There was little chance of a river in fine trim today. I was adamant my time would be wasted fishing with maggots and trotting gear. Heavy rain a day or too before my session, and some further downpours during the night, left me in no doubt. A swollen and brown river for sure. I would certainly have to ledger today. At least to give myself the best chance of a chub. Cheese paste at the ready, I gathered the necessary tackle and set of for my favourite small river. I could’t wait to walk across that cow-hoof-churned-up, waterlogged field. Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, so lets move on.
On arrival it was time to deposit the tackle somewhere out of the way and find five or six swims. The plan was to feed a little cheese paste in each, before making my way back and tackling up. It took a good thirty minutes to complete before I headed to the first swim. A nearside slack behind a fallen tree. The only problem with this swim is that the bank is fairly high so you really do have to crawl onto position. Anything to keep off that skyline and failing to do so results in an area seemingly devoid of chub. No need for any shot on this cast; the weight of the generous lump of cheese paste is enough to sink into position. Then using my finger tips to feel for indication, I waited for the bite. Which came about a minute later. A gentle pluck followed by a pronounced pull. It was enough to strike at, and with the hook set, an angry chub did its best to find every near bank snag.
Thankfully I was able to net the fish. Which turned out to be a healthy four and a half pounder. A cracking start to the day and its always good to net an early fish. If I didn’t have anymore success I would be going home happy. Of course it was now time to leave this swim; far too much disturbance from the fight to remain. I did feed more cheese paste before I left and would no doubt return if I had time. The next swim was one I had not fished before. A mouthwatering eddy well out of the main flow. Just one swan shot was needed to hold the bottom and gentle lift of the rod saw the bait trundle around. However, after twenty minutes it was clear there was no chub present so I headed for my third swim. A similar swim to the first. Again no weight was needed so a free-lined hook bait was lowered gently into the swim. After first crawling into place. Curse those high banks. The effort was worth it though. The bait couldn’t have been in the water more than thirty seconds before the rod hooped round and I simply lifted into another fine chub. Preparing swims certainly paying dividends.
One ounce short of four pound. Another cracking fish. But again time to move on. I was having a fantastic time. It was very refreshing that the chub were helping to support my decisions in tactics and bait. I now had around an hour left. I disciplined myself to fishing two more swims before I would unfortunately have make my way back home. An hour before dusk and that magical hour after. The last two swims produced another chub between them. A slightly smaller stamp than the first two but an immaculate fish with perfect rows of brassy scales. Just over two hours later I was back on the road and heading home. A little disappointed not to have the chance to fish into dark but feeling very satisfied all the same. I absolutely adore chub.
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Until Next time tight lines