It Was A Chub, It Was a Chub...

I've continued to roll my meat far and wide along the deck of the Anker in search of it's barbel and although chub have so far obliged my search continues.

Before some more of that though, I took my float rod and a pint of reds to Polesworth the other week for a general break in proceedings. I still had a pellet sleeper rod set up in the nearside gulley fishing carp style with the rod pointing at the bait so as not to hinder my floats run through though, just in case, you know how it is.

I had silvers a plenty from perch, gudgeon, chublets and then roach as the light faded. I chatted to dog walkers and was all ears when they fished themselves and generally just kicked-back. I was home before curfew for once.  

When you're not catching what you're after the least you can do is shout about how you're doing it. I say that with tongue firmly in cheek as I picked up a lovely fluorocarbon tip from James the other week that went straight into my basket and then beneath my mainline.

The driving force behind the XL Quickstops was twofold; first off threading a grass stop through the loop of my chosen hooklength to keep the meat in place was becoming increasingly frustrating and secondly exacerbated by the need for me to switch over to +2 reading glasses to do anything finicky nowadays. The quick stops removed at least one step in the rebaiting process. 

On my afternoon off work I started at Polesworth on a scorching day and rolled until my heart was content at all the water on offer to me before ending up in Tamworth. Come seven o'clock I made shapes to settle in for the last couple of hours but it just didn't feel right. It was still so hot and so balmy I made my last move of the day and continued with a mobile approach.

I caught two chub for my troubles, both lovely but neither tipping the 4lb mark. 

On a rare extra fishing window that popped up last week I hot footed it to the middle reaches where I fished a very overgrown stretch which I've fancied for some time. Believe it or not in the photo below there is a river just beyond those reeds into which my rod is fishing! I could have got closer and safely netted a fish but this swim is so narrow I elected to stay well back with just the rod tip poking over the reeds. That's right, just the tip. I blanked but it was still an hour well spent.

Finally with the weather forecast looking ridiculously hot for these next couple of days I shifted my usual fishing pattern that fits well with home and made out again for Tamworth before the Searer from the South arrived. I arrived two hours before dusk and did nothing but sit on my hands and feed like a matchman for a whole hour - nearly killed me it did. All feeding and no fishing.

My thoughts were to trickle the bait in with zero disturbance and then cast out for the last hour of light and a tad into dusk. Three casts I had. On my third and final cast and already well into overtime - still no need for a headtorch but with my white tip beginning to blend into the river - I get a knock followed by a 'good' curve round. I picked up the rod sharpish but to nothing.

Upon inspection of my hook and by means of me running a forefinger around the outside of the bend up to the point I felt a discernable dink in the point. It wasn't sharp. Most likely it caught on a stone on the retrieve from a previous cast as I know for certain it was sharp when I arrived.

It was a chub I told myself on the way home. Don't worry, I'm sure it was a chub. 

Cheers.