The magic of ‘aquarium’ swims
There’s a rare magic to fishing clear waters as summer takes a hold. Dom Garnett finds these natural aquariums quite hypnotic
AS LITTLE as it can help the fishing, there is nothing quite like a spell of settled, warm weather to make the world seem a new and different place.
Not so long ago, my local waters looked brown and uninviting after rain and algal blooms. But at a certain point each year, everything shifts. Levels drop and the weed grows thick. Insects hatch, waters clear and teem with life again.
Fish like basking in the sun as much as we do, and although they can be shy, that crystal clarity makes for intoxicating visual fishing. And what a fascinating world it is, when the local drain becomes more like an aquarium.
There are vast numbers of roach in some locations. Rudd and chub hang right on the surface too, picking off insects. Occasionally a large rudd glides into the picture.
Not that it’s just the usual surface-feeders that enjoy the sun. I’ve seen shoals of bream just inches under the surface already this summer, fish that I have occasionally managed to tempt on a slow-sinking fly.
The predators also come out of hiding, although most often they appear docile. Pike lie still as statues, dead in the sun, while roach and fry swim right over their noses. Even more intriguing are three good-sized perch whose antics are remarkable. There they sit, under weed rafts or just hovering above the weed before they suddenly spring to life.
We watch one bullying the fry, while those three others leave us baffled. The fish repeatedly bash and suck at the weed as we look on. Are they picking off bugs, we wonder, or trying to dislodge smaller fish? Only one is willing to react to a small lure, nipping the tail, missing the hook and swimming off.
Having better luck is David West-Beale, who has bought the simplest tackle in the book – a Tenkara pole. With no reel, this method is just a whip-style rod, a length of line and a small dark fly. Several roach, a nice rudd and even a silver bream are tempted, splashing in the sunny water as they realise their mistake.
It’s such a pleasure to watch the fish, it’s almost too beautiful to fish here. Every few yards bring another surprise.
Next is a near-black tench built like a prop forward. It stoops to shovel the bottom but won’t take a weighted fly, and I’m slightly grateful, given the general election sized mess it could make on the light gear. But that water. It’s so clear, even failure is fascinating.