From the water’s edge

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May 2013 - Micro killer - Qu’est que c’est?

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.

Ever get in an angling rut. You know what you want but it won’t happen and you don’t know what to try next. Join me in the slough of despond then.

The boats have started and it’s getting harder by the day. This weekend just gone saw a massive influx of boat traffic in the Leicestershire/midlands area as the Crick boat show got underway. Today they all went off home through the spot we were fishing.

To be fair we were expecting it but options were limited. We have decided to switch away from the canals for the summer but of course the river season is still closed and there is little for us to do in that regard other than buy new rods and dream of big chub.

The first boat passed before we had the gear out of the car, but Pete walked straight onto a pocket of perch taking three to a pound in a few minutes. I hope he didn’t get too excited, because apart from one lost zander later in the morning that was his lot.

I worked all morning for my three, concentrating so hard that I could feel what passes for my brain beginning to boil. Even so I missed another half a dozen as well, but they were all small fish as you can see; Micro-reel, micro-lures, micro fish. Never mind they all count and every one was a triumph of hard work over enjoyment. Actually that is not quite true - it was very satisfying to catch a fish when the person watching couldn’t see the take. It really was like trying to catch smoke in a net. Still I conjured nine or ten takes in all from filthy, debris-strewn water as boat after boat blundered past. I couldn’t have done that even two years ago.

This isn’t chronologically correct I know but Sunday was another good example of how our fishing changes. Every year Pete Felstead organises a day on a well-known season ticket-only reservoir. We have had some great days there, but this year it didn’t light the same fire as it once used to. It’s pretty much pike or nothing and if they are not having it then it is soul destroying. Once I would have worked it to death for hours to get a fish or two, but this year within an hour I realised that it is just not my kind of fishing anymore. I hadn’t prepared. Coming out with a paltry set of lures. All good fish catchers but not enough options. As a result I had one half decent pike up to the top only to give me a big toothy grin and chuck my spring dawg back at me. The take was fun - I missed a knock at range, struck then let the lure hit bottom. Two more turns and the let it drop. A huge bow sagged into the line but suddenly straightened out spectacularly , the fish taking line as I struck. From that point on it was pretty typical of stillwater pike in my experience. Hardly a kick, just a bit of kiting and a pretty good imitation of a clump of weed until it saw daylight and spat it back.  

Look at it - cast it where exactly? Just as far as you can and hope I suppose. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Off to the pub.

PS One of our number blagged a lift home in an ambulance after slipping on the dam and breaking his ankle. In case you are reading this Ken - I hope you get well soon.

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