A Spot of Kennetting...

I am in no way, shape or form a river angler, I have fished with experts that leave me behind when it comes to the skill involved in reading the river, knowing where and when to cast and when to expect some action. Now that’s not to say I don’t like fishing rivers, quite the opposite, I think rivers are the most beautiful places to fish, their inhabitants glorious and the ever changing nature of a river means the angler has to keep on his toes to keep up. All I’m saying is that I’m very raw and in need of much more in the way of experience to be able to call myself a competent river angler.

A while back, fellow Gobio Society member Steve asked if I’d like a day’s fishing on the Kennet before the end of the season. He said there would be the chance of gudgeon, and certainly chevin if conditions favoured, so the date was set and things were readied for the big day. We had been corresponding via email for a few weeks, and a few days leading up to the trip I asked what time he’d like to meet. He gave me the honour of choosing the time, although 8am seemed to sound quite hilarious to Steve, saying that ‘The only thing his eyes see at that time on a Sunday are his eyelids’. So we settled on 9:30, halfway through the day but at least it would mean I got a little longer with Jess that morning.

Well 9:30 came and went and I found myself driving round and round trying to find our meeting point. After a few phones calls we met up and I followed Steve to the venue. It was 10:30 by now and after the cars were parked I had a blindfold tied on so to keep the location a secret. With the blindfold removed the first thing I saw was the most glorious stretch of river, looking just like the bit Chris Yates fished in APFA when Bob poached a chub from right under his nose. It might well have been in fact. The swim was called Chub Straight.



I put the wizard together, attached the reel and started setting up for trotting when Steve asked if I’d be ‘laying on’. I’d heard the term before but didn’t know what it involved. He explained that you fish as you would with trotting gear but over shot the float and fish a couple of feet over depth, Flick out into the main flow and let the current bring it all round in a straight line. A couple of casts later and I had it, the line gong from my top ring to my float and then down to the shot and ultimately the bait. Steve went on to tell me it’s a good method for fishing when it is as cold as it was (1 degree all day with a scattering of light snow falling) allowing you to rest the rod on the reeds, watch the float and keep your hand in your pockets. It certainly worked for me.



We fished there for an hour or so, both laying on and trotting, with bread and paste but nothing wanted to bite. So we wound in and trudged our way through the boggy terrain to the next spot. This spot was a known chub hotspot called Chub Corner. Steve put me in the banker swim and went to fish a little way upstream. I attached a large flake of bread and cast out into the flow feeling for it to swing around and settle, but it didn’t settle. It seemed the flow was much stronger, so I’d have to add more shot or gently tease the bait through the swim searching out any fish; this seemed the best option for me.



I think it was the third cast; I let the float work its way down through the swim letting line peel from the spool very slowly hoping that the fluttering action of the bread might cause a winterised chub to suddenly wake up and get hungry. The float dipped, at first I thought it might be turbulence, but it stayed under. I lifted the rod and felt a lunge...”Chub Ahoy!!” Steve wound in and arrived in the swim just as I netted the fish, a wonderful brassy chub of around 3lbs. We took a few quick snaps, released the superb fish back into the river and danced a little celebratory jig, just to warm ourselves up.



That fish was amazing, I really wanted to catch a chub as I’d not had one all winter, and time was running out with just a couple of weekends before the end of the season. With that fish, the rewarmed blood flow and confidence singing I really thought I’d catch another next cast. But we fished on for another good hour with no more bites. Steve returned to my swim and suggested we move on and try another spot, Chub Bend.

Chub bend was another classic looking area that screamed Chevin, it was just below Chub Hole. It was a sweeping bend, just large enough for two anglers and was crying out for a lump of flake to be worked through it. And work those flakes we did, but half an hour passed and numb fingers tips were all we had to show for it. We moved down into Chub Hole but that too was devoid of hungry chub. We knew it would be a difficult day, it was snowing after all, and just a tad above freezing, but it was great to be out on the riverbank, and what a splendid riverbank it was.



Next stop was Chub Bridge, a low bridge we could actually fish from and land any fish we caught easily. It gave us a nice opportunity for a drink from the flask, munch on a sandwich and a have a natter for a bit. Steve fished on with flake as did I at first but then switched to maggot, just to see if I could catch anything else that might be down there. We sat on the bridge for half an hour but after no action we moved on for the last time to Chub Snags. There we had a couple of casts each but I already had an eye on my watch knowing I had the best part of an hour’s journey home and needed to be back for Jess’s bath time.



Blindfolded I made my way back to the cars, thanked Steve for providing a cracking day’s fishing and after promising to repay the favour of a guest ticket we bade each other farewell and safe journeys....