Its Like Waiting On Buses...

The Barrow was calling, I had to get back to the river. My long summer malaise had been broken by the events of Friday (see the previous post). My mind raced as I poured over maps of the river examining swims, hidden lane ways, access points and photos from last season. It looked like something out of CSI Miami. I laughed to myself, yes there was a serious predator at large!
I was stuck in the salt mine all weekend but Monday was looking good, the weather pattern was holding nicely and the river should have fined down another little bit. I made some traces and grabbed a couple of Archie's finest (WaterWolf) scud floats and was ready to rock n'roll....
A distinct nip in the air and a touch of ground frost caught my attention as I left the house, it was ball breaking cold, I glanced the temperature in the dash, 1.3 deg. I was frozen. I threw on the blower and pushed on to the river.
As I headed to the swim the sun finally decided to make a guest appearance, it forced its way through the cold morning haze, things were starting to warm up.
A very small fish was the fist to trip the alarms, he came to the bank quickly and was dispatched back to the margin.

First fish of the day.

It was only about twenty minutes later when another jack nailed a dead bait in the exact same spot, he made a short lived charge up the middle of the river before making a cameo appearence for the blog and then headed straight back to his watery lair. A little bigger than the first fish but not by much, the jacks were queing up for the early morning feed and  I was glad of the action. I wondered if this was a feeding spell I'd happened to hit upon or just a coincidence. Would it bring any bigger fish on the feed.

Another eager Barrow jack comes to the bank.

As I watched the water, a wooden pallet and football floated by... anything is liable to float past you on the Barrow. I once saw a partially submerged old tube television go by, obviously it was not plugged in and I know of a 3 peice sofa too, its wedged up against a undercut bank, red in colour if my memory serves me right. Is it any wonder they threw it out...
Blip blip blip..... a tripped alarm pulled my gaze from the bobbing football. Then the line tore off the reel. Usain Bolt was in town! This was a more powerful fish, it kept its head down and pushed upstream, charging for its goal. I upped the drag and held my breath... Two runs and a damaged net later a most incredibly marked Barrow Pike came to the net. Not the biggest fish in the world but fit, wild and atheltic with a super paint job! It looked like somebody had just pimped my Pike.

A well marked Barrow Pike.

Fasten Your Seatbelts....

Summer! Where did the summer go? more about that later, right now I think we should cut to the chase.....
In reality to start piking in October this year would have been car crash material. The river was ridiculously low due to a serious lack rain and still full of summer growth from the unseasonably mild weather. I must admit that I'm not one for farting about with lures up to my neck in nettles trying to tempt lazy sunbathing Pike. I much prefer my piking cold and calculated (literally). So finally the rain came, a fortnights worth... in a week. It lashed like never before, I held my breath as the river shot up and the mercury dropped.
Phones started chirping across the mobile networks as a few of the usual suspects and myself texted covert daily reports on the state of the river, after a few days, the overall concensus was It was time, "The Boys Were Back In Town"

After much sorting of tackle and cobweb blowing we arrived at the river on Friday morning with more gear than a subterranean terrorist cell. To say we were ready for the "first" day of the winter season was an understatement. Alan "Burkie" Burke fished downstream. The junior Piker and myself fished a slack above him. Things were quite, very quiet. An opening day anti climax I thought to myself. Then my phone rang..."A NET.... I NEED A BIGGER NET" Burkie screamed down the phone so loud he needn't have bothered ringing. The junior piker legged it down the bank.
I waited for news, then waited some more... it was uncanny to say the least. I missed a run and then my phone rang, it was Burkie breathless but happy. As it happened he put the bait in the swim and was hit immediately, he couldn't reach the net. After a major power struggle on a tricky piece bank himself and the junior piker landed a really decent double. Its fair to say, on our first day out since last spring the Biker Piker nailed a WHOPPER and was he nowhere near Burger King. But there was more to come...

Burkies Whopper!

With a double already accounted for we fished on, enthusiasm and confidence had been intravenously pumped into our systems. Even though we were on a high things remained quiet our prey had gone to ground, we fished on ever optimistic. I searched the river and finally decided to settle down once I hit my fifth swim. Some time later my rod gave a gentle knock,  the alarm barely croaked a couple of sedate blips, I squinted at the rod tip through the cold sunshine. Hmmm maybe, maybe not... I struck and was well in, not such a big fish but still this bad boy got 10 out of 10 as he cleared the surface and tail walked across the water. We were gobsmacked.

The River Barrow Piker and the tail walking Pike.

We saw no more fish that day but what a great start to the new season on the Barrow. I went back to the river on Monday and met another three fish. That story and others will be posted here in a day or two. I headed home for a cuppa thinking along the way, Philo said it well when he said "The boys are back in town"...

A Mid Term Mixed Bag...

Any hint of Spring that had been in the air vanished quicker than the Doctor's tardis on a BBC set. I watched the mercury drop day after day as temperatures plummeted once again. The weather forecast incessently droned on about the bitter east wind, factor in the wind chill and it was a serious case of freezing the balls off a brass monkey and yourself, if you dared or were stupid enough to stay out in it for any amount of time.
I was in a spot of bother, the mid term break had just arrived and the junior piker was bursting for some action at the river. Try explaining recent flood levels, daily snow flurries and gale force winds as reasons not to venture out to a ten year old! Eventually I gave in, we braved the elements and headed to a swim that has produced the goods of late. We came home perished, the wind had cut us in two, I was raw to the bone and to top it all, the fish in their infinite wisdom did not entertain, not as much as a run...
We held off for the guts of a week watching the forecasts, playing the x box and waiting, waiting for a small weakness in the blocking high which would allow a marginal break in the weather. Friday was looking like the best of a bad lot. Temperatures (not that they felt it) had crept up a degree or two as we met the biker piker on the towpath. We were not there long when a rod  almost ended up in the river, it leapt out of the rear bank stick, the alarm screamed "RUN" as a psycho jack hammered a bait. The junior piker was well hooked up and into his first fish of the day. A hard fighting Barrow pike came to the bank. It was the biggest smile I'd seen on his face all mid term break. Little did he know there was more in store...

I stood there (freezing) watching my rods, willing them to burst into life, they remained static, not as much as a nudge. I was playing a rather bad game of  hide and seek with my unseen quarry. The junior piker let a roar, I nearly jumped out of my skin, he was in again! A smaller fish. This time however on his lighter rod and tackle so there was an almost comical battle of tug o' war before the fish finally decided to let him win and come to the net. Things were looking bleak for the biker piker and myself, we were now two nil down to my young lad.

I went through the usual ritual of moving the baits around dropping them in the best holding spots I could find. I even went as far as slinging one out right across the river to a small pool under the far bank. Coffee, sandwiches, more coffee and more waiting. Then something happened. Yes, the junior piker was roaring yet again. "I've got one"... I raced down the bank to help him, what a surprise!. Splashing in the water in front of us a beautiful Barrow brownie.

A surprise bonus Barrow brownie for the junior piker.

At this stage it looked like the game was up, we were 3 nil and two species down to the junior piker! But in the end lady luck did shine as did the sun later in the afternoon. The biker piker was next up, he picked up a jack in the middle of the afternoon and my gamble on the far bank pool paid off  just before we called it a day.

Alan, the biker piker strikes again!

And finally I got one.

Talk about saving face! What a great day, conditions were far from ideal, windy, sunny and very cold. No massive fish but we all caught, some more than others... It was the junior piker's mid term, he caught fish and I was happy!

A Red Letter Morning...

Its been two weeks since I last walked the Barrow's towpaths, Its not that I didn't want to be fishing but the "real world" was calling and for a change there was much work to be done. The barometer was rising yet the temperature was only tipping 1.2 deg C. when I pulled the backdoor behind me.
The dank cold morning started to brighten slowly, damp icy air caught my breath as I headed for the first swim. All the time the river flowed silently beside me, like a quiet slightly unfamiliar friend. I couldn't help it but my eyes kept scanning the water, I was looking for a sign or a signal of where to go but the river did not speak, it just continued to flow, low and clear after the unseasonal dry spell. A feeling crept slowly over me, I was uncertain, almost doubting myself. My time away from the bank had left me a little unsettled, the river now seemed like a vast endless flowing wilderness, could I read the water, could I bait up the right swims. I was on my own, no one to consult with or to talk up the confidence levels. Just me and the river.
In hindsight I was a lot more content once I had the baits out and happier still an hour later when a well rounded fish of about 8lb or 9lb came to the net. My confidence levels soared when slightly smaller fish hooked up  ten minutes later and was happy to pose for a small video clip with me!
 

I wanted to cover more ground, eager to capitialise on the feeding spell. I headed downstream to another swim, its a featureless stretch of river which doesn't evoke confidence, you have to have balls of steel or be stone mad to sling your baits out here as it looks nothing like a pike swim but nonetheless I had met fish here before. It was a gamble but with only one more swim in mind I thought it worth an hour or so. That hour passed uneventfully, I was getting ready for the next move when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a rod tip twitch, the alarm remained silent, it twitched again and then two solitary blips. I wound down a touch and waited... I pondered what was going on, no screaming run, then I felt it, the rod twitched again, I struck but into nothing! I checked the bait and had it back in the exact same part of the swim in seconds. I was playing "cat and mouse" with fish! I repositioned the other rod at the bottom of the swim and happily played the waiting game as the river watched on. About forty minutes later, the rod which produced the missed run earlier signalled the arrival of a fish with an almost unnoticeable twitch, it barely moved, not even a blip. I was intrigued to say the least as the pike gently mouthed or pushed the bait about. One more subtle twitch and I finally felt her move off. I struck, all was good. Such an incredibly gentle take from such a hard fighting river pike. A pristine mid double came to the net about ten minutes later.

As I watched her kick off into the depths the rod at the lower end of the swim gave a blip, I scrambled up the bank and witnessed the gentle twitch style take once again. A moment seemed like an eternity, two equally spaced blips and she was slowly on her way with the bait. A far more stubborn and agressive fish this time. I had visions of fighting a submerged supermarket trolley with a life of its own. As it came to the net, it turned out to be not a trolley! but a low double with a a lot character.

I could have so easily stayed and fished on but the school run beckoned. I couldn't believe it, four fish, two of those doubles and a missed run.....
My unfounded doubts and uncertainties had vanished as quickly as the chill of the early morning air. Maybe my quiet friend the Barrow had been speaking to me all along perhaps I'd just not been listening. We were on the same wavelength, in tune with each other once again.

Barrow Muscle Cars.

I've not fished the river for a whole week (six days to be precise), withdrawal symptoms were well set in by today. Living so close to the river is real a double edged sword, it would be very easy to spend a lot time on the bank and yet when your not there the mind often wanders as to what you might be missing!
I've been watching the river like a hawk, checking the level and colour everyday whilst on the school run, still no rain, things were looking good. If my memory serves me right, the river has not been this low and clear since last June. I couldn't resist it any longer, I was off out to get my Fix.
Heading to the swim there was a distinct touch of spring in the air, no coat or extra layers required today. I quickened my pace!
Two ledgered deads were the order of the day, the usual routine,  one popped up the other hard on the bottom. Ninety minutes in and an alarm burst into life, not a screamer of a run but a take of sorts. Fish on!...Oh.... Fish off... I left the bait in for a few moments longer hoping the fish may slam it out of frustration if nothing else but no joy. I cursed myself and the fish, if the truth be known.
I brought it in to see if there were any signs of the encounter. Once again it was all proper horror show, slashed like a Romero movie.

Things then went decidedly quiet, I moved everything around, changed the baits but the swim still appeared to be void of fish. I moved upstream and put the coffee on. I needed to cover some ground or water as the case may be. A 30g WaterWolf Scud float was now patrolling the new swim, third trot through, it bobbed and disappeared, that was the last I saw of it for some time. Through the braid I could feel the fish chomping on the hooks and rig, this was not a good sign yet some how all remained secure. This was one angry mother! A superb hard fighting river pike, this high octane fish was like a muscle car on a quarter mile strip... At will, she ripped line off the reel at very high tension quite a number of times.

By the looks of this of this old girl, she has seen her fair share of action in the past. She was very lean compared with other recent fish, clearly she has not been feeding up perhaps due to previous captures. She also carried a number of small cuts and nicks on her lower flanks and back. She had a noticable lesion or bacterial infection at the neck of her caudal (tail) fin. This could be due to stress or mishandling. I also wonder due to her condition and wounds was she maybe a post spawn fish, were the jacks nipping her whilst jostling for position (could some of the Barrow pike have spawned already). Looking at my "self take" timer photos she reminds me very much of a "summer pike". Tonight she swims, I hope she feeds up well and finds a place of refuge to make a full recovery.

As I mentioned at the top of this post, I'd not been on the river for about a week or so. I dug out a bit of old software one of the days (Windows Movie Maker) and put a few bits together, I suppose its a bit of  a look back at the season and blog so far. I think it turned out alright, Give it a click and let me know what you think.

Double Trouble.

Right now I'm very conscious of the fact that time is running out. Spawning time is on the way, maybe another two or three weeks left depending on water temperatures and levels. Time on the bank is time well spent. A chance to meet a "big girl" before she retires to entertain the boys. With this in mind I was at the river again (any excuse to fish). Nothing had been organised with the lads so I was on my own and had a morning to kill. I was on a solo, a RECON mission. Reconnaissance is nothing new it actually dates back to 1918 but its often overlooked in relation to angling. I was checking out a few new swims and some possible access points to various stretches of the river. All was going well, found some nice water and a road I never knew even existed. Back to the map and I was en route to the second location. This time not so lucky, large amounts of NO ACCESS/PRIVATE LANDS etc...
So, I ended up with rather alot of time on my hands, what else to do?
I headed to another swim for a couple of hours before picking up the kids from school. I wasn't long there when I got a pick up, the alarm signalled a slow steady take. After the string of dropped runs last week I decided not to waste a second and immediately struck into what turned out to be a turbocharged jack, he went off like a bullet and was in a proper strop coming to the bank.

Micro Jack.

From little acorns....

With nothing else happening I moved upstream a bit to a rather featureless swim and waited. It was almost time to head for the school run when the rod twitched a bit, or did it... The alarm remained silent, no drop back signs either. It twitched again, the fish moved and the alarm registered, this fish was in no hurry, a slow blip blip blip... I struck into a good solid resistance, she didn't budge. I held my ground as did the fish, we both knew we were in for the long haul. Eventually she turned and cruised downstream slowly peeling line off the reel. Not until I had to keep her out from the weeds did she make a few insane lunges (time to readjust the drag very quickly). After another run for freedom and she finally showed, a plump double by the looks. Like any river pike she put the boot in hard and held her ground as best she could, second attempt at the net and she was on the bank.

You know, it never ceases to amaze me how folk (not little people) magically appear on the bank when a fish shows up. A very pleasent elderly couple were sure it was a salmon and were extremely disappointed to find out it was a pike!

Another angler (Chris from Kilkenny) was very kind to spend some of his valuable fishing time helping me land, photograph and release the fish. Chris if you ever read this "Thank You"
A few hours on the river, two fish and the Barrow delivers yet another double. I was on the road and still in time for the school run. Sweet!

So what happened next?

The following day I was brimming with enthusiasm (an expression I hate but it was true), Burkie was off work so the Biker piker and myself decided to join forces and meet up for a few hours to see if the river might magic up another double. It did.......
Levels are now dropping rapidly, and the river is running with just a touch of colour due to the early spring dry spell. Conditions were ideal, we slung out a couple of deads, hard on the bottom and popped up. An alarm blipped as a fish snatched a bait. Alan was in.... (Alan was into the fight of his life) this fish was not keen to move on any account, I wondered if were glued to the riverbed. Eventually the runs came, the line cut through the water as the fish moved upstream still holding firm. Alan was patient... he had to be! This fish was in no hurry. I don't know who had the greater workout Alan or the fish, eventually I reached down with the net and she came to the bank.

Check out the small video of the release of Alan's fish.  I hope to add some more soon. So what a crazy couple of days, the Barrow delivers two doubles in two days,  I can't believe it. Can things get any better... I think so! Already looking forward to the next time out.

 

Still Waters Run Deep.

Driving a pothole ridden back road in the early hours my phone gave a mechanical shudder, a text!. I grabbed the phone, it read "Just missed a good run". I hadn't even got there and the pike were on the feed. Alan had already wet the lines... With the recent rains the river's been somewhat out of sorts, running high, coloured and generally uninviting. Come to think of it, my own recent string of blanks has been enough to put me out of sorts too. It would be true to say the Barrow has not been its usual "crowd pleaser" self. So Alan suggested a change of scene (the pub seemed like a good idea) he was thinking of a still water! So with more rain forecast a venue change was arranged.

We arrived just in time to witness his second run, the float wobbled for a moment then tore across the surface before disappearing into the depths. He connected well, a respectable jack was landed, on the mat, unhooked and released. All this before I'd even put the rods together. The words, "arse" "in" "gear" came to mind... I got set up and put the coffee on.
All was quiet but not for long, The line on Frank's reel ran off steadily as another jack let it be known he was on the hunt. He gave up the ghost easily and was quickly dispatched back to the shallows.
We put in a couple of hours but all signs were that the spell was over, or the pike had us sussed!

 

 All tranquility and silence was broken late in the afternoon, suddenly Alan let off a string of obscenities, his float dropped on a take, a moment later a large fish showed its back as it broke the surface but then bolted straight to the refuge of the weeds not to be seen again...
So, there I was looking down my rods at my upteempth blank and then it happened, in the blink of an eye the float was gone! I dared to wind into the fish, was this going to be another missed run? No, I was in. Not a big fish by any stretch of the imagination but nonetheless I had duped my quarry, the predator had become the prey. This humble jack with his beautiful markings and colour had just made my day. The run of blanks was finally over.

Alan Burkie Burke - The Biker Piker.

A not so glum face.

This is not so much a post about piking on the Barrow (I'll  tell you about that bit in a while) but more about fishing in general and the pleasure and satisfaction it can bring. Without sounding too much like the doting father I brought the junior piker out today to test his new pole...... whip.......or whatever its called! As you can see, I'm a real coarse fishing expert (not). The fishing industry call them pole's and whip's however I couldn't quite help but notice that it was really a  modern day version of a stick.....  allbeit with a string and float set up. I thought to myself, how difficult could this be?
The previous day I bought a bag of ground bait, it looked more like a small bag of cement. Turbo black they called it. Sounded more like an additive that some snotty nosed boy racer would put in a Jap import rather than something you'd throw in the river to attract fish.  The obligatory can of corn, a few of the gardens best worms and a quick covert op. to sneak my own pike gear along for the ride. We were all set!

Expertise from my good friend Frank the plasterer was our GPS to the local hotspot, Roach, Rudd, Perch, Dace and a selection of hybrids were all in our grasp, any wonder the Barrow is deemed a mixed fishery.
So the "bag of cement" (well about half of it) was mixed with some corn, a few chopped worms, a drop of water and chucked in the swim. We plumbed the depth and got under way. Watching my son sitting there waiting for action reminded me of my own youth, helped by my father, watching a small cork float working its way downstream as it searched out wild brown trout in the small rivers of the Wicklow mountains.
We sat there for a bit, then as if by magic the float started to twitch...My son's eyes light up in astonishment. The float twitched again... just a bit, there was a nudge, another twitch.... then it zipped under the surface as if,  all of a sudden, it had a life of its own. He struck and hooked up. The fish had arrived in the the swim!

Not wanting to be left out I brought the pike gear and slung out a couple of deads. I figured that the silver fish activity in the swim may get the attention of any patrolling pike, I've heard and read numerous stories about pike moving into swims and grabbing feeding prey fish.
We kept feeding the swim every so often when it went quiet. I don't know how many he caught (we just released them as we caught them) in the few hours we were there. It wasn't match standards but he must have landed  fifteen to twenty fish and probably lost another half dozen. Maybe a keep net could be arranged if he was to get serious about this.
As he caught fish after fish I was left to ponder this famous theory about pike moving into anglers swims during coarse or match sessions as they prowled around for easy pickings. None of the pike were taking advantage of the activity we stirred up in our swim. I brought the deads in and tried a variety of lures.....still no takers! It didn't really matter, it was his day, he caught plenty of fish, had some great sport and I was thrilled for him. The Barrow pike may rest for another day or two!

A Morning in Muine Bheag

A short burst of heavy rain a couple of days ago brought the levels flying up almost over night. It was holding steady yesterday afternoon and had already started to fine down, I figured it may be dropping by today - I was right, it had dropped over four inches by the time I got to the bank just after 9 this morning. I must admit I didn't really have a plan..... do I ever!
As the river is still quite high and pushing through I knew I'd be heading for a backwater or canal cut. I had a few deads in a bag, a few lures, flask, sambo and a luxury I don't usually bring, a light collapsible chair!

Drawbridge at Muine Bheag Lock

Yeah I must admit I fancied a morning of "lazy fishing" parked in front of the deads sipping a hot brew. Normally I'd prefer to head onto the main river, travelling light and covering lots of ground investigating all the nooks and crannies where the pike may be holding up - not today. I headed to a spot that I've not fished since the early summer when I brought my son lure fishing for jacks, this was semi urban piking at its best, a place with a lock, basin, drawbridge, old mill and  lots more. Was there the potiential for a fish or two?  I got the rods out, it was time to find out.

Two rods out, the usual set up employed, a half mackerel hard on the bottom and a pop up smelt both strategically placed at the edge of the basin. I sat back and reached for the flask, about an hour later I reached for the flask again... nothing had happened. I moved the baits and tried a small trout popped up - still nothing. I reeled in the deads and went for a wander with the lure rod.

I fished the lure out beyond where the deads has sat, bringing it back just over the dying weed. Got a knock on the first cast, I put it out again into the exact same spot and brought it through as slow as possible waiting for the take.... nothing. Had I spooked the fish? The lure flashed in the morning light as it flew through the air once more, at this stage I was on the third or fourth cast. I tried to almost "wobble" the lure back toward me. This was enough! The fish came once more and didn't miss this time.

So much for my "lazy fishing" parked in front of the dead baits waiting for something to happen - I could have blanked. Sometimes the fish just need a bit provocation to spark their predatory instincts and sometimes the fishermen need to get up off their backside and go look for the fish!

                                                                           "What a great morning"

River Barrow Piker "Junior" Strikes Again & Again....

 After the birthday excitement of the other week it was time to see if my boy could maybe come across a few pike on his new set up. After having a great start the poor lad has managed to get himself into awful bother the last few times out, numerous snags some of which to my amazement were not even in the river! (the far bank and some poor unfortunate's boat come to mind) not to mention birds nests, various loops and knots. All these have meant disappointment and little or no fish for him of late.
So a deal was made that I would not fish this time out but act purely as "ghillie" and "river guide". Yes the blind leading the blind comes to mind but nevertheless that was the arrangement.
He really wanted to end his run of bad luck and blanks especially after seeing the photos of my recent double. He wanted a fish! and I therefore needed a strategy!

Of late I've just been fishing one rod, short lure sessions, these have produced fish but I thought he needed an extra edge if he was to come home successful so with his lure rod already set up I as the responsible "ghillie" set up another rod, a static dead bait popped up. We could now move from swim to swim, I could mind the deadbait whilst he fished lures either side of it.

I picked him up after school and off we went to the first swim a place where I've caught a number of jacks. A smelt on the pop up rig was positioned just in the shade under an over hanging tree and the young angler threw lures as directed by the ghillie! This strategy did not entertain the pike they were having none of it, not even my magical popped up smelt could generate a run. Time was running out. We took a gamble, threw the gear in the boot and moved upstream a few miles to another spot. It was time to up the game. I swapped the lure for a sink and draw rig, set it up with smelt and showed him where to cast. I was getting ready to put the static back out when I heard him say "I've got one"......but it was gone just as quick, I told him to leave it in the water, we both waited as the smelt began to sink slowly once again. There was a boil in the water the fish came a second time. No doubt this time, he was in, all hell broke loose as the jack let it be known he was not impressed with being duped by his evening prey. We landed the fish, got it up on the mat where a impromptu unhooking demo was given and after a quick photo call the angler took great pleasure in releasing his catch.

 We were still recounting our great result when he was nailed again! a smaller fish this time but far more lively. I couldn't help but laugh as the fish ripped the braid off his reel as he attempted to control what seemed like a rocket propelled pike! After another unhooking demo we said farewell to the river and the pike as he slipped back into the night.

On The Double

I haven't been on the riverbank since Sunday and blanked then even still I could feel mild withdrawal symptoms setting in. I wanted to get out and about, see what was going on and what state the river was in. The weather's been pretty much a mixed bag this week but theres been a noticable drop in temperatures again especially last night, we were down to 3 deg. having said that theres not been enough rain for any flood the river is only up an inch or two. I'd noticed  from my local travels over the last few days that theres been quite a bit of activity on the river, I'd seen a few boats out trolling and the bankside brigade have been out in force too. Was anyone catching? I didn't know, I'd not heard anything for a while such are the joys of being a solitary fisherman! I wasn't going to catch anything sitting at home, the forecast looked reasonable so with any luck I wouldn't get soaked. I'd got a few new lures during the week and fancied trying them too so I threw a stripped down (lure only) kit in the boot. The mission keep moving / travel light / cover water, no exploring or new swims today as I only had a few hours. I had two places in mind both have produced jacks on a fairly consistant basis maybe there would be some bigger fish about willing to feed with the onset of cooler temps, taking the current levels into account I figured these would be as good a place as any to start.

With the school run complete I was on my way to the first swim, conditions appeared ideal a cool misty morning with the hint of a bright crisp day to follow. I wondered if it was my imagination or had the trees already turned a good deal, everything appeared distinctly autumnal this raised my expectations even further. I first went to the swim that has most recently produced fish.  A new addition to my "working lure" list the Rapture swimbait was first to hit the surface, as it came closer I could both see and feel it knocking in the water as it sent out vibrations to my unsuspecting quarry. I was sure something was going to happen at any moment.........but it didn't. Nothing, not even a knock or a follow! I went through all the lures old and new, up and down the bank I covered alot of water at all depths....... Nothing. The mist lifted and the river lite up as the sun shone through.....still nothing! This went on for just over two hours until I grabbed the gear and headed to the second swim a couple of miles downstream.

First double of the season, 11lb 7oz.

This is a very small weedy swim near a slack it could be fished thoroughly with a lure in less than an hour. I put on a Savage Gear 4Play and got down to business, after forty minutes I was preparing myself for another blank when it happened! I had twitched the lure back one more time and was about to take it out of the water when a late taker forced me to keep it in the water a moment longer, one of those takes when you see the whole thing happen under your nose (nature in action) incredible! Stealth attack, seize and retreat all in the longest split second you could ever experience.
Such was my position on the bank that two anglers in a boat were good enough to come by offering to lend a hand if I was unable to land the fish (bit of a stretch but I got there in the end)  and a passer by the name of Sean was kind enough to take a few photos. Came in on the scales at 11lb 7oz (first double of the season) and went back kick'n. Many thanks to all especially the fish!