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Out with the old and in with the new !!
Forget the Glorious 12th, the even more glorious 16th has
arrived and heralded the start of the river fishing season
so, duly tackled up, I arrived at the river the next day in search of
a fish
or two.
I really enjoy fishing at this time of the year
on the river, not because the fishing is good, far from
it in fact, but more because of all the new growth and wildlife
that abounds. Walking through a meadow with lambs running
around and kicking and jumping, sitting on the river
bank as a pair of swans and their cygnets glide past,
hearing all the birds singing in the trees and imagining
just how many fledglings they have in the nest. For the
first time in ages I heard the call of a cuckoo and the
drill of a woodpecker, but failed to spot either even
though the woodpecker sounded as though it was on a tree
directly in front of me. When you are amidst all this
beauty time seems to stand still, but in reality moves
on faster than you think it does.
What about the fishing
though? Liquidised bread and bread flake on the hook were the order
of the day, long
trotting down various swims. The only drawback was a
strong gusty wind that made presentation difficult, even
impossible in some swims. The only prize was a chub of
about 1lb but it was in pristine condition, probably
not having seen a hook before. I had two other bites
and connected with them, however the fish shed the hook
before I could even glimpse them. The one thing that
surprised me was the ferocity of the bites. Normally
when float fishing, the float will just dip under, you
strike and connect, then the fish starts to fight. Not
so this time!!! Each bite resulted in the float diving
under the surface and before I could get the rod back
to strike properly, the fish was rocketing off with hook
and bait in it’s mouth. My guess, poor and uneducated
that it may be, is that the three fish were all less
than one year old and therefore not wise to the various
baits that anglers will try to entice them with. I say
wise but know it’s the wrong word to describe their
behaviour, as it’s more “association “than” memory.
I
had all the best intentions of arriving at the river
armed with a 6weight fly outfit and fishing dry flies
for chub, however nerves got the better of me and I opted
for a tried and tested method instead. Nerves, though,
will not stand in the way next time, as I was surprised
at the amount of fish that were taking food from the
surface. This being the case, my next session will almost
certainly be in the evening, preferably a hot and balmy
one, when should you happen to wander along the banks
of the river you may well hear the swish of a fly lines
as it zips through the air and lands deftly on the water.
If you do, then someone else is probably casting, as
mine doesn’t sound anything like this, however
I’m going to try it.
If all else fails, I’ll
just watch nature again and be amazed at it all.
Tight
lines.
Adrian Hartopp
July 2004
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