12:30pm. This is the week.
2:37pm. Or maybe not. I’m struggling again. The perch are not giving themselves up too easily. A quite annoying pattern is starting to rear its ugly head. I’ve made a good start to the autumn perch fishing, but it is quickly turning into hair pulling frustration, with no recompense in sight. I’m sure there’s some of you out there reading this who think, why the hell don’t you just go to a commercial and have done with it? There’s no doubt there are plenty of big perch swimming around in these types of venues, but for now at least, I really want to catch the wildest perch I can. And that means canal or river.
4:10pm. I’m not taking the high horse in the matter, nor am I derogating anyone who chooses to fish for perch on commercial type venues, hell, I will more than likely do it myself one day and you still have to catch the fish. But for now there is a strange kind of lure over me when it comes to these wild, aqueous veins that divide up our country. A grebe has just swam past me. I can’t ever recall seeing a grebe on a canal before. Earlier a pheasant jumped out from behind the hedge behind me, half scaring me to death. The world our side of the divide neatly providing all the reason I need to keep fishing here, barren session after barren session. There’s no way of knowing just what is going to happen next.
4:56pm. Fish I caught a few weeks ago may now be miles from where I’m sitting. With no lock gates why wouldn’t they turn into nomads? Following the bait fish. Seeking out more sheltered areas away from a strong tow or endless boat traffic. Equally, a fish that was nowhere near casting range, even just a few hours ago, could now be swimming ever closer to my bait. Ready to make a memory. Good or bad. Just like the gudgeon I caught at the start of this session, in a different league to all the others, almost as long as my hand. A mini canal monster in its own right.
5:27pm. The pennywort is really starting to get on my nerves. I can hardly put a float in between it. Forever clumping on the line, the float or well, anything in its way. In a week or two it will be leaves doing the annoying but at least they are more colourful and varied. I should stop moaning. Its not that bad, and as soon as the boats ease, the flow will decrease putting an end to this leafy rampage. And at least I have caught a few perch this week. Not the really big one I hoped for but certainly not fish to be sniffed at.
5:42: A few moments ago the float sprung into life and my heart rate did something similar. I struck into heavy weight. Weight that ran so speedily up to the surface. A new PB. My very first grebe, gudgeon clutched tightly at right angles, in between its dart like beak. Thankfully the hook was not in contact and a short, sharp pull saw the grebe begrudgingly give me back my bait. More proof, I guess, that on the next cast, anything could happen.
7:55pm. But not today.
Thanks for reading and until next time,