The plan for January was to fish for a big pike and possibly sneak a few hours trotting for dace and grayling. Whilst I enjoy the canal and the often action-packed fishing that it brings, these are the months for getting on the river. Or not, as it has turned out.
When I awoke to a lovely crisp morning today, I couldn't wait to finish running some errands in town and get down to the River Isle, which I hoped would be fishable for the first time in weeks. I have yet to wet a line there, but know from Jamie that it can be excellent for mixed catches of chub, dace, roach and the like. I thought I would take my girlfriend Beth who, whilst not exactly having caught the fishing bug yet, seemed to enjoy her first trip a couple of weeks ago, when the float slipped under repeatedly to the tune of 35 roach and rudd to about 4oz.
Well, the river looked a brilliant colour on arrival (this isn't even sarcasm; it wasn't that muddy), the only problem was that it had expanded from its usual width of around eleven metres to something more like eleven hundred metres. Looking over one side of the bridge, the course of the river was not even discernible, lost as it was amid numerous submerged fields.
We headed back to the scene of our first fishing trip together, but not before briefly getting my car stuck in a ditch along the way. With the underbelly of the car painfully close to the ground I was lucky not to have caused some expensive damage, but we were soon on our way again and assembling a whip beside the Taunton to Bridgwater Canal. I was happy just to watch and feed, as Beth's second cast with a piece of flake snaffled her first net fish, a beautiful rudd of maybe 14oz, and one of perhaps half a dozen of similar size that were to later follow. It was pretty uncomplicated fishing; perched on a high wall and wondering what the next cast might bring. Invariably it was roach, between one and four ounces, and I wondered if I might be spoiling her future enjoyment of the sport. Fishing doesn't really get much better than this in my opinion.
I see in any interview the same question asked; "If you could only fish one method for the rest of your life, what would it be?" The real answer is I'd probably give up fishing, as it's the variety in methods, baits and styles that keeps me from getting bored. But if you asked me to tell you what my favourite method is, I'd be hard pressed not to nominate the whip. I just love the instant sensation transmitted on the strike when using such a light tool, which can not be matched by elastic or when there is the added weight of a reel attached to the rod. Okay, so I am just trying to justify why I then nicked a go and proceeded to hook by far the biggest fish of the day, which brings me on to the biggest disadvantage of whip fishing - it wasn't up to the job in had, and I lost it. Despite having the fish on for some considerable time, it soon realised it could go more ways than just down when it approached the surface and darted off, snapping the 2lb hooklength. Thoughts of a big bream were quashed and tench instated as the suspected culprit instead.
I fetched a waggler rod from the car to give us a chance if the same thing happened again, but of course it never did, and as the roach began to get smaller we considered a move. The second swim looked promising, with lots of activity from rudd, which picked morsels of floating bread from the surface, whilst hopefully some better samples settled below. The first fish was another nice rudd, all of twelve ounces, before some smaller ones held up our droppers. I nicked another go. What happened? I had a 1lb+ bream of course, the first one she had seen. I soon realised we hadn't picked the best mix of species to catch for they aren't easy to tell apart to unfamiliar eyes. But I now know that roach have 'sad mouths' and rudd have 'happy mouths'? The next fish was a silver bream.
As the light began to fade, Beth latched into a better fish which emerged as another common bream, double the size of mine, and worth a weigh as a benchmark for future specimens. 2lb 2oz. I should have then taken the rod for another go, as the next fish was the best of its species that I have seen in nearly 20 years of angling. By now the light had all but gone but we were able to continue by streetlight. I assumed this was another skimmer, and it came to the landing net like one too, but the head was wrong and I initially made the same mistake thousands of anglers do every time they catch one. "Hybrid", I said. It was only when I placed my hand under it to remove the hook that I saw what it really was. Silver Bream! And a bloody good one too. I thought it would go a pound, but it was an ounce short. Does it matter? Not at all, and it did require two hands to be lifted.
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I see in any interview the same question asked; "If you could only fish one method for the rest of your life, what would it be?" The real answer is I'd probably give up fishing, as it's the variety in methods, baits and styles that keeps me from getting bored. But if you asked me to tell you what my favourite method is, I'd be hard pressed not to nominate the whip. I just love the instant sensation transmitted on the strike when using such a light tool, which can not be matched by elastic or when there is the added weight of a reel attached to the rod. Okay, so I am just trying to justify why I then nicked a go and proceeded to hook by far the biggest fish of the day, which brings me on to the biggest disadvantage of whip fishing - it wasn't up to the job in had, and I lost it. Despite having the fish on for some considerable time, it soon realised it could go more ways than just down when it approached the surface and darted off, snapping the 2lb hooklength. Thoughts of a big bream were quashed and tench instated as the suspected culprit instead.
I fetched a waggler rod from the car to give us a chance if the same thing happened again, but of course it never did, and as the roach began to get smaller we considered a move. The second swim looked promising, with lots of activity from rudd, which picked morsels of floating bread from the surface, whilst hopefully some better samples settled below. The first fish was another nice rudd, all of twelve ounces, before some smaller ones held up our droppers. I nicked another go. What happened? I had a 1lb+ bream of course, the first one she had seen. I soon realised we hadn't picked the best mix of species to catch for they aren't easy to tell apart to unfamiliar eyes. But I now know that roach have 'sad mouths' and rudd have 'happy mouths'? The next fish was a silver bream.
As the light began to fade, Beth latched into a better fish which emerged as another common bream, double the size of mine, and worth a weigh as a benchmark for future specimens. 2lb 2oz. I should have then taken the rod for another go, as the next fish was the best of its species that I have seen in nearly 20 years of angling. By now the light had all but gone but we were able to continue by streetlight. I assumed this was another skimmer, and it came to the landing net like one too, but the head was wrong and I initially made the same mistake thousands of anglers do every time they catch one. "Hybrid", I said. It was only when I placed my hand under it to remove the hook that I saw what it really was. Silver Bream! And a bloody good one too. I thought it would go a pound, but it was an ounce short. Does it matter? Not at all, and it did require two hands to be lifted.
