With me today I have some different baits to try: Cheesepaste, Lobworms, some fresh Bread for Flake, and the Krill paste on which I caught my fish last time. I start with a nice juicy lobworm but I’m noticing that because the river has fallen, I’ve lost depth under the overhanging bush on the far bank. Last time I was very confident in this spot - it was where I caught my fish - but today it looks too shallow. I think I shall have to fish further into the main flow; if I can see the fish, then they can see me. I persist with the worm and try it in several different positions in the swim but nothing shows interest and I change it for Breadflake.
I immediately spot a problem… I haven’t fished with Breadflake for several decades and notice it floating up from the bottom. I’d forgotten how buoyant it is and I quickly add a split shot to anchor it. In the shallow water though I can see it standing out like a sore thumb on the bottom so shallow is the swim now and make the decision to up-sticks and move downstream to find somewhere else.
I fight my way through the bankside undergrowth. The further downstream you go on this stretch, the more overgrown it gets. I think anglers are reluctant to brave ‘The Jungle’ and consequently, it is the swims nearest the top of the stretch which are fished the most.
The river becomes a series of fast ‘riffles’ and slower, smoother glides and all the while I am looking out for deeper areas; areas that are more likely to hold the Chub I seek. I ignore all of the fishable swims for various reasons: too much streamer weed, too shallow, or I just don’t fancy them, until I come to what I call ‘The Pylon’ swim. Electricity pylons run close by and it is just about as far as I want to walk from the top end. It’s a real struggle through the undergrowth - branches and brambles seemingly reach out and grab my clothing and landing-net as I fight my way through; I’m sure I’m going to rip something as thorns cling to me like limpets.
I’m set up nicely and evaluate the options… there is a ‘crease’ in the river where the shadow of the far bank falls on the water. Just upstream of me there is riffling, turbulent water which flows across towards my bank leaving slack water opposite into which I cast a lobworm. I’ve got ‘that’ feeling which tells me something is going to happen - but the next twenty minutes pass with just the odd rattle on the quiver-tip.
It’s time for a change of bait so I change the rig in favour of eighteen inches of five pounds breaking strain fluorocarbon terminating in a hair-rigged 12 x 6 pop-up cork around which I mould cheese-paste. The hook is a size six Drennan Barbel Hook which sits very exposed beside the ball of cheese-paste.
My preference is to fish an over-weight ledger; it is possible to hold with just a single SSG shot but I prefer the heavier one-third of an ounce flat pear. I like to tighten to this and reduce the ‘bow’ in the line caused by the pressure of the stream; I feel it gives me better bite indication.
This rig is cast across and downstream into the slack water opposite and almost immediately I begin to get little rattles and knocks on the quiver-tip. Every time the quiver-tip gives an unusual movement, my hand closes around the corks of my new Drennan ‘Acolyte’ Ultra Feeder rod. I really am loving this rod, it’s a joy to play fish on. Although it appears to be stiff (and incredibly light due to the low diameter high tensile blank) it bends all the way to the butt and is absolutely perfect for these river chub.
There is suddenly a double ‘clonk-clonk’ on the tip and my answering strike connects me to a chub! As soon as it is hooked it dives for the near bank in the direction of some trailing brambles and I give it some ‘welly’ to hold it away from them. It’s no match for the ‘Acolyte’ and I soon have him in the net. Three pounds five ounces!
I am really chuffed to bits with this fish because it’s the first one on the new bait. I’d previously dabbled with cheese-paste and not had any joy with it but I am over the moon with this. For the third session in a row I have caught a chub and I feel I am at last getting to grips with them. After a very slow start with several blank sessions my confidence is growing. My target four-pounder is now only a matter of time!
I continue fishing (with the cheese-paste of course) and try to catch another but the swim seems to have gone quiet. I have read many accounts describing chub fishing on small rivers and a common theme which they seem to share is that it is likely that only one fish can be caught at a time. It’s best to move on. It seems the commotion caused by catching one is enough to make the swim ‘die’, despite there likely being other fish present. In such shallow water I can believe it and one of the things I shall be trying to do is to prove/disprove this assumption. So after another half hour or so I pack up and make my way back upstream.
I stop my favourite and wonder whether to give it half an hour on the cheese and this I decide to do although it is a fruitless exercise. I am really confident in the cheese paste but totally lacking in confidence that the swim will produce. Curious how a swim which has produced my previous two fish now seems incapable of producing a fish. It is the change in river conditions of course and I am fast learning that you are unlikely to find the river the same in consecutive visits. Last time, the river was up and had colour in it; this time it is down and has much more clarity. At least in a lake, water levels stay pretty constant and swim choice is rarely made on the basis of whether there is enough water to cover the fish’s heads or not!
It is now three o’clock and I resolve to make one last swim change before it gets dark. I have a little walk upstream and notice there is a long stretch of unfishable bank. It is lined with a jungle of impenetrable brambles which would require mechanical removal to get anywhere near the water’s edge. This is frustrating because I notice the water is deeper on my near bank and I cannot see the bottom; this looks good chub ‘country’ and is in contrast to the far bank shallows along which the river is racing.
Eventually, I find a small swim someone has made in the bramble thicket and notice something on the bottom about half way across. I can see it is a snag of some kind and looks exactly the sort of place where chub might hang out. As I continue to observe, something ‘flashes’ next to the snag - a fish! A sizeable one too!
I waste no time in getting my cheese paste and rig in position just downstream of the snag and am on tenterhooks waiting for whatever it was to pick the bait up… There is a slight rattle on the quiver-tip and my hand folds around the corks of the rod… There is a slight, almost imperceptible nod-nod of the tip and I strike instinctively… There is a solid resistance and the rod hoops over as a big fish makes off downstream! The clutch rasps as the fish comes to the surface and protests vehemently - I make sure it cannot get in the bankside brambles which trail in the water. I’m hard on the fish and bully it to the net and hoist it up onto the bank. I can see it’s the biggest chub I’ve caught to date and my hopes of a ‘four’ seem about to be realised. In the weigh-sling they are! Four pounds seven ounces!
I’m fist-pumping and giving it the “come on!”
Life is grand…
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