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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
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Up in the water

Minimal gear is my plan for bait fishing. Keep it simple, keep it fun, but with non stop rain threatened, I had to pack the brolly. I'm no martyr to my fishing any more. Once I would have fished into the eye of the wind, expecting the fish to be feeding where food was driven to the bank. No longer. Now my first decision is 'where will I be most comfortable?'.

I set the brolly against the wind coming diagonally over my left shoulder and set my stall out to fish my usual deep,water rig, a 2 SSG windbeater float fished lift method style with one BB on the bottom. Bait was, as usual, flake under a fairly heavy snowstorm of liquidised bread.

And snowstorm it must have appeared 15 feet below the surface. This a deep pool, eight feet in the edge and fifteen, three rods out. We only fished the morning, but even so, four hours for one proper bite was a struggle in my book. True I had lost one good fish, almost certainly a carp, and Pete had squeaked out three tiddly perch, but a blank was definitely on the cards.

I'm not sure why it took me so long to do something about it, but with a half hour left, I changed my float for something smaller, re-shotted the rig for a slow drop and set the depth at three feet. A consistent stream of rising fish down wind accurately demonstrated where the particles of crust in my liquidised feed had been rising to the surface. They might be smaller than I would like, but a roach or two might save the day.

I lobbed out a lightly squeezed ball of feed that would break up at ghe surface and flicked the float into the cloud. Ten seconds and the float disappeared. Missed, HOW? Never mind, repeat the feed, repeat the cast, repeat the bite, lift and the tip stopped dead. A big, heavy weight was boring around under the tip, bumping and stubbornly resisting the inevitable.


 

 

The net closed around a right lump of a fish and it wasn't exactly what I had been expecting when I cast in. 12 feet off the bottom, just beneath the surface, a bream, a few ounces shy of five pounds! After the excitement, half a dozen casts without a bite. I was trying to keep the bait falling. If there was no bite forthcoming, I would wind a few turns and allow it to sink again. Rightly or wrongly, I didn't want it just hanging there like a warning flag.

And then it happened again, only this time, line was pouring off the reel. By the time l had it stopped, the fish was across the far side of the lake, and a long, somewhat tedious slogging match ensued. Ultimately, Pete wangled it into the net, all eleven plus pounds of it. Another good bream would have been more like it but beggars can't be choosers.

Now then, shotting patterns for fishing bread on the drop, and floats, which floats? My bag grows heavier again.