The Fisherman's Haunt – Pt II - The Royalty

October 2019 still, and day two of my trip down to the New Forest. With an unsuccessful few hours the night before at Winkton the warm atmosphere of a cosy pub was just the tonic I needed to refresh morale and chatter through hopes and dreams for the following day. I knew relatively little about the Royalty other than you had to buy a day ticket on the day from Davis Tackle and on a weekend it would likely be very busy. And so it was an early breakfast at The Fisherman's haunt before loading the car to what felt like a mad dash to Christchurch. I hadn't realized that the Royalty tickets were cash only and despite getting to the shop for doors-opening had to divert to the nearest cashpoint at a local supermarket. Returning to the shop I bought a ticket and headed down to the bank with only a handful of other anglers already there. These red letter trips always build so much hope, but with that also comes the risk of disappointment. For me the experience ends up loaded with anxiety, which somehow seems to defeat the purpose of being there! Definitely something I need to work on. In this case there were a few 'known' swims I wanted to head for and the anxiety was driven by not being able to get onto one of them. Daft isn't it?

The Royalty - Keepers of possibly the best man-cave in fishing

The beat was a lot more urban than I expected but was stuffed with attractive features, not least the amazing lodge with its trophy adorned walls and vintage fishing gear. A proper man-cave I thought. The river twists and turns, almost back on itself in places, as it meanders through the length of the beat and every section seemed to offer something to beckon me to fish there! In the end I opted for the pipe swim. The river was up and pushing through, but the weather was mild and conditions I thought looked ideal. I positioned one rod out in the flow and the other in a near side slack. There was a lack of action for the first few hours, but it was a beautiful sunny morning and I was kept active trying to photograph some of the wildlife which has made this quasi-urban river environment home. I managed some decent snaps of a kingfisher who was doing far better at catching fish than I was and a woodpecker feeding on its regular haunt, a hole peppered silver birch tree.

King of the fishers - certainly having more success than I!

There's so much more to being on the river than the fishing

Another hour rolling meat around the swim failed to draw the fish from wherever they were holed up and it was time for a spot of lunch and a wander. A couple fishing upstream of the railway bridge had hooked and lost one, but otherwise it seemed like people were struggling. Conditions to me seemed perfect apart from the bright sunshine, but I wasn't familiar with the river so couldn't really judge what switched these frequently fickle fish off an on.  

Whilst giving the beat a good explore, I noticed that everyone seemed to be carrying far less tackle than me, and it certainly seems a roving approach is favored here. Another downside of fishing somewhere completely new and far from home - having to pack the kitchen sink to give 'options'. Abandoning the pipe swim I made my way downstream of the railway bridge. Again, this looked perfect. Fast turbulent water flowed under the constraints of the bridge and gave way to a deep slack against some rushes. 

The railway - a perfect swim if ever there was one

If there weren't any barbel there should at least be some chub I thought. Cheese paste then, positioned on the riffle where fast and slack-water meet. Again I was thwarted with not so much as a pluck. A few more spots were tried but it seemed the fish just weren't in an obliging mood. Still, a lovely place to spend some time and some lessons learnt for a return in future. The Royalty is one of those beats recorded in angling folklore and it's wonderful to have fished it, even if unsuccessfully. I'll return once we've consigned COVID to the history books with my roving gear and perhaps the pike fly rod, there are after all some hefty crocs on the wall of that man-cave!

The Fisherman's Haunt – Pt I - Winkton

 

October 2019. Ok, I know… I’m a long way behind! I must admit it's strange writing up articles from the pre-COVID era. It seems so much has changed and there was so much we took for granted.

With my birthday approaching the wife asked me if I wanted to go on a romantic break away. A quiet little pub somewhere in the middle of nowhere, riverside walks, a picnic or two and some R&R. She’s not daft, and of course realizes we have very different ideas of a romantic break… As it was my birthday treat, the rods were always going in the back of the car!

A blessing of being Midlands based is there aren’t many fishery’s out of reasonable reach. Even with the Severn, Wye, Warwickshire Avon and Teme on your doorstep, most of the UK's barbel-holding rivers are within a couple of hours travel. Eeny... Meeny... Miny... Mo...

I’ve long wanted to fish the Dorset Stour and Hampshire Avon, with both Throop and the Royalty on every river angler’s bucket list; and so a trip to the New Forest was swiftly agreed and penned in for the birthday weekend. With logistics left to my better half I could focus on researching the target beats and sorting out the right gear and bait for the trip. A huge thanks at this point should be extended to Mr. Dave Roach from UK Angling Groups for his advice and support. 

The rivers had been in flood in the run-up to the trip which caused more than a little anxiety, but with the levels just starting to fall off and the hotel non-refundable we decided to give it a go. We left early on the Friday with a plan to explore the New Forest National Park en route. It’s a beautiful part of the world and we spent a good part of the day hiking through woodland in beautiful autumn livery. Think flooded fords, endless leaf litter punctuated with a litany of mushrooms, and wild ponies around every corner. 

Wild Ponies...

Flooded Fords...

Even the mushrooms are picture perfect!

By late afternoon we headed to our base for the weekend, The Fisherman's Haunt at Winkton. Ideally placed just a short distance from Throop and the Royalty, this cosy little pub was just the place for our romantic/angling retreat.

The Angler's Haunt

With the Royalty planned for Saturday and Throop for Sunday, there was just about time to fit a short session into Friday evening. The main channel of the Avon was in flood but Upper Winkton offered a sheltered backwater known to hold specimen roach. We only had a couple of hours at dusk, but there’s no better time. The biggest challenge of any short session on a new water is trying to work out where the fish are and how best to target them, with little margin for error. With the top end of the beat looking very busy I set up as far downstream as I was able, just above the final sluice. I fished just into darkness, trying light feeder and float tactics, but to no avail. A chat with some of the locals suggested the fish hadn’t yet arrived at their backwater wintering grounds and that Avon roach didn't respond well to the river carrying colour. It didn't matter, the main events of the weekend were still to come and it was a lovely little stretch to explore. It really is perfect for running a float through and I hope to return some day to try and winkle out a big roach or two.

Almost perfect...

An evening in a warm pub beckoned… a few beers, good food and the company of a good woman; surrounded by angling trinkets and memorabilia, and even the odd photo of a local monster or two. Inspiration indeed for an early start to fish the Royalty!

I'm sure there's barbel in here somewhere...

Rolling Meat - Short Session on the Severn

Mid-October and I managed to fit in a short evening session before the clock's changed. The river was up so I headed to a local beat where there are a few long sheltered slacks against the near bank. My plan was to wander the beat rolling meat through a few swims for an hour each to see if I could provoke a barbel into snatching the meat before it trundled past. 

I'm a relative newcomer to rolling meat so still trying to refine my tactics and get confidence in the method. I'm yet to take a fish on it, but I'm sure once a few fish have graced the net it'll be a tactic I'll turn to more and more for my mobile fishing. 

Pin! Rolling Meat down the edge of a flooded river

Rig wise, I set-up on my 11ft Harrison Torrix. I had the rod custom built to be as light as possible, including titanium rings, and it's the perfect tool for the job. It's as light as a feather but pulls like a train when you lean into the blank. I paired the Torrix with a 'pin loaded with 15lb line. I used an olivette to provide a little additional weight, held in place with a float stop above and a swivel beneath to prevent line twist. A 2ft hooklength was finished with a size 6 hook to which I had mounted tungsten putty along the shank using shrink tube (instructions here: https://www.drennantackle.com/martin-bowlers-top-tips-12-rolling-meat/). 

Shrink Tube and Tungsten Putty - Credit: Photo and Idea to Martin Bowler!

Despite my best efforts the barbel either weren't on the feed, or just weren't in the parts of the river that I was targeting. The river was high and colored but the flow wasn't raging through so I suspected they were out dancing in the current rather than tucked up on my nearside line. Still, always nice to be out on the bank and a little more experience gained with a new method!

The River Ure - Westwick Lock and Boroughbridge

Early September and another work trip (this time to the northeast) had me scrambling for another opportunity to catch a fish from a new river! Disappointingly I was unable to find a single day ticket beat on the Tyne, and the options seemed equally limited on the Tees. I'll save my thoughts on that for a separate blog post! Without a realistic prospect or local knowledge of these rivers I turned my attention to the alternatives a little further south in Yorkshire.

I'd made a couple of successful trips to the Swale in the past and really enjoyed fishing for barbel in its peaty depths. However, keen to fish an entirely new river I resisted the temptation to revisit and confined myself to options on the Ure, Nidd or Wharfe. The Ure seemed the best bet, and a little research threw up beats at Westwick Lock and Boroughbridge. My thanks to James Simpson for putting me onto the waters at Westwick Lock. I would visit one on the way up north and another on the way south, planning my journey so that I could get a few hours in on the bank before dark.

The River Ure - Westwick Weir

Arriving in Yorkshire I set my satnav, trying my best to interpret the map the fishery had provided. After fifteen minutes of driving round private farm tracks I eventually reached the weir. However, it quickly became apparent I was on the wrong side of the river. With a microhydro scheme dominating the near bank there was simply no way to fish downstream of the weir from my side of the bank. Another check of the fishery map with the river in front of me confirmed my suspicions. Hugely frustrated I jumped back in the car and made a 40 minute round trip to get out of the fields, across the river and into the lock car park. Overall I'd lost more than an hour of an already short evening session.

Compartmentalizing any negative thoughts I made my way onto the lock island and fought my way through the vegetation until a clearing in the trees led me out onto the weir. The river is very wide here with a fish pass against the right-hand bank presumably installed at the same time as the microhydro scheme opposite.

Westwick Weir - Snag Pit!

Whilst very picturesque, the next few hours did nothing to improve my mood. Cast after cast found snag after snag. With one rod positioned in the deep hole beneath the fish pass which was at least snag free, I persevered with rod number two; sacrificing a considerable amount of tackle to the gods of the weir in the process. There's nothing worse than fishing without confidence in what you're doing and at no point did my approach feel right. With an hour left before total darkness I decided to gamble and make my way downstream to the next fishable swim. Deeper and narrower here, the swim looked fishy enough and with a little bait introduced I cast one rod mid-flow straight in front of me and hammered the second rod as far downstream as I could cast. After seemingly no time at all the upstream rod gave a heavy thump and I lifted into a fish that surged for the far bank trees. As soon as that first run was conquered the fish turned and headed for the near bank in characteristic chub-like fashion. A few moments later I scooped the net under what appeared to be a personal best chub. It was huge and had a head like a staffy! To my amazement, it only weighed 4lb 14 oz. I weighed it three times. Once in the net and twice in the sling. Each time checking the adjustment on the scales. I've never caught a chub so broad across the shoulders and with such a large head. I was quietly disappointed in the weight but delighted not to have blanked.

Lovely chubbly!

Looking back at the photo's now, the fish lacked the depth of the fish I'd routinely encounter on the Severn and Wye, perhaps because the Ure didn't have so much bait supplementing a natural diet. I've little doubt that a fish of the same length and girth on either of those rivers would have tipped the scales towards, if not over 6lb. A second smaller chub followed shortly after, but was to be the last fish of the evening. It was a pity not to have bagged a barbel, but it was great to catch a few chub to christen my trip to the river.

Small but perfectly formed! Another pristine Ure chub

The River Ure - Boroughbridge

A few days later and my journey south took me back to the River Ure. I contemplated fishing Westwick Lock again, but decided to ring the changes and try somewhere new. Calling in to the Boroughbridge sweet shop to buy a ticket, my first challenge was to choose a beat. I must admit I was arriving expecting just to have one to choose from, rather than three or four. I had no idea which one was best to head for and the sweet seller didn't seem to have much knowledge, so it came down to blind guess work. Hopefully this isn't a glimpse into a future without tackle shops. Doubtlessly a local tackle dealer could have described every inch of each beat, recommended which one to head for in the conditions and even recommended a couple of pegs. 

Challenge number two was to find access to the beat. The sweet seller had drawn me a hand drawn map and given me a long and complex description of where to park and find access. I drove round and round more times than I could count but couldn't work out (a) where I needed to be to access the river and (b) where I could and couldn't park. With 20 minutes lost to procrastinating over which beat and another half an hour just trying to park up and find the river again I'd lost about an hour of valuable bank time. It just goes to show the value of a bit of local knowledge and advice!

Eventually arriving at the river, it looked absolutely perfect. Deep, slow, turbulent and the colour of Bovril; with a foam line kindly indicated the position of the main current. I had a chat with another angler who was already set up and fishing who reported he'd lost one barbel after fishing for about an hour. A good sign! Alas that was to be the closest I would come to a barbel, or indeed any fish. I tried six different swims, each offering something slightly different - a shallow beach-like peg, a couple of long straight deep runs, a gentle sweeping bend, and a confluence. But it wasn't to be.

The River Ure - Boroughbridge - Stunning

Still, it was a lovely warm late summers evening to be on the bank and I'd have otherwise just been sat in a hotel bar or pub. Thoroughly relaxed as I made my way back to my accommodation I reflected on the two sessions, sometimes you just don't need to catch for it to have all been worthwhile!

Urban Angling - the Bristol Avon

Fast forward to late August 2019, and a trip away with work put me about an hour south of the Bristol Avon. Keen to explore a new river, I reached out to Clive Shipman and Ryan Heard on facebook to put me on a stretch with a decent chance of a late-summer barbel. Both were fantastically helpful but it was Ryan's recommendation that won favour, with Clive's spot added to the list for next time!

I left work a little bit later than planned so the journey to Bradford-on-Avon was a bit of a mad dash. A quick call to Ryan en route gave me a few more details about where to park and how to get down to the swims. He sounded confident, a trait which always seems infectious!

Parking up in the centre of Bradford-on-Avon, I caught my first glimpse of the river. With floating weed mats and rushes punctuating fast runs and deep glides, the river painted a beautiful picture of what urban angling could be. In my excitement to get down to the bank I forgot to take any photographs; so have pinched one from online to set the scene!

Bristol Avon at Bradford (Photo courtesy of t'interweb)

This was only my third attempt at angling in the middle of a town center (the previous being Bewdley and Ross on the Severn and Wye respectively). Rather than the usual hike across fields to reach a swim, the approach to this river included finding my way behind the library, climbing over a set of railings and then squeezing myself along a 15ft-long 12"-wide run down between a hedge and a second set of railings. From there it was a tricky descent down a muddy embankment and onto the combined sewerage overflow outlet which would be my platform to fish from. Aside from my landing net snagging in the vegetation when squeezing through that tight run leaving me anchored between the railings and hedge, I managed my way down to the river without incident.

The river was narrow and slow, with plenty of small fish moving and what I guessed to be a uniform depth profile. Being such a small river I didn't want to cause too much disturbance by plumbing the depth, and figured it was narrow enough for the barbel to search out a bait wherever I put it! I positioned my first rod slightly upstream just off the end of a tree. This would cover a line of the near bank which included overhanging trees and a run of rushes; and looked perfect for a chub. Urban stretches can hold some mammoth chub, even in the smallest of rivers; and I was keen to try for one. My second rod was positioned just beyond the central channel near to some overhanging vegetation. There was nothing sophisticated to my set up, just a small free-running bomb to a 3ft hooklink; and SVBP 14mm pellets - Ambush on the barbel line and Spicy Frankfurter on the hopefully-a-chub one.

Urban Angling - the fish aren't fussy about their surroundings!

Introducing a few loose baits I settled down to enjoy my dinner, hunter-gathered from an M&S petrol station en route! It was barely a moment before the nearside rod hammered over. I struck into thin air, stifling various expletives so not to disturb the swim further. This is always a problem when fishing for barbel but hoping for a bonus chub. A hard, hair-rigged pellet is easy for Mr. 'rubber-lips' Chevin to pick up, test and eject without snagging the point of the hook. I quickly changed the hook and mounted a couple of prawns from my dinner directly onto a Size 8. Alas the opportunity was gone and the fish never did return for a second attempt.

An hour or so passed without event before I heard a rustling in the bushes and Ryan's head popped out over the embankment behind. It was nice to meet him, as we'd chatted a few times over facebook about the pursuit of barbel and in particular the River Wye. It would appear he brought the good luck with him as not long after his arrival my second rod hooped over and before I'd even lifted into the fish it tore off in the directon of Bristol. Barbel in narrow rivers always give a tremendous account of themselves. With so many snags lining the banks and warm water temperatures my clutch was set fairly tight and it was a bit of a tussle as I tried and failed to hurry the fish to the net. They're never ready til they're ready! By default a pb, Ryan was on hand to net the fish just shy of 6lb. Not a huge fish, but fantastic to add another river to my list of those I've taken barbel from. It always interests me to see the different colour variation in barbel from each river. Swale fish for example are a deep bronze from the peaty colored water. Severn and Wye fish are bars of gold. Bristol Avon fish it seems have more of a pewter hue to them.

A beautiful Bristol Avon Barbel! Mission successful!

After photographing the fish Ryan said his fair wells. I gave it until just after dark and then called it a day. There was no further action but I'd achieved what I came for. A quick pint to celebrate marked the end of a long but rewarding day! I've not had the opportunity to make it back yet, but look forward to trying 'Clive's spot' some time next season!

Inspiring the Next Generation

Last year I was discussing with a friend how I got into fishing. For me it was a trip with my dad to Huck’s Farm that started it all off, fishing for whatever would fall to maggots and sweetcorn. For my brother it was trips onto the river with my uncle. I imagine for most of us it’s the same – generally someone took them fishing as kids and inspired them to take it up as a hobby. With this in mind, I’ve been keen this year to do what I can to help the next generation get into the sport.

A friend at work had been bending my ear ever since he discovered I was into fishing that his son Finn really wanted to give it a try, so I agreed to take both along for an evening session to see what it was all about. Shortly afterwards some other friends asked me to take their daughter Lib to give fishing a try, and again I agreed.

I mused over the best venue to start a youngster on and recalled an article I’d read by a fly-fishing instructor. He was asked what was the single most important thing for someone trying fishing for the first time? His response was simple, catching a fish. For all the tuition in the world if there isn’t that contact with the fish, be it a bend in the rod or just seeing a fish on the bank, the trip would largely be frustrating rather than inspirational. I agreed entirely with the logic. For most established anglers it’s not all about the catching, but the joy of being out fishing – but for the unbelievers there’s the eternal myth to be dispelled that fishing is boring, endlessly sitting around doing nowt. This seems especially pertinent to children where everything these days seems to be about something new and exciting. The first objective was clear then, go somewhere with a reasonable chance of a few fish, preferably of a size that would make catching them really exciting for a youngster.

With this in mind, I chose Packington Somers Fishery near Coventry for Finn; and Astwood Lakes in Worcestershire for Lib. Both venues were convenient for parents and children to get to, and I was able to get there easily enough around work for a reasonable afternoon/evening session. There’s a good head of fish in both fisheries and an evening’s margin fishing would almost certainly bring a few fish to the net.

My other objective was to instill a few ethics into the new would be anglers. For me there are a few Fishing Commandments. Fish welfare comes first, always. Respect the water and the dangers associated with it. Respect your environment, take all litter away with you and leave only footprints. I’m still developing this list, but these were the ones I decided to pass on as golden rules for session one.

It was interesting to see the different children’s personalities come out in their approach to the fishing. Finn was excitable and brimful with enthusiasm for catching; Libby calm, methodical and eager to learn. I took a huge amount of pleasure from teaching both and will be more than happy to take them out again for another go.

Finn – Packington Somers Fishery 8^th August 2019

I met Finn with his dad Dave at the fishery at a little after 4pm. I’d never fished the venue before but a quick call to the fishery put me onto the northeast bank of Gearys. There was an evening match on the other side of the pool, but otherwise we had a good range of swims to ourselves. With Finn eager to get going I kept my reccy to a minimum, finding a couple of pegs large enough to get the three of us into with 18 inches - 2 feet of depth against the bank. This magic depth should give the fish enough cover to feed confidently down the edge, but be shallow enough for Finn to see the tail swirls from his quarry and get the heart racing!

Learning the ropes

I chatted Finn through the golden rules as I began to set up the peg. With hindsight I brought way too much stuff and over-complicated things a little. There were a few hitches, but within half an hour I’d baited up a swim and got Finn ready for the off. Explaining that we had to approach the swim super-quietly, Finn lowered his double sweetcorn down into the margin where we’d baited up. The float settled momentarily, bobbed and then shot straight under! The fish had already hooked itself as it tore out of the margins, pulling line off the clutch as it did so. Just the start we were after! Finn controlled the fish admirably and quickly got to grips with when to reel and when to lift the rod to make ground on the fish when it wasn’t making a break for it. With a decent carp successfully landed, I talked Finn through unhooking and resting the fish and then weighed and photographed his catch before slipping it gently back.

First Fish!

Big Ghostie!

I’m sure Dave won’t mind me saying, but he’d admitted a little while ago that he has a phobia of touching fish. We chatted it through and he was adamant that he wasn’t going to pass that fear on to Finn, so we set about lining Dave up for the next fish. Once again the float shot under. Dave lifted into a magnificent… gudgeon. As you can imagine Finn thought this was hilarious, and I’m not sure Dave will ever quite live down the size difference between their respective first catches. As the evening went on, both Finn and Dave managed to catch half a dozen carp between them on both rod and pole, with Dave conquering his phobia and Finn catching a beautiful ghostie just shy of double figures. It was fair to say Finn had done brilliantly and whilst he didn’t want to leave as it started to get late, I took that as a huge positive that he’d enjoyed himself.

Dave - setting a great example and THAT gudgeon...

Lib – Astwood Lakes, Worcestershire 1st September 2019

I met Lib with her mum Sophie at Astwood mid-afternoon. I introduced Libby and Soph to the owner Frank and his warm Geordie tones and explained that we’d brought Lib for her first ever fishing trip, he seemed genuinely proud that we’d bestowed Astwood with such an honour! Frank's a really nice chap and I always enjoy a bit of a chat with him before fishing.

I’d brought maggots and corn as bait. With Libby being a bit younger than Finn, I’d planned to start her on catching silvers before moving her onto catching a few big fish later on. I was going to set her a species challenge – to catch as many different types of fish as possible. However, as we walked along Smokey Joe’s lake with Lib helping to carry the gear, our eagle eyes spotted a few carp already feeding in the margins. I’m not one to look a gifthorse in the mouth, but I asked Lib whether she’d like to proceed with the original plan or get stuck straight into going after those big fish right in front of us. Unsurprisingly she wanted to go after the whoppers! Again, I talked Lib through the golden rules and set up a rod for her whilst she (liberally!) baited up the margins. I quickly came to realize that Lib has an expensive loose-feeding technique and certainly knows how to pile in the bait! Still, it worked a treat with the swim soon awash with tail swirls.  

Focused! Ready for that first sailaway bite!

It took us a few put-ins to get Lib’s striking technique right, with the fish time and time again bolting out of the margins with the float sailing away but not connecting with the fish. Soon enough though we were flying as Lib hooked and landed fish after fish. For the first few I was helping her hold the rod, but by the end she was landing them all by herself. Magic. After some frantic action and landing a couple of doubles up to 12lb Lib was looking a little fatigued, so we moved onto the species challenge for the last half hour. We managed common carp, ghost carp, roach, rudd and bleak, not bad going!

First double-figure carp!

Double #2! 11lb 10oz!

I was really impressed by how confidently Lib had fished, despite her junior years. She listened intently to everything we discussed and applied it to her fishing. She’s done nothing but pester her parents for outing number two ever since we went, and has taken to watching all of the fishing programmes on Sky. Brilliant!

Technique! Lib soon got the hang of landing some impressive carp! 

To those of you reading who have friends and family with little ones – get yourselves out onto the bank to teach them the craft of angling, I guarantee you’ll enjoy it every bit as much as they do  as well as inspiring the next generation into the sport!

Warwickshire Avon - Fladbury Weir

Picture Perfect - The Warwickshire Avon

June 25-28 Having never fished the Warwickshire Avon despite it being on my doorstep and the banks of the Severn still resembling a quagmire, I thought I’d take the wife for a midweek 'romantic walk' (read: evening reccy') along the banks of Fladbury Weir.

Fladbury Weir

The beat is characterized by narrow slow flow through much of it’s length, with overhanging willows and reeds providing notable features. Fladbury Weir dominates the upper end of the beat, with a sizeable weirpool and turbulent run-off. Towards the lower end is a road bridge with some inviting looking rushes emerging from the centre of the river.

Bridges - Chub magnets!

Starting at Fladbury Weir we gradually made our way down the full length of the beat, talking briefly to each angler to learn what we could. Two anglers were fishing the weir, one on the pool and one the run-off. Waders would definitely make fishing either of these pegs easier. Weirpools always hold fish, but the run-off looked the more inviting of the two, perfect for trotting a float through.

The next peg downstream is a Y shaped junction between the river and the lock flow. The river is wider at this point than most of the beat whilst retaining depth, flow and cover. Another very fishable peg. Just downstream is the outlet from the mill race. A quick walk over the footbridge confirmed what I suspected – the unfishable mill race was stuffed with barbel, no doubt still preoccupied with spawning. Perhaps a dozen or more fish were gliding in and out of the shadows, a few chub but plenty of barbel – with one looking to be pushing double figures. We stayed to watch them for a good half an hour like cats in front of a fish tank. I’ve always enjoyed watching fish move around waterways and learning their behavior, but there’s something especially mesmerizing about the way barbel glide up and across a riverbed and then turn and roll downstream.

Dark Shadows.... Barbel and chub in the mill race!

By the time we got to the bottom end of the beat a mayfly hatch was in full swing, with hundreds of mayfly hatching, bouncing on the evening air before coupling up to mate and lay their eggs. It seems quite a fragile thing, adulthood lasting but a few hours.

Mayflies - beautifully intricate

Dancing Alone - the last mayfly in the sky

With my appetite truly whet, it was only a few days before I’d negotiated upgrading the romantic riverside walk to a romantic riverside picnic, with the rods! The river bank is as pretty as any at Fladbury and the weather was fine. On arrival it was clear just how busy this beat gets. There were half a dozen people on those first few pegs including as close to the exit of the mill race as permissible. The pegs up and downstream of the road bridge were also taken. A good hour was lost as I procrastinated about which swim to target, eventually deciding to keep as far from the circus as possible with a peg halfway between the two main features, just downstream of a bend. The steep bank at this location also fitted the other half’s requirements of a little privacy and uncompromised sunshine.

Happy wife is happy life!

Good times - Summer evenings by the river

With hindsight, I would have been far better taking a mobile approach. However, when fishing a river for the first time I always like to have options and therefore too much tackle to keep on the move.

A sole chub, by default a pb for the Warwickshire Avon was the only fish caught after a big thump of a take and a bursting initial run mimicking a barbel perfectly! It wasn’t a huge surprise given the earlier sight of barbel backed up into the mill race. There’s clearly plenty of fish on the stretch though and I’ll look forward to getting back another time once those fish are back in the main river and firmly on the feed.

Stunning - the River Avon at sunset

Sometimes the catching's just not important...

Blank saver!