few canal dabbling sessions (resulting in some tenchlet's strangely enough, I'd only had 3 tench in a lifetime minus 10-15 years on the Oxford canal, yet in two trips another six were added with only two over a pound). 

Good signs. I'm certain most of these 'exotic' canal captures come from adjacent fisheries that, over time, for various reasons, end-up with their contents mingling with the established fish populations of the canal. In this instance they have obviously since bred successfully

So that was an interesting interlude but, to be frank, it produced insufficient water to float this angler's boat

Then a chance chat (while clearing the car of the spare gear) with Committee Keith provided the answer, the Lure Wizard then concurred and Bailiff 1 soon confirmed without any necessity for a preemptive retaliatory strike - big roach were being caught at Rocky Res.

Okay, that's interesting, but it's summer. We don't fish for roach in the summer!

But hang-on a minute, The Old Duffer used to.

In the late 1970's the holiday destination for anyone who was anyone in angling from our part of the world was the Great Ouse. A sixty-mile/80 minute trip to, what we then considered, angling paradise. Catching fish in the heat of July and August was boosted by early and late sessions combined with all day trips using a single bait, in fact, as far as the hook went, a single bait

In those days the (roach) pole was in its, early stages of renaissance but, as with all things angling, the technique would ultimately transform many an angler into a fish catching machine

The Old Duffer was one of them

I can see it now - iconic 22' Shakespeare pole (very dark brown/black with gold taped bands and a white wrap on the centre of the handle); Ivan Marks bristle float, black and slenderly bottle shaped like the Milo 'Siro' that would follow in the '80's; classic Mustad 90340 barbless hooks ("You can't use barbless hooks, all the fish'll get away!", "Not as long as I pull back they won't!"); bait waiter, comprising metal baitbox-shaped square 'hoops' on a bank-stick; a circular 'spoon' landing net with handle to match the (roach) pole and a ring around the base, like one section of a keepnet; a wicker basket ('seatbox') and, finally, a bag of just-cooked hempseed, as fresh and gorgeous smelling as possible.

There are many good tales emanating from the use of hemp in fishing
¬ It drugs the fish!;
¬ It only works at harvest time;
¬ You should cook it in 'bicarb' (bicarbonate of soda) to make shells go black to contrast with the white shoots. 'Problem being, cooking in bicarb also turned the shoots brown so we soon sought non-other than, then World Champion, Ian Heaps' advice, "Cook 'em in sugar", he commented, and so we did. Not just black with white insides, but they also tasted good (I'm told!).

In 1976 we had a summer like 2018. Wall to wall baking sunshine. The Old Duffer was fishing with the above gear and trickling in a few grains per slow run through, the river being low, until the roach were sent into what can only be described as a frenzy. Ultimately they were so mesmerised by the bait they were literally eating anything that floated past within the feeding zone; leaves, flies, feathers, nothing was safe. It was only roach though with just the odd hybrid amongst them and generally 3 to 6 ounce fish with occasional bigger ones. Thirty pounds and six ounces of them, culminating with the fish so close they were simply swung to hand

...and so it proved everywhere we went. There was barely a venue where hemp didn't work under those conditions and it appeared to draw the fish from a good distance but, as the Somerset Shubunkin noted recently, they were fish one wouldn't even suspect to be there were it not for this, the most magic of baits.

Armed with these memories and the knowledge that big roach could be drunk in on the rocks, off
we set with 10m pole and a few grains per 'cast', maggot on the hook but immediately small rudd were pests. A swap to double caster produced a, string of perch in the 3 to 6ozs bracket and then slowly but surely bites on hemp started to occur just tentative at first but with a bit of fiddling with the depth combined with the breeze, and therefore an undertow striking-up, it wasn't too long before perhaps every third bite was a proper one.

First fish was a 12oz beauty (and another thing these hemp roach were immaculate, strange for a heavily fished water)

The list I jotted down went like this:
12ozs, 9ozs, 7ozs, 8ozs, 2ozs, 1.0.0, 2ozs, 6ozs, 7ozs, 10ozs...and...1.3.10, 13ozs, 1.1.0, 14ozs.

The best of the lot

Those last four fish all taken with a mid-depth bulk and a few droppers, held tight against the pole as it settled and all of them taken with ferocious bites on the drop; just as I had to leave.

Unfortunately the next fish in the sequence was dear old Cypry, leaving the rig and elastic looking like a schoolgirls multi-coloured string collage.

It was time to go anyway. Back in the day, hemp was one of the most successful baits I used, so quite why it has taken so long to remember this when I'd had such confidence in it is beyond me, but then, many things are it seems.

So, to add mystery to the mayhem, I went to the canal. To an area of the Grand Union I could rely on for bream, and big ones. Feeding maggot over groundbait towards a tree opposite for those beauties  but with a separate hemp line near side of middle to the right, purely as a change method.

Needless to say, I had one small perch that must've been irritated by a grain of hemp for some particular reason and then a huge canal roach of 1.12 on the double maggot bream rig.

Fourth biggest ever canal roach...by accident!

The all-time F,F&F best canal roach list now looks like this:

1. 2-3-10 (2013) Oxford
2. 1-15-5 (2016) Grand Union
3. 1-13-0 (2015) Oxford
4. 1-12-0 (2019) Grand Union
5. 1-11-8 (2015) Grand Union
6. 1-10-0 (2017) Grand Union

Fishing. It simply makes no sense!

Life in the Old Bog yet

Minus one and the iced mist drags itself from the water in an almost imperceptible spiral of a farmhouse in diameter.

Undeterred, the cacophony of April strikes up as the sun burns though the silhouettes of trees as if whitefire lies behind.

Then as a squeezed irregular shape, rays bursting through the stout timbers of a hundred years standing, the earth's candle fires up.

Beneath the surface those mucus encased shoals start to dream, but they dream of the confidence of dusk.

Teetering over the margins, the butterbur, having thrust out of the now frozen ground, stand reluctant, their florets pendulous, as if ashamed of their emerging splendour.

This is spring in these neglected parts that only the chiffchaff and its cousins appreciate sufficiently to return.

As that most modern of woodpeckers, the great spotted, drums a beat on a galvanised steel mast the wide-eyed silver bream, bathed in sky blue iridescence and salmon fins, lies spent and still in the magnificence of its defeat, teased again by the most lowly of baits.

The Film - the Truth of the Matter

The feedback on the Big Canal Roach video has been very encouraging. So much so that we're about to set-out on the next escapade, but, before so doing, I must right a wrong.

----

The making of this project was underpinned by two key rules that Eric and I set before we started that were strangely coincidentally cast in stone for both of us:

~ First and foremost - no product placement (even though my compadre is irritated in the extreme that we consequently did not state the hook or bread makes!).

~ If the quality we sought couldn't be achieved, or it seemed insufficiently engaging to us and our Guinea pigs, we wouldn't proceed.

It would be an ordinary angler, going fishing. 

What doesn't come across in the film, because it is primarily about the quality of roach to be found in predator-affected canals, is where the inspiration came from to pursue this ongoing venture chasing pound plus fish, and that must be put right immediately. 

Long suffering readers of The Flannel will know that, without any doubt the most accomplished and inventive coarse angling blogger yet, Jeff Hatt, was the first to prophesise that local zander affected canals were capable of producing roach of 2lbs.

This claim would seem wild and fanciful were it not for the fact that Jeff, his blogging keyboard and glow-tip floats now hung-up for the foreseeable future, could back it up with hard evidence of fish snared in the depths of winter at just a fraction below the magical weight. 

We made contact and started to collaborate to the point at which we shared an online spreadsheet populated with our big roach catches to see whether, over time, any unforeseen patterns might emerge. 

Sadly, not too long after this, Jeff lost the urge after life got in the way of his fishing, although his blog is thankfully still there as a resource of wise words for the angler looking to make sense of a situation. 

For me though this brief meeting of minds has been unquantifiable in its importance, with the basis of the method we depict and describe coming from Jeff's inspirational words.

It was he who re-resurrected the lift bite method Fred J Taylor had already previously brought to prominence from even older sources in more classic situations, including pursuit of Estate Lake tench, and applied it to canals at a time when match anglers were still reeling from their decline due to the advent of a lack of small fish and continuing growth only of the relatively few fish remaining.

Coupled with that favourite chalk stream specimen roach bait, bread flake, it proved an unbeatable combination that was and continues to be the best big roach method due to its crudity making it counterintuitively supersensitive. 

When Jeff's writing via the Idlers Quest portal first influenced my thinking I had caught 4 or 5 one pound plus roach from canals, all pre-1995. I'd returned to angling around 2011 with no purpose and no goal. I was going through the motions of fishing in a match style without the matches and it was inevitable that this was unlikely to be sufficiently enthralling to keep me active in the process. 

The experimentation with Jeff's technique was instantly successful with two roach of a pound and a three pound bream all falling to its temptations on the first brief trip attempting a similar approach on the pole. 

Over the following years, subsequently ploughing a lone gongoozling furrow, the method and, particularly, the feeding and hookbait size has been, dare I use the word, refined and various little alternatives have come and gone or occasionally become part of the arsenal of choices to suit circumstances.

However, one thing has remained constant and that is Jeff's influence. I think it's fair to say that barely a session goes by without me thinking back to that collaboration for one reason or another and it's sad to think that what exists may be its whole backcatalogue, but, as I always feel, be it in respect of otters or whatever, we must embrace the change and take on those new challenges with an open mind.

Of course I'm not the only one who wishes Jeff hadn't retired from the angle and it's, never so eloquently, written word at his apparent peak but he's in fine company in taking that route with sportsmen like Lennox Lewis, Nico Rosberg and Pete Sampras all choosing that option as champions in their own fields. 

----

So, yes, the film wouldn't have been made at all without Jeff's influence and, as I said to him only yesterday, had he still been active we would undoubtedly have contemplated discussing the prospect of producing a video on this subject with Eric together.

Lead to the Canal

Experimentation had been intriguing but, perhaps, raised more questions than it resolved. 

The changing season had nurtured the urge to seek out that regular cold weather adversary, the roach, and not hand-sized roach but two-hand roach. Anything over a pound of silver would be considered gold.

Since spending a month increasing the carp P.B. by way of a distraction from the generally poor angling conditions other options had seemed so unappealling.

A couple of dawn sessions delivered only hybrids and smaller roach but the changing of the clocks and the prospect of a couple of hours trap-setting at dusk proved a suddenly irresistible challenge.

The idea appeared justified but the sound of oncoming narrowboats up to and after dark stretched the F, F&F congeniality reserves to the brink. 

After around five sessions of this nature it seemed fairly obvious that not to have started on a Sunday would have been wiser. Midweek has been more palatable but not a single evening has gently drifted by without it being punctuated by chugging death at a time so late to be at best plain rude and at worst in contravention of the CRT Boaters Handbook.

Initially the same bombardment of bread mash habitually applied at dawn was introduced on arrival but, with late boats, this was ripped, swirled and deposited everywhere but 'the spot', rendering the whole palaver futile.

Subsequently feeds were only introduced when it seemed quite unlikely that boats were just round the corner poised to send me round the bend, but, even so, on not a single occasion has this proven correct.

On that first visit it was very difficult to detect lift bites with an isotope so the wand was unearthed, fitted-up and engaged. A single swan-shot link was used with a flake of bread popped-up 2 to 8 inches, and, despite the boat irritation, on all but one trip the target aimed at has been hit.

Four roach from 1lb 4ozs 6drms to 1.5.8 have been netted but at the rate of no more than one bite per trip and always at dusk; leaving the post-daylight, apparently likely period, devoid of activity.

I'm left wondering whether bread is an unsuccessful option after dark. I've always thought of it to be a visual bait for roach and so it wouldn't be a huge surprise if that proves to be the case.

To advance this however there is another issue, that of signal crayfish being increasingly active at, and after, sunset and maybe a bait change would be necessary.

Emotionally it was a challenge on the most recent attempt, just yesterday...

A firm, determined pull on the tip on an unusually crayfish-free night resulted in a battle with a good strong fish. So much so that the clutch needed adjusting. Trying a new area, nothing above an ounce had been seen to rise at dusk and so even the bite was a relief but during the fight I allowed myself to dream.

It felt very roach-like and heavy. The pinkness of the fins on surfacing in heavily coloured water added further to that diagnosis but above all when the fish eventually lay flat and beaten on the surface it had that unmistakable shape.

A heavy sudden gasp for breath and the breathless words, "My God, it IS a roach" hissed out into the darkness like a burst tyre, and well over two pounds for sure; as confirmed when I had to lift it onto the bank.

Incredulous, wired and shaky, with the fish getting ever closer and the dream it represented then laid out on the bank, the head torch illuminating its features, blankness.

A vacuum of thought. 

Momentary confusion.

"This could be a hybrid".

It was.

As close a hybrid in appearance to a roach as one could imagine (in the dark), but a hybrid indeed, and somehow the disappointment barely registered. I've come to like hybrids for that extra fighting dimension and their ability to outgrow their slimier parent in canals.

There's time yet for a bar-raising roach with winter waiting to take over.

Return of the Mysterons

Heavy turbidity as the aftermath of snow melt, rain, silt and road salt eased away. The Stream remained fulsome and hearty but since the preceding tea time Little Johnny Frost had been at work. Sparkled did everything; the grass, teasels, flood flotsam, burdocks, fences, trees and of course the water margins

Over the past two weeks the fortune to see three otters, two certainly dogs, across three watercourses, and all in daylight, has been a dream. Some brethren of the maggot might claim this a nightmare, but not here

These magnificent, intelligent, artful creatures mesmerise like no other. Bites and ravens ignored as peripheral

Hauling-out onto a vast raft of torn-out bulrushes, logs and branches deposited by the first high waters of this turbulent winter the dog otter slipped in and out of the water of this County's primary river and then out of sight just 10m away, oblivious to human presence and the 11m of carbon pole running past his flanks

Later at dusk he returned, swam past this silent still frame, took-up a lounger on the raft again and proceeded to utter a series of chesty coughs. Fish bone stuck? Who knows, but another fascinating moment in the company of a top predator was there to be absorbed

By this time mist, leaning towards fog, was befuddling the autofocus and all we were left with was those Mysteron eyes and ghostly apparitions



Dodgy pic of Mr Ron

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The canal of childhood development, tough but rewarding, was behaving as is its wont. Perfect colour for fish but Mr Hackett had preceded us and "The Bushes", those that the great Billy Makin would seek on a bee-line after an early bath on another stretch in pursuit of ten pounds of caster roach before tea, were no more. The whole stretch, and indeed every other we have seen, trimmed to the piles (nasty business)

They will regenerate of course but what focusses the piscine attention meanwhile with no cover? Marinas? Quite possibly. One might like to think the fish will spread-out and offer greater eveness throughout the affected parts but that is for the future to solve

One twelve ounce roach (plus a thirteen ounce perch to TBW) and thoughts turned to the flask. Reaching for it a stream of bubbles appeared, diagonally, near side to far, then a log appeared tight to the concrete under brambles followed by the logs head, it had eyes. This beauty was a good four foot long; sleek, oily, alert, and hunting

Capturing inadequate film it turned and zig-zagged bank-to-bank with more bubbles, occasionally raising its head to breathe

The canals in these parts support otter sprainting locations under the majority of bridges, the longer the bridge the more used it seems, yet this was the first canal sighting of His Majesty where, it might be suspected, he and his kith are generally nocturnal given the levels of bankside and waterborne disturbance

Dodgy pic - Ron's Head

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Back to the stream...

Eventually some topping fish were spotted and three or four nice roach up to three parts of a pound enhanced by two chub of just a big gudgeon over two pounds made for a very nice 6lbs+ catch in the conditions 

 

It was during this period of intense concentration on the pole with bread feeder that a splashy swirl occurred upstream and, turning to view, it was immediately obvious what had caused it.

More bubbling through the swim and head and body popped up some ten metres or so downstream. This one not so big but clearly also hunting among the bankside roots and debris. Suspected as a female, camera in hand the pursuit commenced but she was brighter and was out of sight all-but instantaneously leaving only emptiness and some out of focus film to remember her by, AGAIN, and this time to poor to contemplate sharing
 
With apologies to:

• All otters called Ron
• Gerry Anderson
• My reader
  
  
  

Silver Scaled Springtime Shocker

At this time of year a tench-like weakness overcomes one of the less common of our canal species.

It's oversized eye seeks out the bread and maggot of anglers' provision; it fights in a frantic manner reminiscent of the crucian carp yet passes most anglers by as 'another skimmer'.

The Silver Bream is one of my favourite of fishes, in fact if a giant roach gives me palpitations on a scale of 10/10 a silver of similar proportions would certainly score 8 or 9.

Strangely they only get caught in any numbers in late spring. Tench-like indeed

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They have been showing well in the past few sessions on both Oxford and Grand Union Canals and any fish over a pound is a specimen equivalent to a roach of around one pound eight ounces. Sean Dowling ('Off the Oche, Down the River') has recently taken them to one pound fourteen, a true specimen, and yesterday evening, for the second time in two weeks, pound plus fish have fallen to the f,f&f hookbait just as it was barely possible to see the float at dusk.

Maybe, like the Zander, those big eyes suggest nocturnal or perhaps crepuscular feeding habits. Why would they evolve in that way otherwise?

Yesterday's fish caused some excitement overseen by HonGenSec on a visit to a swim he should have frequented but the tables were turned in comedy style.

It went like this:

F: "Are you there yet?" (Thinking I'd go and watch for a bit to surprise him)

H: "I'll be leaving in 30 mins"
I drive to venue but get there first...then deciding to fish for the last hour and a half of daylight and set-up to test the new perch/zed method again on a second rod, together with the usual bread rod.

H: "Too much to do. I won't be going now".

F: "Oh! I've just cast in".

H: "Okay, I'll come down"

On arrival -

F: "Did you bring your stuff?"

H: "No, I'll just watch"

----

The session itself was surprisingly hectic but, with a boat going through as I walked to the spot and contemplating turning round just 50 yards away but then abandoning manoeuvres and ploughing the far shelf for good measure, the prospects appeared somewhat slim.

Yes it's narrowboat rental time. Imagine being sent out to drive a bus on the road with just a few minutes tuition.

While not rushing to cast in, as the milky complexion that filled the watercourse fell back into black tea, bread mash was fed heavily. With an hour only ahead, there was little point taking it gently. Specimen or bust it was.

The worm rig sat 5 yards to the right. It's upgrade intended to avoid wasps and zedlets by presenting whole lobworms in a more definite manner to avoid inevitable failed strikes when the fish has simply got hold of a hookless loose end of the bait.

A silver bream of around five ounces started the ball rolling followed by hybrids and more silver's of up to ten ounces.

Then a surging run on the worm and a heartily scrapping perch of 1.6 was followed by another of a pound before death by crustacean descended on both lines of attack.

Signal crayfish abound in most of the places I fish on both Oxford and Grand Union canals. Their presence given away by silly little runs and dips and dodges of the float. Very unusally is one connected with but three were this time and all suitably dispatched according to the law.

----

A massive swarm of midges glowed like orange fireflies in the, all but horizontal, setting beams of the source of life through an historic bridge arch to my left.

And so it went quiet.

Darkness descended.

HonGenSec said his goodbyes and as he turned to go a raging lift bite on bread and a good scrapper was on. "Hybrid!", we both exclaimed. No, a really good silver bream and both combined excitement and astonishment on my part.

On the scales it plunged the proverbial needle to just a tad under one pound eleven.

Immediately I declared it a p.b. but, driving back, I started to have doubts, rightly so as, checking 'the book' at chez nous, it was bettered by a 1.11.8 Grand Union fish last year.

A cracker nevertheless and an Oxford Canal best at the very least.

With luck these beauties will continue to offer themselves up for a few more days but there can certainly be no better time to pursue them than late May into early June.

A Climate of Uncertainty

 

The local climate in the period since Christmas has been so changeable as to make it almost impossible at times to select a suitable location for a few fish. Not so much gradual global warming as continuing local chaos.

 

The Avon & Leam; Grand Union & Oxford canals and various stillwaters could all have all been on the agenda but for a variety of reasons there have been times when none of these were likely to work-out favourably.

 

Ice, rain, wind direction, clear water, fluctuating temperatures, etc., detrimentally influenced each in different ways.

 

Under such circumstances one tends to seek comfort in what one knows best. Usually canals, in these instants.

 

Anyone who follows these ramblings will realise that in the world of F, F & F eliciting a bite against the odds is of considerably greater value than a guarantee of, for instance, a net full of tame carp from a sold(not to say souled)-out mud puddle.

 

In stillwater terms it has become increasingly difficult to find naturalised ponds, lakes and reservoirs. Largely a result of the glint of gold that continues to sparkle in eye of certain water owners as lead by CRT.

 

A couple of birding trips resulted in a very active long-tailed duck and a couple of pairs of red-crested pochard of note. Which, on the one hand, brightened the intermittent angling consternation but, far more importantly, made for a very enjoyable change while The Dog descended this year with his First Lady for a few very happy days indeed

 

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In the immediate aftermath of the festivities, mild, calm conditions prevailed and fish were relatively easy to fool, albeit at their own somewhat steady speed, and to find roach freely topping at dawn at my current reservoir-side haunt put them under potential threat. Catches of between 3 and 8 pounds-odd of fish that peaked at one pound four ounces with a smattering of perch eased the depressingly unbearable burden of being off work for a few days quite nicely.



Roach to 1.4.2

 The GUC managed to cough-up a nice zander of over 3.5lbs, with proportionately the biggest tail you ever did see, when partly frozen. This was highly likely another p.b. (had the scales not been in the garage!) but that will never be confirmed. Following this the combined GUC & Oxford canals produced a 2lb bream and a roach immediately after thawing on a particularly hard birthday session.

 

 

 

The birds have been affected too and as this is being written, long-tailed and blue tits, goldcrest and blackbird devour fat balls, winter flies and fallen apples out of the window, beyond the bridge. Grey squirrel chase and tumble through ivy and hazel while a robin serenades longingly, yet with a hint of resignation, into the still moist air. All dreaming of the hectic spring to come one might surmise.

 

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SATURDAY

 

Today though, the onset of mild weather again lead us back to the canal feeder lake that had offered-forth festive gifts of 5 tench to 5.9, 20-odd roach to 1lb+ and smaller perch two weeks ago.

 

It was a risk.

 

It would have been frozen yesterday morning but the likelihood of increased temperatures, cloud & fog meant low light levels and consequently roach in the sought-after bracket of 1lb+ would be possible...if they fed.

 

The method settled-on over those previous sessions is to fish two rods, one at 25-45m and the other at 60m and while the furthest of those has resulted in the most bites and fish all of the pound plus roach have fallen at around 25 to 30m.

 

The second roach today was 1.1.14 and an hour or so later a slightly larger version at 1.4.2. A total catch of 8lbs 5ozs comprising 13 fish including 3 perch for good measure was the bag and the confirmation that the bigger roach were closer-in helped in taking-up HonGenSec's idea to fish the float into dark. In fact, had it not been foggy that would have been the method of choice this very day.

 

The two biggest roach on top

Tomorrow it is then!

 

----

 

SUNDAY

 

Arriving at 2.45 to set-up and get some bait trickling into ten feet of slightly tinged water before dark, the atmosphere had that feel of impending rain about it as the clouds dragged their heels over the broad tree-scattered landscape to the south-west.

 

The water was calm without a ripple to spoil it other than the tufted duck. A group of six that motored inwards with unstinting confidence at each blast of maggots, and out again once realising that the bait had gone by the time they would have arrived.

 

HonGenSec had started when we arrived, as is the norm, but pursued a similar method.

The Boy Wonder was to stick with the tried and trusted at 30m.

There is little to add other than despite this list from TBW's necessaries being at home - rods, landing net handle, head-torch - he stole my spare rod and took a 2lb tench (his first) from water just over 4degC while HGS and I blanked with aplomb.

 

 Kids! (Again)

A barn owl shrieked early evening and remained unseen but it's certainly back to Plan A next time.

 

Tomorrow it wasn't. However, if you don't ask the question...

 

----

 

SUMMARY

 

The roach in the venue seem very likely go bigger than 1.4. Bigger fish top occasionally, although it is possible they are hybrids as two have been taken 1.8 in this brief period since mid-December but there are another couple of areas to try, as well as The Stillwater to revisit when conditions seem right.

 

Hope, motivated by good advice and that essential slice of luck, does not shirk from springing eternal and there is plenty of the winter to go at yet

 

----

 

AND FINALLY

 

 I would very much like to mark the sad passing of Tony Miles with just a few words.

 

I did not know Tony well though I had met and exchanged emails with him a number of times in the past two or three years but he was clearly a very open, amiable man with a huge wealth of angling knowledge that he was keen to commit to print in books, blogs and various publications in order to help others.

 

It is always an immeasurably great loss when such giants of any sport take their knowledge with them and, while he could never convey all of the nuances of his chosen path to his contemporaries and effectual descendants in angling, we can all be thankful that much of his knowledge is not lost through his so eloquently articulated writings.

 

Certain angling names trip off the tongue in a hallowed cluster:

Richard Walker, Ivan Marks, Chris Yates, and Co. Tony Miles unquestionably falls in that same echelon. Humble yet ground-breaking anglers all. 

 

 

 

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.