Well, any approach would be a start! The fact is, I haven’t wet a line in
anger since my last blog. A combination of the school holidays, disturbed
work patterns, the swapping of cars, general half-arsed lethargy and a garage
full of shite have all contributed to my lack of bank time. Whilst all these
factors have had some bearing on my inactivity, it is probably the latter which
has hindered proceedings the most – the fact that no matter how lightly I aim
to travel, I cannot seem to put my hand on the items required.
Maybe I’ll
find the required rod, and maybe even the correct reel, but perhaps it will
be spooled with too fine a line and the spare spools happen to be buried
under the lawn mower and an old bed?!
Perhaps I’ll find all the major items
only to be thwarted by the absence of any floats, leads or feeders?
Maybe I
could find the missing items if I was to partially empty the garage onto the
driveway? Oh wait…..I can’t…..we have an extra car on the drive which
wouldn’t normally be there, and it’s dark outside anyway, as I spent the last
hours of daylight ferrying the kids around from one place to the next, and
fixing / cleaning the afore-mentioned extra car in preparation for its
imminent sale!
After a full day at work, plus this extra bollocks, I really cannot
generally be arsed. Recently however, the realisation dawned on me: if I am to carry on in this
manner, the whole summer will soon have passed, and then autumn and winter
would be upon us, bringing with them a whole new list of jobs, obstacles and
excuses not to partake in the act of splodging. I would have to make an
effort, sooner rather than later, to locate some appropriate tackle and get
on the bank. Fridays offer me the opportunity to finish work early, and
although I would have to pick the kids up at some point, I was sure that I
could sneak an hour or so on the canal situated close to my place of work.
Luckily, I had in mind a “shit or bust” method which would require minimum
tackle, could be executed in said time frame, and should offer instant
results, although it would require favourable conditions (a warm, calm, sunny
day). The method in question: surface fishing for bream.
“But bream don’t feed from the surface”, I hear you scream.
“And they don’t
like bright conditions either, you fool”, I hear you mutter.
“And they shy
away from calm waters, they much prefer a ripple on the water, you bell-end”.
And you would be right (not to mention a cheeky twat); it does seem fanciful
that this method would work. However, I have done my research:
I walk the canal fairly often, and on warm sunny days the bream in question
can be seen congregated in relatively large shoals of thirty or so fish –
most in the 2lb to 3lb bracket. Indeed, I had walked the bank on a couple of occasions earlier in the week, and the shoals of bream had been present both times.
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| Not my photo by the way - pinched from the internet |
These dark slab-sided bream are often
accompanied by a few lighter coloured sleeker specimens - fish which I
initially assumed to be large roach or rudd until it became apparent that they were too
bronzey(!), and had no evidence of red about their fins. It would make sense for
them to be hybrids, since these are commonly found in canals such as this
where bream and roach spawn at the same time and in the same areas.
I know
the whereabouts of four such separate shoals, and they are always in the same
place should the conditions be conducive. And while locating is one thing but
catching quite another, I am encouraged by my recent findings with regard to
whether they can be tempted to feed or not. Experiments with bread have shown
that while they will not take a floating crust or flake from the surface (I
don’t think they can actually see it for a start, as I don’t believe that
bream can see directly above them), they will take a slowly sinking piece as
it passes through their field of vision. This is hook-free bread, you
understand. Never before have I actually tried to catch these basking bream,
but the idea was to try and make a free-lined piece of bread flake (or bread
disc, as championed by the excellent Jeff Hatt) sink enticingly before them
to see if I could tempt one into taking it. A substantial hook should add
enough weight to make the bread sink slowly, but if not, I could always
squeeze the bread to varying degrees to adjust the density. A shot could be
added if this still didn’t achieve the required effect.
So, armed with a short(ish) soft action rod, and a small reel spooled with
2.9lb line, landing net, a small bag of end tackle and polarised glasses, I
set off in search of slabs. Conditions were perfect, and the first shoal was
easily located. A few pieces of bread were deposited amongst the shoal, just
to see what reaction they would evoke. Worryingly, even the slow sinking
offerings were ignored. No matter, I tackled up anyway, but the first cast
was a bad one, and on the retrieve I didn't notice that the bread disc had
fallen off (a consequence of not buying the Hatt standard Warburton's blue).
The result was that I wound in too much line, and the hook became caught in
the top ring of the rod.
When I'd figured out what had happened, I inspected
the "knot" on the shank of the spade end hook for damage. It was
mangled, and the hook pretty much fell off in my hand. Not a great start!
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| The rig(!) |
After re-tying the hook, and temporarily vacating the towpath to let a couple
of cyclists through, I noticed a couple of men approaching, and given their
general demeanor and their gesturing towards the water, I thought they must
be of the splodging persuasion. Sure enough, as they got closer, a Preston
Innovations fleece gave one of them away. They too were carrying bread but no
tackle, in the same manner as I had earlier in the week. They were clearly
locating fish, and I hoped they would be on their way without too much fuss
(I'm a solitary angler by rights, and I was pressed for time as it was). They
seemed to take an age to reach me, and when they did it was clear that at
least one of them was intent on a full blown conversation.
Preston man
proceeded to tell me how he had fished this stretch for donkey's years.
Caught this, that and the other, won this match, that match and the other.
Then, he said something which rocked me slightly:
"Common carp these,
mate", he said, pointing to the large shoal of what were clearly bream.
Given his supposed experience, and the fact that he was wearing an item of
match fishing gear, and given the fact that the fish in front of us were so
obviously not carp, his statement really did leave me speechless for a moment
or two.
"Erm, I'm pretty sure they're bream", I said after a while.
"Nah, nah," he says confidently, "they're definitely not bream. They're
too thick across their backs. Bream are really thin, like dinner plates. The
tail's the wrong shape, and bream never swim about on the top. They come up
and roll, then they go straight back down on the bottom", he says.
"Yep, they're definitely common carp. I caught one on here this
week", he said, "caught it on the bottom though".
In no mood for
an argument, and wanting him to piss off ASAP, I held my tongue. His mate had
wondered off by this point, clearly quite embarrassed by the whole
conversation, and I'm glad to say that he had the good grace to leave an
expectant angler in peace. Not so Preston man, who then proceeded to start
throwing bread at the very fish I was about to attempt (since I hadn't even
got started by this point!) to catch!
When he eventually buggered off, I was pleased to see that the shoal of bream
was still present, so after being bank side for half an hour, I was ready to
make my first cast (the previous feeble effort didn't count!). Imagine my
horror then, when I looked up and saw a huge barge heading my way.
Boat
traffic is very rare here, but this is typical of my luck at the moment.
Well, it made a real mess of the swim, churning up the silt and turning the
water a milky coffee colour. Bollocks!
It took around ten minutes for signs of life to appear in the swim again, in
the form of tiny roach milling about on the surface. The bream were nowhere
to be seen though, and I had to move further up the stretch before I caught
sight of them. They were visibly deeper than before though, a good foot and a
half below the surface. So, shit or bust, a cast was made. After landing above
the shoal, the bread disc slowly began to sink - six inches deep, twelve,
eighteen. Then it seemed to hang there, but was largely ignored, at least by
the bream. Then the tiny roach began to attack it - none big enough to suck
in the whole thing complete with size 10, mind. But then a larger shape
approached and the bread disappeared. I struck and felt that satisfying
resistance through the soft action rod. Fish on, and a bream at that. The
landing net and the rest of the gear was some distance along the bank though
- d'oh!
After a quick scrap, a fish of around 2lbs was in the net. Probably
one of the smaller specimens in the shoal, but a result none the less. Upon
closer inspection, it transpired that this bream was actually a bream / roach
hybrid. My camera wasn't set up, and for the sake of the fish I took a couple
of snaps with the phone and released it.
As you would expect, the commotion spooked the rest of the shoal, and despite
giving the swim a fifteen minute rest, they didn't return. No matter, I had
(sort of) succeeded in my very specific quest and it was probably time to
pack up anyway. As I did, two familiar figures approached, on their way back
with an empty bread bag.
"I bet that barge cocked things up for you,
didn't it?", said Preston man.
"Yep, but the fish did come back, and I
did catch one", I replied.
"Oh", he says, and in seeing the
photo on my phone, he says, "Yep, definitely a bream", as if he's been right all along!
"Actually, I think this one's a hybrid - I can see a bit of roach in
there", I said.
"Oh yes", says Preston man, "I can
definitely see that now. It's the red fins that give it away".
?!
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Hybrid complete with red fins?! - should have gone to Specsavers
(that's a water snail by the way, it's not had a rectal prolapse!)
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