At last, my first fishing trip since October. After posting in January saying I would be going, there was the snow, and then I caught one of these viruses that just don’t seem to go away.

I set up in my normal spot and catapulted some bits of cheese and luncheon meat into the flow near the far bank. Things looked perfect; calm and quiet, although the river was a bit low and judging by the debris, in the form of dead vegetation, it didn’t seem to have benefitted from a good winter flush through.

I cast to the far bank with cheese full of expectation for the rod top to pull around in short order. But it didn’t. After about an hour I tried casting a bit further downstream as in the past I had found the fish at the tail end of the pool. At 11.10 the line slackened at the rod tip so I tightened and was into a fish. A brief battle ensued before netting a 2¾lb chub. It was in splendid condition and was taken on cheese.

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This was encouraging but unfortunately not to be repeated. Despite searching up and down the swim I couldn’t get another touch.

I decided to move to a spot further upstream that had been particularly consistent in the past to see if I could pick up at least one fish, and then perhaps return to my normal spot after allowing more time for it to settle down. The upstream swim was tricky in that an accumulation of debris and weed would have made landing a fish difficult from the high bank, and I didn’t fancy trying to slide down the bank as it would have been difficult to climb up again. None the less, I tried a cast only to snag an overhanging tree and lose my terminal tackle. Retackled I did manage to place the bait exactly where I wanted it, but unfortunately there was no take.

I returned to my original spot and had my lunch, after which I continued to explore the swim with little reward. I got a couple of plucks from upstream casts that may have been chub, or perhaps perch, as I was now trying luncheon meat. As the afternoon drew to a close I again cast downstream and in the last hour had two reasonable pulls on the rod top but failed to connect with either. They weren’t classic chub bites, which often just keep pulling, but I think on balance they were probably chub, albeit being a bit tentative.

So in the end it was only one fish. Not to worry, the day was glorious and I enjoyed just being there. Other than dog walkers, and one other roaming angler who walked past, I was on my own enjoying what nature had to offer.

The river looked glorious in the late afternoon sun.