June 16th

This year June 16th, the day when coarse fishing starts on our rivers, fell on a windy Saturday that threatened showers. The river was in flood; the colour of oxtail soup with all sorts of croutons and oily foam floating on top, so I wasn't too keen. Anyway, I was happy to have a family day, which included a picnic at Houghton Mill in the evening.

The Mill Pool at Houghton is the only place locally where I have caught the little East Anglian specialty called  Pope or Ruffe. When the water drops, I'm going back to catch you some and photograph them.

June 17th was Fathers' Day, so I was expected to go fishing; and so I did! The picnic by the river had whetted my appetite for a session, but where to go?

To be honest, I'm a bit spoiled for choice round here. Even if the river is out of sorts, we still have loads of old gravel pits that apparently contain massive tench, bream and carp, but I'm not a ground-baiter or a sitter-downer. I like to wander the banks with all that I need by way of tackle in my pockets. This mobile approach especially suits fishing for chub on small streams and relief channels where the big fish space themselves out in open feeding lanes, always with cover at hand. It's no good ledgering in a big, open hole, except for the schools of smaller fish. 'Better to fish upstream like a fly-fisher, sneaking up behind the chub, swinging a lump of luncheon-meat ahead of you and plopping it into likely looking channels between the weeds or under the bank. I don't use a float or shot, just free-line the bait back towards me.


My stream of choice is a relief channel that flows out of the main river over a weir. There's lots of flow and plenty of oxygen but it's not very deep. It's jungle fishing. You are usually up to your waist in nettles, hemp agrimony, burdock, yellow iris and hemlock, but this year I was up to my armpits or even over my head. Herbage can be infuriating, but if you also have to work your way under willows, alders and sycamores with a long rod, you might just let loose a few expletives. If it helps, why not?

Bush-whacking has its benefits though. If there's no path you can be sure that you are fishing virgin territory, but if you make a path yourself you will be creating new swims for other anglers, or a route for dog walkers. On your next visit you may have to share the river with swimming labradors. That's what happened to me this morning. The owners were nice people, but totally ineffectual with their dear pooches. I invited them to come in the river to get their dogs, but they declined, probably thinking I was a maniac of some kind. I didn't let it spoil my day, but I whacked a few nettles to relieve my blood pressure.

All the same I caught five chub and had a good time. The fish in the photo was a small one. (You should have seen the big one!) However, I dropped my camera in the river while netting it and it's now drying under the hair dryer. (The camera, not the chub, stupid!) I hope it still works.

Ruffe fisning next week, I hope.