It’s been hopeless for the past couple of weeks. I’ve had a couple of sessions on the Seven with the French leader and have touched not a single fish. I suspect this is largely down to the fact that I don’t really know what I am doing. I had some moderate success with the method earlier in the year, but still lack confidence. I suppose I will persevere for a bit before reverting to trotting a maggot to see if that will tempt any grayling. The water everywhere has been woefully low, and even the recent drop of rain doesn’t seem to have livened things up.
It’s the same story on the Lower Derwent down the bottom of the field. The big fish are all holed up somewhere or other – certainly not in the swim that I frequent. I had put this down to the low water, but I had a couple of hours this morning after a decent downpour and the water was up by a good three feet:
It was a beautiful morning, blue sky, a bit of sunshine. I was using the usual feeder with red maggots. The quiver tip was vibrating with some regularity, but only because the bait was being attacked by tiddlers that could barely fit the maggot in their mouths. Strike after strike produced nothing, then, once in a while one of these would be on the end:
Judging by his tail looks like he might have had a nip from a pike. This one in slightly better nick:
Pathetic eh? Still, there are worse ways to while away an hour or two and I’m confident (ha!) the better fish will return in due course. I had hoped that my poor fortune on the river might have meant some better luck for England on the rugby park today (Yin and Yang and all that). But sadly not. That really was the one that got away. Onwards and upwards!