Ade Kiddell - March Fishing Diary

This entry was posted on 28th March, 2018

I have always enjoyed fishing the last few days of the river season; over the years I have had some great catches, and, with that in mind I booked the ferry well in advance, with a trip to the Trent planned, and like a military operation I sorted tackle and bait requirements. However, the best laid plans and military operations can’t arrange the weather; The Beast From the East had other ideas. Out here in France it was very cold, but we had very little snow. Watching the TV, travel was going to be difficult, let alone fishing. With that in mind we called off the planned trip to the Trent and travelled over minus the fishing tackle, deciding on a friends and family catch up instead.

With the trip called off due to the weather it got me thinking about some of the bad weather I have fished in over the years. I am sure we are all the same; if our partners or friends asked us to sit in the middle of a field in the pouring rain for hours on end, we would politely give them the answer, yet if fishing is involved we anglers are quite content to sit by the river, sea or lake in any weather!

I remember one summer evening on the River Severn, fishing with long time mate Tom Sayer, enjoying catching some cracking barbel on free-lined luncheon meat. A storm was brewing in the valley, but plenty of barbel action had our minds otherwise engaged. A heavy shower got heavier and harder, and more torrential, without doubt the heaviest rain I had ever seen with no let up for over 2 hours. When it finally stopped we packed in, soaked to the skin but happy we had landed over a dozen barbel between us, but with a rapidly rising river forcing us off the bank.

The fields were flooded as we walked back to my mobile home on the farm adjacent to the river, water was racing down the farm tracks and we could hear an unusual roar as we got within a couple of hundred yards of home. The roar we could hear was the small brook that ran behind my caravan, normally a small babbling brook, but now a roaring torrent and about 4 foot higher than normal. Shock rendered me temporarily speechless as I realised my caravan was gone; along with 6 or 7 others it had been carried away by the power of the water and ended up on its side further down the site. More of a worry was my Missus was in the caravan, or so I thought – as it turned out, the farmer had anticipated a problem and evacuated all the caravans. It turned out the storm had sent record rainfall for the area, with major flooding and severe damage to property and infrastructure, but no problem, we fished all the way through it.



In my younger days I spent a lot of time on the Norfolk beaches, especially in the autumn and winter, fishing for firstly good size whiting, and then the cod would move in as it got colder, and hopefully it was fish and chips for tea! I remember one winter’s night when I was out on the North beach at Great Yarmouth with brother in law Phil, a stunning clear night with a bright moon, but bitterly cold, not great for fishing, but with 200 lugworm and plenty of squid we were committed to give it a go. As the tide started to build, the fish started to feed, firstly some decent whiting then small codling, and finally some decent cod with a fish of 17lb the pick of the bunch. With all the fish action we had failed to notice how cold it really was. We ran out of bait in the end, and both of us had a heavy bag of fish for the freezer as we walked back across the beach, which was actually frozen solid, something I had never seen before or since, it was like walking on a concrete path, not a sandy beach. The fun wasn't over as when we got back to the car it was frozen solid, the locks were frozen, and we heated the keys on our stove to finally get the lock open; even then the door was frozen shut! We eventually got in and got going, but it felt like the car heater wasn't working, it was so cold.

To the other extreme I am lucky enough to have fished in places like India and Egypt, in extremely high temperatures, and caught some great fish. The one thing that keeps me going come rain or shine is a passion for our sport, a passion that, for me, is over 50 years old, and I am glad to say is still as strong as it ever was.



Back in France the cold weather passed, and the first signs of spring had me keen to catch a few fish; the barbel are hungry, and we’ve had the first signs of some big river carp - they have been showing a few times, over a couple of pre-baited areas.

Dutch mate Tim and a friend of ours Lucas joined me for a few days, the plan was to do some filming for some media projects we are mutually involved in, and of course catch some fish. Tim and I planned to catch a few barbel, and Lucas fancied a go at the carp. The barbel were very obliging, with Tim managing 12 on the best day, all but 2 of them on a new bait we were testing (more on that in the next blog or so ) I was surprised how well the fish fed, and that’s the sad part about fishing in the UK; the close season means it’s forbidden to fish when in truth the fish are hungry and need plenty of food to recover from winter and prepare for spawning; out here there’s no close season, which is great.





We kept Lucas busy as myself and Tim caught well; he was busy filming and working hard to record all aspects for our media project. Close by to where we were filming, Lucas had a couple of carp baits over an area we had seen a bit of activity, and we had trickled a bit of free bait in. A couple of bleeps from his alarms followed by an all out scream took us by surprise; on his rods in seconds, he was soon playing a decent fish, and was justifiably rewarded with a stunning river common well over 20lb.



 

As I write this it has turned cold again, with snow showers, and I have got back to some jobs I have to do around the house before the first guests arrive in a couple of weeks.