Fishing Republic : The Chub Whisperer

This entry was posted on November 29, 2017by Fishing Republic.

We're all aware of those rare individuals who have an affinity with dogs and horses but I'm a chub whisperer! Very often, I just know where one will be hiding, no matter how unattractive the spot might be. Rubbish-rafts and scummy accumulations are, we know, dead certs as fishy sanctuaries and you needn't be a genius to roll a bait under one and catch a chub but, so often - and much to my own delight - I'll winkle-out a fish from the most unlikely of spots.

I once sat fishing an Essex river just downstream from a hideously desecrated area where some drainage or bank-restoration work had recently taken place. After an hour's successful blanking I reeled in, hooked-up and struck-off with my rod and a bait-can. I had intended to walk past all the Caterpillar tracks and the piles of mud to fresher pastures beyond, but no. My path was obstructed by a freshly dug water-filled ditch running from the river and some 30-40ft into the field. It was squarely cut and its red-earth sides still glistened with their newness.

Now, bizarre as it may have looked to my pal back at base, I took a cube of luncheon meat and plopped it into the cut. He watched, puzzled, as I appeared to be touch-legering into a grassy field! Within a minute - and no more than this - my rod came alive and soon I was on my knees, reaching down then coming up with a very respectable chub of around 3lbs!

Not quite sure of what he'd just witnessed he reeled-in and hastened to my side and the scene of the fish's capture - a trench no more than two feet wide and filled with milky coffee-water. I'd dropped my bait where the trench terminated close to a gorse bush and my pal was clearly - and rightly - astonished.

Well, yes, I was kind of chuffed as well but I wasn't quite as gob-smacked as he; I'd known for years how fish - not just chub - love to explore new territory and this had reminded me of the time my club lake rose a couple of feet to submerge a weeded slurry bank and the carp had gone completely bonkers. Clearly this was true because that fish had ventured up a blind alley with barely enough room to turn in.

One of my 'banker' swims (on the same river but many miles downstream) was the concrete surround of a run-off pipe; attractive it wasn't, and the river here could hardly be described as such - more of a ditch really. But I always made a bee-line for this unholy feature, holding back, staying low and dropping my bait with a deliberate 'plop' into the unseen murky outflow. Nine times out of ten I'd be into a fish within seconds and I wouldn't actually see the water I'd successfully plundered until I stood to net the fish.

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Part of the joy in fishing this way was having very little to carry: just a rod, a landing-net, and a small rucksack for a few odds 'n' sods. Even these were largely unnecessary because you don't need two hundred hooks, a dozen leads and as many floats when you're out for three or four fish on a short stalking session; I could quite easily have minimized my tackle and lightened my load even further but, at that time, those superb bait-belts (as I call them) simply weren't available. But now they are and my stalking and roving activities have been revolutionized: rod, net, bum-bag - and that's it! With sufficient capacity for a ton of bait I can tote enough for a full day's fishing plus spare hooks, leads, spring balance, camera, forceps and even a snack. This gives me all the mobility I need to walk and to clamber up and down banks from morning 'til dusk; everything I need is immediately to hand and I no longer have to risk spooking the fish as I sling a ruck-sack over my shoulders every fifteen minutes!

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Small-river stalking with free-lined crust - superb stuff!

Nowadays I have fewer opportunities for small-river stalking but I do have the mighty Wye to explore with a spinning or dead-bait twitching rod. For this, the bait-belt - sorry! 'bum -bag - is ideal for lures and / or a handful of sprats - if you'll excuse the expression  I tell you, it's worth its weight in gold!

[Attachment]5lb 4oz chub from the upper Chelmer in Essex