Bilbo Baggings

1 big brownie, 1 fooked smart phone, 1 happy soaking angler!

Just sat at the laptop its half 7 AM & I am buzzing & its not because I've just come back from an all-nighter!

The Brownie that has been haunting me for the last week or so finally fell for a gently glided in Comparadun under a tree at ten past 6. 

Staying over at mums house as our kid & his family are over from Ireland afforded me the chance to get out on the water first thing. Creeping around downstairs at 5 I was busted by mum, "what you doing up? its five o'clock, you're not going fishing are you?"

"just going to see if that trout's there"

"be careful"

 I approached from the high wooded bank where it tends to be stuck in tight to try & get a view, yep, there it was holding in the current coming up for a sip & then doing its patrol up the outside bend of the meander. I then headed downstream to where I could wade across & creep up on it from the opposite bank. After putting so many hours in on this fish I know you can't wade in on him in his deeper glassy glide so I just crouched down covered by the bank & waited for him to reveal himself. Fly ginked, backcast clear I plopped the fly to a rise, SIP, STRIKE... bollocks, not the biggie. Quickly, I brought in a small trout hoping its trashing about wouldn't spook the whopper.

Back to the start, crouching in position, every sound seems amplified in the cold morning, the rip of velcro, the snap of the gink bottle all sound like they could spook the fish. After 10 minutes or so there's a big swirling rise, I cover it  with the comparadun, it floats past... then, SLURP, STRIKE! the rod bends into a solid fish and for the next 10 minutes I'm praying the fly holds as the fish bores up & down the river trying to shake the hook.

Mid fight, I get out the phone, "mum, bring the camera, I've got it". As I'm trying to sqeeze the fish into the net leaning forward, water comes rushing over the top of my waders, just then I see mum coming across the field in her PJ's & wellies - What a great mum!

 1 big brownie, 1 fooked smart phone, 1 happy soaking angler!

Cure for Roid Rage

A beaut! not the fish I've been stalking, this is his younger brother.

roid rage

roid rage
n.
      side effect of being able to spot lunkers with polaroids but having the inability to catch them.

Cheeky hour

I had to drop the motor into the garage and was told to come back in about hour, so knowing there was a stretch of river nearby I wandered off for a scramble around. I found an accessible section where I could flick a few flies out, wader-less and with the water chocolate coloured and racing through I was restricted to where I could fish. I started by searching out with a couple of nymphs but had nowt, then I stopped to take a call and while surveying the water I heard a gulp about a rod length up and a foot out from the near bank... "sorry, I'm going to have to call you back in a minute"!

I whipped off the point nymph and stuck a dry on, there it was again, gulp. 

First cast got blown up the bank. Second, too far out. Third, just right. As it drifted down it paused for a moment as it swirled in the eddy with the various flotsam, then GULP, ZZZZZZZZZIP, JUMP, SPLOOSH! The fish then ploughed out into the current with it's head down.

I was buzzing, It's great to have a wildy bend your 4wt double.  Happy I headed back to collect the car. On the way back I returned the dropped call... "Sorry about that, I just got tied up".

Dave and Hooky at Greengate Stones

Wandered down to the riverbank in Salford on Saturday morning for the unveiling of the Greengate Stones - Peter Hook from New Order was there to say a few words... mainly that as a kid living in the tower block he was probably responsible for throwing them in in the first place! He looks well chuffed to have his picture taken with Dave the Whippet.