January 2014 - More by luck...

From the water’s edge

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.

It’s been a long time since Sharkey and I fished together, but the chance came up today so we took it. Whether we should have bothered is a moot point. Our first choice venue looked perfect when I arrived. Clean, green water, unaffected by the continuous rain, but my hopes were soon dashed. I reached the water to find 5 other lure anglers already fishing. An LAS day out by the looks of it, and little point in making it any harder for everybody.

One of the ironies of lure fishing is that pressure is the kiss of death to the fishing. We need lots of lure anglers to ensure a steady supply of new and better equipment. Now that we have them, the chances of getting a quiet day with the canal all to one’s self is reducing. I hope they had a better day than us. We headed off to our second choice on a different canal and this one was like liquid sh**e. Visibility was 1” for the brightest fluorescent pink 4” lure in my box. This was only ever going to be a real struggle.

I dibbled myself stupid to no avail, the wind was reducing the sensitivity of the method even with a short line out, buffeting the rod and generally harassing me. I stopped for a rethink. I couldn’t see them chasing and catching a lure in this, but I needed some weight just to stay in touch with the lure. There in the deepest recesses of my desperate options lure box was a crayfish on a heavier, leaded worm hook. I could fish that slow, tight to the bottom and cover some canal at the same time, so on it went. Fifteen minutes after I started, donk, there it was. My first take of the day and what turned out to be my only fish for a morning’s effort. I’m not complaining, how could I when a nice perch came sliding over the rim of the net waving its blood red fins at me. I might have missed two more, but that is not a certainty. I had secured the blank-saver which was something of a relief so early in the new year. This is much more like our fishing used to be.


artificial lite

journal 2014.





journal 2014.

journal 2013.