Momentum is such a big thing in fishing, and in life I guess. When you’ve got momentum and everything is flowing you know where you’re going and getting there is a pleasure. You’ve got absolute clarity and confidence in what you’re doing and whilst you still need to work hard to keep it going, things fall into place and it can almost seem easy. Of course the opposite to momentum, be that inertia, stagnation, lethargy, or whatever, getting out of that, that’s hard. So whenever I gain momentum, I try my best to keep it going and keep putting in the hard work. Effort equals reward and all that.
Through the summer and into autumn I’ve enjoyed some good momentum and have enjoyed some great fishing along the way. But as soon as I miss a week, even if that’s just my normal couple of hours’ fishing, you can feel the momentum being lost and getting going again is tough. The cause of my slow down in October was a terrible illness known literally only to men. No true diagnosis exists, there is no known cure, but man-flu or manthrax is a commonly accepted theory; and it’s a momentum killer! I was struck down around the middle of the month, my immune system possibly temporarily struck down by a dose of Guinessitus which allowed the dreaded bugs in. Whatever the cause of this terrible affliction, it knocked me for six and the fishing has taken a back seat for the second half of the month.
However, before the great plague, I did manage to get some fishing in. I continued the carp fishing and enjoyed some more success. It’s been ages since I’ve properly baited up for any length of time, applying a decent bait into places I know fish will feed. And then fishing on the bottom, with rods on bite alarms, setting traps and waiting for bites. It’s different from my normal, fairly restless fishing but I’ve really enjoyed it. It’s been helped by some good and regular sport and so I haven’t had to wait too long for a bite. I’m not fishing a lake with any monsters in it, not by today’s carp fishing standards but there are lots of surprises in the lake. Not every fish has a name (most don’t) and some of the lakes bigger fish haven’t been caught for years so there is a good challenge to be enjoyed.
t was however a date in the middle of the month that should have been the headline event of the month. I was going river fishing, with a good mate, to a nationally (possible world?) famous stretch of chalk stream that has hosted some of angling’s greatest names in pursuit of the monster barbel that lived there. We were going fishing on the Hampshire and Dorset Avon at the Royalty!
It had been booked months in advance and booking a date in the autumn, I hoped we’d find the river in good condition and we’d be in with a chance of finding a barbel, a fish I have never caught before. And if not a barbel, maybe a chub, or a pike, or a roach or even a bream if we had to. After the long hot summer of low river levels and difficult fishing, I was praying there would be some rain before we arrived and the fish would be on the feed. It seemed I wasn’t the only one hoping the date would be a good one. The fishery allows a maximum of 25 day tickets a day to give everyone a spot to fish. We’ll I think all 25 tickets had been sold on that day. Talking to the river keeper on arrival he reckoned it was the busiest day he’d seen all season and he couldn’t understand why because we could both see the river was low, the air pressure was high, the sunshine was bright and the wind was from the east and compared to recent days, it was cold. I knew the fishing was hard fishing, but this felt like we were really up against it.
Not to worry, we were there, the water was clear and I planned to stick to the original idea, polaroid glasses on and walk, and walk, and walk, until we found a fish. We didn’t even leave the car park before we spotted them. Decent fish and several of them, not hard to find, this could be easy I thought. But something wasn’t right. The fish were familiar but not in this context. We weren’t a million miles from the sea but we were well above the tide but here we were faced with shoals of mullet. Now I absolutely love my mullet fishing and had a known I was going to find mullet here I would have come armed with loaves of bread. But without the good stuff, it was pointless even trying. So, off we went, walking, and walking, and walking…
I’d looked at the maps and read a few accounts of the fishery before we went and had read from everyone from my favourite author, Chris Yates to amateur writers like me. I was aware we weren’t going to find the prettiest stretch of the river. The low hanging powers cables draped from the pylons, the busy road, the train bridge, the town backing on to much of it; it wasn’t quite the idyllic picture you paint in your head of this incredibly rare ecosystem. But I knew this is what is was going to be like, so I’d set my sights low to avoid disappointment. The number of anglers though, that did make life unexpectedly difficult. In every decent looking spot someone was fishing, and why shouldn’t they be? And in every spot that wasn’t being fished, a pike angler or three had recently been through casting lures, and why shouldn’t they? We were all there hoping for the same dream, a giant fish from the Royalty but we really were up against it and each other. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was really friendly but in the conditions and with the numbers of us there, we didn’t stand much of a chance. We spoke to one chap who said it was the first time he’d ever blanked on there and he knew what he was doing!
It did feel like we had got close on two occasions. We fished a spot very close to the car park and immediately caught some tiny chublets. It was a small spot but clearly a fish holding spot, a simple slack behind an island, adjacent to a small fast riffle, text book really. The thing was, we’d really not explored much of the river at that point so to set up there and not explore the rest of the river just didn’t feel right. It was ok I thought, we’d come back to there later in the afternoon. As we walked and walked, we spotted another swim on the other side of the river that looked full of promise, and it was empty of anglers. It’s ok, we’ll walk up one side, past the famous Parlour Pool then back down the other side and fish it from there. By the time we’d done that ,someone was fishing it and had allegedly caught a small barbel. Well done to him, good angling. So we’d identified a spot that held fish, just been unlucky with our timing. At the end of the day we headed back to the little spot near the car park, we’d catch one here on dusk, we just knew it. As we approached the spot a chap was walking in front of us, and we just knew where he was going. Yep, right to where we were heading. He clearly knew the spot, cast confidently and very quickly landed a good chub of around four pounds. Good angling! And again we had been close but lady luck just wasn’t on our side.
It was a pleasure to be on the banks of the Royalty and walk the banks where so many anglers have caught the fish of their dreams before. I first read about the river when I was seven years old on an Angler’s Mail annual. They used to produce a hardback annual with highlights from Dave Coster’s weekly adventures that were nicely illustrated. It was great to scratch the itch, it kind of felt the way I expected it might. However, I had, like anglers always do, hoped for a bit more.
I’ll go back to the Avon one day I’m sure, but to a different stretch, away from the crowds and hopefully one day I’ll find that barbel I’ve been dreaming of all these years.
I guess the highlight of the day came just before we left. My friend Matt who had been fishing with is a healthy chap and uses a bit of tech to keep on eye on his vitals. As well as being a fit and healthy guy, he also runs his own business, is part of a beautiful and is exposed to the stresses and pressures of life that we are all familiar with. At around 5pm his phone popped up with a notification, it said at no point during the day had he been in the “stressed range” on his vital statistics. He had been completely chilled out all day. I think that’s just flipping brilliant. We then went to the pub and did a bunch of completely unhealthy things which again his phone reminded him of the following day!
The sickness bugs have at last passed and so it’s time to get that momentum back and try and catch something again!