Going Back Again, Again and Somewhere New

5am bathroom floor, Lepisma saccharina, Silverfish. An omen? 

 This past weekend, with the house to prepare for estate agents, it was to be one or two pre-breakfast sessions followed by paint, plants, timber and turf

Saturday I peaked a little early and had time to wander well out into the wilderness before first light to a formerly favourite area prior to direct and easy access being cut-off. Walking until fish could be seen topping and then, having found them, deciding to carry-on a little further to a, then, favourite peg; albeit that was somewhat difficult to define with landmarks having been decimated in the past 20 years

This is a fascinating landscape with the ridge & furrow that lines so much of the eastern North Oxford Canal falling away into a gentle tree-lined valley. Just the kind of place I dream of living in a tiny thatched cottage with woodsmoke barely perceptively drifting across the shades of green...and then suddenly we're jolted back to the present as a large fish crashes to my left in a very non-roach-like manner. "Maybe bream have moved-in", was the thought, and, having introduced a fair helping of mash expecting instant action before the sun burnt-off the bites, another sizable fish topped. The big fish were here, but this was no big fish peg in the past; sure it held its share of what we described as 'bonus fish' in the old days but nothing over twelve ounces, and lots of them

Topping big roach

In went the float, and sat there. Then it twitched and dragged and twitched again. The mill-pool-perfect surface became like ginger beer as a crayfish troupe marched in and proceeded to jostle for crumbs, catching the nailed-on rig in their articulated armour and sending their tiny microtench-like bubbles to the surface


Eventually the float rose dramatically, as it does, and stayed there long enough for it not to be a signal of crayfish. A strike met with the somewhat frantic distress of a hybrid of something over a pound

Fish continued to intermittently top, one leaping fully clear of the water within two feet of the fed area; a roach around the pound mark. Although spawning fish had been sat amongst previously in the, now two-year, big roach campaign never had this kind of activity been witnessed. Usually it had been a bigger shoal of smaller fish constantly splashing around but in this area the cut is more of a channel than a bowl in cross-section and as such I suspect much of the activity occurs deeper down out of sight

Soon, a second bite and more challenging fight. This fish was, without being in anyway bream like, more sedate than the hybrid and, as big roach tend to, strove hard to disgorge itself in the remnant roots of ripped-out bank-side trees. Lively was not the word but netted at the third attempt it was

I knew this guy (I use the word 'guy' here not to suggest this fish was male but in the 'here's your meal guys' manner of waiters and waitresses these days to suggest neutral gender). I even knew the name, Francis Lee, and what he or she weighed 1-7-3 (although THE Francis Lee was male it could be a female name of course)

Now this was spooky and yet it only just dawned on me in writing this that I could be accused of sliding that slippery slope to knowing the names of the fish I am in pursuit of, but no, over 50 pound-plus canal roach now and this the first time I have suspected such an occurrence; so its going down as a fluky experience rather than a sign of being uber sad

Franny was weighed at 1-6-14. He or she'd lost some weight! Not only that but research showed it was caught from the same peg on exactly the same day last year and photographs appear to confirm that, yes, it probably was the same fish as can be seen here: http://floatflightflannel.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/going-back-for-more.html

This really is one chunky roach

This spring is far advanced on last year as the photographs of the barrel-chested attacking mid-water fish demonstrate. The shade of bank-side vegetation was straw-coloured in 2013 but this time it is already a lush green

I'd like to say the story ended there but no, the bites ended certainly but then I drifted into wonder if not wander-land and, having tidied-up, went further into the wilderness in pursuit of newly arrived migrants, mammal tracks and large topping fish...and got them all. Blackcap in full voice just a few feet away but could I see it in the burgeoning hawthorn?, no. Rabbit excavations, otter spraint and molehills. Another presumed big roach swirled a hundred yards on from the day's chosen peg

One more task then, as the sun came fully up suggesting an uncomfortable trot back in all the early-frost-proof thermal gear, to photograph a stand of wild cowslip between well-trod towing path and waters edge

At risk of boring the odd reader (are you odd?, that's not very nice is it?, but I leave you to decide), the next (Sunday) morning was equally and contrastingly engaging

There isn't much of the canal east of the Brinklow centre that I haven't fished but being caught out by the retreating time of sunrise I needed a short journey and, like most, the stretches nearest are those fished least so I headed off with a plan in mind only to find white van man in my parking space and peg, the cheek! Two bridges further on I started to walk back towards home and into the unknown, never had the peepers clapped on this wide and enticing bend but this general part of the canal had never been prolific, with the occasional skimmer and a few roach, and so the suspicion was that any bites would be precious. The morning was to prove equally avian as piscine however

The bird song is mind-blowingly loud and the challenge of reminding ourselves of, and sifting the sounds for, a diagnostic melody is upon us as the warblers arrive in series. Quite a nice list stacked-up but the unusually confiding pair of moorhens that joined me on the bank for a bread breakfast was the highlight. All anglers, canal or otherwise, will recognise the moorhen as a nervy bird more likely to avoid proximity to us than approach closely but not these two, oh no. "Okay, so what have got then?"' was clearly their motto and up they sidled and flicked until just 7 or 8 feet away and devouring bread-mash like a shoal of bream. Knowing glances were exchanged and photographs taken, of them that is, I assume they couldn't...well anyway, moving on...

Back in the water, pre-match pennants had been swapped in the form of three handfuls if mash deposited just short of centre, this being the outside of a bend, and, frankly, nothing happened...and the bird list grew

Soon though hiviz-clad wolf-lady approached from the left, really, really slowly, with two dogs way off in front, in fact by this time sniffing around my tackle (steady!) and nudging my elbows, etc., still she moved with the speed of a beached yellow submarine, staring at the ground. Closer she crept, the dogs jostled and trampled, 15 yards, in-ear headphones now visible, 10 yards, 8, 7, then "Whoah, sorry, I didn't see you. I was listening to my book and...! SORRY, really sorry, come-on you two!", Homer would have been proud at the demonstration of shock only he could have matched, and off they went, very, very slowly

Chiffchaffs and various finches, my second swallow of the year and jackdaws over head disturbed the ensuing silence when, looking back at the float (yes that was what I was here for!) it lifted and battle, some battle, commenced. Obviously I was using the new rod and starting to understand its capabilities but this was different. If it was a roach it was a record, if it was a bream it was on speed and if it was a tench it was nothing if not very unusual. It had to be the last fish to enter the equation, a hybrid, and of course we are into the period when in 2013 the big'uns showed in number and increasing magnitude just as they were about to

"Chiffchaff, chiffchaff, chiff", imaginative it ain't, evocative it is.

This was some fighter and it reminded me very much of a scrap between a mink and a large eel I witnessed on a backwater of the Great Ouse in the 70's, first one was on top and the eel was out on the bank then the other was on top and dragged the mink back in the water, no prizes for guessing the victor though and the same applied here as eventually even this three pound two ounce eleven dram specimen ran out of juice and slid over the rim and toward expectant scales. Brilliant, I almost love hybrids as much as real fish, almost

Suddenly the focus returned and so did the action, another outrageous lift bite, another outrageously hefty canal fish tussling under the water. Unmistakable by fight this time as a big old bream and, sure enough, he was and, with line wrapped around its pectoral fin, not at all easy to contain. In the net to which it only just fitted this was the archetypal old battle-worn fish with scars and a damaged dorsal to match, a survivor. The rod showed additional depth of strength this day and it really is the all-round perfect big canal fish model

Two ounce roach made to look like bait fish

I could go on and on, and on, ("You already have!", you may cry), so entertaining were these two mornings. I actually tried other pegs with further events involving jack russells, muntjac and jays ensuing but I'll stop here. Second biggest ever North Oxford Canal bronze bream, fourth biggest ever all-waters hybrid and seventh biggest NOxC roach in four hours of activity, you just can't beat this fishing lark can you?! April was the month last year and so it is proving again

Saturday bird list:
Chaffinch
Magpie
Mallard
Moorhen
Blackcap
Blue tit
Swallow
Cormorant (x3)
Greenfinch
Blackbird
Song thrush
Carrion crow
Rook
Woodpigeon
Chiffchaff
Reed bunting
Heron
Mistle thrush
Great tit
Wren
Robin
Pheasant
Green woodpecker
Goldfinch
Bullfinch
Jackdaw
Indet gull

Sunday bird list:
Chaffinch
Greenfinch
Goldfinch
Blue tit
Great tit
Wren
Moorhen
Mallard
Carrion crow
Jackdaw
Heron
Goldcrest
Stock dove
Woodpigeon
Pheasant
Robin
Blackbird
Song thrush
Rook
Great spotted woodpecker
Swallow
Blackcap
Chiffchaff
Jay
LBB gull
Silver bream
Roach
Muntjac
Rabbit