WHAT AN END TO A WINTER’S DAY!
Four chub fall to my bread tactics – but the best waits till last knockings
NO WARMTH came with the rising sun, only a bitter wind that chilled my bones on the long walk downstream.
Had this been December, my chances of catching would have indeed been slim, but the year was moving on and subtle changes were afoot. For a start, I could make out the time on my watch, something I couldn’t have done in the dark a couple of months back.
Nature was responding to these longer daylight hours.
Blossoming snowdrops and aconites signalled hope for warmer times, while honking geese in the water meadows and hares boxing on the higher ground meant that birds and mammals had got the message as well.
I knew that life beneath the river’s surface would be stirring too, as fish looked to replenish their winter weight loss.
An optimistic angler soon turns into a confident one, and as I passed a dead salmon kelt that had hopefully spawned successfully I doubted this would be the only fish I’d come across today.
Normally the best spots to fish are near the car park, but not today. Another 10 minutes of walking brought me to a bend in the river where the depth increased dramatically. Here, in the area of transition, I was certain I’d find a shoal of chub and equally sure I’d be able to tempt them into feeding.
I decided to settle into the highest point upstream I felt my quarry would venture to for food. I could always cast or edge my way further downstream if need be, but to immediately sit on top of the shoal or cast a line straight through it would only alert the fish to my intentions.
I was being particularly careful today because I wouldn’t be roving from swim to swim but concentrating on one area. There was a good reason for this. On this particular stretch the fish are localised rather than being evenly spread out, so there was no point in my being mobile. With this in mind I’d left the cheesepaste at home and had brought with me instead a bait that really comes into its own at the back end of the season… bread.
Rarely do you need to spend a fortune feeding up chub, and bread doesn’t bust anyone’s housekeeping budget! The day before I’d blitzed in the liquidiser a white sliced loaf that had been standing in the garage for a week. My hookbait was another, fresher example of the same fare.
There was absolutely no need to use anything more expensive. By continually introducing the feed for a couple of hours I’d get the fish feeding, then I’d be confident that my punched flake would be taken. If not, I could downsize to more traditional breadpunch. So much for the bait, but what about my tackle?
Given the situation and the drop-off in depth I felt a quivertip rather than a float would be the best option, so out came my Drennan Medium Feeder rod with a 1.5oz glass tip, strong enough to cope with the pace of the river without compressing too much and arousing suspicion.
Using 8lb mono mainline might seem like overkill, but big chub were on the agenda and constant casting of a feeder can cause fatigue. I selected from my box a Kamasan Black Cap feeder with the base cut out.
As there was only one end for the bread to exit from I could guarantee I wouldn’t lose any during the cast. The feeder sat on a paternoster link that pushed up against a gripper stop, while 6ins of twisted mono created a tangle-proof boom.
The hooklength was connected to this loop-to-loop, and given that I would use flake first, the hook was a size 12 Drennan Wide Gape to 5lb line. With everything set up I could now put my plan into action.
“Three times I thought I’d won, only for the fish to rally its strength”
The crease between the slack water and the main flow was my target, which I took care to mark up to ensure accuracy. With the feeder in situ, particles of bread were swept downstream and predictably ignored, as were the next eight batches of bread.
The trick in such situations is not to panic but to have confidence that your watercraft is correct and eventually the switch will be flicked. Get one chub feeding and the rest will follow, so when a big mouth opened up and sucked in some bread my day was about to get even better.
Competition breeds complacency, and my first bite was signalled to me by a sweet, steady pull round on the quivertip. This happened four times over the next two hours, and each one resulted in a respectable, though not exceptional, chub. The fifth fish was altogether different. The bite was timid but the fight immediately more fraught, especially when the chub made its classic move and dived under the near-bank cover.
Arm outstretched and rod pushed to its limit, I held on and hoped the carbon would absorb the lunges and the feeder wouldn’t get snagged in the roots. Three times I thought I’d won, only for the fish to rally its strength and dive for sanctuary once again.
It was a relief when a perfect flank of chainmail-clad scales hit the surface and a gulping white mouth showed the chub was ready for the net.
At 6lb 10oz it proved that you don’t need to break the bank to catch fish of this calibre.