With frosts and snow returning to the UK weather forecasts, bait fishermen are putting their rods to one side, until the warmer weather come around again, while many anglers will be looking to their predator fishing gear to continue fishing. In 2014 I wrote a blog following a pike fishing session with a specialist, who is adept at all forms of lure fishing, from the tiniest drop shot jigs, up to exotic spinning rigs. My own spinning tackle is firmly planted in the 60’s and 70’s, a seven foot Hardy split cane rod and an ABU 506 reel, although my concessions to modernity are plastic plugs over my faithful wooden models.

An autumn perch, the first of many on a cold afternoon with vintage tackle

When the picture below dropped into my e-mail inbox from fellow club member Lee, along with an invite to join him on his next pike fishing session, I jumped at the chance, just to go along with my camera to see how it was done.

 For our morning session, Lee took me to his local water, where this double figure pike was caught on a lure,  a well matured gravel pit surrounded by trees, with features every twenty yards, bays, roots and reed beds in abundance. Early mist had cleared, with just a hint of ground frost and the lake had returned to it’s normal level following flooding, a white tide mark evidence of the level two weeks before.

Lee’s tackle was a revelation to me, a seven foot Savage Gear lure rod, coupled to an Okuma Tormenta bait caster reel, loaded with sinking braid, that gives a direct feel from rod top to the lure. A far cry from the seven foot Hardy split cane rod and Garcia ABU 506 closed face reel loaded with 10 lb mono, that I have been using for years. Likewise a small selection of his lures, jelly eels and various multi-bodied plugs were an example of how far lure fishing has come since the simple Mepps spoons I’ve used in the past.

We walked the bank first, with Lee pointing out where he’d had pike before, starting to fish at an inviting looking reed bed, expecting a strike, or a follow from each cast, his outfit easily capable of reaching the edge of the reeds fifty yards away.

This is usually Jack Alley, but today the smaller pike could not be persuaded to take, despite frequent changes of lure. Lee joked that he wasn’t used to fishing under pressure, feeling the need to put a fish in front of the camera. We moved down into a heavily wooded area, where he’d had good pike before and a few casts in, there was a swirling boil just feet from the bank, as a big fish veered away from his lure.

Encouraged by this promising action, Lee rang the changes in an attempt to tempt this fish, but maybe the clear water was against us and it failed to move to the lure again. As the saying goes, “here’s one I had earlier”, a finely marked nine and a half pounder from this swim a month earlier.

 We moved on, trying each gap in the trees, expectant of a take at the slightest tap of the rod, as the lures worked their magic among the roots. This is the attraction of lure fishing, with dead and live baiting for pike, it’s a waiting game, but a lure can be taken the moment it hits the water, or just on lift off, going from inaction to explosive action in a matter of seconds.

Two hours had passed quickly and each new area offered up several choices of holding spots, this bay being a pike fisher’s dream, but once again Lee’s efforts were frustrated and we moved to a narrow spur, that at first glance had nothing going for it, until I saw a small fish jump, followed by another. Either a small jack pike, or a perch was attacking a shoal of roach. Another change saw a fish bodied lure with a bright jelly tail clipped on and cast out to the topping shoal.

Third cast through, the rod bent into an arc, as the lure was seized and Lee instinctively struck hard to set the barbless hooks, a boil on the surface indicating the exact take point. The rod kicked as the pike shook it’s head, before heading for open water, pulling hard on the reel drag. I went back to collect the landing net, returning in time to hand it over to Lee for the end game of an epic battle, the look of satisfied relief on his face saying it all. This young, fit guy had still managed to break a sweat on a cold morning.

 Job done! What a fin perfect beauty. A quick spell in the weighing bag ran the scales round to 11lb 8oz, then this heavily camouflaged killing machine was slipped back in the water. Not content with his capture, Lee ran the lure through several times more, saying that two, or three pike will often work together to drive a shoal of bait fish into such an enclosed area. Not today though and both with family commitments that afternoon, we headed back down the motorway.

A week later another photo dropped into my inbox. Lee had been busy again. While visiting relatives in Leicestershire, he’d found time to pop down to the river Soar for some R&R and bagged a personal best 3lb 6oz perch.

This was taken on a Savage Gear 3D white crayfish lure.

The Somerset River Axe was an unknown quantity to me until this week, when I booked into Diamond Touring Park for a couple of nights, before the Bank Holiday weekend. With the electric hook-up pitches already occupied, my wife and I were allocated a spot alongside the river, which to me was perfect, but for my non fishing better half, not ideal. Fishing for guests is free, but information on the prospects are non existent. At the Park reception, when asked about the fishing, all I got was, people fish it and they catch fish!

Arriving in the afternoon, a side stream was already occupied with people fishing, maggots providing a mix of small rudd and roach on the pole, while another fishing the feeder into the main river had several small eels and a couple of roach. I intended fishing the main river on the bread punch, my usual method.

The River Axe enters the tidal stretch at the Brean Sluice here, two miles from the sea.

In total there is about a 1,000 yards of the west bank available, although brambles restricted access to much of the river, which was a approached with caution down a steep slope. I chose a swim close to my campervan, where a board had been left in position by a considerate angler.

Travelling light, I had selected a few bits and pieces from my tacklebox, pole winders, punches, disgorgers, spare hooks and line, placing them into an old plastic toolbox, that had been kicking around the garage for years, happy to give it a new lease of life.

First step was to plumb the depth, finding four feet dropping away to five only a few metres out. Feeding a couple balls of liquidised bread over the shelf and a couple close in, I was able to judge the rate of flow, which was steady, although a strong upstream wind gave the impression of it flowing in the opposite direction.

With a size 16 hook to my 16 x 4 antenna float, I started off at four feet close in using a 5mm punch. Bulking the shot 18 inches from the hook helped the float carry downstream against the opposite drift, my first bite coming second trot, diving out of sight and a 4 inch dace coming to hand. A dace from a Somerset Levels drain, I was surprised, but then close to the source of the Axe at Wookey Hole, it is a trout stream, so a fish from a fast flowing river was bound to end up here. After five bites and three more dace, I scaled up to a 6 mm punch and cast along the drop off, the float burying again and the elastic coming out of the pole tip. It felt like good skimmer bream and a flash of silver in the coloured water confirmed it. The net was out and I pulled the skimmer across the surface toward it, only for a fatal roll and a lost fish. Rebaiting and following another feed ball, the float buried again and I was playing a nice roach.

In again, the float sank to a slightly smaller roach. The wind was difficult and I had to almost pull the float downstream, a few dips among the waves of the antenna warning of submersion. The elastic was out again and I had a fight on my hands, the fish running out, then to the sides, following, letting the elastic do the work.

What a beauty, the bread punch certainly attracts the better fish. The next cast along the drop off saw the float sail away and the No. 6 elastic following another hard fighting roach, taking my time to slide it over the landing net.

I tried another two metres of pole to fish over into the deeper water, but the wind made controlling the float impossible, as the pole was blown around, so it was back to four metres. The change back resulted in another strike, this time a small skimmer bream adding to the tally.

Adding another small ball of feed kept the fish lined up on the bottom, waiting for my 6 mm pellet of bread to fall through, small rudd often intercepting the bait meant for larger fish.

Feeding a yard upstream, the hotspot was out in front, a cast swinging the float out downstream, then pulling the float back, often brought an immediate bite.

Another nice roach, followed to the net by a second skimmer.

The river Axe is obviously full of quality roach, that had homed in on the bread.

After an hour I had punched my way through a square of bread, getting out another to start the next. I had fed less than a pint of liquised bread at this stage and was trying not to overfeed, keeping the fish hungry for more.

A small, but fat chub added to the variety of species, yet another flowing river fish.

A quality roach again, who says the bread punch is only fit for small fish on winter canals?

As if to disprove the above statement, an elastic stretching skimmer was next in the net.

The roach seemed to be getting bigger with each cast.

As did the skimmer bream.

I think that this was a roach bream hybrid, it had the anal fin of a bream, but was broad in the shoulder like a roach. Whatever it was, it fought like the clappers, darting from one side to the other, pulling out the elastic with each run.

This skimmer showed signs of an attack of some kind, be it from a bird, animal, or a fish, but its fighting qualities were not affected.

This was my last roach of the evening, coming to the net at 8 pm on the dot, my wife’s curfew time. Two hour’s fishing and no more. The wind had got up and the temperature had dropped. We had only packed summer clothes, believing the weatherman that sweltering weather was returning. Not today it wasn’t. My wife was soon on the skyline, coming to make sure that I stuck to my word.

The evening had proved a steep learning curve on a new river, 6 lb of fish in two hours, not bad for a first visit.

The arrival of a new reel of Drennan Float Fish line in 3.2 breaking strain was eagerly awaited this week to replace the old 2.6 B.S Bayer-Perlon on my ABU 501 match reel. On my last outing, a tangle had  reduced its length, the line was no longer running off the spool freely, so an update was required. Online reviews were good for the Float Fish line, being supple and free floating, while at 0.16mm the 3.2 lb Drennan line was the same diameter as my old Bayer 2.6 B.S. The line dropped through the letter box in the afternoon post and I was quick to load it onto the 501. A light olive colour, even this was similar to the Bayer line.

Any excuse to fish, bread bait and feed were soon out of the freezer and I was on my way to the river Blackwater ten miles away. Black clouds were gathering as I walked to a new swim, literally spending ten minutes hacking down stinging nettles to clear a fishing spot, as heavy raindrops began to cover the surface of the river. The shower was brief and refreshing in the humid air, just a fine drizzle remaining by 3:30 pm as I made my first cast.

This river is very shallow and I set my small 3 No 6 bodied stick float to just 18 inches deep to trot towards the bridge. The bottom is visible right across and following the first cloud of liquidised bread down, the float dipped and held under, the flash of a small roach indicating my first fish. The line was performing better than expected, considering the very light float, it pulling free of the reel spool without snagging.

Next trot, the float held down and I was playing a plump chub back upstream. I saw a pike dart across to the chub from cover along the opposite bank and raised the rod to draw the chub away, lifting it clear at my feet, leaving the 5 lb pike staring at the bank.

I prodded at the pike with my landing net and it turned to swim back over to the the other side. The pike returned and grabbed a small roach that I was playing, swimming back over, then letting go, but chasing the roach as I rushed it back to my side.

It began to rain again and I was already considering packing up, or moving. Unable to safely secure my tackle box on the steep bank, I was sitting on the bank with my feet resting on a narrow shelf, which was slowly eroding down toward the river and I was constantly shifting my weight to stay seated. Not ideal.

The pike took a small chub and charged off downstream, bending my 12 foot Hardy to the butt as I backwound the reel. This was the last straw, the size 16 hook holding firm in the pike’s jaw, while the chub dangled from the side, watching it swim by, as I now switched the rod to pull back down river. It lay motionless mid river and my attempts to jerk the hook free failed, causing the pike to retreat to the far side again. Pointing the rod at the pike, I pulled the line tight with my hand for a break. It obliged with a spurt away and the hook pulled free, complete with the now dead chub, which I threw back to the pike, last seen heading upstream.

I fed another couple of balls of bread in close, to keep the fish on  my side of the river, hooking a golden rudd, which I swung in.

The new Drennan line was working well, lifting easily to mend the line behind the float and setting the hook into a better roach.

The roach were lining up and getting bigger, the fish invisible until the hook was set.

The bites were very delicate, the float dipping and holding, then sinking slowly. Too early a strike usually resulted in a lost fish after a brief fight, too long could see the bait gone. I varied between 5 and 7 mm punches, the 5 mm on the size 16 hooking more fish, although the larger bait attracted better roach.

I was surprised that there were no dace in the swim, as my previous visits have had the dace going mad for the bread, juddering and jarring the float as they attacked the bait, often hooking themselves. Today was a much more sedate affair, another shy biting roach coming to the net.

This was the last decent roach, the pike attacking another as I played it back, coming off when I tried to hurry it in. A swirl down stream may have been the end of that roach. For me this too was the end of the roach, the pike had put them down. I scraped out a few more small chub and packed up at 6 pm.

The aim of the session was to test out my new line, which I felt it passed with flying colours. On the stickfloat, with a closed faced reel like the ABU 501, you want the line to be soft enough to coil off the spool, yet stiff enough to be able to mend the line back to the float. Allowing a bow in the line to develope, drags the float to one side, or worse speeds it downstream, which looks unnatural to the fish and no bites. I have said before, stick float fishing is becoming a lost art, which many today do not try, content to lob out a feeder on the bottom and wait for bites, while a good stickfloat man can entice the fish to his hook.

Back in my serious match fishing days, Abu closed face reels were my ultimate choice for waggler and stick float fishing, first with a pair of 506’s, then with a couple of 501’s. The 506’s had their locking pawl removed to allow for back winding, while the 501’s came ready for the matchman with back wind. Over the years, one of my 506’s wore out, refusing to pick up line reliably, while the gears went on a 501, being replaced by a new old stock one from a closing down sale, both still giving good service. The remaining 506 is in use on my spinning rod , the original use for the American market.

For feeder fishing an open spool Abu Cardinal 54 had served me well, being replaced by a Shimano 2500m Aero XT7, which has recently found its way onto my 12.5 ft Normark float rod as a combo for tackling the carp on a local lake. This reel on the float rod has not worked as hoped. Yes it casts well, also having a retrieve rate of 6 to 1, it is ideal for staying in contact when a carp runs toward you. It has an easily adjusted drag, which when released allows backwind, but at your peril, as it can tangle.

So why am reviewing an Abu 507 Mk2 reel? Too many times now, I have had lose line wrap around the handle, or back of the spool, when waggler fishing for carp with the Shimano and complained to my wife, too near to my birthday, that I had lost a carp due to the line being trapped. “Why not get another reel?” she said “The kids can buy one for your birthday.” Having always used the 500 series of Abus for float fishing with no line problems, I looked for a more beefed up version of my other reels and there was the 507 Mk2. A much larger spool with a retrieve rate of 5 to 1, which would outpace the smaller spooled Shimano, five bearing support and an adjustable switchable drag, which would give me a safe backwind option. At under £60 brand new on-line, I was sold. Before I could change my mind, my wife placed the order and it arrived in time for my birthday.

This is what arrived, a padded zip up case, with compartments for three shallow spools and a deeper one, I assume for heavy line. Also included were spare sets of chennelle for the spools, to prevent the line from being sucked behind the spool, breather holes already in the spools have got this problem covered.

Loading a 100 metres of 5 lb line to a shallow spool was surprisingly quick, compared to a 501, the 9 mm larger spool and retrieve rate saw to that. With line loaded, I set off in the early evening to the nearby carp lake, where I found that spawning was in full flow, black mud being stirred up in front of me.

The larger carp were not my target tonight, but the multitudes of one and two year olds that have bred naturally in this council owned green space recently. Having lobbed out a few balls of liquidised bread toward the island, I tried an underhand side cast, the float landing well beyond my feed close to the island. This was already better than the Shimano, a powered overhead cast usually required for this distance. First cast the float bobbed and slid under as the 7 mm pellet of punched bread was taken, feeling a slight resistance as a mini common was sped back to my hand.

Next cast a small mirror took the bread, the perfectly balanced 507 bringing it quickly to hand.

These micro carp were taking it in turns to pounce on the bread the moment the float hit the water. I decided to feed another three balls across laced with krill powder

It was the same result for a while, more mini carp, chucking them back each time, then resistance and a run along the island brought a slightly larger common, a slow retrieve bringing the juvenile fish to my bank and the landing net.

A few more of these could provide a bit of sport and a decent net in the remaining hour, so I put the keep net in. I continued casting and hooking the very small stuff, but another better common soon followed.

This were lying close to the far shore, the cast needing little effort to peel the line from the spool, while keeping the punched bread on the hook, for yet another mini battler. This time a surprise rudd.

Once prolific in this lake, I have not caught a rudd here for a while, but it was good to see there are some survivors. Fed by a brook, gudgeon were also a nuisance fish in the lake, they may be deep in the mud, but no one has had any for years.

The reel was performing well, balancing the Normark, as I stuck into more small commons, when they sank the float out of sight.

The float skated across the surface and disappeared and I instinctively lifted the rod as the line arced round following a proper carp, that accelerated away under the trees, leaving a black trail of mud. Backwinding, I remained in contact as the carp tried to get around the end of the island, but I laid the rod over, still back winding, but keeping on the pressure, bringing the fish to the surface. The carp, about 5 lbs, was foul hooked in the tail, pulling away like a dog on a lead, slowly coming back to me, then pulling away again. It turned and ran back as I retrieved line, turning away again as it passed, pulling hard for the island, but slowing to a stop and I pulled it back toward my landing net. With barely enough water to swim in, it turned over, flapping in the mud, the hook pulling free and flying back. Slowly it took stock of the situation, then with an almighty effort the carp powered off into deeper water.

This was my cue to pack up, the light was fading and I had enjoyed non stop action of one sort, or the other, putting over a dozen small carp in the net.

This had been an effective testing session for the Abu 507 Mk2. No tangles, or trapped line, more importantly I had been able to forget about previous worries with the Shimano and get on and fish.

A dusting of over night snow was thawing, as my friend Peter and I arrived at Manningford Trout Fishery this week. Tucked away in a quiet part of Wiltshire close to the village of Pewsey with its statue of Alfred the Great and Anglo Saxon heritage, it is better to stop and ask a local of the fishery’s whereabouts, than rely on your Sat Nav. Fed by the upper reaches of the famous Hampshire Avon, there are two lakes, Squires stocked with table size rainbows and Manor with larger fish, where we intended to fish.

Tackling up in the carpark, we sheltered in the lee of the boot lid as freezing gusts blasted across the lake, 5 C temperature reduced to 2 by the wind chill factor, the day chosen as the best of a bad bunch of forecasts. Having caught well on unweighted white lures in similar conditions at Latimer Fishery before Christmas, we opted for these to start, a home tied white chenille with a white marabou wing for me and a White Fritz with a hint of green for Peter.

Walking round to cast across the wind at the first platform, Peter was into a fish first cast before I had gathered up my tackle and I watched him land a deep clean rainbow of about 2 lb. Slotting in twenty yards further round, a rapid take took me by surprise on my first cast. Looking back at Peter he was into another fish, which he lost. A slow retrieve brought a solid take and I struck into a very good rainbow that broke the surface, before steaming off down the lake into the wind. A tumbling fight followed, seeing the deep fish briefly again close to before the line went slack. It had come off. My line was festooned with weed and called to Peter that I was moving round to find deeper water. Keeper? No deeper! The wind was snatching my words away.

Opposite an island there was some relief, trees behind diluting some of the gusts, while the main force of the wind was carrying from left to right, ideal for a right handed fly caster. Pushing the lure close to the island, a dead slow retrieve brought a response of some sort most casts, a steady straightening of the line being met by solid resistance at last and I was in once more, this time a smaller rainbow fighting hard to the net. This 2 lb 6 oz rainbow was a credit to the on site fish farm, with a thick shoulder and full tail.

Peter now had his second fish after several false alarms and now moved up twenty yards downwind, also experiencing short takes. I was into another nice rainbow, bringing it near to the bank I could see the lure in the tip of its nose. Close to the net it tumbled and the hook came out. This was the start of a frustrating half hour, with three more lost at the net. Peter had landed number three and was walking back to the clubhouse, when I hooked another which broke the surface. He gave a cheer. It came off again! There was definitely a hook there. I stopped fishing and washed down a sandwich with cups of hot calming tea.

Having weighed in his fish, Peter returned to the bank to assist two novice fly fishers, who had asked for advice earlier. One was a fly fishing virgin, what a day to learn to cast! They both managed a fish apiece before we left.

A pair of anglers walked by on their way back to the clubhouse, they each had a good fish in their bag, the best being 5 lb 8 oz, the other 3 lb 8 oz. They had been fishing Blue Flash Damsel lures stripped back fast. This can be hard work and I preferred a lighter lure with a slow retrieve, which worked for me, all I needed was to be able to get them in the net. The line tightened again and I struck hard, pulling the fish to the surface. I was not going to lose this one, letting the rod take the full force of the runs, not relaxing until the rainbow was in the net. This very silver fish weighed in at 2 lb 8 oz.

With Peter busy on his tuition duties, I walked down to the River Avon running behind the lake for a look. On my last visit to Manningford the banks had been overgrown, but now overhead trees have been trimmed and the right hand bank cleared.

This is also available as a catch and release beat, holding wild brown trout and grayling, while in season an additional stock of browns will be introduced.

This was a deep run, ideal for big grayling and trout alike. Well worth a visit later in the year with my 7 ft 3 weight rod.

Returning home, the trout were cleaned ready for the freezer, but the sight of rich red flesh put one of the rainbows on the menu for the following day.

Having grown up fishing a heavily greased leader as an indicator while nymph fishing, I was impressed by a short fluorescent braided indicator, that a friend was using with great success while Czech nymph fishing. Finding a set of three for sale online, I ordered a pack and sat back and waited for them to arrive from South Africa. The day of delivery was bright and clear and decided that a visit to my urban trout river would be a good test of the product, setting off after my evening meal.

The sun was already low when I arrived and a strong downstream east wind was chilling the air, a look downstream showing no rises and little fly life. Tying in the indicator to the end of the leader, I added two feet of 4 lb line to the bottom loop of the indicator and then tied on my Black Devil nymph.

Heading upstream along the busy road, I reached the first fishable section where trees hang over the river.

The river was crystal clear, but no fish were on view as I worked the nymph over the gravel runs, the indicator clearly visible as it drifted downstream. Being as light as the line, it allowed the nymph to drop quietly onto the water, while being greased it floated high in the surface film. Casting along the far bank, the indicator jerked under and I overstruck into a six inch brown that lifted clear of the water, before falling back. That take was instant and I’m not sure that it would have registered on the leader.

Moving up toward a long slack created by some flood debris, a cast between the branches saw the indicator dive to the left and on instinct lifted into a nice brown that rolled showing it’s white belly, before coming airborne in the shallow river. The 7ft No 4 rod kicked and bent as the trout headed straight for the snag, while I followed giving line. It rolled again, turning to zigzag past me, then settled down to swim up the middle, as I searched for my landing net, backtracking ten feet to pick it up and pull the brownie into the net.

I had attracted a cyclist and a pair of dog walkers, while playing this beauty, the low light not capturing the full colours to do it justice. The bystanders were unaware that this urban river held such secrets. I sat and chatted as the trout recovered in my landing net, watching it swim slowly upstream to disappear against the gravel. Casting my way upstream, two more indications brought a pair of five inch parr, one swinging to hand, the other dropping off as I lifted it across the river. The light was golden with the sunset as I made my way back downstream, stopping at a man made feature to fish.

Under the trees it was quite dark, but the indicator showed up well, when by now I would have been reduced to watching the bow in the line for movement, although the next take pulled hard upstream and I was soon playing a small but hard fighting brown.

I missed a couple of short tugs from this pool, which with a longer rod would have given more control in the downstream wind and can see how this would mean more fish to the heavy Czech Nymph method. With an under body and rib of heavy copper wire, the Black Devil is a good early season nymph with just enough weight to fish off the bottom where fish are searching for caddis.

The light was going fast and I walked to the lower end of this public water to see what changes had taken place since last season. Weed growth so far is minimal this year, which coupled with the lack of spring rainfall, has resulted in water so shallow that I saw the surface hump up, as a good trout turned to the nymph and struck too soon, pricking the fish, watching Vs and swirls, when it dashed off.

Windy conditions, coupled with shallow clear water on a hard fished public urban river proved to me, that this sight indicator will be a welcome addition to my tackle bag.

As an advocate of fishing the bread punch, with many blog posts on The Urbanfieldsportsman web site, it was suggested that a pocket sized book be written on the technique, bringing together information gathered by myself over many years, with a selection of illustrated examples of it’s use through a season on a variety of waters.

I am so confident in the method, that I rarely take a back up bait with me, unless a water has a good head of perch, in which case a few worms from my compost heap will be collected before I go fishing. No longer an active match angler, I’m quite happy to pass on some of my “secrets”, something that I have been reminded of giving away, when publishing blogs over the years.

On a recent visit to a local lake, I fished double bread pellet on a running line waggler float, taking six carp up to 8 lb, including a 5 lb mirror. I’d started off feeding an open area 20 yards out with four balls of mashed processed bread and fished over it. After ten minutes I had the first carp on the bank. Three proper carp anglers with all the gear, bite alarms, boilies and popups, failed to catch that afternoon. I would like to have included that session in the book, as with my last blog about catching chub with bread punch on the river Wey, but the line had to be drawn somewhere and Bread Punch Fishing Diaries was published.

I have highlighted these two fishing sessions to illustrate that fishing the bread punch is not just about catching small roach on a canal in winter, but a technique that can be used anywhere for quality fish, the cover image being of a 13 lb net of rudd taken in just a few hours from a free pond. I do not fish stock ponds, preferring to fish public lakes and rivers local to my home, adjusting tackle and methods to suit the venue, but always catching on the bread.

A click on the side bar link will go straight to Amazon Bookstore, where all sales commission will help with the upkeep of the Urbanfieldsports man blog.

Known worldwide as the home of the TT motorcycle races, the Isle of Man can boast excellent game fishing too, with runs of salmon and sea trout up it’s short rocky rivers and well stocked reservoirs, while the resident brown trout will provide sport on light tackle at any time of the day.

The bonus of trout fishing on the Isle of Man is the scenery encountered along the way, finding out of the way gems missed by most visitors, this being the river Neb a mile above the estuary. A trout can be seen rising on the right of the arch.

These trout have to be some of the most distinctly marked browns, that I have caught, this one taking a dry sedge on the river Neb. Unlike the mainland, there are no riparian fishing rights, all rivers are controlled by the I o M government, a weekly £27 river license allows fishing in all the rivers, where you can gain access to the water. National Glens and Government owned lands also give access to miles of fishing.

One of many browns netted from the Neb at the Raggatt, an overgrown wasteland, when I first visited, but recently transformed into a park with managed banks, having seating for anglers and walkers, but also the ideal spot for ball chasing dogs, their owners seemingly unaware of the needs of anglers.

Another example of  the Neb trout, well rounded and full of fight. I watched a brown twice this size cruise up along side my fly, give it nudge with it’s nose, then slowly sink back to the depths. Must try harder next time.

A pool on the Foxdale river, in the parkland grounds of the DEFA offices at St Johns, where I bought my license, which was home to several above average browns, all taking the dry sedge fished upstream. The best came from a deep tree shrouded pool, that only allowed a bow and arrow cast into the back eddy formed by a waterfall, watching a dark shape rise out of the depths, turn over and take the fly, then running off downstream beneath overhanging branches. I could only fight the fish with my rod tip held under the raging waterfall, reeling it back, until ready to pull into the net.

This was just a taster of the river fishing in the Isle of Man, these waters all with in walking distance of my accommodation, a ten mile drive will put you on the Sulby river near Ramsey, or the Dhoo near Douglas, while many smaller rivers, like in Glen Maye below, will give plenty of sport.

Visiting the Isle of Man for the Manx Grand Prix motorcycle races, my fly fishing gear was a priority addition to the holiday packing, this hilly principality jutting from the Irish Sea, able to provide excellent sport to the angler prepared to search out the deeper pools of the rivers flowing out of it’s many wooded glens.

The ferry had left the English mainland in bright sunshine, but as the Island came into view, it was shrouded in dark clouds and on docking in Douglas at 6 pm, headlights were needed to light the way along the narrow rain drenched roads to Peel. The following day dawned bright and clear,  but a walk to the nearby river Neb, showed that it was in spate, full of dark brown peat water, washed down from the hillsides high above Glen Helen. There would be no fishing today, or the next, but two dry days saw the river back to a steady pace and according to a Manxman met on the bank, it was full of sea trout and salmon, fresh run from the sea.

I’d only come equipped with my trout gear, expecting to catch small brown trout on my 7 ft rod, but the chance of a sea trout got me to the bank, just as the sun was setting. Sea trout will usually lay dormant in deep water during daylight, dropping back into shallower runs, as the light fades, the early ours of darkness, or just before dawn, being the most active.

Making up a leader with an 8 lb point, I searched through my trout flies for a suitable candidate, initially settling on a traditional sea trout fly, a silver and blue Peter Ross, but it looked insignificant against a modern reservoir standby, a Blue Flash Damsel, with it’s gold head, flashy blue tinsel and long tail.

The BFD was tied on, but the weighty head made for a looping cast on the short rod and I battled with a gusting upstream wind, blowing from the Irish Sea only two miles away. Plenty of small trout were rising, some jumping clear of the water and was tempted to try an upstream dry Sedge, before the sun disappeared behind the trees, but persevered, casting down and across, getting the occasional pluck, as these small fish pecked at the tail. A swirl and a solid pull got my heart racing for a moment, lifting the rod into a high flying brown of about six ounces, that cartwheeled across the surface, before fighting hard with the flow of the river.

Not my target fish, but as it would turn out, the biggest brown of my visit. Fishing with worms and spinners are legal trout fishing methods in the Isle of Man and I would think the preferred method of many locals for migratory fish, these banned on most mainland rivers, while fishing any fly downstream is also not permitted on the chalk streams of the South of England, a Blue Flash Damsel also a definite no no.

It would have been easy to pack my waders, but had only packed wellies, mainly in case of a rainy visit, which restricted access to many of the pools, tending to fish in gaps between trees and gorse bushes. The light was going fast and I’d had a few near misses among the branches, but skill, or luck kept me clear of the greenery.

A large fish had jumped 30 yards downstream and I was on edge, ready for a take, when one came, but again a hard fighting brownie was the result, good sport on light tackle, this plump fish was returned with the minimum of fuss, due to the pinched down barb of the lure.

Under the trees it was now getting difficult to judge my casts and walked back down to the large open pool, where I’d begun the evening. Here the light was better and a safe backcast allowed me to explore a deep run below the trees along the opposite bank, swinging the lure across into shallower water. The river was alive with the movement of fish, sea trout were disturbing the resident browns, causing them to leap clear, while there were constant swirls and splashes from these larger fish. A hump raised up behind my lure, as I retrieved it upstream, not taking, but swirling away, when I lifted off. My anticipation was on full alert, following a series of fierce plucks and recast to cover the same area, when it all went solid. Milliseconds later, the surface erupted with a head shaking boil and a tail slapping jump, as the bar of silver zoomed across to the deeper water, swimming at full tilt upstream, line spilling from my reel, as it went by, my tiny rod bent double in response. I followed it upstream for ten yards, laying the rod over to avoid overhanging branches, the sea trout easing off the pressure, but still pulling hard against the flow of the river. It turned and came back down, with me stripping line, desperate to stay in contact, aware of the barbless hook, shorter straight line runs, giving way to head shaking. I got back in the river, the shallows engulfing my boots, as I guided the streamlined fish towards my net, lifting it out in triumph, only for the lightweight net to collapse, when one of it’s arms pulled out, dumping the fish unceremoniously onto the bank.

Not the best picture in the world, but the best of a bad bunch in the low light conditions. At 16 inches long, this would have made a fine meal, but these fish do not come my way very often and I was happy to return it to the river. I just hope it made it to the spawning grounds, avoiding the worms and spinners of the locals.

A return visit to my local river, found the level down nine inches and running at a slower pace than last week, when trying for roach, I struggled in the conditions, being broken by two big fish, carp, or chub. After being broken for the second time, I’d left with a feeling of unfinished business, determined to return before the end of the coarse fishing season, for a decent crack at the roach,that live in the fast water of the outfall.

Not wanting to be broken again by big fish, I’d scaled up my tackle to a six No6 Middy alloy stem stick float on a 5lb main line, with a size 14 to 3lb hook link, a compromise that I hoped would not put the expected roach off taking my bait. I needn’t have worried, as minutes after introducing a couple of balls of liquidised bread down the middle of the run, my float gave a couple of rapid dips, then sank out of sight and the first of many clonking roach was putting a bend in my rod.

 The hot spot was the edge of the fast water, often just holding the float back as it drifted into the area, hooked a fish. More feed brought the roach out into the main river, and I was getting into a rythm, cast, trot, hook and play to the net, until I tried to rush a half pounder, which came off, taking the shoal with it. For a while small chub and big gudgeon took their place, the chub dashing all over the river, while the gudgeon bored deep. Some of the gudgeon were monsters approaching 8 inches long and very fat, hugging the bottom, giving the impression of a much bigger fish.

The Middy alloy stem stick is now one of my preferred floats for most shallow river conditions, the tip rising up on the shoulder, when held back, while the bulk of the float stays down, giving more control to ease the float through a swim. My next bite entered the foaming weir stream and headed upstream, the strike hitting into solid resistance, that had me guessing at the species on the end, a deep thumping fight keeping the fish out of sight, until brought up to the surface for the net, revealing a roach-bream hybrid of about 8oz.

Next to take was another unexpected fish, a 6oz rudd, the float sailing away as the rig followed a ball of bread down the swim. Another hybrid, a rudd, a few small chub and several gudgeon coming in quick succession.

This interlude was soon over and the roach moved back in on the bread feed with a bang, getting larger with each trot and I make no apologies for including more pictures here. I love catching roach, especially big ones.

The roach above could have been a season best for some people, but the float kept going down and they continued to fight their way to the net.

The bites were beginning to get few and far between in front of me, so I made a cast to the middle of the faster water and trotted down towards the bend, striking when the float dived, hitting into a fish that ran hard down stream and backwound rapidly to counter it. A chub I thought, but then saw a broad flank with a flash of red, a good roach and the best of the day, which treated with respect, I netted minutes later.

This was a deep fish that, when laid against my bait tray, had it’s tail over the edge. The tray measures 11 inches, so the roach was over a foot long. A couple more smaller, but equally deep roach followed from the fast stream, before trying a change to a brandling on the hook, having raided my compost heap for the worms before I left. I’ve often thought the concrete structure of the weir could hold some perch, but usually only fishing bread, I never catch any. Hooking the size 14 hook once through the head of the brandling and letting it be taken by the flow back in towards the weir, it zoomed out of sight.

Not a perch, but a 4oz chub had seized on the live bait, where several times the 6mm bread pellet had passed. This was not a fluke and these small chub lined up to take the worms, until one came in under my feet to be missed by the landing net and dive into a submerged bramble, snagging the hook. I pulled for a break, only to then flick the float into the bush on my right. Again pulling for a break the precious float hung suspended over the water.

Although there was still over an hour of daylight, I decided not to be too greedy and quit while I was ahead, having finally found my searched for shoal of big river roach, plus a few surprise fish along the way. I also learned that the chub will go on feeding, if you switch from bread to worms.

I had a final look at this impressive over eight pound bag of mostly roach, taken during a busy three hour session from this small tributary of the Thames, then set about rescuing my float from the bush.