So long cricket season; I can now go fishing regularly again. I suppose September might seem a funny time of year to take stock and set targets for the next twelve months - most anglers would use the new year or closed season to reflect and look ahead - but for me, it represents the start of a period where I can concentrate on fishing without any interruptions. With that in mind, it was disappointing to chalk up a blank on my first proper trip back; a dedicated attempt at catching just my second mullet ever. I had one last summer, but dropped it back in without weighing or photographing it, which also meant that I was unable to identify which of the three mullet species I had caught.
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For this trip I met up with Jamie Rich, a fellow blogger and relative mullet veteran with a whole two mullet to his name. Those fish came from Seaton Harbour, whereas mine hung itself one day whilst I was feeder fishing on the Tidal Exe, our venue for today. With the tide dropping out on our arrival, there were signs of fish, big and small, everywhere. Starting on a mashed bread feeder it wasn't long before a the tip began to rattle and a 4oz roach was banked.
As the sun gave way to overcast skies and rain though, all signs of fish activity ceased and Jamie switched over to a small chubber float after seeing odd mullet coming in close to the bank. They were spooky though and after around 4 or so hours enduring the rain, we decided to pack it in. That was until I took a walk and spotted scores of the blighters in no more than a few inches of water. After some debate, we decided this was an opportunity too good to miss and tackled up again. It was difficult fishing, trying to run a bait through a swim that was shallower than the shortest stick float I possessed. Jamie managed some modicum of presentation with his chubber, which was true to its name, accounting as it did for a couple of small chub. Those mullet just weren't interested though, despite regular small helpings of mashed bread and literally hundreds of casts through masses of them, pointed fins cutting through the surface like middle fingers.
There seemed to be one short window of opportunity among those many hours, and it was literally the turning of the tide. As the pace of the water slowed to almost a standstill, the mullet began to move around, rather than holding station in the current as they had been before. I slid my float up to around twelve inches overdepth (in only eight inches of water at best), and waited for them to find the bait. Gordon Bennett! One actually did, and the float zipped along before dragging under. I struck, and the mullet seemed to know little of what was happening, as it wallowed towards me on the surface. The hook pulled. Jamie laughed.
There is surely no more frustrating species in British freshwater than the mullet. Hours and hours of observing them so disinterested, and then a window of no more than ten to fifteen minutes where they could be seen hoovering up the mashed bread in their mouths. For such a fickle creature, to witness them feeding so confidently for that brief moment was almost unbelievable. I do think that perhaps the harbours are the way forward where the pace of the water is not such an issue. We seemed up against it when the water was low and flowing.
Apologies for a lack of photographs aswell as fish, but the weather was largely miserable, and by the time it had cleared again in the afternoon I had since slipped and fallen in the mud whilst retreating the incoming tide! I think the following picture pretty much sums up the day though; Jamie making yet another cast at those bloody mullet.
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As an aside, the river became alive again at high tide and we took a couple of good-sized dace of our less than delicate approaches and breadflake. I think some chubber floats and waders might be required before the next trip, which will probably be next summer now unless we're lucky enough to experience another heat wave.
As the sun gave way to overcast skies and rain though, all signs of fish activity ceased and Jamie switched over to a small chubber float after seeing odd mullet coming in close to the bank. They were spooky though and after around 4 or so hours enduring the rain, we decided to pack it in. That was until I took a walk and spotted scores of the blighters in no more than a few inches of water. After some debate, we decided this was an opportunity too good to miss and tackled up again. It was difficult fishing, trying to run a bait through a swim that was shallower than the shortest stick float I possessed. Jamie managed some modicum of presentation with his chubber, which was true to its name, accounting as it did for a couple of small chub. Those mullet just weren't interested though, despite regular small helpings of mashed bread and literally hundreds of casts through masses of them, pointed fins cutting through the surface like middle fingers.
There seemed to be one short window of opportunity among those many hours, and it was literally the turning of the tide. As the pace of the water slowed to almost a standstill, the mullet began to move around, rather than holding station in the current as they had been before. I slid my float up to around twelve inches overdepth (in only eight inches of water at best), and waited for them to find the bait. Gordon Bennett! One actually did, and the float zipped along before dragging under. I struck, and the mullet seemed to know little of what was happening, as it wallowed towards me on the surface. The hook pulled. Jamie laughed.
There is surely no more frustrating species in British freshwater than the mullet. Hours and hours of observing them so disinterested, and then a window of no more than ten to fifteen minutes where they could be seen hoovering up the mashed bread in their mouths. For such a fickle creature, to witness them feeding so confidently for that brief moment was almost unbelievable. I do think that perhaps the harbours are the way forward where the pace of the water is not such an issue. We seemed up against it when the water was low and flowing.
Apologies for a lack of photographs aswell as fish, but the weather was largely miserable, and by the time it had cleared again in the afternoon I had since slipped and fallen in the mud whilst retreating the incoming tide! I think the following picture pretty much sums up the day though; Jamie making yet another cast at those bloody mullet.
As an aside, the river became alive again at high tide and we took a couple of good-sized dace of our less than delicate approaches and breadflake. I think some chubber floats and waders might be required before the next trip, which will probably be next summer now unless we're lucky enough to experience another heat wave.