A Grand Day Out

Reconnaissance was the main priority today. With the river taking a well earned rest in a few weeks, it was time for Mick and I to start thinking about where to fish during the interlude.

Canals have been producing predators of quite a reasonable standard recently, probably due to the fact that pike anglers seldom bother with such waters. However, fish as we all know, thrive on neglect and canals it would seem, can offer some very good sport away from the madding crowd.

Our club has 3.2 miles of the Grand Union Canal in its portfolio and, if I'm honest, is a stretch of water that I have never even considered fishing before. I've always, perhaps unfairly, thought of canals as muddy streams full of unhealthy fish. That coupled with joggers and bank sides peppered with empty stella cans, has always put me off. A bit.

So, I wasn't expecting a lot when we arrived at the Grand Union Canal, but I'm glad to say that I was pleasantly surprised. The first thing that struck me was the serenity of the place. Almost as if time had stood still. A blissful silence that we seldom get to experience on this crowded island of ours. The trees that lined the water were full of birds, the fields on either side were as wild as could be. Yes there were moored boats, but the occupants were friendly enough (even if their dogs weren't!) and the boats actually give you a feature to cast to. Dare I say it, the canal was quite splendid.

Right then, fishing! Due to the fact that we had a fair amount of water to 'look at', we opted for just the spinning tackle today. Now, as you may of gathered, I am not exactly an ambassador for lure fishing. It is probably because I have never really given it a real go, but I've always viewed it in much the same way that I did canals. Before today, that is, as not only do I now love canal fishing, but lure fishing too!

Mick was taking his lure fishing very seriously and was working his way through his, small but adequate, collection of lures like a pro. Starting with a spinner, to pick up anything willing to hang its self, and then changing to other patterns periodically. Casting to a different spot in a fan-like pattern each time, anybody would think that he had been doing this for years.

I, on the other hand, had my tongue in my cheek at the start of this exercise. I plumped for the most outrageous shad that I had in my my tackle box. This wasn't entirely for comic effect, not entirely, no. Canal water is similar in colour to muddy carp pools. Visibility was going to be low so bright and vibrant patterns were what the text book suggested we should use. Shame the text book went in the drink back at the start of the season.

Anyway, I only went and caught one! We didn't really expect to catch today, it was a little warmer than its been recently but we were still on unfamiliar water without any bait! Working the shad slow and deep, I had the take after about 25 mins of fishing at only the second swim I'd tried. I couldn't believe that I'd actually had a take. Even when my lure decided to move rapidly to the right, come to the surface and frantically shake its head in the form of a perfectly conditioned pike, I still couldn't quite believe it.

There was no doubt about it. This fish had never never been caught before and I've never had a pike put up such a dogged fight. Fantastic.

That fish was very important for Mick and I. It proved that there are fish here waiting to be caught and that we are not completely wasting our time fishing with bits of metal and plastic - instead of bait.

I'm actually looking forward to the close season now.

Happy Birthday Mick

'Spring is defiantly in the air' I foolishly suggested in my last post. What I meant to say is that winter is here to stay. Forever. Well, that's how it felt at 6am this morning as I struggled along an untreated road on the way to pick up my wing-man. Funny, if I'd looked out of the window and seen snow like that a few months ago I'd have been on the phone to Mick to cancel our trip straight away. Tenacity, it would seem, is one of our better human qualities.

Arriving at our destination nice and early was quite a nice feeling, even if the blizzard falling on our heads wasn't. We established camp at one of our favorite spots and set about offering the pike our deadbaits. Little did they know, but we had booby trapped them with size 6 trebles! How cunning.

The river was in fair condition considering the weather. It was a little coloured but the level wasn't too bad. All in all, and considering the time of day, we felt confident of some action. Now is the time of year that the pike start to put on weight, ready for spawning, so a fish that was 17lb 8oz a few weeks ago might be... bigger now.

The snow lasted all morning and it was quite cold to go with it. The river was obviously asleep as hardly anything stirred. Despite this, Mick did have a couple of runs that unfortunatly came to nothing. Small jacks again me thinks.

The weather cheered up by lunch time and, almost as soon as the sun began to break through the ever-present clouds, Micks float began to indicate some real interest. This time the float bobbed properly and moved off steadily to the right. This fish meant business.

Micks strike instantly forced his 2.5lb test curve rod into a healthy bend. The fish held on and stayed deep. For a moment we wondered what could be, niether of us having the nerve to suggest what we hoped might be on the end. The fish finally came to the surface. Clearly not a high double, but a double all the same!

I did the honours with the net and soon Micks personal best of exactly 10lb was posing for the camera.

A cup of tea was in order to celebrate Mick's triumph. It was one of those moments for me where it didn't matter which one of us had caught the fish. I was as happy for Mick with his PB as I would have been with my own. This is what fishing is all about - moments like these.

Spring had finally won its battle with the snow as the weather changed dramatically from snowy and cold to... well, er, not so cold and sunny. The contrast between the weather in the morning and the afternoon could not be more stark.

With this warmer weather came the spinning rods. But after thrashing the water to a foam for an hour or so, we gave in to the fact that it was probably too cold for the fish to be chasing bits of metal about. It kept Mick quiet for a bit though (hehe!) We bought the spinning outfits a while ago now and we've been itching for a chance to take the celophane off of them!

A well earned pint on the way home was a fitting end to the day. Happy Birthday Mick and well done with that PB.

Perfect Conditions

The only problem that I seem to encounter when fishing in 'perfect' conditions is that I don't really have an excuse for not catching! A bit like the matchman who has drawn a bum peg, he's not expected to catch so the pressure's off. When you faced with a high river, coloured water and rubbish weather, you know that you've got to fish hard in order to catch. This keeps you on your toes and makes any catch a result to be proud of.

When you are greeted with a river that's fining down, with a slight green tinge and overcast skies however, you know that the only reason you won't catch today is if you fish like a complete wally. As you can probably tell from this string of excuses - I didn't do very well on this trip.

Mick, on the other hand, did do ok on this trip. He wasted no time at all in putting the first fish on the bank. A very lively 7lb fish taken on a sprat on size 8 trebles.

Tom had joined us on this trip and after trying his luck on the other side of the bridge for an hour or so, he decided to fish to the left of where we were. The swim had gone quiet so the three of us had engaged in a little idle banter. As we did this my float began to move, i lifted into a fish only for it to come off after a few seconds. We got a good look at it, just a small jack. That doesn't mean i wasn't as sick as a dog. I recast to the same spot and almost instantly got straight into a fish again - only for it to fall off again!

Now i'm climbing the walls, metaphorically of course, much to Mick and Tom's amusement. I bet you can't guess what happened next - Yep, Tom went and caught a pike that looked suspiciously like the one that had been teasing me. It turned out to be the 6lb8oz fish that Mick and myself have encountered 4 times now. If this fish is caught anymore i fear it may become the Nene's first vegetarian pike.

We all continued to have aborted runs and nudges on our floats as the water bubbled like a cauldron. The river, very noticeably today, has started to come to life as the temperatures start to creep up. Spring is definitely in the air now.

It was time for Tom to go and after he had, Mick and I both commented on how professionally he had chinned his fish out of the water and unhooked it. His handling of the fish was very confident and the fish was back in the water in no time at all.

Soon it was time for us to leave to, but not before i had hooked another fish just for it to fall off again. That made it a hat-trick for me. Its times like this you have to draw on other captures and hold the memory of them firmly in your mind. Either that or snap your rod over your knee and take up golf.

"You're the fella from that blog, aren't you?"

Wow, I didn't think anybody actually read this thing! It was nice to be recognised though. It's been a couple of weeks since i was able to go fishing, and this trip was a little opportunistic. Mick had promised his dad that they would go and watch the football today, so i grabbed my kit and thought "why not?"

I hadn't intended on doing anything for the blog today, instead quite the opposite. I intended on doing what fishing is supposed to be about - relaxing! Hah - have you ever had a relaxing fishing trip in your life? I know i haven't! But relaxing, none the less, was what today was supposed to be about. Besides, who would take the pictures anyway?

Well the chap who did end up taking my picture, with a 9lb fish, was a smashing gentleman called Tom. It genuinely was a pleasure to meet him, a proper fisherman, humble but full of knowledge and passion for the sport.

We got stuck in to every angling issue that has ever, or might ever, effect our beloved sport. Swapped story's of personal bests and funny anecdotes of situations we've found ourselves in. Put right every wrong within the sport and even found time to catch a fish or two!

It's meeting like this, with like minded fishermen, that make you realise just how good we are at our sport...no seriously! As Tom and I were stood talking, each of us was watching each others float so that we could be facing each other without missing any bites. Neither of us suggested we should do this, we just automatically did it. When it was time to reel in a fish, Tom was there with the net to land the fish and offered assistance when the fish was on the mat. All of this whilst being courteous enough to leave me to my fish, but close enough in case i should need this assistance. You can't really teach that sort of etiquette, it just develops naturally as you progress through your angling career.

Soon my time on the bank was up, back to the real world for me. It was as i was packing up that Tom got around to telling me his name. Then it occurred to me - how often does that happen? You'll know their personal best, where they fished as a child, their favorite bait and even what used to be on this land before they dug these quarries for the gravel to build the M1 motorway - but do you ever get their name? We're a funny lot us fishermen!

Wish you were there Mick!