Last Saturday was a bust fishing wise as I had to attend the festivities of the fishing club’s 60th anniversary.

The peer pressure was to great to skip that event and go fishing instead (which I would prefer).
Anyway I made it through the speeches and the dinner but when the comedian came along to perform
his return one of my friends and I made a break for it..

Afterall I had to get up next morning early for a chub session.

During the last chub session I had regrets not buying a day ticket for the chub hotspot of the syndicate

downstream from where I was allowed to fish.
Not this time … armed with a license I entered the hotspot late in the morning and the fish where stacked,

small ones and the big boys.

Besides from some small fish on the sedge I had no hits from the big boys but they came up inspecting
the fly and especially the hopper seemed to trigger their interest.
I checked out some sections of the stream for patrolling fish and targeted some large fish but no hits.
After a small break I returned to the starting point and caught my first chub on the hopper.
Size of the fish improved also so I was happy.

Maybe Sunday was not the best day to fish the particular location I had chosen due to the amount
of daytrippers … it does not help when people stand on bridges and point to wary fish.

My last fish was of a decent size … like half of the big boys but I wanted more.

There was one other hotspot where I would have piece and quiet.

A dismantled weir where you could climb on the wooden walkway and spot the fish from high up.
I must say the wooden planks had seen better time and I made sure I walked near the steel
beams just in case.

The big boys where in place but current and wind made it tricky to place the hopper in a 

convincing way near the fish.
Fish came several up to inspect the fly and I missed about two strikes.
But then that one fish came along and followed the hopper to swallow it, fish one.

Now I stood high above the water and had to fight the fish waving the rod along the 
steel supports of the former flood gates.
I managed to get to the end of the walkway and was still connected to the fish.
The problem now was to get down in a respectable manner without loosing the fish.

The banks where darn steep but the section next to the concrete base was accessible 
so I could let myself glide down the bank.
It was a case of wet wading but luckily not particular deep and even better …. the 

floor of the form weir was paved.
I managed to net the fish and after measurements and a picture I crawled up
the opposite bank onto dry land.
Mission accomplished.

I tried one other spot and missed further strikes only to find out that somehow
along the way I had lost the hookpoint of the hopper.

It was later in the day than anticipated and since the 84F heat had gotten to
me it was imperative to get to the chub before dying of thirst…