Following a hot, dry summer, trees are already showing their Autumn colours and I decided to get in early, before the leaves covered the Round Pond at Hitcham. Arriving for an afternoon session, I was impressed that the controlling club Intertype AS, had completed work over the winter to improve the pathways, which tend to get dangerously muddy.

Setting up my pole at 4 metres to plumb the depth, my 4 x 16 pole float was over depth at two feet, the pond level down despite recent heavy rain, as can be seen from the platforms on the right. I mixed up a half tray of 50/50 liquidised bread and ground pellets, with a light covering of Fenugreek powder, as I have found that it works well with silvers, especially skimmer bream. After putting in a couple of small balls, the swim was soon fizzing with bubbles.

A better than average roach was the first fish to repond to my 7 mm punch of bread.

The float bobbed and sank immediately and I struck into a hard fighting fish, which was obviously a decent crucian carp, despite it’s sailaway bite.

A few small roach and skimmers were followed by a better skimmer, that rolled on the surface straight away.

Regular feeding of pigeon egg sized balls of groundbait, had 12 oz crucians lining up to take the punch, competing with 4 oz skimmers and keeping me busy with the landing net.

A slow steady fight resulted in a nice skimmer sliding over the surface into the landing net.

I’d been so busy, that I had ignored my lunch, ham and cheese sandwiches with chilli jam, cut into eights to be bite sized, but now in the heat of the afternoon, I needed sustainance and a cup of tea. Bubbles continued to rise from the square metre feed area, and after the break, the float was on its way down again from another hard fighting crucian.

The antenna rose an inch, then slid beneath the surface. I lifted into the bite, the elastic coming out as a heavy fish cruised  off to my left, which I followed round with the pole, the fish rolling on the surface against the resistance. It was a large skimmer bream of over a pound and I hoped that the size 14 barbless hook would hang on in the soft mouth, as I steered the slab sided fish round to face the net, Soon on it’s side, the bream glided toward me and obliged by swimming into the net, where the hook dropped out.

It was now close to 4 pm, my deadline to pack up, bearing in mind the long walk back to the car, then the drive home through heavy traffic. I had a club meeting later too. The next fish was not a problem, a smaller skimmer, that was soon in the net.

One more cast and I was into another fighting crucian, a solid round fish, that remained close to the bottom, until it began rolling top to bottom, before finally giving up.

Bursts of bubbles were rising from the fed area. Carp. I didn’t have time to play one of these, they usually go about 4 lb apiece. I threw in my squares of punch bread, which were sucked down in an instant.

It had been never a dull moment, with plenty of fish, most netted for safety, a dozen crucians and several better skimmers, the largest promoted to the status of an actual bream by me. Over 11 lbs in three hours, my best from this water without carp in the net.

 

 

 

It has been a few years since my last visit to Latimer Park Trout Fishery, which benefits from the crystal clear waters of the River Chess, as it flows from the chalk of the Chiltern Hills to form a pair of lakes, set among parkland designed by Lancelot Capability Brown. The fishery, run by Latimer Flyfishers, holds wild brown trout, rainbows and grayling, my host being life long friend and Latimer regular Peter and despite a forecast of rain, I was looking forward to reaquainting myself with the hard fighting rainbow trout.

Arriving before lunch, the threat of rain had given way to light drizzle under a leaden sky, with gusts of wind sweeping the surface, not ideal, but fish were feeding on the surface, which was encouraging, but no-one was catching. Peter said that the bush telegraph had advised size 12 Klinkhammers, or Emergers, but I opted for a silver bodied bouyant Muddler with Daddy style legs out the back.

Peter is used to speedy results at Latimer and was soon changing to another pattern, keeping up a busy work rate, while I prefer a steady approach, happy to cast out and leave it, then slowly twitching the muddler back through the wave with a bow in the line. First cast produced a boil as I lifted off. One fish followed the lure in, nibbling at the tail, but would not take, veering off ten feet from the bank in the clear water.

Peter was IN at last, a one and a half pound rainbow fighting all over the surface. I wandered up to him. He was now using a tan foam bodied Daddy Long Legs. He released the fish and recast. A fish rose immediately, but he missed it! He rooted around in his fly box and gave me a day-glo orange foam Daddy, which I took back and tried, but the wind had got up, blowing in my face, with the Daddy acting like it had a parachute attached. I cut it off and put on a size 12 Brown Buzzer and tied on an orange piece of indicator wool, with the buzzer a foot down. The lake is very shallow close in, being a flooded valley, much of this area is slightly weeded, where fish browse, so it was worth a try. I had a series of bobs and dips. One fish swam away without taking the indicator under. I missed all these fish.

Peter called out. “I’ve cracked it!” as he struck into his second rainbow. I walked up to him again. He was now using a size 14 black glass buzzer on a very short link to an indicator. It figured. These tiny buzzers were just hanging in the surface film. Another delve into the box and Peter handed me a tiny Black Buzzer. I’d been on the right trail and went back to cut off the heavily dressed size 12 brown buzzer, tying on the much smaller black one. This left a tail of 5 inches to the indicator wool. Ideal.

The wind was gusting now and a successful cast depended on the lull between gusts. A few more cast and the indicator disappeared. I struck and At Last a good fish. Aware that the tiny barbless hook was all that was between me and a long rainbow, I kept the rod up and let the fish do all the work, letting it take line from the reel, then gaining it back on the reel each time. Peter was soon by my side with his new landing net. With very few fish being caught, the bailiff was watching too. “Today would be nice” he commented. If I lost this fish, he probably would have said that I had rushed it. That’s fishermen, always know better! I guided the rainbow into the net and the hook dropped out.

A long slim rainbow of about 3 lb. In better condition this would have gone 5 lb. I kept it in the net for a few minutes to recover, then lowered the rim and it flicked it’s tail and was gone. One of the locals came up for a look. He had been there since 9 am and hadn’t had a touch. “What did you catch it on?” I showed him.

Peter took his net back and I tried again and missed a rapid take, feeling the fish, which left a spreading boil on the surface. There was another call from Peter, as his rod bent into fish Number 3. “First cast with a Blue Flash Damsel!” He’d changed his fly again. Shock tactics often work. Having agreed to fish for another half hour, it began raining hard. Time to get under cover of the gazeebo and pack up.

According to the bailiff, the previous day had been very productive for the visiting anglers, with Big Daddies catching many fish, depite the lack of actual flies on the water. Oh well that’s trout fishing. What works one day, won’t neccesarily work the next. That’s why we all have boxes full of pretty coloured flies of all shapes and sizes.

I’d enjoyed my day, although casting a Weight Forward No 6 Floating line on an 8 foot fly rod, takes it’s toll on untrained muscles. Peter had one more treat for his old friend, two packs of his own smoked rainbow fillets. They will go down well on some scrambled egg on toast.

 

Heavy thundery showers have kept me away from my local River Cut recently, but a dry afternoon forecast saw me take a chance with the weather, following another night of rain. The tree lined waterway acts as a drain for the Town and can go up and down like a YoYo after a storm. Arriving after 2 pm, I was surprised to see the bankside was covered with a fine layer of silt, yet the river was already sinking back to summer levels with a slight tinge of colour. Perfect!

There was still a fast flow and I opted for a 3BB ali stemmed stick float to hold back enough to slow the 7mm punch on a size 14 barbless hook, having a single BB close to the hook to keep the bait down. With the float set at two feet, it was dragging under on the bottom, but holding back slightly lifted the bread off. This proved academic, as after a ball of bread based groundbait, the float disappeared anyway as a chub made off with the bait. This was a powerful fish that rushed downstream and I initially thought that it was a small carp, especially when it changed direction and sped past me heading for a bush on the opposite bank. My 14 foot Browning coped with the runs and the chub was soon on it’s side ready for the landing net.

First cast! Rebaited, the rig was flicked back over to the opposite bank to disappear again with a smaller chub swung to hand.

I needed the landing net for the next one, which took after another ball of feed was lobbed over to the opposite bank. The influx of fresh water giving them a spurt of extra energy, attacking the bread seconds after it hit the water.

Smaller chub were now coming steadily, but easing the bait down the swim brought  a lift bite, that sank and I was playing roach. This was a change of species.

The water now took on a cloudy look, with a sheen of oil on the surface and my heart sank. This is the sign of the pollution, that was a regular happening on this river, when all bites would evaporate, but these bites reduced to taps and small fish, tiny gudgeon, roach and chub, most fish falling off the hook before they could be reeled in. I kept feeding small balls of feed in the hope of a carp, which do not seem to be affected, but the only decent fish that I saw, was a large perch that followed in a small roach, before veering off.

This chub signalled the end of the pollution after 45 minutes, positive bites and fish back on the feed again.

My groundbait was running out by now, due to constant feeding during the quiet period, and decided to pack up before 6 pm, but a good roach taken at the bottom of the trot kept me going a little bit longer.

Finally with no more holes to punch in my bread, I called it a day. The chub usually clear off after a few have been caught, but today they kept coming, possibly due to less roach in the swim. Who knows, that’s fishing.