After a successful session the previous night I probably should have stuck to the same area on my trip to the Trent last night but being a smart ass I thought i’d give another stretch a go as I was feeling super confident. I got to the river just before 2pm and had planned on staying until the early hours of Sunday morning.
The river looked fantastic, or should I say the bits I could see of it as the balsam was impossible to penetrate on most of the stretch so I was restricted to one small area, although in fairness I did have a good view downstream where I could see a lot of the river.
After 4 hours fishing I hadn’t had a bite so I knew I was probably in for a grueller. I had seen some good fish boshing about further downstream though so I was hoping they might make their way upstream and I was still feeling confident.
As the evening wore on the river started to rise quite rapidly and no matter what I did I couldn’t stop the weed catching on the line. The leads did hold bottom for quite a while but eventually they got pulled out of position. The fish further downstream continued to taunt me and with no way to get to them I stuck it out in the hope that there were fish in my swim.
The heavens opened at dusk and the rain was relentless. The slugs were over everything and although I stuck it out until 10:30pm I felt like i’d been defeated. It was hard to fish effectively because of the weed and getting drenched two nights on the trot was enough for me so I packed up and ran for the hills a defeated man. I’ll be back though as it’s too nice a stretch not to return.