With the temperatures set to hit double figures and almost no chance of any rain, I thought it'd be rude not to get out on the bank, so I decided to go have another crack at the mythical Frome chub. I had a little look at the river yesterday and it was running much clearer than last time, and with less pace, so this time I opted to go with float gear and try a bit of long trotting with a big bunch of maggots.
I arrived about an hour before mid day to a somewhat foggy river, and quickly hobbled together a stick float rig with a size 12 hook set at around 3 to 3.5 feet depth with a shirt button shotting pattern and began my wander down the river bank for a likely looking spot. I hadn't gone far when I noticed an overhanging tree on the near bank about 20 yards down stream, with the tips of its lower branches just about touching the surface almost half way across the river. There's not a massive amount of cover on this stretch of the river, so I figured a spot like this must be home to a fish or 2. I loaded the hook with about 5 or 6 maggots, and set the float on its journey down stream about 4 feet from the bank. With the river still being fairly pacey, it didn't take long to reach the "danger zone" under the tree, but alas the float stayed in plain sight the whole time. I increased the depth a few inches as the first run through didn't show any signs of catching the bottom, and had another cast.
This time it looked like I had the depth spot on as the float occasionally twitched on its voyage down the river as my ball of maggots bounced its way down the river bed. I was just about to slow the float a little as it approached the tree, when it vanished from sight. A quick flick of the rod to set the hook and the tip hooped over as the fish darted across the river before leaping into the air. I'd hooked a trout, not as big as the one on the previous visit, but it still looked a half decent fish. After a few more acrobatics the fish decided to go deep and managed to find a snag to hide in and everything locked up. I tried pulling from various angles and letting it have some slack, but I couldn't budge it and I had no option other than to pull for a break. It would seem however that I was in favour with the fishing gods, and as I pulled expecting the line to break, the snag gave way instead, and the fish was still on! It took what seemed like an age to reel it in in the strong current but eventually I had it beat and in the net. A nice wild brownie I'd guess at being just over the 1 pound mark, a quick photo and it was back in the river none the worse for its little outing.
I carried on downstream, having a few casts in all the likely looking spots but didn't have any more joy. As the day wore on a mist began to rise from the fields, creating a silky white carpet that seemed to cling to the ground. I'd managed to cover the whole stretch of river with an hour or so spare before sunset, so decided to change over to a ledger set up like I used on the previous trip, and try a few of the deeper pools on my way back up stream. The first pool I tried was the same one that I'd caught the trout from on my first trip. In an effort to try and avoid any more trout, but still remain chub friendly, I used a slightly bigger hook and loaded it with as many maggots as I could. I gave the pool about 15 to 20 minutes, feeding a few maggots every couple of minutes but it didn't look like anyone was home, so decided to move on upstream.
By the time I got to the next pool the sun was getting low in the sky, lighting up the far bank with a fiery glow. I opted to fish in the shadows of the nearside bank about 10 yards down stream, not far from some debris that would offer some shelter to any fishy residents. After a minute or two the rod tip began to twitch ever so slightly possibly indicating some interest from a fish. It continued to twitch for about another minute and I began to wonder if I'd managed to hook a mini species like a bullhead, but on reeling in discovered all I'd managed to do was hook a leaf! I put some fresh maggots on the hook and cast it back to the same spot in a last ditch effort to find the illusive chub. Again the tip started to twitch, but this time it was followed by some more violent tugs. I lifted into the fish hoping for a mighty pull from a big chub, but it wasn't to be and a short while later another brownie was in the net, around 6-8 oz, a pretty typical size for most of the river. I slipped him back and decided to call it a day as the sun set across the fields behind me.
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