Headfirst - The only Wey to go

A couple of weeks ago and on a rather hot morning I placed a light amount of roving tackle in the car, the plan was to meet up with Tom Aldous, whom like myself also enjoys creating videos of his fishing trips. He had kindly invited me down to fish a stretch of the river Wey in Surrey, a delightful little river and perfect for a spot of fishing and teamwork, we both planned to rove about, casting to any likely  features and areas that might hold a fish or two, very little bait needed, opting to use a mixture of lobworms, maggots, bread and cheese.


We started the day on a more overgrown section of the river alongside a wall, here chub and dace could be seen drifting in and out of the weed beds and were very easily spooked.

Tom had brought some thigh waders with him and decided to wade further downstream of me, first cast resulting in a perfectly formed dace and it was not long before he had the first chub of the day, a lovely looking fish (3.2), taken on a piece of mature cheddar.

The first fish in gin clear conditions and we were off the mark, as is the case with such small waterways the fish in Tom's area had spooked and spread out more, meanwhile further upstream I had spotted a few fish feeding close to the far bank, a light underarm lob and the link ledgered worm was presented to the edge of a weed bed and marginal snag.

Tom had made his way into my swim as I had the first few taps before the tip bolted round, a livley fight then ensued, the chub making a powerful dash for the weed beds and made it there, after a little bit of pressure was applied and Tom kindly hopping in to land the fish, we had our second on the bank, a hollow, real brassy looking fish (3.1). We was both over the moon, as the conditions were proving a good test of our watercraft and presentation.

We then ventured downstream beating a path through a more urban area of the river and being a weekend, paddlers, people picnicking and even inflatable kayaks were spotted, we decided to journey on through this part of the river before stopping downstream to try our luck along a very basic area of the river, with just a few small bushes for coverage but likely looking spots, first cast resulting in me watching a rather nice chub of possibly 4lb, drift across only to disappear, two minutes later I had a savage bite, only to connect with thin air, hook returning sans lob worm, I turned to Tom and mumbled "that was a decent fish I missed!"

Tom managed another very plump dace from this spot, we never stopped for long, our motion a perpetual  and one that only a roving angler can enjoy, free of weight and like a rolling stone rarely gathering any moss.

By late afternoon and having tried quite a few spots we ended up under a bridge,  there were numerous signs of other anglers having been here, sweetcorn tins left behind and numerous other bits of rubbish which included beer bottles, aside from this it looked a nice spot, a deep depression, the water slowing up here and not far downstream there was a riffle. Apart from a shopping trolley looking rather forlorn, this looked a very nice area for a cast or two.

My first cast resulted in a near instantaneous bite, quiver tip walloping round and I was connected to another fine example of a Wey chub (3lb), not long after having landed this fish and whilst it was recuperating, Tom was into a lively fight from a very nicel marked brownie, which had greedily gorged itself on his maggots. A quick unhooking and Tom was soon cast back in the same spot, whilst I baited from upstream with maggots over his area. Not more than a few minutes later and whilst we was debating whether to take lunch under the bridge or not, his rod tip plucked round steadily, this fight was different, the fish powering off and hugging the bottom, "definitely not a trout" said Tom.

As the fish surfaced in front of us, the olive green skin, paint brush tail and beautiful eyes were a dead giveaway as a very pretty tinca slid into the waiting net (1.6). We was both overjoyed, grabbing a quick chevin meets tinca shot before slipping them both back to this diminutive river.

After leaving this spot we headed downstream, making our way through more parkland, I was transfixed by the many inviting gravel runs, so much so I had no idea what was happening as I put my foot on to a false bank, tipping forward I plunged upside down into the river, rucksack the lot, the stark contrast from hot to cold a complete body shock, I could just about hear a muffled sound of Tom shouting  "oh Mark!!" as he managed to net my hat for me.

Getting out onto dry land opposite two chaps who were sunbathing and another angler upstream, we all started laughing, thankfully the only fatality was my mobile phone, the camera saved by its bag. In all the years of fishing I have never fallen in, but there is a first time for everything and thankfully apart from the phone it was mainly bruised pride.

It was a very enjoyable trip spent with Tom, who remained enthusiastic and very eager throughout the day and one we must do again at some point and next time without me falling in like a porpoise!

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