Martin James MBE – Fishing Days On Lincolnshire’s River Bain, Part 2

I left for the 150 mile drive in driving rain, conditions on the M62 were terrible, I was averaging around 35 mph,  arrived in Coningsby Lincolnshire around 12 noon, it was still raining with a gusty wind. I was desperate for a brew before I went off in search of chub, a mile further on I found a quiet area sheltered from most of the rain, soon the jetboiler had done its job, with a mug of tea, with a fresh cheese and pickle roll from the local baker I sat in the car saying to myself ‘Life is very good despite the weather.’

Soon it was time to move off to an area I wanted to fish, from my knowledge and experience of the water from previous visits. I’d purchased a permit for the water controlled by Boston AA, certainly very good value for money. Parking up on a grass verge, I looked downstream where I could see the rotten bridge supports that once carried a railway system, destroyed by Dr Richard Beeching in his report in March 1963. In the area of the old bridge lived some big chub, with the occasional pike. How I loved those days of rail and coach trips to various venues.

How many of you remember those angling club coach trips we had in the 1950’s? The juniors would sit at the front, the older members at the back, telling jokes, smoking and reading the smutty stories in the News of the World, sometimes planning what swim they would fish. When you were a senior member you could move towards the back of the coach. As a junior you were looked after by a senior member, who not only showed you how to fish, but on the way home, the coach would stop at a local pub, where you were given a packet of crisps with a glass of lemonade by you instructor of the day. The great thing is I was able to learn so much from these kind senior members, even more so as you travelled to many different venues, looking back I didn’t realise how lucky I was.

Today I parked in what I thought was a safe area, where hopefully I wouldn’t need to worry about the car being broken into by thieves.  My first job was to pull on a set of waterproofs, knowing the weather conditions could be very changeable for my trip. I’d packed lots of clothing. Having put together an Avon action rod, Mitchell 300 reel with 6lb bs line with a size 4 barbless hook, attaching 3LG shot a few inches from the hook. I had bread, sausage meat and cheese paste as baits.

My crust rig, the amount of shot will depend on what swim your fishing, note the shot are spread well apart, my thinking behind this idea? Is a fish want really notice one shot, then as it lifts the next shot, the weight or drag isn’t noticed unlike a ledger weight.

Walking a few yards upstream, I cast a chunk of crust across the stream allowing it to roll under a large elderberry bush, within minutes I was hooked up to fish number one. The reel grudgingly giving line as the fish moved downstream; every now and again I could feel the fish turning and twisting in its bid for freedom. There were several heart stopping moments, but my anxiety was short lived, as I pulled the fish upwards to eventually roll on the surface. “That’s a good chub” I said to myself, It looked so magnificent even in the poor light, all silver with gold and bronze coloured scales along its back. Within seconds it was mine.

Swinging the net ashore I laid it down on the soft straw coloured rushes then parted the wet mesh. Certainly a good fish, probably perhaps a five pounder. Quickly adjusting the scales to zero, the fish was weighed 5-2-0. Lowering the net into a quiet bit of water, I watched the fish swim off strongly. Thinking to myself “Another good chub from my first bite of a two day session on the river Bain despite the poor conditions..”

Chub on cheese paste

With no more bites having fished three other swims, it was time to move a mile or so downstream. Having parked in a riverside field owned by a friend, I spent some time clearing away rubbish left by motorists who often parked on the grass verge, or dog walkers and others, ending up with a dustbin liner full of rubbish left by these lazy slobs.

In my canvas bucket I put a fresh tin loaf, some cheese paste, sausage meat paste along with some mashed bread, today I also had some mashed bread, which I use as an attracter to hopefully draw chub upstream, it’s surprising how far upstream you can draw fish.

When making mashed bread, don’t use fresh or semi fresh bread its useless, you need old dried out bread for making good mash, I often keep bread in a dustbin for several week before mashing, but make sure it’s not fresh when you put it in a bin as it will go mouldy. Once its old put it in a mesh bag then submerge it in water for around twenty four hours, then you need to drain off as much water as possible, then give it a pummelling, in the old days I used a bit of 2”x 4” piece of wood, today you can buy a tough potato masher for the job, I then bag up the mash placing it in the freezer until it needed, taking it out the night before my days angling.

Mashed bread is a superb attractor

Slinging my chair over my back, I headed across the field to ‘Fox Pool’ which looked perfect in the late winter sunshine, slithering on my bottom down the steep bank, I come to rest in a clump of reeds where I could sit and cast to all areas that might hold fish. My first two casts accounted for two nice chub, both on crust. One fish from the tail of the pool, the other one coming from under an overhanging willow bush on the far bank. After a break for a brew, I cast  out a lump of cheese paste, quickly getting a tiny flicker on the rod tip, followed by a slow pull over. The strike connected with a good fish which stayed in the fast water. Increasing the pressure I was soon able to net the chub weighing 5-4-0. The long journey had certainly been worth it.

Sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, I watched a stoat on a hunting trip, then realised a pied wagtail was its intended prey, I clapped my hands, both disappeared quickly. I fished on for another hour or so without a bite, then decided to move further downstream, fishing every likely looking spot. I was in luck, catching four more fish all on legered crust, every fish coming from the centre of the river. The fish weighed in at 3-10-0, 4-8-0, 4-8-0 and 4-4-0. I was most surprised to catch these fish in the open shallow water, which gave quite savage pulls on the rod tip. I can only imagine these fish would dash out from a weed-bed, grab the bait then dash back to cover. I fished on in the darkness for an hour or more without any more bites. After packing up I headed off to a local café for something to eat, then to my B&B in Woodhall Spa for a hot bath and hopefully a  good night’s sleep.

A brace of Bain chub

The next morning after a good breakfast I travelled to ‘Fox Pool’ after fishing for around three hours without a bite, it was time to move, the next couple of hours can only be described as a minor disaster. I had three good pulls, hooking three fish, all lost. One was certainly a big five perhaps a six pounder. I had it close to the net when the line parted at the knot, my fourth bite of the session was missed.It was time for lunch, having heated up a small saucepan of venison stew, provided by my good friend Roger which I enjoyed with some crusty buttered rolls, followed by two of mugs of tea.

While sitting in the shadow of a big oak I watched a blackbird turning over leaves in its search for food. I moved off down river to a small weir pool, within minutes of casting out a big chunk of crust, I  felt a slight pull on the line, then the rod tip pulled round about an inch. The strike connected with something heavy, then it was off. I fished on until darkness catching two more chub about three pounds apiece. After an hour in the darkness with no more bites it was time to head off home arriving just after midnight.

Writing & Images Martin James MBE Late Autumn 2022