How to fish

With the clocks going back an hour, I planned to leave at 6am for a mornings fishing. Sometimes things just don't pan out the way you plan them. Our beloved cat decided to chow down on an elastic band and at midnight the night before we had to take her to the vets to have her small stomach pumped. Rest assured we did not arrive home until around 1 and I don't think I was asleep until 2. I set my trusty old phone back an hour and fell asleep. Except my phone went back another hour automatically so by the time I awoke I had no idea what time it was. It was 8.15am.

On my way to the Bruche, I cycle past the small river in the picture below. Allotments sit right next to the waterside, and I am thinking that next year I will try and get myself access to these makeshift pegs. I fancy my chances of a Chub or two from this water.

Possible Chub swim?

I arrived at the Bruche and set-up hastily. I flicked bread into the middle of the gentle flow and waited for the rod tip to wake up. After 5 minutes a breeze really picked up and although it was a bright, sunny morning the wind was moving my rod tip all over the place, making bite detection awkward, although not impossible. I had a few bites over a 30 minute period but couldn't strike true. As usual this spot has a fair share of walkers, runners and cyclists and it is easy to be distracted. I chose to change my tactics and try for the Perch I thought I had on my line the week before. I finished Chris Yates' book 'How to Fish' a couple of weeks ago and I have been inspired to try for a Perch ever since, the way he describes their feeding habits and their habitat that he cleverly titles 'The Church of the Perch' is sublime! 

Parked up at the Bruche Canal

Using a stick I managed to dig up one of the Perch's favourite meals, a juicy lob worm. Instead of casting to my right, I gently and amazingly for me, accurately managed to cast straight to the front, underneath tree branches. Instead of resting the rod and waiting for the visual, I decided to touch ledger, a tactic i'm slowly growing to love. With the line tight and using the sense of touch alone it was a minute or so before I felt 'tick, tick, boom!' I struck into a stern fighting fish and 30-40 seconds later I had a lovely conditioned Perch in the net. He looked fantastic in his green football shirt complete with vibrant stripes.

Wild Canal Perch. I wonder if he has bigger brothers?

After I slipped him back into the drink, he lay still gathering his thoughts before shooting off to warn the shoal. At this point it was 11am and time to collect the cat from the vets. An enjoyable if short angling adventure complete.

Spot the fish

Preparation is key!

I woke up at 7.30am on Saturday and started to pack my bag for a mornings fishing. However, now that we are in October, it is still dark at this hour and so I fumbled my way through the cupboard of the apartment finding everything I needed with all the grace of a bull in a China store, you see today was no normal day, today I had a groggy head from a rare nights drinking with friends the evening before! I had a simple bag packed with rod, reel, net, bread and a tin of sweetcorn. Anything missing?

I cycled to the Canal de la Bruche, which is currently my favourite place to wet a line. It takes a good 30-40 minutes to cycle there and being a little tired from the evening before it took me a good 45 today. Nothing quite quashes a hangover like leaving the house early, cycling as the sun rises with a fresh breeze in your face. One of the things I love most about being an early riser is the things you see that most people don't. On this particular ride I saw an osprey looking bird of prey atop a basketball ring, truly majestic, and yet surreal, and as I arrived toward my spot for the day I noticed a beautiful kingfisher making his early morning rounds.

Canal de la Bruche

I parked up my bike and opened my bag. To my horror I realised that I had left my small tackle box at home (thanks hangover brain!). I had my rod, I had a reel loaded with line but I didn't have the most essential item of all, the simple hook. The thought of cycling back again was unfathomable and in my head I planned to wait until, on the off chance, that another angler might walk by and I could ask for a hook. Which with my bad French would have been no easy feat. As if my magic a thought struck me 'What if I have left a hook somewhere in the bottom of a pocket on my bag?' Being quite lazy, I don't clean out my bag as thoroughly as I should and I opened the front pocket and nestled in the bottom was a tiny little hook connected to a tiny swivel, absolute result! Now I needed a weight to sink my bait to the bottom of the canal. I picked up a nice little stone, around the same weight as the sinkers I use and I tied what can only be described as a caveman knot, a mish-mash of line wrapped in several directions around the stone, but somehow it worked, I will be honest I felt a bit Bear Grylls. I have never tied a hook so securely in my small fishing career, this was my only hook for the day and I wasn't going to lose it in a hurry.

For the first cast of the day my bait of choice was bread, pinched around the hook. I gently cast to my right about 3-4 meters and I perched my rod on a small extendable rest with the line tight enough so that I would see any bites in the rod tip. Within a matter of minutes I saw the rod get knocked once, then twice and I struck to nothing. I blamed it on the drink from the night before for my slow response time and I re-cast. For the next hour or so the pattern was familiar with me striking too early or too late. I was beginning to lose patience when I struck into my first fish of the day, however it wasn't meant to be and it came off early into the fight. As soon as the light streamed through the trees at around 9am the first joggers and cyclists zoomed past. A short while later and then an oddball walked past, absolutely intrigued in what I was doing and thank god he didn't talk to me. He walked on for around 50 meters and I could see him through the mist doing various stretches and then something that looked like praying/meditating, he was putting me right off my fishing! All of a sudden he turned and sprinted back past me and off into the distance, this wouldn't normally bother me, but he wasn't wearing shorts or joggers, he was running in jeans!

With the morning dew on the grass around me I could see a few worms, and the idea of casting one was just too tempting to deny. I cast a small one to the far bank and waited for the magic. I have fished this spot 4-5 times now and with no local knowledge to guide me I am having to learn for myself  what lurks beneath the surface. So far I have caught good Roach, a Rudd and even a decent sized Bream. As the weather is getting colder I fancy my chances with the perch, and so the anticipation built up.... All of a sudden my rod bent around and I struck into a fish, it felt good (even though most fish feel good with 4lb line) and it was a funny kind of a fight, it felt Perchy, with what I can only describe as shakes and shudders all vibrating through the line. Alas, it came off without me seeing it, but I am convinced it was a perch, and I will indeed come back looking for it another day.

I cast another worm, this time a huge lob and again I waited. I didn't wait long and I struck firmly into a hard fighting fish. It ducked for a snag toward the bank to the right of my feet but I held the rod high and managed to steer it away from danger. It was large enough it needed netting and it was beautifully well hooked in the lip, what was sitting in the net? A striking bar of bright silver, Mr Roach. He certainly had eyes bigger than his stomach! I do not have scales but I would predict it was a good 1/2 - 1lb mark, well over a good handful and plump around the belly. I took a quick snap as is customary and slipped it back into the canal. Sometimes to catch a single fish is good enough for me and I felt lucky to have caught one today especially with my hook mishaps and fuzzy head. It was time to go home and enjoy the rest of the day. As I was leaving I saw a moped speeding down the towpath, an old gent got in the way of the bike and proceeded to wallop the youngster on the back with his walking stick, good on him. You have to sit back and admire the crazy events that unfold before you while you are out on a fishing adventure. When I finally got home it was not even midday.

Lovely conditioned Roach