From the water’s edge

August 2015 - Dog days

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They are supposed to be hot, sunny and difficult, the dog days of summer. This year, they are hot, cold, windy, dull and cruel. Back in that case, to one of our recent successes. If its going to be hard, go somewhere easy.

Last time, the first time in fact, I reckon we pretty much had some sort of indication, be it, take, fish or suspicious interference with our lures on every cast for the first hour. So Pete's bait was in the water and into the first fish before I had even got my arse in gear. All was going to be well, surely.

It hasn't been a good week for me, and I was hoping that today would be a relaxing and productive escape. Fat chance, I couldn't buy a bite for the first hour and only the previous visit's productivity kept me trying. Eventually it paid off with the second small zander of the morning. At least we had a blank-saver apiece under our belts but this was not what we had in mind when we set off this morning.


We moved up the hill, trying every successive feature to no avail until we got to the only other lock on the flight that had produced last time. And guess what, it produced again, one zander each and a lost fish for Pete. Positively manic. I had scaled down in an effort to catch something, anything, that might sweeten my bitter mood and had failed miserably. In a fit of idleness, I went up to a 3.5" ribster but couldn't be bothered to change my fine wire size 6 hook. It scarcely mattered, my next fish had it right down its throat, necessitating some nifty work with the forceps.

Proof, if it was needed, that if your bait is attractive enough, the hook does not need to be as big as we might think. It still raises the question, how come we struggle for takes but those we get are positive and the bait is taken right down?

It was still rubbish, so we gave up at 10 am and fled to another place on another canal. A place that has also surprised us of late. It surprised us again by being useless, producing just the one small perch I needed to pip Pete to best bag.



I couldn't give up there, so after dropping Pete at home, I nipped down to the commercial and added bugger all to my catch for the day beyond a violent missed take from a small chub.

There's not much to say when it is this hard, so I finish with a couple of self-indulgent snaps of my late shooting and fishing buddy. The life has drained out of our house this week, all that is left is an ear-ringingly quiet and empty space. It would be nice to think that things will get better soon. Rest in peace my friend.

artificial lite



journal 2015.


journal 2015.