My last session hunting for big roach has me fired up for more of the same, so I set an alarm for silly o’clock on Sunday morning and headed back to the same spot to try my luck again. I was ghillieing later in the day so this was going to be a bit of a hit and run sort of session. I only brought a float rod as setting up and fishing two rods was going to eat into the short time available to me. We have been blessed with some lovely warm, dry weather over the past few days, a stark contrast to the previous months of cold, wind and rain, so I really wanted to take maximum advantage of the clam conditions. I can’t moan about the bad weather then sit at home when the sun shines!
I rose in the dark, dressed and ate a little, washing it down with a steaming mug of coffee. The cats presented me with not one, but two dead bodies on the kitchen floor, a wee shrew and a baby bird. I love our cats but their need to murder anything smaller than themselves is horrible. Wild creatures have to kill to survive, but these pampered balls of fluff are better fed than I am, yet they cannot lose the hunter’s instinct. I dealt with the mangled corpses, fetched the maggots from the fridge and hurried out the door into a cool, quite morning. The gear had been stowed away in the boot of the car yesterday evening to save time now. Off through the still slumbering town, then along the well worn road to the river.
There is a handy little space a stone’s throw from the gate where I can enter the field by the river. Parking up as the light grew stronger, I hastened across the road to the high gate and clambered over into the field full of young cattle. My arrival got them all excited and I was soon surrounded by skittish black cows. Shooing them away had little effect, indeed I got the impression they were enjoying this game. Making it to the fence, I had an uncomfortable time of it letting myself, encumbered by all the gear, through the gate while the cattle milled around me, but I made it to the bankside in one piece. The river had dropped a bit since my last visit.
The old Shakespeare 12 footer had performed fine on the last outing so I brought it along again, paired with an ABU Garcia 3000 reel. The six pound mono on the spool might appear to be on the heavy side but this stretch of the river get a run of big bream and they could possibly be on the go any day now. Tangling with 5 pound bream on 3 pound line sounded like a recipe for disaster, hence the hawser-like 6 pound line. Bait was left over maggots from the last outing, many of which had turned and so I could select from maggots or casters. In another change from the last outing, I brought along some ground bait. Nick had cleverly brought some the other day and he certainly pulled plenty of roach into his swim, so learning that lesson I took along some Sensas roach and a little cracked hemp. I do like a bit of hemp when chasing roach you know.
Ground bait mixed and three good sized balls chucked in, I set up the rod and used the same waggler that had done the business the last time out. Setting the depth at just 4 feet, I started casting into the pool which was a good 2 or 3 inches lower than earlier this week. Across the river, the trees were alive with song birds, their tweeting adding to the charm of the early morning. The proverbial 40 shades of green were in full display, fields of grass, new leaves on willow and alder and the rushes along the rivers edge all gloriously alive and verdant. A few insects hung over the water and fat, buzzing bees were busy visiting the yellow flowers under the fence. All I needed now was some roach to pull the orange tip of my float under….
On the last trip here the roach were in mid-water, but of course that didn’t mean they would still be hanging around at the same depth this time. I did think is was a good starting point anyway and I could always go higher or lower as required. Sitting down, I focussed on my casting and feeding, every other thought instantly banished from my head. A nice roach on the very first cast felt like a good omen, soon followed by a tiddler than another good, solid half pounder. Then it went quiet, very quiet. Across the pool an almighty splash followed by widening ripples gave me the fright of my life. The stillness had been shattered by a big pike lunging at some unsuspecting prey. Perhaps this had caused the roach to go off the feed, but whatever it was I had no action for about thirty minutes. Finally, the float dipped and I was into a really good fish which was an easy 12 ounces. I missed a couple of bites and suspected I did not have the right depth, so I shallowed up by first 6 inches, then another 6 inches and then one more 6 inch hike. No good, maybe I was going the wrong way and should be fishing deeper? I plumbed up and reset the float to 8 feet or so.
Here is the thing with these swims, the bottom is covered in twigs, branches and other detritus which have been washed downstream during the winter floods. The next while was spent sticking on the bottom, pulling the hook free or, on three occasions snapping the hook length. I did try shortening the drop in between all these snaggings but I could not for the life of me get it right. In the end I went back to a four foot drop and then edged it back down each cast until I snagged once more, then came up three inches. A lot of wasted time and hooks, but I was finally fishing properly again, this time just off the top of the snags. Firing in the last two balls of my ground bait, I settled into a rhythm again. The bites resumed, not in great numbers, but enough to keep me interested.
A couple of small lads, then some better quality roach came to the net. My waggler shuddered, then slid sideways and I lifted into a middling sized roach. Once in the net, I could see it had been in the wars. Presumably the missing fin and slashed open belly was the handiwork of a pike, but this tough old roach swam off like it was in perfect health. How long it will survive with such major injuries is debatable, but nature has a way of deciding who lives and who dies.
Sport was steady if unremarkable for the remainder of the session. My hoped for pound plus roach never did show up but there were enough net sized fish to make it a very enjoyable session. The fish seemed to be unsettled this morning, hard to pin down even with a steady flow of ground bait and loose fed maggots going into the swim. Were the pike particularly active in the early morning? Who knows, but at least there were enough roach around to keep me busy. My total for the session was 21, and there were many lovely roach in that number.
I was ghillieing in the afternoon, so I packed up in good time and headed back to the car. The cows were over at the far side of the field by now so there were no rodeo tactics required on my return journey. Clearing the last gate one of the straps on my rucksack broke, an event I have been expecting for some time now as the skinny little straps have always looked far form adequate for the job. I will attempt to effect a repair as this has been a handy bit of kit for me.
Footnote – The ghillieing was thoroughly enjoyable and I even landed my first trout of the season on a dry fly when I had a few casts myself. Before the first cut of the season, the fields were carpeted in stunning sulpur dandelions.
Claretbumbler 