It was safe to say it went all wrong, I rarely go on a Sunday but woke up wanting a rather ambitious early go for the old tench on a pool in the shadow of Whipsnade Zoo. The pond recently had stockings of silver bream and before that crucians, however they often seem to disappear into it's weedy, gin clear waters never to be seen again, so I wondered if they would be a suitable back up for a late March tench sortie that was likely to end up fruitless given it was colder, but they whet the appetite nonetheless. However deep down I thought rudd and roach would have to do, as I set off with a broad church of quarry even if I wasn't hugely optimistic of catching anything with it turning colder.
The trouble was I hadn't envisaged a work party being on and the lake being closed, this was totally my fault for not checking first so it was off to plan B which was a nearby stretch of the canal, the same cut I couldn't get on the previous week. Despite it still being quite early in the morning the parking was full again and the cut was already busy, deflated I wondered what plan C could possible be, as I drove back wasting hard earned petrol. I just didn't fancy crossing town to get to the other club ponds so decided on the canal near my house having gone full circle, I'd park by the moor and walk across, simple.
Enter the clowns! For the circus was on again, my heart sunk although with all the people about it wouldn't be dull that's for sure, so I went for the juggler and decided I'll give it a go. Trouble was the flippin' parking again, people were queuing at the entrance already, cars were on grass verges churning up the mud or turning round looking for spaces in an area that's usually quiet, the last time I saw a big top that popular Sam Fox was wearing it.
Dejected and defeated for the third time I gave up went home for a warm drink and a sulk.
A few days later I knew I'd get on the pond although I didn't expect to be the only one there the contrast to the weekend was stark but welcome. On arrival I took a slow walk around looking into the crystal clear water at the lush clumps of starwort searching for signs of fish and not seeing a single thing. Then I got to the deep end and saw around ten good tench, just under the surface as if they were sunning themselves, it was cold, cloudy and overcast, sometimes you just can't work fish out.
Naturally I set up near these tench hoping they would get their heads down but they didn't electing to stay on the surface all day under their imaginary sun, I even tried a tiny pole float set dead shallow hoping one would have a sniff but they just drifted by as and when. There weren't any rudd or roach either but I was just happy to be out even if I was blanking. I still had the place to myself and tried another spot whilst watching a swan build it's nest on one of the islands.
With my float still set shallow the next cast the float dips once more, I expect another tiny rudd but all hell breaks lose on the surface. I should know by now to expect the unexpected as the only guarantee with fishing is that it will always take you by surprise. Usually a bend in the rod here is accompanied by something green, either a large perch or a decent tench, but this was silver and there was a few seconds of me wondering what on earth it could be. I then slipped the net under a tatty rogue rainbow trout.
Now the trout lake is next door and those trout guys pay a decent penny to fish it and the club know which lake to put their stock in, so I rested the fish in the net whilst I phoned the club just to clarify where to release the trout, the silver imposter that had managed to travel across a causeway much to the surprise of the fishery manager, who thanked me for my honesty. However I'll have to tell him when I see him that that the trout managed to get out of my net and returned to the tench pool whilst I was on the phone to him. You can't keep an escapee trout from escaping I suppose and next Christmas when I'm watching The Great Escape (It's a tradition isn't it?) I'll imagine this slippery silver bar clearing that barbed wire whilst Steve McQueen lies tangled below.
I caught a fair few rudd afterwards, got through to a couple of decent roach and every now and then that rainbow would drift back through, I briefly entertained the thought of catching it again as you never know as they are a crazy fish, but I kept the bait deep this time, I was now trying to avoid the rudd and that trout, just like my aborted trips a few days before I had gone full circle.
It was much colder and by 4pm and was quite bitter as a strengthening breeze picked up over the pond, so it was time to pack up. I was to be the only angler on there which was a reward for the aborted trip at the weekend and with only the occasional car to be heard going down the lane it was so peaceful, the main noises were that of the shrill cry of the kite as it circled all day and the disgruntled grumble of the mallard who's kip on the middle of the causeway was interrupted by my walks.
It felt like my pond for the day as I walked round it one last time, although the swans made clear who's water it was when a couple of canada geese made the brief mistake of landing, so I left them to it as the red kite watched the action from above and the tench had finally gone from the surface, maybe due to the bird activity or perhaps even they got too cold in the end.
The mischievous trout could be seen again dashing about in the shallows swirling on the top when I returned to pick up my gear and head home, this time after a nice day's fishing. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel after a bad trip even if it's somewhere over the rainbow.
