There was a curious “tow” at the Other Pool yesterday, which made sight-bobbing and float fishing tricky. Normally, I don’t mind a sight-bob drifting, because the
bait is often wafted enticingly, and in a natural way too. But yesterday I had the strong feeling that baits needed to be fixed, and the tow wasn’t helping. I contended with the rotating drift for one hour, without success, but what was causing it? I
went to the dam and looked at the outlet, which is hard to find because it is partly covered over by bushes. It is a kind of metal tube, going from top to bottom. Looking at it, and into it, I realised the pool was perhaps two feet up its “normal”
level, and water could be heard gushing out furiously, to feed the outlet stream behind me. The open “outlet” hole was two feet under the surface, at least. I decided then to freeline or ledger. Back on the “morning” bank, with a hunk
of flake about 15 yards out, in around 10ft of water, I soon had a take from a lovely-looking common which was slightly above average for the water. A good start, but no more takes were forthcoming in that spot.
I moved to the island, light ledgering a broken-up prawn tipped with corn. I cast this, again, about 15 yards out, - close to where there is a partly-fallen willow in the water. I decided to use a bobbin technique I call
“the weeble”, - which is basically a light bobbin which is slightly weighed on the bottom. This stands on the ground, when clipped up, with the top of the bobbin leaning slightly towards the front rod rest. It therefore will show straight-forward
lifts and also clear drop-backs, because the weeble will move towards the ground with a drop-back and, finally, fall over: unlike the toy weebles of yore!
I fished one rod,
watching the line for any tell-tale first indications. There came a small twitch, and another – the line slot out, the weeble lifted jerkily and I struck. Then came a spirited battle from another common, which was slightly larger than the first. On several
occasions I had to put my rod tip under the water, as the fish dived under tree roots. But all went well.
One hour later, I had the best fish of the day – a little bigger
still and, once more, in superb spring-time condition.
This fish took a single prawn, ledgered in the same spot, over free offerings of broken prawns and corn.
By then it was almost 7pm. I had intended to fish on into the evening, but with a long bike-ride back ahead of me, and with a deep sense of satisfaction settling in, I decided to call it a day;
and a good day it was, all considered.