artificial lite.

silver lite.

beach bum.

Archive .

I hope that you find my journal interesting and entertaining. If, having read this, you think that I am talking rubbish then at least you have stopped and thought about it long enough to come to that conclusion which is something of a result in my book. If you would like to comment on this article or anything else relating to my website, please feel free to contact me using the adjacent form. Feedback is always greatly appreciated and very helpful when it comes to improving both my site and my angling. Thank you for looking. If this form will not work for you, please e-mail me at editor@ericweight.co.uk



beach bum.

artificial lite.

Such a perfect day.

Those long early, post-dawn starts are a thing of the past already. It only seems like yesterday that the alarm was set for 3.30 and I could get five glorious hours in the early morning sunshine before the boats got going. Now it is barely and hour, two at best. Along with the dawn-light, the bites are fading as well. They still come straight away, but a frantic hour of unmissable bites has become 20 minutes of highly missable, finicky bites and lost fish and I am not really sure why.

Maybe it’s because I have been a little less extravagant with the free offerings. Maybe it is because I have moved to a spot that showed a lot of small fish activity and crucially gave up my first good roach. Bait or fish, time of the year or conditions, maybe they are sick of my attentions and have moved away. I have to admit that I dithered over where to fish this morning. I don’t like returning too often but last weekend’s prime roach was just that, my primary roach and they clearly aren’t spread all that liberally around this neck of the woods.

I’m not even sure if I made the right choice now. I had a few bites and just like last time, lost the first three fish before catching a skimmer. Bites dried up almost immediately but I squeaked out another roach after a long wait that I put at about 12 oz yet which generously flickered up to a round pound on the scales. I didn’t deserve that one. I had been pratting about with the camera for a good ten minutes when I looked up and realised that the float was wobbling drunkenly around in circles five yards away from where I left it.

Almost immediately the first boat came through and it was another thirty minutes before I had another bite and that came out of the blue as well. A much better fish this one. Big, freshly-minted, a silver ingot of a roach that lied on the scales missing the pound by a few drams. I would have sworn that it was a good pound and a quarter, but I can’t be unhappy with that. Even if it was my last bite.

No bream though, and no hybrids this time either, but more roach. I clearly have found an area that holds one shoal worthy of plundering. Nevertheless, next time I shall have to move. Depending on where the boats are moored, I would like to shift focus fifty yards back along the cut before the CRT pile drivers catch up[ with me again, because when they do I shall have to vacate this stretch altogether for a bit. No bad thing I’m sure, but a pound and a half roach would be a nice parting gift. Just saying.

A pinch of flake

Fold in half

Press the fold

Pass hook through the flat

Flake pops up above BB shot

14 hk, 1BB 2” up the line

artificial lite