IT’S COSY UNDER A BROLLY WHEN IT TIPS DOWN!
Tea and talk with a good mate, nature’s glory all around us – nothing beats that
AS I write, the river is at its lowest I have seen in many a year. The good news is, it’s actually raining!
We really do need it, because while most people judge a good summer by the amount of sun, rainfall is needed to keep the fishing at its best.
While I remember, I must say a big sorry to my mate Phil Riley. In my write-up last week of our trip together I called him a Liverpudian, when in fact he is an Evertonian. That was like calling me a Brummie, and this Black Country boy really does know how much that would hurt! Here’s how my week went…
THURSDAY
An early-morning start on the Warwickshire Avon with Mark Latham, but although the river looked good with a little water on and slight colour, it fished badly. We had only one bite between us, from a 4lb 10oz chub that fell to my rod.
I had it from a lovely little swim under a tree in the margins where you need to creep up and be quiet as you sit waiting for a bite.
On the subject of keeping quiet, the angling press is full of advice on where to fish and what bait and tackle to use, but rarely do you see anything written about stealth.
In a world of overstocked waters it’s become the norm to make as much noise as you want when setting up, wear clothes more suited to a speedway rider than an angler, and yet still catch 200lb of pastie carp.
Well, in the natural world it does pay to be quiet and dress drably like any hunter. That way you will catch far more. Tread softly. Talk quietly, keep off the skyline and wear country clothing… you know it makes sense.
We packed up around midday and, sod’s law being what it is, just as we were walking to the car the heavens opened and it poured down on us. We stopped at the chippie on the way home and sat
there in the car eating with rain bouncing off the roof – magic!
I made a mental note... must dry my gear off for tomorrow!
FRIDAY
Something is wrong. On today’s guide day, just like yesterday, we couldn’t get a single bite – and that’s rare on the Severn.
By 10am I’d cancelled the trip, and my guests and I will arrange a new date to give it another go when the fish want it. Rather than sit there all day struggling I prefer to head home and go another time – it costs the anglers no more money, and I feel better when my customers have caught fish.
I spoke to a mate on the Avon and another on the Severn late that afternoon and it was the same for them – not a bite. I don’t know what’s the matter. I could guess, but what’s the point? Just put your gear in the bag, go home and don’t lose confidence.
In a couple of days the river will be on form again. This is when we realise how little we really know
about fishing and, to be honest, I like it that way.
SATURDAY
I’ve nearly finished my new office/ summer house in the garden at the new place. Just a few things more, like insulating and plastering, and I’ll be ready to move in.
This is when my mates and I will become big kids again – making plans, tying rigs, drinking beer, enjoying all that’s great about fishing even when we are not on the bank with a rod in our hands.
It all started many years ago
now, when I kept diaries of trips out and a tiny built-in cupboard at my parents’ house could hold everything I owned to do with fishing.
I would go into my bedroom and ‘play’ with the accumulated bits I kept in an old green cantilever box. Nothing has changed really; I still find space and time on my own to play with my latest gear.
That love for fishing will stay with me till I make my last cast.
SUNDAY
Ray Cutler and I headed off for a carping session on a small syndicate water we fish together. We fancied a change from the river, especially with conditions as they were.
Besides, we could sit together and have a bit of a social – when we fish a river very often the only time we get to talk is in the car on the journey there and back.
It’s an easy water, so we knew we were on for a few takes, and as we sat there swallows were hunting over the surface, a pair of kestrels were quartering the newlycropped grass, a woodpecker could be heard rapping a tree behind us and the whole eco system seemed to be alive as we sat drinking freshly brewed tea and cooking on the Ridge Monkey.
When it rained (and at times it was quite heavy) it was good to be sheltering under my Groundhog umbrella. I even used a bale of hay as a table for rig-tying and brewing.
It was one of those magical days. When it was raining we didn’t get a run, when the sun shone we did – perfect. We had a shedload of carp, the best three going over 20lb with a couple of 19-pounders thrown in for good measure.
It even stopped raining long enough at the end to dry all our gear out before we packed up and made our way home.