popped back tot he river this afternoon armed with a special groundbait mix inc hemp and dead maggots, a box of worms and a pouch full of feeders. Before getting going with the fishing I walked a mile or so of the river... my bro is coming next weekend so I was on the lookout for a double peg we could use.
Once that was done and the rain had stopped I settled into a peg where I could put a boilie out into the middle of the flow and fish the margin with the feeder. I was hoping that I might bag up on roach, but it was the ever dependable perch which were to show. The best one turned up first, a nice fish of about a pound, it was followed by another half dozen or so smaller stripey fellows. I was watched by the fattest rat I have ever seen, so fearless he came within a few feet of me as he went about his business.
I moved swims as afternoon passed into evening, aiming to get onto the chub or barbel. It was here that I ran into my first tribulation of the day as a rocking stepping stone plunged my right foot into the murky water of the Trent. I fished on with a cold soggy trainer, cursing my poor decision not to wear boots today. Then my luck really bottomed out as one of my porky pig heavy feeder rods broke at the joint as I attempted to pull free of a snag, it may be salvageable - I hope so as I love this pair of rods. I had a couple of raps on worm after sundown, possibly chub, possibly just debris hitting the line, either way there was nothing to console me for the wet foot and broken rod.
The to add insult to injury I missed the last stepping stone on the way back, soaking my foot again. bloody typical - still at least the perch broke the run of blanks which was the real aim of the afternoon...
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