They're cute

 On Sunday, to ease myself back into it, after feeling pretty rough for a couple weeks, I decided to hit the club's little lake at Syston, in the afternoon/evening, for a few hours. Very pretty but not much action apparent when I arrived, although there was quite a breeze.  I took out a punt and anchored off the island, then took a fewof drifts down the lake.  I tried trad wets, lures, and nymphs to little avail, in fact I only saw 1 fish, jump or rise, all the time I was there.

 Eventually managed a couple of tiny perch, ahh so cute!

 Then another couple a little bigger all on a gold head hares ear, but were these roach or rudd, no stripes?

No sign of a trout all day.
 The wildlife on, and around, the lake always makes it agreeable, I was in the pleasant company of swans, moorhens, coots, mallards, white ducks, even a family of Grebe (see very poor photo below!).  Also saw a dead fox on a small beach!

 Called it a day at 8.30pm as there appeared to be no threat of an evening rise and I was getting cold.  Lovely sunset though.  I noticed in the catch return book in the lodge that no trout had been caught for over a month - strange.

This is so true!

I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful and I hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always tastes better out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not nearly so much fun. (From Anatomy of a Fisherman by Robert Traver)

Enforced absence

Whilst trying overcome a chest infection I've been trawling the net and found this cool magazine;

read Thisisfly

Wild on the fly video

Some amazing photography.


Worth looking at some of the video shorts on their site as well.

Our Rivers Campaign Survey

The 'Our Rivers Campaign' want people to tell them about their local river, and what wildlife they've seen. You’ve probably seen swans and ducks and dragonflies on your local riverbank – but have you spotted a kingfisher or a water vole? Whatever people have seen they really want them to go to ourrivers.org.uk and fill in their online survey so we can find out the best riverbanks in the country to see wildlife.

Missing it.

Well its over a week since I wetted a line because of work commitments and now a touch of laryngitis or chest infection or something, resulting in a lost voice. The Mrs likes that I can't complain, verbally that is!

Anyhow like Urban Fly Fisher one of my wading boots broke so a repair was required.

An application of Bostik 2402 will hopefully do the trick 

 ..supported by a shoe tree and sash cramp.

 Only time will tell if it'll work.

Failed C&R

Friday evening, an early tea and down at Barkston by 6.45pm.  Lovely evening but very little rising?

The water was very very clear!

Yep that is through the water, without a polarising filter!
To fishing, my usual klink put down a couple of fish that I could see, mainly due to my poor casting as well as the frequency of casts. Noticed a lot of small caddis above the water and realised they were hatching, ....dur!  Changed to an F fly, too much weed for a nymph, and anyway I wanted to use a dry.  That drew more interest but my strike rate was appalling.  Until I spotted the sporadic rise of a brown trout under an overhanging branch at the other end of a deepish, weed-filled pool from me.  This required a very flat side cast into the 12" gap below the branch.  Well bug&*r me if it didn't take it, head, tail and all - a right splasher, which charged all over the pool collecting about a 1lb of weed with it.  I eventually slipped the net under it all, and pulled out the weed.  That's tricky while holding rod & net!

A right little corker, but where was the fly?  On further investigation it had deep hooked itself way down and I really struggled with forceps to remove the barbless hook (which I hadn't crimped down as well as it should have been).

The poor thing was pretty much done in so unfortunately I felt that it would be better to tap it on the head and take it for the pot, something I very rarely do with the river caught fish.

Missed a few more takes after that but my heart wasn't in it any more.  Anyway I was only wearing a teeshirt and I was getting pretty cold so jacked it in and watched the sunset on the way home.

POSTSCRIPT:
The said fishy, seasoned with salt & pepper and fried in lots of butter was absolutely delicious.