THE JOY OF FISHING
A rambling country walk, the bare minimum of tackle, and chub fishing with a mate – sheer perfection!
DON’T be fooled into thinking that the more gear you carry, the easier it’ll be to fool a fish. Often it can be quite the opposite.
Tread lightly and be stealthy, because if your quarry doesn’t know you're there, that’s more than half the battle. That’s why, for me, it was a joy to be heading to the Wye Valley to spend a few hours’ fishing with Adam Fisher. All I’d be taking to the water would be a rod, a landing net and a small rucksack packed with essentials.
I had no bait, but this would be sorted at the shop I needed to pass, where I’d pick up a medium white sliced loaf and a packet of sandwiches for me.
Most anglers head to this river for its barbel, but today chub were on the agenda, and I was really looking forward to catching a few.
Adam’s Angling Dreams company controls many stretches of the Wye, so we had lots to go at – in fact, far more than even a week would allow us to explore.
The river was still carrying some colour and plenty of pace after going up and down like a yo-yo all winter. Downstream, mist lay across the surface, indicating the cool night just past and equally cold water. Not perfect, but given our current climate of extremes, just being able to fish can be a bonus. As we walked back to get the tackle we felt buoyant – the very worst case scenario would be a walk in the countryside and a chin wag. Not exactly a bad way to spend a morning!
We’d both be using a quivertip rod matched with 8lb mainline and a simple running lead, a long hooklength and a size 6 hook. This spate river doesn’t require too much finesse – fishing too light only leads to breakages and besides, I didn’t want the weight to shift and allow the bait to bounce round naturally. That way it would be sure to end up in a snag.
Adam had brought luncheon meat and cheesepaste to the table, but I suspected he’d end up using my favourite bait, bread.
Winter can seem drab, but a bed of copper-coloured fallen leaves underfoot and the first buds beginning to swell can lift the spirits. When the sun finally banished the cloud cover and rose above the steep walls of the Wye Valley it really was a pleasant place to be.
For a while I watched Adam fish, as keen as he was to see the quivertip pull round. His big chunk of breadflake fluffed up in the water, leaving the hookpoint proud. He felt that a fluorocarbon hooklength wouldn’t arouse suspicion and, given the three-foot twitch which came five minutes later, he clearly had a point.
A chub of moderate proportions was an encouraging
