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Never the same place twice

The river is different every time you go. For a start, every fish in there must be baked - done to a turn - and ready for the plate. I know we were, even after 20 minutes, and we'd arrived at 7.00pm, keeping to the shadows, scouring the water for holes in the weed, storing up the information for later. What must it have been like during the day?


We expected things to be sluggish but it was still awfully slow. I started fishing the fast water below the overflow (pictured here) but despite finding it hard to imagine another swim that looked more fishy, didn't get a bite. From then I moved every half hour, loose feeding with meat and cheese paste and then dropping the bait into a succession of likely spots. Didn't get a bite until darkness fell and I ended up in the same swim as a couple of nights ago. Same routine too. Baited up. Cast in. A minute later, a huge rod-in-the-water tug and after a tidy little fight, another large chub was on the bank. Could have been the brother of the one I caught a few nights ago. Lovely fish.

And that was that. I moved a couple of times, returned to the fast water, got one knock and promptly put my tackle up a tree. Packing up was miserable because of the insects. I do miss smoking....

Still the kettle was fun - and particularly fiery - and my luggage arrangements ( a return to the creel and the inflatable seat) much easier on the arms. The next trip however, will be somewhere else. I feel Surrey calling...


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