Right, we got through on round 2 so now it’s just a case of accumulating points…points come from species, species come from fishing. See how the plan goes? Yep. Go fishing. Now Paul isn’t in the tournament but Paul likes the concept of ‘Go fishing’ so when that was the suggestion it was accepted as readily as a single red maggot on a size 18 to a hungry gudgeon. A river session today of course and Paul, a species and specimen angler had never had a stickleback. It had never occurred to him to bother you see. Well, tough.
With the children dropped at school and Paul picked up we set off for the marshes at Haddiscoe for a quick dip. Rod, line, hook, float, shot, red maggot, kayak. The car is precariously dumped on the dam, the kayak is slid down to the water and I hop aboard trying to stay dry for the time being – got to stop in on my mum on the way through to the next spot you see.
Maggot cast, sticklebacks attacking, flurry of activity, strike, fish on, fish off. Strike, fish on, fish off, maggot off. Huh? Oh, barbless hook (using Paul’s rod for the time being). Okay, even more finesse then. Fish on, fish off blah blah ad infinitum then fish on, fish in…point three (one and two were the day before, starry smoothound and lesser spotted dogfish. I’m an all-round angler, all fish are fish, all waters are fishable. )
Paul’s turn. It takes about thirty seconds for him to see the appeal and then he – unlike the stickleback – is hooked. Fish on, fish off, fish on, fish off, Mr Miyagi springs to mind. Paul’s staying on the bank though for now. There are sticklebacks all around his maggot, maybe twenty of them.
He gets one to stay on finally and in best Sea Angler style we take a photo…
He catches a second straight after, he’s got the hang of it now. I borrow it for a quick photo for facebook seeing as how the one of mine is so blown out it’s only slightly usable in high key black and white…there’s something really pleasing about this photograph.
Right, that’ll do. Let’s go see mum then get off to the main location. I wanted 8 species today, got one in the bag which leaves 7. There are 6 almost dead certs; roach, perch, gudgeon, dace, chub, pike with a possible rudd and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find bream, ruffe and eel. I’ll have to hunt for them. But I’m bored fishing Beccles and the stretch up to Geldeston, been back and forth since the season opened. Instead we’re going somewhere different, haven’t been up here for a couple of years. We head for Geldeston and go upriver to Ellingham instead.
This stretch of the Waveney is past the limit of navigation, basically if you’re not on a canoe or kayak you’re not getting up here. It runs through farmland so much is rarely if ever fished. The water is clear, the weed growth is prolific and the fish are unconcerned. The weed growth is the biggest issue we have. I start with a quick chuck by the launch and fail to connect with the fish I’ve seen there.
As you can see the pictures will now be of lesser quality. My rod camera is called into service, my usual Olympus being left in the car accidentally. Anyway, I head out to the river, stop at the old lock gate, cast in, miss a fish, cast again and…point 4, perch.
Two seagulls standing on a perch and one says “Can you smell fish?”
We head further up, around the bend, towards the footbridge.
I’m looking through the surface glare, looking a few feet down through the polaroids…I see what I’m seeking. I have to fiddle with the length between float and hook, they’re finicky today again. A few adjustments, a colour change on maggots and finally a yellow one takes point 5, a roach. Roach like yellow. They like a bit of bread paste with custard powder mixed in you know – but they’ll take maggots like most river fish.
So we go under the bridge and then into the looped dyke for a look. 1-2ft deep here, virtually no weed as t dries out daily. We both see a big chub. I go further up, see some big bream. I come back, all have been spooked, Paul’s seen a fair pike…we move off upriver. The water is crystal clear here. I try trolling, a complete pain – every lure gets weeded in no time, the Eco Mini Fat that had all the perch last week being the best as it runs shallow but still it only lasted a minute or two. Best I go and find a shallow, quick and clear bit amongst some weed and find myself a chub.
Damn! I paddle within a metre of a fine bream that noses over and dives into the lilies. I scare up a couple of pike too but this is to be expected. Then I spot a clear run…single red, float brought down the line, give myself eighteen inches this time and trot it ¾ down…
Chub, number 6…right, should find his buddy nearby, go a bit shallower, get near some reeds, watch and wait, watch and waiiiiiiiii…there! Rings, rising for flies. A cast, drawback, wait for it…the float dips once, wait…dips twice and moves sideways, strike! Point seven a dace.
Right, we’re getting up towards the weir now, another half mile or so. I need a livebait for some piking, Paul’s lost one on a lure so they’re feeding. There’s a gap in the lilies over there…4ft below the float, bottom shot down low, single red maggot, 6 inch chub. Single treble through the mouth, into the flooded tankwell, let’s go a-huntin’. Paul’s nearby too, keeping his eyes open.
There’s a nice one, 6-10lb, tricky to tell, sheltering under the floating weed. Superb camouflage. I lob the chub 4ft in front of his nose in the hope it’ll drift down but the chub senses it, goes the other way. I see the submarine swim languidly up, the float bobs a little and I see the pike change attitude – it has it. I strike; it tears off, crash dives into lilies and pulls the braid against something, a branch maybe. There’s a sharp crack and I’m left with a broken line and some poor pike has a treble in the scissors. Not at all what I want to happen. I check the braid, seems fine further up but I take a few metres off to be safe and tie on a second trace for later.
A couple of minutes paddling later and I spy a gravel bar with a clear area. I’ve been seeing chub of good sizes close to the bank but they’re wary. I’ll see if I can winkle out a chub, dace or roach from here. I do, but not the size I want…then I see something that blends better with the bottom. Goodie goodie. I know what you are my son! Double red maggot, hook set to drag the bottom, longer from the float than the depth of water. Flicked into place, slow drift, the float dips and point 8, a gudgeon.
I move on up, pass Paul who is being patient with luncheon meat. There’s a run-off, water gurgling into the river. I cast, perch, cast, chub, cast, dace…the chub is the right size, goes on ready for pike. Paul paddles over, I need to get his photograph – not his best of the species but his best from the kayak. A fine chub:
We pre-bait some corn on the ground in a deep, clearer spot for bream near some overhanging trees then head for the mill pools. The main one has a gravel island in the middle. I used to bank fish here as a kid, happy memories. Roach and chub everywhere, reasonable ones, only the little ones feed though and then rarely. Then I spy a meeting of gudgeon and it’s one after another as soon as the bait hits bottom amongst them. Great sport. A delicacy in times past and France but far too pretty they are and they go back.
I paddled into the main pool for a look around, spot a 2lb jack but spook him like the one that Paul pointed out about 6-7lb on the way up from pre-baiting. I managed to make so much racket, miscast so many times, catch that many trees and drift everywhere but where I wanted that even though it may have been there still I didn’t believe it could be.
Time to make a move. I had a look at the two other weirs, the mill pool has always had big chub in it and today was no exception. Not a place to fish though.
Heading back we see the evidence of bream where we’ve baited, feeding. Bubbles, rings; Paul sees them. I try to catch some on corn then maggots but no, they elude me once more. I head down again, leapfrogging Paul. As I paddle I’m searching and there, finally…about 3-4lb of pike, finning, nose close to the weeds in a short clear spot, waiting in ambush. I pass, back paddle, get parallel about twenty feet away. Paul come sup…As I’ cast the chub into it he asks why I’m bothering, it’s half dead, He doesn’t know I’m casting to a fish. In two feet of water.
The words are no sooner out of his mouth when the water explodes, I strike, I see the end treble in the top jaw at the front of the bill and the pike runs towards and under me into the lilies. My rod is pulled right over, line is pulled off, it lunges a couple of times and ends up stuck fast. Oh. I’ve been here before. My hand goes down the braid, lily pads are pulled away, the trace appears and I’m most of the way down, inches ahead of the pike’s mouth. I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about the floating treble…but the pike pulls again as I try to pull clear and something gives and it’s gone. I have lost another pike. I am not pleased.
Well that’s it, we head back. I have a few maggot casts along the way, I catch a tree, tie my rod tip up, lose a hook, catch another livebait which escapes down the scupper hole…Finally I decide that I must do something and I’d rather troll a lure and clear it every few minutes than do nothing. Out goes the Eco Mini Fat and off I go. It’s less than a minute before it takes its third perch (no pike yet). I’m liking this lure and the action, in this clear water, is absolutely top notch – I’d snap at it!
We’re soon aback to the launch site. I have one last cast at some fish that are thumbing their noses at me – look like chub and roach…but no! Bingo! Number nine is a fine rudd, only a possible in thought before.
A nice ending to the day. I fished like a buffoon half the time, the fishing was slow, I lost my two best fish, I caught a nice tally of species, enjoyed Paul’s company and saw his fine chub as well as giving him a new species as he did a week ago with my first minnow…a good day. Species hunt will have to wait for tomorrow to go into double figures though…or the next?
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