Boilies for Barbel Blow.

The relentless, rhythmic nodding of the rod tip coupled with the roar of water passing over the weir eventually became tiresome, two and a half hours into my first river session of the new season and with no bites to show for it I decided, pretty much at the same time Phil did, that it was time for a move.

Phil had fared slightly, but not much, better than me so far having taken a chub of about a pound and a half and a couple of eels from the weirpool on his luncheon meat approach. Boldly and determinedly I had opted to fish boilies in an all out attack on the resident barbel population, an idea which throughout the close season seemed a certain winner but in practice had flopped horribly and knocked my confidence into the bargain.

Now the onus was on catching a fish at all costs but fortunately this stretch of the Avon is narrow and feature packed therefore lending itself to a roving approach well. Phil dropped in on a sharp bend just down from the weir and I moved further downstream where the river narrows dramatically and is fringed with thick reed beds. Cover for the angler here is provided by tall bankside nettles, cover for the fish consists of the reeds, an overhanging tree and a small weedbed.

A small lead in conjunction with a big bit of meat plopped under the far bank cover brought an instant response from a lovely looking little chub of about a pound and a half. Next cast produced another bite which I missed and a third cast tempted a confident bite and resulted in a fish of about two and a half pounds on the bank.

After this flurry of excitement we were to be frustrated for the rest of the day with most pegs tried producing no bites at all and at others the tip would never settle as (what were presumably) small fish attacked the bait.
Never mind though, I've been back on the river on a beautiful June day and caught a couple of fish...It's got to be better than watching England.

A Pleasant Somers Afternoon

My neighbour Roger invited me to fish the Meriden Hall syndicate water last Summer but on the appointed day it teemed with rain and for one reason and another we never got around to fishing all Summer. Last Thursday though a chance presented itself and off we went, however, due to a lack of both parking and pegs at the fishery we were forced into a rethink.

Although it was a little disappointing not to get a crack at a new fishery salvation was at hand, or more precisely just down the road, in the form of Packington Estate's Somers Fishery.

Somers Fishery now bears no resemblance to it's former incarnation which was a regular haunt of mine. The four established pits Molandsmere, Siblings, Anniversarys and Siblings which once held stocks of fish at traditional levels are now ten re-sculptured and landscaped, heavily stocked pools, named with a nod to the past but in essence a completely different fishery.

We paid our money plus a £2 surcharge for taking the car onto the fishery, dipped our nets and took a little drive round before settling on a couple of quite inviting pegs in Gratuities which at one time was part of Anniversarys but is now at the opposite end of the fishery, the sign informed us that we could expect to catch Carp, Bream and Roach.

Again I was fishing a waggler and had sweetcorn as my primary bait, Roger started on maggot and was soon catching small fish (mostly perch) regularly.

The corn hookbait was attracting some attention and I was getting the odd quick bite managing to nab a couple of small tench early on but it was quite clear that the fish had seen it all before. In fact nobody was catching very much at all.

Supremely organised as ever the situation required much rooting around in my seatbox looking desperately for an alternative hookbait, after some time sorting through the clutter of various bits and pieces I seem forever destined to cart about with me I came up with a tin of luncheon meat.

Very small cubes of meat on a size 16 hook transformed the swim, bites were frequent and positive and I began to catch fish regularly.

With the sun on our backs, Roger happily swinging in small roach and perch each cast and me putting together a bag of tench all between one and three pounds it made for a particularly pleasant and enjoyable afternoon and some decent fishing.

Although Somers isn't the same place I fished as a lad, it couldn't be less like it in fact, and it's now an all singing commercial fishery where you are invited to sit on a slab of concrete and poke your pole or hurl your method feeder towards the ever present island feature, but I accept that it is what it is and therefore I may well be back at some point in the future.