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Summer days! Lazy and gentle, warm sunshine, lush green countryside, the smell of a barbecue floating through the air. Yes, this was going to be the “Barbecue Summer, “ at least according to our esteemed Met. Office. Well, the wonders of a new multi million pound computer capable of trillions of calculations a minute have done little to change the perception that for long range forecasting, you would be better to check the bunch of seaweed hanging from your garden shed. The lines of rusting barbecues serving as a potent reminder of the July that never was. A complete and total washout and the worst since records began. Of course, as a mullet angler who loves to fish the upper reaches of West Country rivers, this was particularly frustrating. Day after day the dark and lowering clouds rolled in from the Atlantic dumping ever increasing amounts of rainfall onto the sodden countryside. The result was rivers in constant flood, and on the few occasions when the rain abated, the water was stained with a tea coloration, the result of acidic water cascading down straight from the upland peat bogs. If there is one thing that a thick lipped mullet cannot tolerate, it is this deluge. The fish simply disappear from the upper reaches and they move downstream out of the flood. As a result, fishing becomes increasingly challenging, with just the occasional bite from a few hardy stragglers, giving limited sport for those who persist in trying. And then, just as I was beginning to think it was time to order my supply of gopher wood and start the building of an Ark, the rain stopped. Not just for a day, but for a period of time. The dark clouds finally relented and that wonderful bright object in the sky suddenly reminded us that it was still summer. After a few days of warmth a return to the river confirmed that there were fish starting to move upstream again. So let me take you on a day when at last the conditions had returned to normality and when there was the prospect of some wonderful sport to give you a flavour of why this form of fishing is so appealing………………….
A warm and balmy morning with cotton wool clouds hanging motionless in a clear blue sky. No time to lose, as the neap tide was already starting to make steadily. The water was still incredibly clear after the recent rainfall but there was a tinge of colour in it with sufficient depth for the bottom to have disappeared from sight. For me, mullet fishing means float fishing. Yes, fish can be taken on a ledger, but there is something magical about watching a float bobbing along in the current and then that breathtaking moment when it slides away without warning
Conditions were so calm and the water so clear that I was able to use a tiny float, carrying just a few shot with a dust shot near to the hook as a “ tell - tale.” As usual I was using 4lb line, ( Berkeley Trilene for those interested in such technicalities). I favour this line because of its very fine diameter and its very soft characteristics. I am certain that in clear water mullet can see any line no matter how fine it is , but the thing which decides whether they take a bait into their mouth is the stiffness of the line as they touch it with their prominent and sensitive lips. Anyway, I would need to be very quiet and careful with such clear water. As usual, under such conditions, I set up my tackle well away from the water’s edge, and within minutes was ready to start. All this time I had been introducing small balls of groundbait into the swim, and I watched as the fragments disintegrated into an inviting cloud of particles as they disappeared into the depths of the river.
I carefully plumbed the depth, (already a good six feet), and made sure my hook bait was just an inch from the river bed. I would make the adjustments dozens of times as the tide flowed up to its maximum, but presenting the bait at the right depth is crucial for consistent success. Preparations completed, I baited up with a very soft paste mixture, (again it’s essential to get the consistency right) - if it’s too hard the fish will ignore it, too soft and it will simply fall off the hook. Flicking out into the river I felt that wonderful anticipation as the float slowly started to settle and the bright red tip glistened in the morning sunshine. Sometimes you just know that it’s going to be a good day. Everything about the conditions suggested that today would be one of those. The float bobbed sharply as it drifted upstream and then remained still. The bait had been neatly removed! More ground bait was introduced and I re-baited. Casting out I had another bite immediately, but it was incredibly fast. I missed a number more in the next few minutes before that satisfying feeling as the rod bent over and the weight of a fish was felt. In this case it turned out not to be a mullet, but a small bass of nearly a pound. On light tackle it gave a spirited account of itself before being landed, its spiked dorsal fin bristling with aggression. A beautiful looking fish, it was quickly returned to the river, and was gone in an instant. The bites continued, but they were proving almost impossible to hit. I was sure that they were mullet but the combination of crystal clear water and bright sunshine meant that the fish were biting “short”. When the conditions are like this it is no good waiting for the float to draw away. Different tactics are required. And so I struck at the slightest movement on the float. There were perhaps 40-50 missed bites before I contacted a fish. No doubt at all about this one. A mullet and a reasonably sized specimen. Through my Polaroids I glimpsed a golden flash as the fish tore line off the clutch and made like a magnet, for some nearby moorings. Realising the imminent danger I slammed my finger on the spool to bring the fish to a halt, applying side strain at the same time. The line went slack!! The hook had pulled out. An occupational hazard when fishing for mullet, it wasn’t the first or the last time that this would happen to me. There was no time to feel disappointed. Some flashes in the depths of the river indicated that other fish were moving through the swim. Baiting up again I concentrated totally. Bites came every cast and in the end some success. A small mullet, of perhaps a pound was landed and quickly returned. I had made a start. Some time later and I hooked and lost another mullet but this didn’t stop the bites from continuing. Another fast bite and this time I was hooked into something much bigger. The rod arched over immediately and the attached fish went deep and started to lunge powerfully without running. I knew what was coming and was not disappointed. Suddenly, realising for the first time that it was in peril, the mullet went off on a run. The line howled off the clutch in a shriek but I had already anticipated its movement and had eased it well away from a nearby mooring buoy. As a result I could let it run which it did against the check until it reached the centre of the river. Here is sulked and thumped, using the current and its power to hold position. It’s hard to describe the tenacity and strength of these creatures in clear water in a flow. You need patience and skill in abundance to play the fish on light tackle. And so it was nearly 10 minutes before it was close enough for me to have a look at the fish. Clearly it was a specimen fish, so I took my time until it was completely played out. Gently sliding the landing net towards the fish I had it in the net in an instant. The hook fell out of the lip as I did so, it was that lightly hooked. A fine up-river fish of 4lb 9oz, in perfect condition, I left the mullet in the net for some time until it was completely recovered, and then watched as it slipped effortlessly into the depths of the river.
Meanwhile, the fish were everywhere in the swim. Bites continued without a break. Suddenly the float tore away and this time it was no mullet. A smaller fish jumped and leapt spectacularly out of the water. A beautifully marked rainbow trout, fat as butter and weighing about three quarters of a pound. There are lots of them here but they are not stocked fish and it is something of a mystery as to how they came to be in the river at all. Perhaps there is a trout hatchery upstream where fingerlings escape in times of flood from a feeder stream into the main river? The tide , by now, was reaching the top and again the float slid slowly away. Striking saw the rod hoop over and stay in one place. Strong powerful, jagging pulls indicated a fish, but certainly not a mullet. This solid and heavy weight soon revealed itself to be a silver eel, and a good one too. I have mixed feelings about eels. I’m always impressed by their fighting ability, especially as this continues even when they have been landed! Fortunately this one was very lightly hooked in the corner of the jaw and was quickly returned to the water, leaving me with a net full of slime by way of a thank -you ! It was nearly time to go but still the bites continued. But not before just one more small and welcome mullet and then I started to pack up. It had been a great session with bites continually from the first cast to the last. Clearly there were large numbers of fish throughout the system but make no mistake, every fish had needed to be worked for. Four hours of total action and concentration combined with a wonderful setting and great variety of fish including the icing on the cake, a specimen mullet. By no means an extraordinary day, my best on the rivers remains 24 mullet with a fish of 6lb 4oz included. However, it is perhaps a more typical indicator of the sort of sport that can be expected when the conditions are right. The fishing is challenging and the fish will only come to those who do all the right things at the right time. Even if you have lightning reflexes you will miss lots of bites and most of the fish that are taken will be only just hooked in the lip. However, the fact that it is not easy fishing makes the times when you catch the more satisfying.
The weather remains fairly settled at the moment and I’m hopeful of more productive days on the rivers before the evenings start to draw in and the fish begin to drift downstream as we move into the autumn. The thought of these sessions to come quickens the senses in anticipation of a few more memorable battles with this most sporting of species. Mullet, for me, are quite simply the most prized of fish, especially when taken in the beautiful settings of the West Country river systems. For those of
you who are interested this is an exact account taken from my fishing notes
for Sunday, 16th. August, 2009, on the upper reaches of the River
Dart, South Devon. |
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