I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. I blanked. Technically, I didn’t; I had a Dace on a worm which I picked up off the grass and slung out in the hope of a Chub or a big Perch. But I blanked all the same…

It is a glorious morning. There is genuine warmth in the direct rays of the sun now and as I walk along beside the river it seems that Winter is fast approaching its end. That’s not to say we are basking in hot sunshine because we’re not. My thoughts are on Carp and trying to catch a big Roach from The Quarry.

There is no-one on the river this morning and I make a point of fishing swims at the top of the stretch. In particular I have a go at ‘The Fork’ - where the back-stream enters the main river and there is a very prominent ‘crease’.

This swim looks an absolute dead ‘cert’ for a fish; a huge eddy is created by the dynamics of the flow as it hits the water from the side stream. It is an absolute textbook chub swim. I have never caught anything here.

It is the first swim on the stretch and is fished by everyone. There is rubbish everywhere. In the river, on the banks.

I drag in someone’s line; thick stuff you could haul a carp out with; it must be fifteen pounds breaking strain or so. Despite giving it a while and a good feed there is no-one at home this morning and I move on down river.

I fish all the usual spots, including my favourite where I caught my ‘four’ but not a bite do I have.

Today I am trying something different - size ten hooks and small lumps of paste. This is to try to overcome the extreme caution I experienced on my last visit. But I get not even the smallest knock.

Going further down I try the swim with the overhead canopy of trees. There must be a fish here! Nope. Not even an ambitious minnow pecking at the paste. Another move…

Down at my other favourite swim. ‘The Slack’. The tree that had fallen in the river on my last visit is still there but immediately I get the first indications of the day. There are rattles and shakes on the quiver-tip and my hopes are ignited for there is Life in the river yet! All it yields is a Dace on worm.

The photo doesn’t do it justice - it is a beautiful little thing and weighs about four ounces. A respectable size for a small fish, but the colours! It is a sliver of steel blue in the sunshine and as I return it I wonder at how it managed to get the worm (with hook) in its tiny mouth? Must have picked up the bit where the hook was completely by chance. Using paste there are further rattles and shakes for a while until eventually I am staring at a quiver-tip which does nothing but nod and sway to the vagaries of the current. I move on down to my favourite swim (how many favourites am I allowed? They are all my favourite!)

Recent high winds have brought down tree branches and the path beside the river is an obstacle course which becomes a ‘jungle’ in places. Every branch and tree seems to grab at me as I force my way through thickets. Few anglers come this far down and I have to practically get down on my hands and knees to negotiate an overhead tree trunk which bars my path. But where is the swim? I can see the Pylon but I cannot see the swim. It looks as if I have come too far down. One bit of the jungle looks exactly like any other and I have to back-track to find my favourite spot. For the future, I make a mental note of features on the path marking the entrance to the swim - two concrete posts which look like ‘milestones’. At least I am in the right place at last.

Difficulties aplenty! I lose two sets of gear on bottom snags and also discover the tip-ring to the quiver-tip has broken off! I can still fish although the line gets caught around the protruding ‘stump’ causing my rig to crash into the margins on the cast. Suddenly it all seems very difficult.

There are signs of life however and I revert back to my usual size six Drennan Super Specialist, short hair, and cork plug around which I wrap cheese and Krill paste alternately. I am sure there are fish out there as I get a couple of those slack-liners - bites caused by fish moving the lead - but these come to nothing. I ponder that in previous sessions, more positive bites resulted in fish on the bank. So this seems a continuation of the shy-biting fish I experienced on the previous session.

I lose another set of gear on a bottom snag and decide I’ve had enough and make an early return home.

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What can be done about these shy-biting fish? I have one more fishing session before the season ends on the rivers and I would like to try and do something about it before I abandon my Chub Fishing until next winter.

My endless trawls on the Internet reveal shy biting Chub as the usual turn of events. Commentators describe observing Chub picking up baits in their lips and sucking the paste off the hook without any apparent chance of a hook-up. Without the hook in their mouths there is no chance! This seems an insoluble problem for if the fish will not take the hook into its mouth then how can a hook be stuck in their chops?

Consider the hair-rigged bait. Even a very short hair. As it lays on the bottom, the flow of the river will lay the hook-length downstream of the lead. So the lead is upstream and the bait is downstream. Even on a short hair, the position of the hook will be towards the upstream end of the paste; this very important in understanding what is going on. As a fish approaches in an upstream direction ie with its face into the flow, it sees the bait and picks it up in its lips. Because the hook is furthest away from its mouth there is no chance of a hook-up! What is required is a bait arrangement which positions the hook at the downstream end of the bait to give more of a chance of the fish having it in its mouth.

Answer: longshank hook with the paste moulded around the hook up the shank. We shall see.