Ribble dace and roach

After the cancellation of the Salford friendly anglers match planned for today, this weekend found me at a loose end , that is until I received an invitation to visit a river I have never fished before, The Ribble.  I didn't need too much convincing, and thankfully took up Mike Duddy's (aka Fishing Fiend) offer to visit a river I knew little about. I do now though and today turned out to be an education. Firstly I learnt about tides the hard way. From the first cast I was catching steadily on the tip, although the river was moving at a pace and the bites were fast and hard to hit. I decided to switch to stick float tactics as the flow was a little slacker on the inside line. The dace and roach came steadily every cast. Then this tidal stretch rose a couple of feet in a few minutes, submerging my gear before I noticed. The gear will dry out, but my lunch was irretrievable. The change in the river was instant. Not having fished a tidal river before this was alien to me. All I could do was sit on top of the high bank and wonder how high the river would rise. When the river stopped rising after about half an hour I ventured back down the bank. Immediately I was into some quality roach, now fishing 4ft depth rather than the 2ft 6ins earlier. I managed to catch all day fishing until I could firstly no longer see the float, then secondly no longer see the hook on the feeder line to bait up. I wound up catching 140 fish all dace and roach, and some quality fish too.

I wasn't the last angler on the river as the light faded, and as myself and the angler on the opposite bank milked the remaining daylight for as many minutes as we could, the guy opposite hooked something big. It turned out to be a big bream which he took great pleasure in shouting over to me to let me know. Fair play, I would have probably done the same. Next week I am in two minds between the River Medlock and the River Tame. As usual it will depend on which side of the bed I get up from. Not very scientific but thats the way I like my fishing.

Unfinished business

After a day walking round colleges today, weighing up the best options for my daughter's impending further education, and hiding my burning desire to get back on the Meddy and catch that big trout that slipped the hook the previous lunchtime, the time had come. Back home at 2.30pm meant I had a good few hours to double my efforts to catch a bigger specimen. I returned to the same swim, and although I was not alone fishing the river, the swim I was targeting was free. There was however a commotion coming from the next swim downstream as a few lads, with a typical bull terrier type dog, loudly laughed and joked their way through what was a pleasant evening otherwise. Again it took an hour to conjure a bite, but when it came it was a wallop on the tip. The fish was hooked but headed directly for the branches opposite. It snapped my hooklength on the tree and was free. Not only was this a big fish to lose, next cast saw me lose another big fish in exactly the same manner. Surely I was to catch  a lunker tonight. I didn't have to wait long for a fish, not a specimen, in fact a really small chub. This was probably as pleasing as the big fish as they seem to be thin on the ground. There is a really strange food chain going on in the Medlock. The small fish find it impossible to survive as there are some huge trout that devour everything in their path. Failing the trout there are a pair of cormorants resident along the vale that are constantly active.

Then came some really positive bites and two large fish lost in the trees, along with a couple of feeders. This river is costing me a fortune in Kamasan black caps!

One great feature of this swim is that high above the opposite bank is a footpath, and at weekend frequented by many pretty female joggers. However whilst I try to look ultra professional as they pass, the first acknowledgement all weekend came from a bloke walking his dog. "Ey up, are you the Meddy Man? I've  been on yer blog!" So there you are fame at last, I just need to find a way of appealing to the lady dog walkers if not the joggers. I did get some good advice from a lad walking along the same path who told me about a swim that I have been tipped off before on, sound advice for midweek I think.

But back to today, and over the evening I had four solid bites, three of which produced fish. All chub, the first was a beauty. 2lb plus.

 The others slightly smaller, but equally resistant of the net.

I seem to remember a saying along the lines of piss poor preparation prevents performance, or something similar. Tonight would typify that phrase. I took along some quivertip nightlights hoping to fish into the dark. However I forgot to check the batteries in the headlamp, which were completely drained. Also the camera batteries ran out, hence the fuzzy photo of the three chub together. Typical that, the only day I use a keepnet, I am unprepared. Then to cap it all I put the fish in my landing net to return to the water safely, and snapped my net with the weight. Never mind it was a good excuse to pack up and visit the Bush inn for a couple of pints, and to plan my next visit to a river that has really grabbed my imagination.

Fantastic fishing, Fantasy football, and fine real ale.

This week has been a difficult week all round. A week off work and I only made it to the bank at weekend. A trip to Monte Carlo for Hazel meant I had the enviable job of full time single parent, cook, cleaner , taxi driver, washer and ironer. However I had a cunning plan. Take the kids to school and get on the Meddy every day for six hours before picking them up, then catch up on the housework on Friday before picking her up from Liverpool airport in the evening. Superb, what could go wrong....Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday saw rain all day and the river was unfishable, murky and roaring through. Then Thursday the tickets for the England v Spain clash in November went on sale at midday and to guarantee family stand tickets, which saves us £95 as a family, you have to be quick. Then the final nail in the coffin to my best laid plans arrived by email from the FA. Tickets for the newly announced Sweden match at Wembley were on sale on Friday at midday. So that was that. No fishing all week.
However I picked up some maggots from Ashton angling supplies ready for Saturday and I was determined to spend Saturday doing what I wanted, whatever the weather or circumstances. So after a quick breakfast at the Yummie box by the Haddon Hall pub it was down to the Vale, and on to the peg that the whole blog began on. The river had really fined down nicely after the five day deluge and looked as good as I have seen it this year. The first picture looks upstream from the Bay Horse bridge, the second downstream.

I set up on the swim that inspired me to start blogging on New years day this year on a sliding feeder set up. I favour the medium 20g Kamasan black cap feeders at the moment, running free on the 6lb Trilene sensation main line down to a leger stop. A couple of inches below I use a small swivel to attach a hooklength of about 15 inches of Preston Power Reflo 0.13 (4lb 12 oz). My current hook of choice is a Kamasan B911, opting for a size 18 as the fish go big in this river, and the big trout are a dab hand at shaking out the smaller hooks.
The first hour saw me cast and recast to build up the bait on the river bottom against an overhanging raft on the far bank. I tend to find that the bites take time to come but when the fish are on your bait, they stay there as long as you can steer the hooked fish away from the trees with minimal fuss. Today was no exception and after an hour of dropping the feeder as near as I could to the branches the tip walloped round. No need to strike with any pressure this time as the tip and the rod were bending round. I was into a decent fish. Immediately I could tell it was a chub as the fight was more measured than the huge trout that frequent these parts. After a good scrap the fish was netted, and judging by the lump out of its back, this was a minor scrap in its recent life. Any ideas on what might have caused that wound would interest me greatly.

What a cracking chub for a small inner city stream. I never stop wondering what this beautiful stretch of river will throw up next. The scene was set and could I follow it up. Well the bites came soon and the next fish was a lovely lean brown trout which gave a fantastic account of itself. As with the chub it headed straight under the barrage on the opposite bank, however I managed to steer it into open water quickly.

I did manage another fish, a smaller trout, but today I missed a few bites, probably due to my rustiness through prolonged absence.

Now time was rolling on, and I had a dilemma. The bites were coming thick and fast, but the circling police helicopter above reminded me I was getting closer and closer to kick off time at the Etihad stadium less than a mile away. City were playing Villa and the kids have season tickets and Hazel and I share an adult one. Bearing in mind I rarely get a Saturday off should I carry on fishing as I think the fish will bite all day, or take the opportunity to watch City in a game that might prove fruitful. The choice was difficult, and proved to be one of those one more cast scenarios. My last cast saw me hit a thumping bite, which by the measure of the bend in the rod before I even touched it was a huge fish. After near on five minutes of pressure to guide the fish away from the branches it decided to show itself. It was a huge trout, easily upward of 4lb. The fish tailwalked up the swim to my amazement then seemed to be on the way to the landing net. As I scooped the net toward what would have been my best ever brownie it took one last hopeful lunge toward freedom. Some you win, some you lose! That was the signal to head off home for the kids and get to the match.
Great choice as it turned out. Fantasy football these days at City, with players that play the style of football we could only dream of watching not five years ago.

The choice was a great one as it turned out. A 4-1 win and some sumptuous football, brought a tear to my eye at one point, as I remembered the fruitless visits in the wilderness years to such places as Huddersfield, Notts county and many more. After dropping the kids home I decided to round a fine day off indulging in my other passion. I popped round to the Bush Inn for a few pints of Thwaites wainwright, a golden real ale that has become a real favourite these days. What better way to celebrate City going top of the league. I have to pinch myself on days like these. I may live in a big city, but why would I want to choose anywhere else to live. A fantastic chub river, Fantasy football, and Fine real ale, all within walking distance. A great end to a memorable day.

River Trent Rolleston

Something keeps dragging me back to this glorious part of middle England.

It can't be the fishing as the last couple of visits have been dire, and this Sunday was of a similar vein. The halcyon days of big nets of silvers, and the odd bonus big chub seem to be long gone. Between two of us we could only muster a few roach, perch, dace and a couple of bleak.
The only fish of note was a discoloured old perch, not quite an angling times specimen, but certainly worth a photo in my more modest collection.

The upshot of today is that I will not be travelling too far from Manchester in the near future in persuit of a few fish. Nice as it is to see a bit of the country, practical it isn't.

A blank day on the vale

Apologies for the tardiness of my posts these days. I have to balance work, football, fishing and family these days (and regrettably mostly in that order). However I have managed to get on the Medlock recently. On Sunday 25th September I ventured on to Clayton Vale to find I had the river to myself. What I didn't have was any of the killer bait, maggots. The day started with a trip to Ashton angling supplies on Crowhill, only to find they no longer open on Sundays contrary to earlier reports. Never mind, a loaf, a tin of corn, and some false maggots should have been enough to lure a couple of the resident chub. Not likely. A beautiful sunny morning slowly turned to a grey rainy lunchtime and I had no bites whatsoever. I did take some nice piccys of a woefully low river though.

 On any other day I would have moved elsewhere to try to prevent a fruitless day, but today I decided to admit defeat and drown my sorrows. Picked up the family and headed to B.A.S tackle in Bolton to rekindle my enthusiasm, (a great tackle shop), and then parked myself in Yates's and watched Cardiff v Leicester match whilst indulging in a few pints of Bombardier. For anybody not in the know, Bolton must be the cheapest town centre in Britain to eat and drink. £1.99 for scampi and chips and £1.39 for a pint of Young's golden bitter in Yates's, and most other pubs do a burger and a beer for £4.

A hard days work

It's been a hectic few weeks away from the bank. A trip to Sofia to see Bulgaria v England followed by Wembley for the Wales game. City v Napoli and Harrogate v Droylsden on the football front. The kids returned to school which has proved to be traumatic as my lad moved to high school. All in all I will be glad to get back on the river. However before all the recent upheaval I did manage a trip to the Medlock with Josh. Ever the optimist we visited the golf course swims which were so badly affected by the recent pollution incident. My worst fears were confirmed as neither Josh or myself had a touch on a stretch that normally throws up some decent fish. As we walked to the river I spoke to a regular on the golf course who said he had not seen a fish since the incident. This came from a guy that visits every week and watches the fish in the shallow water as he is also a keen angler. Undeterred we tried but failed. However after a couple of fruitless hours we moved down to Clayton and found a few trout that were only too glad to snap up our bait.

After a couple of hours and half a dozen or so trout we decided to round off the day with a couple of hours in the City centre on the mighty Irwell (in comparison to the Medlock). We headed for the Campanile stretch, a stretch I have had limited success on in the past but always feel there could be a huge bag to be caught here. Not tonight though. After labouring on the inside line on a pretty stagnant flow with no bites at all on the float for an hour, and with only an hour or two light left I switched to a feeder rig over to the far bank. Immediately the tip was twitching every cast. Obviously small fish but plenty of them. We managed a few roach each as the light faded, as did a fellow angler a few yards up the river. Nothing spectacular but most enjoyable.

As we stayed late my plans for the next day were seriously affected. I was leaving for Bulgaria at 6am in the morning and had done no packing. I decided to leave the tackle at home and travel light. A good choice in the end as the river Iskar was merely a trickle near the hotel and as I walked further downstream it became engulfed by a Gypsy campsite. I was glad I chose to stay by the hotel pool in the end and take advantage of a few pre-match beers with the lads.

Whilst in Bulgaria I did have a minor scare. I had caught my little finger with a hook on the Medlock the day before which resulted in a small cut. I carried on fishing and didn't tend to the cut. Whilst away my finger became badly swollen and infected, probably due to the water quality in the Medlock. I will be taking antiseptic wipes in future to the river as the pain was most uncomfortable. After a few medicinal beers and a 3-0 win the relief began to show.

So all this took place a couple of weeks ago now, but I have recently learned the pollution incident on the Medlock was indeed a serious incident that affected two miles of the river according to the EA, although I knew myself without too much research. To round off I have a couple of spare days before England's next match in Montenegro so I plan to get on the Irwell and the Medlock before then.

Alive and kicking

I returned to the Medlock today after some deliberation as to where to head this morning. I felt more trepidation than anticipation after seeing the river in a terrible state last time out. Today was going to be pivotal, I hoped some fish had found safe havens as whatever flushed through the river worked its way out of the water system. As I neared the river I encountered a new obstacle, a herd of cows and bulls blocking the footpath. Brave I may be, but I hastily decided to head back to the car and head 3 miles downstream to Clayton vale rather than take on this lot.

So I arrived at Clayton to find the river low and clear, but clean. As I walked through the Vale I looked at various swims but could see little sign of life. Then I approached a long glide that I have fished a number of times earlier in the year, and as I crept up to the bank through the jungle like vegetation I spotted four big chub. They swam across the river slowly to the deeper water. My heart was racing as this was just a dream a few weeks ago. I tackled up and dropped a small bomb, so as not to spook the fish, close to an overhanging tree on the far bank.

I generally drop a feeder in but the water was really low today and I wanted to keep it light. I catapulted a dozen or so maggots in and settled in to wait for a wrap on the tip. I didn't have to wait long for a thumping bite. I struck to find the drag on my reel was set poorly. The fish was a huge trout which shook the hook as soon as it dived for cover. At least there was life in the river, I was back in business. The next cast to the same tree brought another mighty thump on the tip. This time after a brief fight a pristine Medlock chub of around 2lb was in the net.

 After losing another large fish the swim quietened for a while but after twenty minutes or so the tip pulled round with some force. This fish was bigger and stronger. It peeled off line as I tried to halt its run down stream and turn it towards the net. After a good battle the fish finally came to the net, still fighting to shake the hook. It was a big brown trout, bigger than the chub.

As ever, after a scrap like that it was time to move to another swim as these Medlock fish tend to spook easily. I landed below the weir and decided to tackle the weir pool that generally only throws up small trout. Not today though. First cast another big brownie. Luckily there were some lads passing to take a photo. They couldn't believe what they were seeing as they had not considered this river through Manchester's outskirts contained much else than shopping trolleys and tyres.

I proceeded to catch another half dozen trout of varying sizes and a small chub out of a swim that I hadn't thought contained much other than minnow and small trout. On losing my third feeder to a snag in the pool I decided to call it a day, a  happy man.

Sunday sees me tackle the Irwell again. I wandered round the lower reaches last weekend and have found a few likely looking spots to choose from. I am hoping to bag another bumper net by way of consolation for missing out on tickets for Tottenham v Man City after deciding to make the journey down south. Should have gone to the ticket office before fishing today not after, lesson learned there. Never mind, Harrogate tonight to see Harrogate Town v Droylsden. What an exciting life!