Killing time

Over the last few days the Angling Trust have made the decision to close their online forum after just 9 months. There reasons for doing so appear a little odd. In their statement the trust bemoans the fact that only a tiny percentage of the membership have used the forum then go on to say;

“The staff and Directors made efforts to answer questions when they became aware of them, but there were so many pages of debate to trawl through that this became impractical for the busy team.  “

A bit of a contradiction I think? There is also an accusation of aggression being shown on the forum, well I haven't found any....unless they are referring to my own irreverent contributions? In my opinion the Trust's leadership is afraid of the dissent that is being shown on the forum.

I joined the Trust back in April and at the time expressed my mistrust of politics and politicians.

http://fishingsgreat.blogspot.com/2010/04/something-old-something-new.html

During the five months that have followed I have experienced nothing about the Trust that has altered this opinion. Five months on they still haven't publicly come out in support of livebaiting, despite personal assurances from the CEO Mark Lloyd that they would do this. I am certainly not alone in my dissatisfaction as members from all branches of the sport are expressing their discontent. Far from unifying angling the Trust is becoming yet another match dominated organisation and a gravy train for its paid employees. The way things stand I definitely won't be renewing my membership.

Now back to the real thing...

With summer quietly slipping into autumn and the temperature beginning to dip I've been finding it difficult to motivate myself to have another crack at the Tench in “The Marsh”. Time has not been on my side it's true but if I'd really wanted to go fishing I'd have made time. I've got Pike on my mind now and planning for the season ahead which will take up a large chunk of my free time so while the weather is still fairly comfortable I've been spending as much time as possible with the children. While we can still get out and do things together we are making the most of it. Saturday morning gave me the opportunity to do both.

The boat has been in 'dry dock' all summer while I made a few slight modifications but now it was ready to roll and high time it was back at it's winter home. We left bright and early in the morning and headed north, arriving at our destination in mid morning. With a pitch secured and fees paid we launched the boat and set off with the intention of showing the Madison and Isaac a little piece of my favourite place in the world. The weather was pleasant, mild and bright with a light breeze from the north west. After a couple of hours of motoring around including a pick nick break the kids were getting fidgety so we headed back. The place still in the green hues of summer looked beautiful, the boat is safely in place and I'm looking forward to getting started.

The second half of Saturday afternoon saw me free of responsibilities so suitably enthused I made my way down to the 'Marsh' for a few hours. I chose a swim on the eastern side, mainly because I knew it to be one of the deeper areas but also because it was on the far side to a couple of other anglers on the water. I couldn't decide what to fish for so decided to hedge my bets and go for everything. On one rod I fished a 10mm boilie, balanced with fake corn and fished on a helicopter rig. This was swung beneath an overhanging tree with about 20 free offerings thrown on top. I set up a whip, float fishing maggots in mid water while I set up another rod. On this I used a float paternoster rig and before I was finished putting it together I had some bait in the net. A nice sized Rudd livebait was dropped in open water about 15 metres out. I hoped that here suspended in deep, open water the bait would stick out like a sore thumb.

After a while I became bored of catching smallish Rudd so set up a waggler rod to replace the whip. I fished two or three maggots on the bottom and fed a handful of maggots every now and then. I hoped a Tench might find this approach too good to resist but alas no. However the average size of fish increased markedly and I caught Roach, Bream and Perch to around 12 ozs along with the inevitable Rudd.

It was a pleasant, warm afternoon. The banks surrounding this water too were in full summer green but a few leaves were beginning to fall and the lilies were yellowing and growing tatty. I had cricket on the radio, the forty over final from Lords in which Warwickshire eventually overcame poor old Somerset. It was great to be out fishing again, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed my fix of fishing.

After an hour the float on the paternoster rod dipped and slipped away, I wound down quickly and bent into a fish. I got it to the surface quickly and kept it there, bullying the fish into the edge quickly where I unhooked it in the water. My first intentionally caught Pike of the season was small but perfectly formed and beautifully marked. Another Rudd was hooked up and swung into place and I sat back with a smile. What next?

Next was about half an hour later, the boilie rod sang out then stopped abruptly.....followed by nothing. Surely that was a take? I hovered hoping it would fly off but no. A few minutes later I wound it in to find the helicopter rig had tangled...bugger! I recast with another handful of free offerings but had the feeling I'd missed my chance.

As dusk began to deepen the surface came alive with Rudd but unlike earlier in the year there were no Pike hammering into them. Of course not, I'm fishing for them! I fished on until darkness when the bats were out in force and apart from the occasional silver fish on the waggler, nothing much happened. It was good to be out fishing again though, I really hadn't realised how much I'd missed my fix. It's nearly Pike time, roll on October.

Where did summer go?

Where has the summer gone? Since my trip out after Barbel I haven't seemed to have any time to wet a line. I did have one evening at “the Marsh” where the kids caught a net full of Rudd & Roach in between dodging showers. I fished a rod for Tench, a balanced boilie cast to some lily pads which produced a half hearted pull. Apart from sneaking out a few silvers on the kids rod, I blanked. Time well spent though.

Now it's the last week of August and not only is the month running out but the summer weather has vanished too. Two days of torrential rain has caused most people to get a little depressed but apart from missing most of the first day of the fourth test I've actually welcomed the downpour. Plans for the bank holiday weekend included a night session on a fenland river in search of Zander. Normally this would be a regular summer occurrence for the children and I but due to all manner of things we hadn't actually made it this year. Now we had time and for once it seemed that conditions would come right. The cricket was going well too, Trott & Broad's record breaking partnership had put England in a commanding position and who would bet on Pakistan to have the guts to fight back? Listening to TMS on the radio helped the journey pass quickly.

We arrived in the early afternoon; Madison, Isaac and nephew Ollie joined me for our long awaited night session in the fens. The river looked good, nicely coloured with a steady flow. There seemed to be far less weed than a year ago but this could have been due to a foot or so of extra water. Ollie quickly set up a whip and began fishing maggots close to the edge, I mixed a load of groundbait, laced with maggots and sweetcorn which I fed little and often throughout the afternoon and evening. The afternoon was dry and bright but a stiff westerly wind made fishing with light tackle difficult, however Ollie persevered and began catching fish regularly; Roach, Bleak, Dace, Perch and some cracking Rudd to around 8ozs. Madi and Isaac busied themselves re-discovering the meadow and playing in the tent.


With everything sorted out and comfortable I began fishing myself. I set up a cage feeder, stuffed full of ground bait and began lobbing this into the middle of the river. I catapulted about a kilo of pellets into this area along with a few pouches of sweetcorn, corn was to be the hookbait. I hoped to catch Bream as well as keep trickling bait into the swim to pull fish into the area. I soon discovered a problem however, the flood water had dislodged loads of weed and large rafts of the stuff was drifting down river and snagging my line. This was going to make Zander fishing difficult later. I had the radio with me as usual and by this time Pakistan's batting had collapsed for the umpteenth time this summer, in fact by the end of play they were following on.

The afternoon passed into evening and apart from a couple of brief showers things were comfortable. The kids were happy playing in the outdoors, not bothered with fishing so far. Ollie was filling the net with good bait and I was slowly setting up the Zander rods for later. I was interrupted by a take on the feeder rod and bent into what I assumed would be a Bream but was pleasantly surprised by a lovely golden Rudd. It was a good fish too and not being quite sure just how big I decided to weigh it,I was surprised when it tipped the scales at 1lbs 4ozs. Now I'm sure I've caught bigger Rudd than this but I've never actually weighed one so (after checking when I got home) this was actually a new PB. This was followed a short while later by another lovely Rudd which was slightly smaller.

The sky began to darken and the children were hungry so after our usual fried fishing feast I cast the Zander rods out. A paternoster rig and a running leger were baited with good sized livebaits. Ollie too had a paternoster rig baited with a lively and all three rods were placed in mid river to avoid the worst of the rooted weed. Unlike last summer this vegetation wasn't too much trouble but unfortunately the drifting green snot was a pain in the backside, collecting on the line and regularly pulling our baits out of position.



Late august and night falls quickly, Bats began zipping across the meadow and along the river, the cloud thinned and the stars began to twinkle. I still felt we had a good chance of catching Zander as long as we could keep the baits in position for long enough. The youngsters grew tired and settled, giggling into their sleeping bags but Ollie sat up chatting with me. No Zander put in an appearance and with weed still making life difficult my confidence dipped. By eleven o'clock we were tired so settled back into our sleeping bags. No sooner had I got comfortable when the alarm on my paternoster rod sounded. I was quickly up and out and bent into a fish, the tell tale pulses on the rod told the story and sure enough I brought an Eel of about a pound to the net.

The rest of the night saw me cat-napping in between having to get up to strip more weed from the lines and recast. It would have been more bearable if just once when the alarm sounded it signalled a Zander but no. I couldn't just relax in the knowledge that my rigs and baits were doing what I wanted them to do. I couldn't relax so I couldn't rest either. I had plenty of time to think and came to the conclusion I just wasn't enjoying myself. I reflected that I'd be much happier fishing “the Marsh” for Tench and it wouldn't have made much difference to the children either. Visiting the Fens for our family camp-outs has been a kind of tradition and this is the sixth summer we've made the trip. The are several other quiet, pleasant places in the Fenlands where I know I can catch Zander, I need to have a good look around and find somewhere child-friendly before next summer.

I must have dozed off in the early hours as I came round at about 6am it was daylight, well kind of. Heavy cloud, gloomy skies and the westerly wind was even stronger than the previous day. I recast the Zander rods and lay back again without enthusiasm. After a couple of hours spent dozing the kids awoke and demanded breakfast so after a good healthy fry up I began to slowly tidy up our camp while Ollie tried to catch a few more fish. The clouds threatened rain and the wind made holding a rod difficult. My heart just wasn't in it, I wanted to go home which is incredibly rare for me whilst fishing.

Next summer we definitely need a new setting for our summer adventures. Madison and Isaac had a last scamper around the meadow then it was time to load the car and head for home. Switching on the radio I was astounded to hear the latest sorry tale of woe surrounding Pakistani cricket, sadly that one isn't going away.

Monday evening and I still had the itch to get out fishing so I grabbed a net and a lure rod and dragged Shelley out for a walk, to work off the Lasagne we'd just devoured. We started off along the river which was still weed choked despite last week's flood water. This led us to a couple of uninspiring stillwaters where I tried my luck with jigs and spinnerbaits. All the places I cast had one thing in common, no sign of a fish of any kind. Oh well. I don't fish close to home very often and this evening I reminded myself why. We were treated to the sites and sounds of the countryside; a kingfisher, a Heron, rabbits in the meadows and as darkness fell the sky filled with bats.

So that's August all but done and isn't September officially the start of Autumn? The next few weeks will be spent making sure my boat and kit is all ready for the start of the "Pike season". Over the passed six months I've caught thirteen different species of fish but for the next six I'll mostly be concentrating on just the one.

Wise words

Have a read of this; http://blog.lumbland.co.uk/2010/08/storm-in-teapot.html Couldn't put it better myself Dave!!

Into the west

Life is too short for work. With all the other stuff going on I just don't have time for work! Unfortunately I have to go to work so when time is short it's the fishing that has to give. Over the last couple of weeks I've only had time for short sessions after those elusive Tench.

Sunday, with all my duties dispensed I set up in the early afternoon in hot, sunny conditions. The wind had been fresh to strong and from the south for a few days so I chose a swim on the northern bank, one I'd never fished before. I fished three rods; on the left a balanced boilie/fake corn on a helicopter rig was cast to the edge of a reed bed and baited with about fifty mixed boilies. The right hand rod was a pop up on a chod rig with a PVA bag of mixed pellets and cast to the edge of a large bed of lily pads. The third rod was my float rig on which I fished a piece of fake corn next to some lilies, this area was baited with a couple of handfuls of corn.

I sat back in the sunshine, not really expecting to catch but enjoying a few hours of peace and quiet anyway. I spent a lazy Sunday afternoon dozing in the sun, the heat was a little uncomfortable until the sun dipped beneath the trees behind me. I left the two boilie rods to fend for themselves while I concentrated on the float rod. I fed a handful of Corn every now and then and noticed that every time I did so, bubbles would erupt in the baited area of the swim. I had the odd dip on the float but no positive bites. I can only surmise that the Rudd are following the corn down to the bottom and feeding on it there, thus causing the bubbles. How many times this season have I watched these clouds of bubbles erupting, thinking they were Carp or Tench when the culprits have been shoals of Rudd? Quite a few I think! Eventually my float sailed away and I set the hook into ...a Rudd. A fish large enough to engulf a grain of fake corn but not too big to make a lovely livebait in the winter. Shortly after I packed up for the evening.

Two days later Shelley and I arrived in the evening for a couple of hours chilling out after work. I elected to fish the same swim again, wondering if any fish would visit the area after the bait I'd put out previously. It was another warm sunny evening but with the evening sun lower in the sky, nice and comfortable. I fished a balanced boilie to the reeds on my left again, scattering about twenty free offerings in the area and float fished fake corn by the pads again. I used a bit of fishmeal groundbait in this area. Shelley float fished maggots using a whip and began catching fish right from the off, Roach and Rudd of a high average size.

The evening passed too quickly, I had the odd pull on the boilie rod and I'm convinced these were Rudd picking up the bait. Shelley would have filled a keep net with silver fish averaging about 4ozs a piece. I hope these are just as catchable in the winter! I had two proper bites on my float rod landing a Rudd and a Roach, both about eight ounces, nice fish but not Tench! Once again there were loads of bubbles over my groundbait and I've become certain that shoals of silver fish were responsible for these. The Tench are hard enough to catch as it is but these Rudd are making life even more difficult now. It would be almost impossible to use traditional Tench methods here at the moment.

We stayed until it got too dark to see the floats. A nice evening, time well spent but no Tench and I was left with lots to ponder. If I want to have a nice bed of feed for the Tench/Carp/Bream to find then I'm going to have to bait up with stuff that the Rudd can't eat! Boilies will work but should I use bigger ones? Larger pellets, 8mm and over? How about the seed mix, how much of that are the Rudd eating? I probably won't find the answers to these questions this summer, hopefully I won't have forgotten the questions come spring.

It's been party time this summer, hence the lack of fishing. The last few weekends have seen two all day parties, a trip to see “the Prodigy” at Milton Keynes bowl and last week something different again. The third day of the first test match between England and Pakistan to be precise. Rich joined me on the trip to Trent bridge along with Isaac, Shantel & nephew Josh. We were treated to a brilliant days cricket; over 300 runs, 13 wickets, a century from Prior and three late wickets to set up the win. As usual a great atmosphere with a very vocal crowd and a fantastic day out. Less than twenty four hours later I was looking down at a beautiful, tranquil stretch of river and contemplating fishing once more.


The arrangements had been made a couple of weeks back, a visit to what the friendly locals call “Gods river” in search of my first ever barbel, amongst other things. Shelley and I completed a three hour drive without a hitch, arrived at the camp-site and quickly pitched the tent. The plan was to go off exploring and I had just unfolded the map when I heard “You look lost mate..” and looked up to see a grinning Steve approaching. Plans changed, we jumped in the car and followed Steve to a pub where we were due to meet up with Rob. I noticed a car driving the wrong way round the car parks one way system, “that must be Rob...” and sure enough it was. After a well earned pint of best bitter we followed again down dirt tracks until we got to the river.

My guides baited up and we sat back for an hour chilling out, chatting and catching up. The setting was beautiful; we were fishing from an old Salmon groin on a lovely stretch of river, both banks thick with trees. After a cup of tea we started fishing. The method was a feeder full of hemp and halibut pellets on a hair rig. We fished two rods and kept on recasting and trying but as dusk began to deepen nothing had disturbed us.
“What are the bites like?” I asked
“A twitch on the rod tip of about three feet” laughed Steve.
It was nice catching up with Steve and Rob and an evening well spent, sharing fishy tales and laughing a lot in beautiful surroundings. All too soon it was time to say goodbye to Steve but I arranged to meet Rob again for another try a couple of days later.
The next two days were spent mostly exploring the area by car but also on foot. Shelley and I enjoyed walking through the forest to the river valley, then climbing up again to enjoy breath taking views. The bird life was abundant and during the stay we saw a Buzzard, Red Kite and a Peregrine and also heard Tawny Owls at night. We saw Rabbits on the camp-site and heard lots of rustling in the undergrowth at night but the tent raiding Squirrels we were promised didn't put in an appearance. All this walking left us with a hearty appetite for fish and chips and we obviously needed to sample the local ales to quench our thirst.

Early evening and we met up with Rob and once again followed him off into the countryside, arriving at our destination after about twenty minutes. If the first stretch we'd fished was beautiful then this one was something else. Upstream the water tumbled over rocks then rushed past us forming eddies on both the near and far banks. At the downstream end of the swim a willow overhung the water. The far bank was lined with boulders and trees crowned the slopes. If Mr Crabtree wanted to catch Barbel he would have chosen a swim like this.

We started off using an Avon type float and trotting maggots downstream. We took it in turns to catch small Chub, Dace and Bleak whilst Rob kept feeding the swim regularly. I grew up fishing like this on my local river, ages ago when it still had some flow but it has literally been years since I've done it. Rob was hoping to get a shoal of good sized Chub feeding but they proved elusive. After an hour or so he spotted a bigger Chub in the shallows so after a few minutes I cottoned on to the fact it would be worth trotting the float through that area and began picking up slightly bigger Chub straight away. A couple of trots later I hooked into something more significant which hooped the rod over and pulled back, using the current to it's advantage. After a brief battle a nice chub of about two pounds came to the net. I'd managed to catch a proper fish from “God's river” so took a quick photo in case I didn't catch anything bigger. Rob kept feeding the swim, still maggots but also Hemp and pellets too.
Rob unimpressed with my Chub!

A couple of trots later I did hook something bigger that took line, ran past us and kept going upstream. Rob's verdict was “either a Barbel or a big Chub..” Unfortunately Rob was only half right, it was a Chub but was nicely foul hooked in the dorsal. A few more trots without success and Rob declared it was Barbel time so the float rod was replaced with two Avon rods, new style Mitchell 300 reels and feeder rigs. Methods were the same as the previous session, feeders packed with hemp, a long hooklength and Halibut pellets hair rigged. The feeders were cast across the river and allowed to swing round with the current.

We stood in the river and chatting while our eyes watched the rod tips. I was beginning to think I was destined not to catch a Barbel but at least I'd had a nice Chub and was thoroughly enjoying myself. Then it happened, something tried to pull the right hand rod into the river. The next thing I knew I had a buckling rod in my hands as a fish tried to pull me in too. For years I've read about the legendary fighting qualities of Barbel and I was not disappointed. This fish was not large and was soon in the net. Rob guessed the weight at about four pounds I was absolutely delighted! Rob was relieved, “pressure off” he declared with a chuckle.

First Barbel!

Soon after I had another rattle on the rod but struck thin air, once retrieved it was apparent that the hair rig had tangled. Oh well. I wasn't disappointed for long as the rod wrenched over and once more I was attached to a Barbel. This one didn't fight as hard as the first apart from one run across the river and was netted quickly. I was quite impressed with the new Mitchell 300 reels, the drag worked much better than the old models I'd used in the eighties. This fish was slightly bigger than the first and I took a moment to look at the beautiful bronze scaled, muscular lump of fish I'd caught. My target was one Barbel and now I had two!!!

The light faded quickly and I was struck by something obvious that I hadn't yet appreciated, this river had a voice! It tumbled and splashed over rocks, rushed and bubbled through gorges and rippled over rapids. My own local river used to have a voice until abstraction made it mute. I had one more bite, the rod yanked over again and for a second or two I was attached to a fish before it made it's escape. On winding in we found a busted hooklength most likely parted against the rocks. We took this as a sign to start tidying up and I couldn't be disappointed with two Barbel under my belt. The river, the scenery, the company, the voice and the fishing; tonight had been magic! We left the river, stopping for a quick pint on the way then it was goodbye and thanks to Rob and back to the camp-site.



The following day Shelley went off doing her own thing and I fished on my own at another nice stretch of river. I chose a swim with shallows upstream and deeper water in front of me. I began trotting corn with a chubber float on one rod and fished a bag of halibut pellets with hair rigged boilies on the other. The latter were methods I'd nicked from Dave Lumb's blog and a couple of emails from Dave had put me on the right track. After a couple of hours catching nothing with the float I decided a change was needed. I took a pair of scissors to one of the feeders I'd brought with me and soon modified it (i.e destroyed) to enable me to use hemp. I began with corn on the hook and switched to a halibut pellet after a while.

The stretch I was fishing was nice but wasn't in the same league as the swims I'd visited with Steve and Rob. I couldn't get the image of the “magic swim” out of my mind and in comparison this place just didn't inspire me with any confidence. Still it was nice to be fishing totally different methods to what I'm used to and as long as I had a bait in the water I had a chance. As it turned out there may not have been a Barbel or Chub for hundreds of yards but I enjoyed myself anyway.

After four nights under canvas we had a lazy drive home stopping off at a couple of places en route and now I'm back. So what about Barbel fishing then? Whenever I've tried something new in fishing and had a little success I've always come away full of excitement, itching to have another go and this was no exception. (Now I could easily drive for twenty minutes from home and have a crack at Barbel but that would mean stillwater Barbel. OK if you like that sort of thing but not for me. My first Barbel must come from a river.) It was great chatting to Rob & Steve and learning a little about the fish and the fishing. I loved the scenery, the river and it's voice. I really enjoyed fishing methods that I don't normally use. The bites were spectacular and the fish fought every bit as hard as I'd expected. The whole experience was everything I'd hoped for and more.

Odd

Friday night I had a rare evening home alone. I just didn't have time to get out fishing before dark so made sure all the bait, food and tackle was ready for the following morning instead. After a few more odd jobs what should I do next? A bottle of wine called so I sipped happily while watching some football and spending a bit of time on the WWW. The need for debate on the Angling Trust forum seems to be falling on deaf ears (more on that at a later date I fear) but pointless waffle elsewhere threatened to get me hot under the collar. I cooled down with another glass of vino then a while later thought “there's no point in leaving that dribble in the bottom of the bottle”. I never learn.

The early morning start went out of the window and I woke up feeling distinctly rough so pottered about the house, slowly getting things ready before setting off for the lake around midday. What little wind there was came from the north west so I parked at the far end and went for a wander around the windward part of the water. A Woodpecker passed in it's dipping flight, it's light green plumage and red crest dazzling in the summer sunlight. Here there are two swims and both looked good. The second one was the one I'd fished last week, here a Carp bow waved and the surface seemed alive with Rudd. With nothing else to go on I decided to settle in here for a 24 hour session.

It took two journeys to hump all my gear from the car to the swim, by which time I was sweating and breathless. I was in no hurry to start fishing and began by having a careful plumb around the swim. Beneath the rod tips there was eighteen inches of water which gradually sloped down to eight feet beneath the overhanging trees about fifty feet out. Next I put a bit of bait out. Five cricket ball sized lumps of groundbait, laced with goodies, chucked to the overhanging tree on the right. This was topped up with about 25 free offerings – 10mm boilies. This brought a group of ducks scuttling over and made baiting up the tree to the left difficult. Here I intended to lay a carpet of seed mix but the ducks were intent on intercepting as much as possible. I quickly learnt that ducks don't like spods and after blasting them with the aforementioned article a few times they buggered off, allowing me to bait up by hand.
Bait

Next I set up two boilie rods. On the left I fished a 10mm boilie balanced with a piece of fake corn and a PVA bag full of pellets attached. On the right I replicated what had caught the Carp the previous week thinking; 'if it works for carp it'll work for Tench'. This was a chod rig and pop up boilie, once again I attached a PVA bag full of pellets and chopped boilies. On both rods I used watch leads so I could mould on a bit of groundbait if the PVA became fiddly in the night. I also set up a float rod to fish beside a small bed of lilies in front of me. I didn't use this straight away as I knew the Rudd would make life difficult and I also had a bivvy etc. to set up so wouldn't be able to give it my full attention. I realised that having baited up with a spod, I'd cast out a chod then rested my rod on a pod. How odd? Oh God! Stop!!!!! Who comes up with these names? BTW Yes I have a pod, it's cheap cheerful and just the job for the few occasions each year that I need to use it. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

I slowly got my camp organised and tuned the radio in to listen to the cricket. I whiled away the afternoon dozing in the sun and listening to the radio. England lost the match but had already won the series, any win against the Aussies is something to celebrate. There were occasional patches of bubbles appearing in the swim mostly over the right hand rod. I also had the odd bleep and tap on the rod tip, mostly on the left hand rod. As the sun began to sink in the sky I began fishing with the float rod but as expected the Rudd, trying in vain to eat the fake corn made things difficult at first.
Pod

At around 8.30 pm, having topped up the groundbait on both boilie rods; a load more seed mix to the left and five more big balls of groundbait on the right. This brought the ducks back, bloody things. I imagined them in a Chinese pan cake with some of that sweet Hoisin sauce .... I put fresh boilies on both rods with another PVA bag on the left hand rod and groundbait moulded around the lead on the right. I settled back and cooked my usual fishing fayre of sausage and bacon sandwiches and enjoyed watching the sun set. The surface was alive with Rudd and every now and then they would scatter as a feeding Pike smashed into them spectacularly. I had an urge to put a livebait out but no, that can wait...

At 10pm I could still clearly see the float and the first bats of the night were swooping low. The Rudd were still topping but the Pike were fed and settled. The bird song slowly diminished and the drone of distant traffic could now be heard. At 10.25 bubbles began to appear over the left hand rod. It had gotten too dark for the float now so I wound it in. A few minutes later I had a twitchy pull on the left hand rod signalled by five or six bleeps on the alarm. Ten minutes later I had a repeat and struck thin air. I was sure this was take and not a liner as I was using back leads to pin everything down. At around 11pm I tried to settle down in the bivvy for a bit of shut eye but the pulls on the left hand rod continued. Eventually I tightened the line up and fished the bobbin right up close to the rod. I figured the fish I was after would hook themselves and give me a positive bite which would rouse me from the bivvy. I suspected Rudd were responsible for these little pulls and taps and just wasn't interested. This prevented any further disturbance and I was able to get some rest for a while.

The dark hours passed uneventfully, except for the odd bleep on the alarms which shocked me awake and had me bolt upright, heart pounding. Then I would gradually regain my comfortable resting position and resume dozing. However at 3.15am, with the hint of a new dawn in the sky. Incessant bleeping on the left hand rod roused me again and I staggered out of the bivvy. I gradually woke up finding myself attached to a fish with a bit of weight but no real fighting power. I soon dragged it into the net but wasn't sure what I'd caught. I suspected a Bream but it could be a monster Rudd?? It was a Bream. This was interesting, my first of the species from the water and the first I'd heard of. I'd assumed there weren't any in here but I was obviously wrong, another vital link in the food chain, interesting. This Bream was not particularly huge but had it been daylight I'd have weighed it. However it was dark, I was tired and I couldn't be arsed. The Bream was returned, the rod re-baited and recast then I returned to the bivvy and to slumber.
Bream

At 5.30 am I was up again. I re-baited both rods and topped up both spots with a bit more groundbait. I tried to get the float rod out again but was thwarted by a duck swimming into the line and then deciding to take flight. The duck was unharmed but my float ended up in a tree. Having retrieved this situation and tackling up again a tree got in the way of my cast and I had to do it all again. Eventually I got everything sorted. This morning seemed quiet, there were fewer Rudd around and although I caught a couple on the float rod they weren't the pain that they can be. There was very little bubbling today either, as much as this phenomenon can be frustrating it kind of gives me confidence that fish are around at least. Around 7am I was contemplating another hours shut eye when a load of fizz around the right hand rod caught my attention. Nothing happened so fifteen minutes later I wound the float rod in, turned up the alarms and crashed out in the bivvy once more.

By mid morning I was awake again but had had enough. I slowly packed up and lugged the gear back to the car. The trip had been disappointing from the fishing point of view but my mind really needed to switch off and to lose myself by the waterside had been wonderful. I felt both relaxed and refreshed. It's high summer now so I don't know how much time I'll be able to spend at 'The Marsh' over the next few weeks, probably not as much as I'd like. I suppose I've done nothing to lose my crown as the “world's worst Tench angler” but at least I've caught one. From what I've heard this must be one of the smaller Tench in the lake but still a big fish to me. All together I've caught seven different species from the Marsh and more importantly thoroughly enjoyed myself fishing this little tranquil oasis set amidst a world of madness. I have other priorities for now but I'll be back!

Summer at last

The evening following the capture of that first Tench of the season, Shelley and I popped down to the lake for a short evening session. We had the place to ourselves again so I dropped into the same swim again. I hurriedly spodded out a bit of seed mix to the edge of the pads before dropping a pop up boilie on top along with about 20 free offerings catapulted out. On a second rod I float fished pop up fake corn in front of the reeds again, well I would wouldn't I? Groundbait here was a handful of seed mix thrown beside the float with every cast. It was a beautiful summer evening with a light breeze from the south east and we sat sipping tea, chatting and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Shelley was fishing a whip, baited with maggots but the evening was quiet fish wise. The Rudd shoals were conspicuous by their absence but the odd Carp was showing by the lilies, no sign of any Tench though. As the sun began to dip Shelley's first bite resulted in a nice Roach of about 8ozs and from then on the Rudd moved in giving her a bite a chuck. I had a few Rudd on my float rod but after one or two these nothing more than annoyance, taking my bait on the drop so regularly I couldn't settle my float in position over the bait I'd chucked in. By ten o'clock I could still see my float but the Rudd were becoming a pain and the temperature had dropped below the comfortable in our shady swim so we packed up and head home.



The week that followed was glorious, very hot with clear sunny skies which is all very nice if you don't want the Tench to spawn just yet. However as I arrived at the lake at 5am for another short session I was sure they must have done just that and would be considerably lighter than they had been a week ago. I chose a swim on the southern bank for three reasons; firstly it was one I'd never fished before and secondly I'd read that Tench like to spawn amongst the roots of willow trees. The trees around me weren't willows, oh well... The third reason was I'd dreamt about fishing this spot the previous night, well you never know...

On my tramp through the swamp to reach the swim I disturbed a Jay which departed through the woods and announced my arrival by making a right old racket that sounded like a car alarm on a still night. Its shrill cries rang out sounding oh so loud despite the almost constant chatter of birdlife. I arrived at the swim and it looked good, nice overhanging trees on both sides and a small bed of lilies in the middle. On the left I laid a carpet of seed mix beside the tree and fished a 10mm boilie balanced with a bit of fake corn. I also chucked in a few boilies as free offerings. To the tree on the right I used the chod rig with a PVA bag full of pellets and a pop up boilie as bait. I chucked about thirty free offerings here too. In the middle, at close range I float fished a piece of fake corn and used some more seed mix as groundbait.

Within minutes the bubbling started, first over the right hand rod and then the left. Following my experiences fishing 'The Cauldron' I tried hard to ignore this but it had to be a good sign surely? By 6.15 I had activity all over the swim. There was loads of fizz over the right hand rod, the float was misbehaving as Rudd tried unsuccessfully to eat the fake corn and despite the line being pinned to the lake bed by back leads I was getting short pulls and taps on the tip of the left hand rod. Things looked really good and I couldn't help feeling confident but I have been here before...

Ten minutes later I saw a strange disturbance of water amongst the overhanging trees to my right. This was followed by a trail of bubbles moving quickly towards me, past me and away into the overhanging trees to my left. I've seen this before at other venues so I was 99% sure what was going on. I continued to watch the water to my left and sure enough an Otter popped his head out and slowly rolled back under again. This is the first Otter I've seen in this part of the world, a beautiful sight that I should feel privileged to have witnessed. Fantastic if you're a wildlife fanatic but as an angler I can't help fearing for the fish stocks. I sat back in my chair and scanned the water which now seemed devoid of life, surely my chances of catching anything were long gone now?

At 6.35am I had a proper take on the right hand rod baited with a pop up boilie and bent into a proper fish. Obviously a good sized Tench moving with power and pace now that it was free of spawn! No, it was a Carp. With the methods I'm currently using I suppose it was inevitable that I'd connect with one eventually but the thought hadn't entered my head until it rolled in front of me showing off its golden mirror scales. It gave a good account of itself on a short line but not being a Carp angler I like to bend my rods and soon had it in the net. It was a strange looking specimen, short & podgy, a bit like me? I know many people rave about Carp but I could never describe this particular fish as a thing of beauty despite the pretty scale pattern.

Twenty five years ago I did a lot of Carp fishing, back then 'forties' were still a fish of a lifetime and we had to drive for an hour to have a chance at catching a 'twenty'. Twenty five years ago a fish of this size would have well and truly made my day. Nowadays match anglers often land bigger fish on a pole and this fish would not even be worth mentioning in a conversation between 'proper' Carp anglers. I grew to dislike what 'Carp fishing' became through the nineties and beyond but I've discovered that I still like fishing for Carp, if that makes sense? Here at the Marsh I just enjoy catching whatever comes along and I thoroughly enjoyed catching this Carp which may well be the first of many. However, I would have been blown away with a Tench of the same weight!

With the rod cast back out and everything back to near normal the swim looked like it could yield me another fish or two. There was still bubbling by the tree on the right, sharp pulls on the left hand rod and Rudd were still trying to eat the plastic corn on the float rod. A 'fish', maybe a Carp or possibly a Tench rolled close to the float but didn't pick any of my baits up. As the sun grew higher and the day got hotter so the bubbling fizzled out and fish activity dwindled away. Even so with the banks beautiful in full summer bloom and framed by the trees all around me the lake looked an absolute picture. It didn't look like I was going to catch anything else but packing away just before 9am was still a wrench.

Fathers Day

I had another early morning, mad dash, short session in the swim I have now christened “The Cauldron” due to the amount of bubbles that are always breaking surface. Unfortunately it was a repeat of the previous few visits. I fished the overhanging bushes opposite with a pop up boilie and the margins with a method feeder & balanced boilie/fake corn. Once again the surface of the swim resembled a shaken lemonade bottle as bubbles erupted here there and everywhere, including over and around my baits. This morning I didn't have a bite, not even a daft Pike! I have never fished anywhere, for any species where there is so much activity from fish and failed to catch. I left tired and frustrated vowing not to fish the swim again if I could avoid it!

Over the past few weeks my Tench methods have evolved considerably. I started off by thinking it might be easy, float fish amongst the lilies and chuck a maggot feeder down the marginal shelf, that'll do the job surely? I wanted to use 'traditional' methods for catching Tench but as the weeks have passed by fishlessly I have found myself reverting to the methods that have caught me most Tench in the past. In the early eighties I learnt to catch Tench by float fishing Bread flake or sweetcorn amongst the lily pads but over the years I've caught far more, either by accident or design, using what should really be called carp tactics. Boilies, bolt rigs, PVA bags, method feeders and it's to these methods I find myself reverting. It's a confidence thing, I'm going back to using the tactics that have worked for me in the past. I've made a bit of a change in baits too. The pellets have been replaced by a seed mix and I've splashed out on some proper 10mm boilies from a real bait maker. The groundbait has a twist too with an old favourite special ingredient X added to the mix. With the weekend approaching I felt confident I had the methods and bait to fool a Tench.

The kids mother had informed me that the youngsters wanted to spend 'Fathers day' with me. That's fine by me; “what do you fancy doing?” I asked them. “don't know Dad, it's up to you” they say. “Fancy going night fishing?” I tentatively suggest. “Great idea Dad!!” comes the reply. So that's that then!

There is one swim on 'The Marsh' that is perfect for our requirements. It's dry, has plenty of room for a bivvy or tent, a nice big bed of lilies opposite for me to position a couple of Tench baits and very little marginal weed for the kids to snag their gear in. It happens to be one of the most popular parts of the lake so the chances of us finding it free on a Saturday evening were minimal. Work couldn't pass quickly enough but by 1830 Isaac, Madison and I were pulling into an empty car park. Not only was that swim I fancied free but we had the lake to ourselves as well! We set about unloading the car on a gloomy evening with a fresh northerly wind and threatening clouds. Before touching the fishing gear I quickly erected their tent so I could get them settled and comfortable so any showers that happened to dump on us wouldn't spoil things. This was achieved and thankfully what rainfall we had was light and brief, the kids were able to explore their surroundings while I got my stuff ready.

Before I rigged up the Tench rods I done something I thought I'd never, ever do; I used a spod. After discussing things with one of my Carp fishing pals I'd been convinced these ridiculously named lumps of plastic are not sold in adult shops but are just the job for baiting up. Half an hour later I'd come to the conclusion that the whole procedure was tedious and labourious but I had to admit I'd managed to put about two kilos of seed mix, maggots and casters out accurately and effectively. Maybe I should get a bigger spod? Now for the Tench rods; I fished a helicopter rig baited with a 10mm boilie, balanced with a bit of fake corn and cast this right on top of the baited area. The other rod was the chod rig and a 15mm pop up cast just out of the baited area. On both rods I used “Grippa” type leads with a lump of groundbait moulded around it. By this time Madison & Isaac had grown tired of whipping in Rudd and demanded supper so with everything ready for the night out came the stove for sausage and bacon sandwiches.

The sun slipped beneath the horizon and the sky gradually darkened. The kids and I crept up to the car park for a minute or two to watch the rabbits scampering about in the field then we settled back into our chairs to watch the aerial display put on by hundreds of bats. I set up a float rod, baited with a piece of fake corn popped up a couple of inches off bottom. This was fished a rod length out and to the right in front of a bed of Norfolk reeds. The float dipped a couple of times but on both occasions Rudd were the culprits. The children retired to their sleeping bags and when it became too dark to see the float, so did I. I lay back feeling confident, I'd put a nice bed of Tench food out, positioned nicely on the corner of a large bed of lily pads. I had two good baits fished on rigs that gave me confidence, surely tonight would be the night?

I slept easily but was awoken by the occasional bleep occurring on both rods, unfortunately nothing developed on either. At 4am I awoke to find the sky was light enough to make recasting easy so put two fresh baits out and topped the swim up with around twenty more boilies before climbing back into the kip bag. Why hadn't I caught? At 7.30am I was awake again and asking myself the same question. The children were awake now too so the three of us emerged from the tent. Once again I re-baited and recast both rods then set the kids up with the whip. I sneaked my float rod out too, just round the corner in front of the reeds and out of the way. Two palm sized balls of groundbait joined it along with a couple of handfuls of red maggots and the last of the casters. A fish rolled over my baited area by the lilies, almost certainly a Tench and bubbles broke surface, maybe I still had a chance? The kids amused themselves with the whip, taking it in turns to catch Perch, Roach and the inevitable Rudd while I busied myself with breakfast. We all enjoyed a nice cup of tea while the sausage and bacon sizzled.

I kept an eye on the float and noticed bubbles in the vicinity but I've seen this so many times here lately that I hardly paid it a second thought. At around 8.30am the float rose slightly then began to slide away. I was expecting yet another bloody Rudd and for a few moments that is what I thought I'd hooked, a Rudd but a good 'un. However the rod hooped over and stayed bent! I was attached to something half decent that took a few moments to realise it was hooked. The fight was unspectacular apart from a few deep boils, It dawned on me that I was actually into a Tench but at first thought it must be fairly small. The longer things went on the bigger the fish seemed, especially when it tried to get into the marginal reeds. Surely I wasn't going to actually catch it? I drew it over the net and “YES!!” It, or should I say 'she', was mine. A beautiful dark green fish, full to bursting with spawn. Would she be a PB? No she wasn't but only a couple of ounces under. That'll do for me!

We resumed our postponed breakfast. I re-baited all three rods and carried on fishing for a couple of hours more but no other Tench took pity on me. At long last I've broken my duck with the Tench from 'The Marsh'. I'd spent all week plotting & planning the fishes downfall on my boilie rods then go and catch one on the float which I'd chucked out as an after thought! We packed away the camping gear then tidied up the fishing tackle before taking a slow stroll around the lake. First through the trees where Isaac carved a path through the stinging nettles with his light sabre. Then we sploshed through the marshy bog and walked on through the field to complete our circuit. “Happy fathers day!” said Madison. “Have you had fun?” asked Isaac. “Too right I have!”