What a diabolical holiday period it has been. All my plans shot to ribbons. Big pike - forget it. The water's frozen over. Big perch too - all hopes buried under the ice again. Big roach from the mill...you're joking! With all the snow-melt, the river looked like a turgid, snow-laced soup. Water temperatures there had plummeted. Visibility was next to nil. Forget that one too.
Still, Sarah was desperate to get out and we both knew chub were the only possibility. We fished all one freezing afternoon as the temperatures plummeted, the river rose and the visibility changed before our eyes from tea to coffee, to oxtail soup.
We kicked off with maggots float fished around the eddies. Forget it. We tried quiver tipped bread here and there where the water was at its slowest. Forget it.
On the point of dark, touch legering with frozen fingers, Sarah had a massive pull on a big piece of luncheon meat. Presumably this particular chub had located it through smell alone and fancied a festive snack. The fish was on ten seconds until the line got tangled round a raft of weed pushed down by the rapidly-rising river. That was it. Chub gone. Our only chance on a miserable day for fishing.
Still, it's always better to be out than to be in. What was interesting was that Sarah wore her EWS breathable waders with thermal leggings underneath and was warm as toast. And the great thing about the waders meant that she could kneel on the snow or sit on the ice. No need for boxes. Travel light as you like.
