Saturday, 23 August 2014

My Name Is Monty Dalrymple

A cracking morning to be on the river, kicking up dew as you amble about with not a care in the world. This was to be my last angling trip until the middle of September owing to "real life" getting in the way. Like many other anglers I'm sure you like I, count the working week away. Just so you can go fishing, switch off and revel in doing boys own stuff again.



Lures again for me, it has been mostly since the start of the season. Other angling trips have been had, Barbel and Chub banked, but on a very small river that on a personnel level I'm not to happy to blog about.

First cast today into a deep shady pool brought this small Perch, more casts brought a procession of small fish so time for a move.



 Looking at  a small run off below a weir it  looked appealing, resulting in just a couple of micro Pike and more small Perch. I played about with various lures again, various colours and the only thing that worked today were these yellow shads. Crank baits, spinners were left unmolested. It seemed the fish only wanted yellow baits. Why is that? One particular colour and one pattern only, brought a response. Or is it that your catching on a lure and you fish more confidently, not sure to be honest what the answer is.

We all have a banker area on a river, a swim that always, always produces the goods. Mine is known as "Perch Bend" to me anyway, giving me more three pound  plus Perch over the last ten years or so than any other area on this particular stretch.

Flicking the bait out here always gives me confidence, it just screams fish. Plop, wind back in and nothing on the first cast. The second cast was nailed in a big way, huge smile on my face, yep another three pounder on the end mate. Wrong! This Pike below though only small went ballistic, tail walking like a madman. It hit the lure right under my feet and just inhaled it right to the back  of it's mouth. In all the years I've fished here, never have I had a Pike. Even when using small live baits for Perch. As I say not big, but if it's sport you like you will not find me complaining. I added a couple of smaller Pike further down stream and that was it. No large fish today, but a cracking few hours.


Eyes to big for it's belly ? Na not really and this one got caught in the cross fire.





So that's my summer fishing done and dusted, when I return to the bank in around three weeks or so I will  leave the lure fishing alone for a time. A couple of other things, need to be tried. But every minute that saw me on the bank, has been superb fun. The Chub on a surface lure eluded me, drove me insane at times. But in truth, it's the best way "Man versus Fish" and Chub won.

Apart from Gruff and that was only a fleeting glimpse, I'm yet to meet another angler this season. Where is everyone? It does seem that many, many anglers seem to be flocking to the river Wye each and every week. As river anglers are Barbel the only species worth attention, people forgo their local rivers and drive hundreds of miles to fish. Days out are great, me well fishing the Wye is always a treat, as is the Hampshire Avon. A few weeks time will hopefully see me on the Lower Severn for a social with a few mates. Could I put my rods into hibernation, only fishing very prolific venues. No chance of that, angling to me is not always about catching. Your out doing your own thing, no sponsorship to worry about. No lies to be told, just simple pleasures and simple pleasures are always the sweetest.

This came into the Yat Phone last week, courtesy of Dave Burr. It did make me and Lady D chuckle, very good mate. My name is Monty Dalrymple.














Enjoy your long weekend and if your on the bank, like Ying is tonight with his lad on a boys own camping trip. Smile, like the photo above.


Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Any Given Sunday

The Saturday before last was more a test of endurance as opposed to an angling trip. In that I spent ten hours in one swim in the hope of a large Barbel. By large anything in the region of above thirteen pounds, my efforts produced one small Bream. Thinking the day away, was it actually fishing or more a case of hoping to bore a fish into submission. More so the latter if the truth be told, it did not bore a Barbel but it did bore me.

I guess that now, sitting it out for one fish is a chore. While a river that has a high head of Barbel it is great fun, waiting for the pin to scream, but on a low stock density water it is to me hard work. And not something that really appeals to me anymore. Fair play to those that have the tenacity to carry this through, but me. Well, lets just say it done my brain in.

Today was time to get the lure gear out again. A short four hour morning session in the hope of a Chub or a few good Perch. The bank side flora and fauna is still very wild, and like many others I'm guessing, we are looking forward to it dying away. Hard, very hard work scrabbling about at this time of year in nettle beds, hawthorn bushes and other plant's that seem to want to sting and scratch me to hell and back. Odd weather, one minute blazing sun, five minutes later the jacket comes on. Summer appears to be beating a hasty retreat and we seem to be about to go directly into the Autumn.




I worked hard today, roaming up to this beats boundary and back again. Trying swim after swim that I could access. Fast water, deep pools, the tail of a weir pool and by ten thirty not a sniff of a fish. But it's preferable to just sitting and waiting in my eyes. You the angler are searching the river, trying to make that connection. Looking at the water, attempting to second guess where a fish may be waiting to ambush it's prey. That is why this lure game is at present enjoyable to me, it's up to you to make the fish want the bait. You do the leg work, find the fish as opposed to waiting for them to come to you.

This photo below is a few lures that got wet today.Shads, Lip less, floating cranks. As I say not a sniff. Walking back to where I came onto the fishery, a few last casts in some fast water needed some attention.


Picking a different colour shad out of the box, the lure was flicked along the near bank under a willow tree. No joy, back out and a slow retrieve and bang a hook up. A small Jack erupted on the surface and threw the hook. Ahhhhhh bollocks, he may have been small, but it would have been a blank saver.

Back out again, same spot and bang another Jack is on only slightly larger. Just before netting he shoots out the water, resulting in the bait coming loose with one swift shake of the head. Time to pack up and head home. But that is what currently excites me so much, the hook up. Anglers who have lure fished for years, may not get that frisson of excitement, but your bringing that lure in and then bosh your in. Should have done this years ago. One second all is calm, then you think you have pulled into some weed, then it pulls right back and starts your knees a knocking, how big, what species,

On the train back home, thinking away the session as most surely do. It occurred to me that I may need to up the hook size slightly to negate these hook pulls. Below is the last lure that I used, two and a half inches long with a size one hook. Maybe a size 1/0 or a 2/0 would give a better ratio of fish landed. Loosing small Pike does not overly concern me. But to loose a good fish over something that you can alleviate would be a pisser. Yeah, best order some larger hooks from AGM, that online shop that seems to empty my wallet on a regular basis at present.    

Bigger 'ook needed ?

All good fun though, learning a new way to fish. Working it out yourself, more questions with each passing day. Hard work all the walking, casting, looking and trying to suss out what is what. But at present to me it beats sitting on my arse. Next weekend will be my last trip out for a few weeks, holiday is looming. And the better half will not want me being away, constantly thinking about fishing! I must when it cools down get the trotting gear out, the river is alive with Dace. Fish examining all manner of insects, small leaves that float down stream. With the rain has fallen this past week, it looks in fine fettle.


Upton Park for me yesterday and the result I predicted when I updated the blog last week. Yep we lost one nil to S***s. Never nice to loose to that lot, but a decent game. It did make me laugh that people were Cuuunnttii off, no castigating Noble for missing a penalty to put us one nil up. Lads that was the first penalty he has missed since 2009. Sure it was not a good time to miss one, but sheez it happens. Even though we were turned over, still a good day out. Oh and also I have it in for Sheffield Wednesday now, an acca was let down by them, five in the bin and you fuckers never let Derby win! Although I'm sure elsewhere a certain Mr. Moyes had a self satisfied smile.


Face Book.............

Wow, what a to do in the week. Now I'm not on Face Prowler as many call it, but the vitriol that was directed to a well known Northern angler in the week was unreal. His crime ? Well he took it upon himself to question the outpouring, of grief that was to come over the death of Robin Williams. Sure his timing was out and as all good comedians know, timing is of the essence! But what made me laugh were the comments....."Ur a prick M8" was one of the more lucid attempts at the English language. In my eyes he said or posted fuck all wrong, but yep multimedia does let people "grieve" among friends. I loved his acting, not a huge fan of his stand up to be fair. Robin that is and not ............;-0 But why would an adult post in text speak ? Unless Janet and John is your book of choice for bedtime reading. Stay strong you Northern angler, keep thy chin oop tha knows. Christ I've not seen anyone get that much of an "Internet Shoeing" since those halcyon days of "Barbel Wars".


 But do we really need to know like little Ritchie Frampton posted on FP......"Do I wear shorts to the game fair or not". Rich, your better served talking about rods on Fishing Magic, about  a river you have not fished, offering sage advice to all and sundry like a latter day Yoda. As opposed to Face Prowler, or indeed posting on a blog bemoaning the fact that you can no longer post on Fatwa. Move on sunshine, move on. Grow some, you will feel an awful lot better, maybe ? Why the need to rejoin, after you were banned, your not missing out on anything. Think of it like a badge of honor, something to brag about down the Dukes Head ;-0.

Yeah I know I'm a piss taker, but if you want to read strictly angling blogs, their are masses out in cyber space. Some very, very well written, while others are as mundane as a mundane thing, this possibly being one of those. I'm sitting on a pile of Doppelgangers at present so these need to be aired soon, cracking one of me too that was sent into the Yat phone last week.

But in the words of the late Kenny Everette, it's all done in the best possible taste.

More unilateral bollocks coming soon, no doubt. So enjoy your Sunday afternoon, I'm off to cook the girls dinner.




Be Lucky


Monty D

Friday, 8 August 2014

Fridays Blog

Not had a Friday blog for ages, but having been sat on my arse at home waiting for a new bed to be delivered( I lost the toss of a coin with she who wears the trousers), I thought to kill time, may as well peer down from Yat Rock and see whats about.

Missing In Action......Presumed Under The Thumb.

Below we have my mate Gruff, who has been missing for most of this river season. Here he is up on the Lower Severn, with a nice live bait about to be cast out on the eighth of July. Since then, he has been conspicuous by his absence. If you read this mate, grow some! Put your foot down and get out fishing. You have not been busy in the garden, that is for sure. Not that I miss your company you understand, just you driving me about. Prehistoric looking and toothy critter 'aint he, and what about the Zed.



Here we have our old friends at Fatwa again with creaking joints and aching limbs, having a good old chin wag.


http://www.barbel.co.uk/site/vbulletin/forum/barbel-talk/10061-retirement-fishing-more-less.html

Bastard Kids On The Bank!

I had to laugh at La Roccas comment in that he seldom's fishes in the UK these days and when he does its  for social reasons or with mates. Can't have many mates eh Tone, you have not fished once in this country this current river season. Get out fishing, your be to old soon. Full of piss and hot air, oh hold on a minute. And the house for sale in Wargrave, though a lovely area, if I had nearly three million to spend, I would be off like a shot to Hereford. I'm sure Wargrave flooded like crazy last winter!


A Cesspit Of Racial Hatred.

A total prick called Ben Pitcher, who happens to be a lecturer at the University of Westminster,  thinks Gardner's question time,  is a seething cesspit of racial hatred, yeah don't we all Ben. Dr. Pitcher believes the programme is saturated with  racist language, and that conversations about "native" and "non native" is nationalist.

He goes on to say " that a  crisis in white identity in multicultural Britain, forced people to find ways  of talking about white identity, through gardening  so they do not appear to be racist".

I can see it now, hordes of middle England gardening fans, looting, giving Nazi salutes at the local Conservative club(actually that's not to far fetched to be fair), and generally burning crosses, while wearing dodgy pillow cases.

Ben, you really deserve to be put in stocks, Christ knows what subject you lecture in ? Do us all a favor and crawl back under the rock you slithered out from. I wish it was April fools day I really do, possible the daftest thing I've heard in a while and I do hear some shite!  



Home of the Nazi Party
Football is back tomorrow for most, though we do not kick off until a week later. We host S***s at home on the first day and I fear they will be looking for retribution after we spanked them three times last season. With no fit striker, do we ever have one ? I think they may just sneak it! Andy "Crock Legs" Carroll is out again for four months, possibly he will go down as our worst ever purchase. This lad will break down again and again, Liverpool done well to flog him to us.

Still stay up, go down. Who knows, the lower divisions are more uncertain and fun. Especially if you love a bet on the football as many of us do. The Premier League, same 'ol, same 'ol. It's only the overseas players who really give it any flair. You can count the good British players on one hand.

I'll be back out on the bank tomorrow, not sure where or what for yet, keeping an eye on the weather forecast. So enjoy your weekend.


Be Lucky

Monty D

Monday, 4 August 2014

Lights Out at 2200 Hrs

At 2200 hrs tonight, the nation will turn off our lights, and light a candle in remembrance of the fallen. Those that gave the ultimate sacrifice, so we may live our today's.

I'm looking forward to the coverage on BBC Two this evening, it will be grand I'm sure.





Take time to light one tonight if you can and reflect and remember those no longer with us, though I'm sure most people think about their late Great Grand Parents and the Grand Parents as often as I do.

Carpe  Diem gentleman, Carpe Diem.


Be Lucky

Monty D

Sunday, 3 August 2014

My Captain My Captain

Same thing as last week, well not quite. Up early, flick some small soft plastics about for a couple of hours resulting in more small Perch. Spending more time playing about really, slow retrieve, fast, stop start, bounce up and down. Generally seeing if their was a preference in how the fish would take.

It did not matter, the little bastards were ravenous. The larger fish I assume, have switched off for what ever reason. To not get a Perch down here over three pounds is rare, maybe the low levels have put them down, the river is looking tired now owing to the lack of rain. I know it sounds blase when you mention Perch over three pounds, but you can only judge by what your venues hold. You may think "Flash Bastard", well maybe, just a little.



The surface lures were brought out in earnest once the sun got up and yep I got one, nearly. I found a small group of fish just hanging mid river, tails wafting. Watching for a while they were taking insects off the top, casting my smallest surface lure upstream and letting it float down towards the fish, it was hit first time. Yesssss, up off your knees, rod bent into a good Chub. Then bosh, the rod snaps back, resulting in that gut wrenching feeling. We have all been there, disconsolate, the hook has pulled and you stand their like a plum. I swore, then swore again. If a member of the non angling public had witnessed my protestations against the world, surely a session in the nut house would beckon.

Yeah I know I look well chuffed. That was it, no more chances, pack up and limp off home with my tail between my legs. I'll get one , pray that I do or it's golf,golf and more golf. Jokes aside the more frustrating it get's the more you want something. Give up, na that's for wankers ;-0



Bollocks


Lot's of talk you know where, of tough conditions for that most hallowed of species. "We need rain","Bring it on the rain", etc,etc. Don't you guys ever get bored of sitting hour upon hour, like a frozen gargoyle in the hope, that maybe, just maybe your rod tip will move. Me, I would be bored senseless. Been their, done that over the years and life is really to short. Just for you though, the folk with single species myopia.




In the paper midweek, was an article about the most watched films. Raiders of the Lost Ark came in tops, in that the average person has viewed it  twenty nine times. We all have our favorites, mine is below. Teachers seem to get a fair amount of stick in the press lately. But my English Literature teacher Mr. Brown was a legend. Me, well possibly I was not the easiest child to teach. But he persevered, in that at times growing up I may have drove him mad. Thinking back, as you do, it's only as you get older that you realise how much you owe that man. He made it alright to enjoy poetry, to take pleasure from the written word. Care not what your peers may or may not decree. Be your own person, live your life how you see fit, yeah I'll agree with that Sir.

The end scene from Dead Poets Society.






Be Lucky

Monty D