Midsummer Tenching With Bread

 After getting a couple of decent bream on the canal during the week I took what was left of my bread down to the tench pond, arriving just before 10am it felt like one of those mornings where I would just settle for one fish for I knew it would be weedy and low compared to the only other time I'd fished it this season, much earlier in the year. It didn't disappoint as it sure was a weedy midsummer sea of green, a tench paradise..

The holes between the weed were small but full of fish, I could spot everything from the usual hordes of rudd to the odd perch, even tiny pike could be seen and the water was so clear you could tell a roach from a rudd, small bream looked elegant with the sharp edges of their fins and the half dozen resident carp made do with a small hole out of the way in the middle. 

I had to work hard to see any tench but I noticed a few dark shapes passing through one spot so fed some bread there and set up around the corner. I had the whole pond to myself and couldn't wait to get started. I crept into position and sat on the unhooking mat. 

Bread can often be a very instant bait so as I lowered my pole float in with nothing on the line aside from a large lump I resisted the urge to strike at the little rudd that were picking bits off, I could see the bread being hammered as it sunk through the layers until it went just out of sight, within a couple of seconds the float has ripped under and it's a great start as a tench flashes in the clear water and tears into the weeds, my 4lb line holding firm and bringing both fish and the clump of weed to the net.

I wondered how long I could fish this little hole so had a break, poured a coffee and fed another spot around the corner. However I snuck back into position and instantly had another tench on, two in two casts was good going until a blaze of silt kicking, weed flicking action saw the fish and I part company as the hook came out. 

A win for the fish so the next one would be crucial to tip the balance, although it had now gone slow as expected. I didn't want the morning to finish on a lost fish so switched to punch as it can outwit the wary. The result was a small tench under a pound but confidence was restored.

Bread punch often out fishes flake as it's just so fluffy and soft yet sinks from the off, I double, sometimes triple punch 10mm discs and despite being very firm on the hook the point shows and it sinks quite fast, it worked for another good tench which once again went into the weed and became placid, like they do sometimes. Tench and weed came to the net and it was a beauty, a really chunky fish.

By now the local gnat population was having a feast on me, maybe sitting on the floor in a damp shady spot isn't the best idea but on such a bright day it seemed the right thing to do with the water so clear and the fish so close in. The sun moving round illuminated the spot I was fishing and I could see bread down there untouched on the bottom. It was time to move.

Around the corner the other swim I prepped was rudd central, no chance of fishing punch here, I fed some more bread and the surface erupted, even the perch seemed to be inquisitive of all the commotion. Although a tiny pike lay motionless just below the surface, all six inches of it unfussed by all the disturbance. 

Then a funny looking tench went by on the top, at first I thought it was a mirror carp, all long and lean with a pronounced lateral line and very light in colour. It seemed to dive down where the bread was fed so in went the bait. Mugging tench off the top isn't commonplace but it does show how instant this bait is as the float went under just as the fish swirled over the feed dispersing the rudd, it was a strange looking pale tench with a funny mouth too.

I sat on the grass bank for lunch and was once again joined by the insect life, I was thankful it didn't bite me like the gnats did.

I then managed a perch, I've caught many bass down the docks on bread but I think this was my first ever perch on bread.

As you can see from the photo I just use a click container, put either a slice or the corners of the slice I am using for hookbait in with a bit of water, squeeze and feed, it really is that simple, crusts n' all.

A few rudd and small bream followed and I could swear the fish were getting bigger from me feeding them, I think the sun was getting to me as even the jack pike was now ten inches long, swapping places with the smaller one just to confuse me. The next fish to take my bread wasn't that big but it sure was a pretty little thing.

I then lost another tench and thought that was it, once again the hook coming out with it only on briefly but there was still time for one more. Spotting some bubbles close to the weed the advantage of such a heavy bait as a golf ball sized bit of bread is that you can hit anything on a sixpence, my bait hit the spot and drifted down through the bubbles without much hassle from smaller fish, I almost knew it would go straight under and it did. Saving the best for last this last tinca was a stunner, a real work of art.

Five tench in a few hours, I didn't get snapped or feel like it likely was even though I was on 4lb line, although a couple of lost fish did keep me honest. A perch on bread, dragonflies using me as a perch and a whole pond to myself was the making for an eventful session. I packed up with the fish still feeding after comically trying to keep the last bit of stale crust on the hook, it dropped off leaving me out of bait which sometimes is a wonderful way to end, leaving you wanting more. 

By now two other anglers had just arrived and the pond was no longer my own playground. But what fun it was for the morning.

Twice The Fun

 I had got among the barbel of late, filling my boots with quite a few fish, the rivers after all were perfect with plenty of flow following all the wet weather. Last time out was a bit hit and hold, fishing a snaggy swim trotting with 6lb line, not really the sort of trotting I like doing, feeling a touch over gunned and whilst the barbel were a decent size they need filling out a bit, perhaps all the extra water is making them fitter.

Fast forward to today and after a whole night of rain I fancied a bit of lighter trotting on a stretch of river where the barbel aren't usually as prolific, hoping for a bit of a mix of species on maggot with the roach gear. I turned up just after 9am, everything was wet and gloriously green, certainly when compared to the yellow parched look of this time last year.

What a difference the rain makes, as what is usually a gin clear slow trot was zipping through wonderfully, I hoped as much and sure enough the first handful of feed was hit by small chub with the odd larger fish ghosting around below in water that wanted to go clear but was still carrying the previous night's run off. The river seemed so alive.

Running the float under the overhang was a dream and after the compulsory start of a few chublets I was into something decent. Despite starting shallow the first barbel was on and even the small ones pull on the lighter gear, there was so much more jeopardy and more involved getting them in than last time even if they were half the size.

The next couple of hours saw a mix of small chub and barbel, it was terrific fishing with my float rarely getting to the bottom of the swim, the average size was quite small but I didn't mind, it's all relative then a couple of nice roach showed and even a crazy little perch, living it up in the fast water. 

I stopped for coffee after a couple of hours and a whole heap of fish and said to myself  "This is the life" Everything was so green and fresh, the chub and barbel were going nuts. The birds were flitting from tree to tree, a dunnock took flight from the overhang startled by the next barbel on.

After yet another break to soak up the morning I switched to pellet as the sun came in and out. Stepping up slightly to 4lb line saw more fun with the barbel, once again crazy strength for their size pulling as hard as they were pulled, they could have took me to the roots of the tree but didn't each time. It was side strain, clutch screaming action in the narrow swim with the odd splash on the surface, different to the roach gear, less controlled, but giving them more stick, despite this it seemed to take just as long to get them in, it was a whole lot of fun.

The barbel were slightly better now, pushing a mighty.... wait for it.... 3-4lb but I still managed a couple of dace sized barbel trotting 6mm pellet, you kind of know your set up is tuned when you get them this small.

Similar with the roach, as I finished off with nice one, it's blood red fins matching the colour of the pellet that was it's downfall. 

I fancy a proper pellet session for the roach soon but today it was mostly about the small barbel and chub, a lot of the time my bait and line was picking up algae so I was glad there was some flow on today. I finished with 19 barbel which was the best I had done at this stretch of river and a similar number of chub. I could have pressed on for more but packed up just after lunch.

Even though the barbel were half the size of the previous trip they were twice the fun.

River Gade Cassiobury Park

 This little river seems to get smaller and smaller each year but still holds so many memories, with kids screaming in the park and dogs barking everywhere It seems crazy that some places here can feel away from it all in summer, overgrown and narrow and requiring a bit of wading through both water and undergrowth it is classic small stream fishing.

I started in a spot where it was hard enough bringing in the few dace and roach I hooked to kick things off so imagine the craziness of having a decent fish on. I was soon to find out as a nice chub was soon bending the rod as much as the overhanging trees would allow, with submerged branches to the left and right plus trees either side and above I played it with the rod almost pointing at the fish, waded back upstream to my poorly placed net and slipped it under a beautiful chub that somehow didn't snag me, any chub over 2lb is a monster in such confines. It was a perfect looking chub and the perfect start but I was very lucky there.

I moved downstream with a spring in my step as any good chub is a victory here now. In the next spot my peace and quiet was aided by the flooded meadow fresh with muddy waterlogged paths from recent rains, this meant a few walkers were thwarted from encroaching into my little oasis of calm, where I caught dace after dace, at times under the poncho again as the rains fell to quieten the noise from the main bit of park.

After having lunch here I braved the park which had loads of teenagers in high vis bibs being shouted at by their teacher to get under a tree as it was raining, I walked by in a t-shirt as it was hardly raining much right then, the world has changed I thought.

I always like a dabble in the weirs although I got some right weird looks fishing by this sign, it's a big no fishing sign but the small print is for the close season and it's made by the Angling Trust, I also saw one on the Avon, a good idea but maybe best if they take them down when the season starts to avoid confusion especially if joe public are too far away to read the small print.

I had visions of someone having a go at me for fishing even though I was perfectly legal so I made do with a few fish before moving on once more, weirpool fish always have great colours and this small chub was no exception.

On once more to another favourite glide of mine which looked devoid of fish until I threw some maggots in, seemingly out of nowhere came quite a few chub, snaffled them up so I jumped in upstream and waded down. I didn't catch any chub instead it was all roach and dace, I did wonder where those chub went and marvelled at their disappearing act, I was actually pleased not to catch any but to know they were there and were too wise as the sun lit up everything. It made the river look like the chalk stream it actually is, there wasn't many boats going down the canal today to colour things up that's for sure.

Finishing after a few hours with over 50 fish not counting those bleak and of course minnows, 36 dace, 6 roach, 6 chub, 4 gudgeon and a lone perch made for a decent bit of small stream fishing.

A Trip up the Avon & Severn (Fishing Therapy)

 We get away finally, for three days on the farm, it had been a hard year now any fishing would do. En route to our acommodation we stopped off at the Warks Avon and I decided to fish the wides by the car park. Feeling a bit achy and under the weather it was once again simple fishing, mostly just wetting a line, having a picnic for a few hours before booking in, that sort of thing.

Expecting it to be windy I set up a waggler and fished on the drop hoping not to be plagued by bleak and whilst a few showed it wasn't too bad, Instead it was mostly perch from the off with the odd netter plus some half decent roach. The wind didn't turn up either as we were sheltered by the hill and a cloudy but dry day was welcome compared to the heatwave here the previous year. Bubbles appeared every now and then and I finally spotted the culprit when donning the polaroids during a sunny spell as a nice tench dashed through the weeds. My glasses also revealed the amount of weed on the bottom and it was no wonder I couldn't get to a clear spot to entice any tincas, it was nice to see them though. I had three hours fishing for 25 fish (mostly perch), having coffee and a nice packed lunch with the wife before we headed off to our abode for the evening.

Day 2

A short journey to the Severn on the first full day saw more windy weather therefore it had to be the right bank so I chose Coomby's Farm at Highley, here I set up in the shallows for a few dace and one small chub around a pound. Despite feeling a bit wobbly on my feet the need to explore made me move down to just below the Borle Brook to a spot where I have had several 2 pound roach and many barbel in the past. Today saw yet more dace, in fact I couldn't even get a roach or perch which meant that sole chub was the only fish that wasn't a dace or bleak.

I didn't mind too much, the scenery was stunning as ever but there were no steam trains* and no cheeky sheep but it was pretty damn good to be here. besides I'm till waiting for this huge tree to end up in the river

It was nice to get down the Severn again following a great trip last winter although I feel I didn't fish it that well and could have chose more oxygenated water, also I should have fished eves or mornings like everyone says but I just wanted to fish, and that was it, fish I did and the dace obliged, it was a joy to run a float through so fast getting around 40 silver darts, some nice ones too. The weed was absent once again and there was algae on the gravels, this however was not a good sign.

Day 3

This was one of those days, I was low on maggots but was kindly given some left over freebies by our b&b host who is also an angler and generous to boot, trouble was these maggots had seen better days and were a congealed sweaty mess by the time I loaded the car. Not to worry I thought as I'll pop into a local tackle shop on the way to get fresh bait. I get there after taking a wrong turn only to find it only opens on Saturdays. Ok plan C was to go to the Morrisons we passed earlier, get some maize flour and do a recovery job on those sweaty reds. You have got to love the countryside as this Morrisons was tiny and it's world food isle solely consisted of pasta and rice, I decided to finally go to the river and make do with what I have got.

We finally get to Eckington Bridge on the Avon after what seemed an age, this was much lower down than I had previously fished on the river so I hoped there could be a zander, good chub or perch but knew anything but bleak would be a good session. I loaded my bib with my old but relatively clean maggots and put the gloopy freebies on my unhooking mat, the big dollop of maggots stuck together but the gentle slope meant they would trickle down into the spare bait tub and meet a bit of turmeric powder, this at least would make them useable. My missus joked that she will never cook with mince again and I commented about how funny it would be if an out of control dog came bounding in and tried to scoff the lot, they stunk the place out for sure and nothing came near us.

The fish even stayed away apart from those pesky bleak, they had to turn up didn't they? I then finally had a small bream, the excitement short lived as it soon turned into a much larger pike much to my disdain but to the amusement of the missus, cue action shot of a bending rod. 

The pike let go, then grabbed again before letting go once more, the result was a dead bream and a dead swim, everything was going wrong today.

The next spot upstream saw yet more bleak before I settled on a final spot, I didn't have enough bait to fish through bleak having only salvaged a few of the sticky ones so I was relieved to be trotting somewhere where I wasn't getting any bites at all if that makes sense. It was mighty deep mind, a good twelve feet close in under the rod tip, trotting any further out would have needed a slider. A couple of small perch here seemed like a minor victory.

A few better perch turned up along with some nice roach, for a while it was going great but the bleak soon showed, fishing right in the margins against the rushes negated this a little, dropping my stick float in vertically so the bait fell to the bottom quickly, I also figured the fish would be close in due to all the paddleboarders going by, even a wild swimmer came up the river despite the no swimming signs by the car park, she looked at me then turned around, a heavy shower or two then quietened things down on the recreational boating front.

Holding the float back just as the bait hit bottom below the rod tip worked a treat in the deep water, I ended up with 37 fish (not counting bleak of course) mostly an even split of roach and perch with a couple of dace and a pretty good perch towards the end.

Off to Tewkesbury we went for a glass of Merlot and a meal, the fishing wasn't great but was still enjoyable, the scenery was green and lush and the mini break was much needed, I felt recharged by this fishing therapy and would have fished somewhere on the way home were it not for wall to wall heavy rain. We got lucky with the weather on the days we were down there so didn't mind this as we headed back home, I started the first few trips feeling a bit weak and achy like I had caught something from all those hospital trips but finished totally recharged, fishing therapy worked.

* So my missus got chatting to a lady who said the Severn Valley Railway were having trouble getting coal from somewhere that ends in 'Stan' the end result being the steam trains weren't running except at weekends, a shame I say, hearing that beast roar won't kill the planet nor will it do any harm long term.

 

Finally Fishing a River Again

 I had missed the start of the river season by at least a month, visiting Dad in hospital had taken it's toll and I just needed the wet a line and wander down a river, any river. Feeling out of shape both physically and mentally I wanted to find peace and quiet and be comfortable, so I chose the upper Ouzel with maggots that had been in the fridge for a few weeks, finally I got to use them.

Now a river couldn't get more 'upper' than this as the little river Ouzel starts barely a few hundred yards upstream in a spring in the foothills below Whipsnade Zoo, it then fords a road and trickles away very slow and full of weed. It's narrow enough that the local wallaby escapees from the zoo could hop it no problem and is usually the pace of a sloth, a sloth awarded slowest at the sloth olympics, the most coveted of all sloth prizes. Therefore I knew after clocking a few fish in some holes that pinging out a maggot freelining would be the best bet, hopefully for a few fish and a bit of fun for a while. It was old school fishing and I couldn't wait to stretch my legs on a sunny day.

I freelined a size 18 with a no8 to sink the bait on 3lb line, it was that simple, the rest was stalking, crouching and watching fish movement and their interaction with my feed. The trout pictured is one of two rainbows I spotted, the first having given me a right old fight before shedding the hook whilst I was after perch. Before that I had some rudd down the bottom of the small stretch and some little chub up the other end, wandering up and down like a kid, my bait wafting slowly through the depths each time. In between I pursued the perch which were surprisingly cagey, managing a few which really punched for their size and showed their colours. 

With nothing fixed on the line everything is so crisp and direct and the fish feel much larger than they really are, another fun aspect is that you can try to select which fish you catch and among the perch was what I thought was a lone roach, which I finally tempted as it dashed around between the stripeys. A hybrid no doubt and I think it's roach/chub judging by the size of the mouth.

I bypassed a clearing in the weeds each time that had four jack pike sitting there like a mini flotilla of warships, even though they were small it was quite an impressive sight, this could also explain the absence of roach in the river in the vicinity both upstream and below.

Finally I had an encounter with the other rainbow trout, the larger one, a long lean looking fish, I just couldn't resist having a go at this fish. Funny thing is it totally rejected my turmeric/curry flavoured maggots earlier having taken the first one then rejecting all that followed, it was as if it was turning it's nose up at a flavouring I had concocted over years of fishing, a blend of spices so fine and so tuned yet this trout was like a Frenchman who had not got a vintage wine but was offered prosecco from Tesco's. How weird I thought, a trout with discerning taste? 

You learn something new every day when fishing but I wasn't expecting to be schooled by a trout on maggots. I had to find out if taste matters to...well trout, so I ditched my spicy mix, cleaned the bait apron and put fresh maggots in, when I say fresh they were anything but so I gave them a spray of liquid Scopex, a recent addition to the flavour armoury. The result was amazing as the turmeric adverse trout was mopping up the new Scopex ones without a care. Different species like different flavours but so do individual fish it would seem.

It wasn't long before the surface erupted with rainbow colours. I tried valiantly to keep it in the small clear area but that wasn't going to happen with my gear, luckily the fish went above the dense weeds and not through them when on it's runs, had it been a tench or chub it would have been a different story. It was all splashing and chaos but all I could think was how good it felt to get a real bend in the rod, for the first time in ages, It was not my quarry when leaving the house to go fishing today but it was so welcome. Rainbow trout are such a pretty fish but ugly at the same time, they would do well in poorly lit discos I concluded.

I slipped my femme fatale back guestimating somewhere between 2-3lb, I had the whole river to myself as not many choose to fish it as they understandably prefer the tench and trout pools and whilst I only caught a dozen fish it was a lot of fun for a couple of hours. I finished off on the adjacent pond and only caught one perch before the first heavy shower made me hunker down even though the sun was out. More dark purple clouds were about to block the sun big time forcing me to pack up before getting drenched but as soon as I had, the sun was back out. 

With more heavy showers looming I had no regrets on packing up but the only rainbows I saw today were from the river.

A Tench Amongst The Weeds

 After the reality check of the last two weekends I just wanted to keep things simple, get a few silvers under the rod tip on maggot. I arrived back at the tench pond happy to catch anything this time although a 'bar of soap' tench will do or anything that would wet the landing net. People say it's suicidal fishing maggot here but I wanted a few bites and a few fish regardless of size.

I set up in the most open spot I could find given I was going to fish lighter than last time, far away from the snaggy lillies to give myself a fighting chance should I hook anything willing to test the 3lb bottom I was to use today, going back to basics rather than the heavy stuff. It didn't take long to rack up a good tally of rudd, roach, perch and bream, for some reason (probably cormorants) none of these species grow to any size here but it was fun catching them to 6oz

More impressive was the fact that I actually got through them, well kind of, I got the bait on the deck and picked up fish mostly on the bottom with the odd midwater intercept, it was no longer the pole float dashing away and boils on the surface that I started with. It still was a fish a chuck though but I didn't that mind one bit.

I was getting close to packing up and in the process of drying out my gear that was on the wet grass all morning when a few bubbles turned up, this was the second time this happened so this time I shallowed up a touch and fished closer in dropping the pole float amongst them. Whilst doing this a chap turned up and stood next to me, the first person I had seen all day, the bubbles stopped.

But then....

The float shot under and tore across the pond, the rod bent well. Then I swear the chap asked if it was a roach, maybe I was hearing things but I said "Tench" as It was that unmistakable fight as it edged further and further across the pond. The chap then asked if there was any weed under the water, he was about to find out. I knew it was growing rapidly in this weather and I could feel it's weight as the tench crept further into it. Then it stopped, eventually, like one of those tractor pull events you see in the U.S. although there wasn't much stopping power in my 3lb line, but combined with the weed there was enough. Everything went dead weight, I feared the fish was off given there wasn't the token tail swish or head shake. I ended up dragging a massive clump of weed but there it was like a bar of gold rather than a bar of soap behind it all, lit up in the sun. I knew one kick and it would be goodbye and farewell but everything came ever so slowly to the net. The chap then said it was a carp before saying it wasn't in the net when I went for the scoop, I backed my judgement fully and was rewarded with a paddle tail just visible in the net as I lifted the heavy weight of weed and fish at the spreader.

I joked I'll take 10lb for the fish if I include the weed and remarked that it was like unwrapping a present as I pulled weed out in clumps eager to see the fish. Then a beautiful tench revealed itself in the mottled sun under the trees, a glorious sight if ever there is one. The fish here always seem to be lookers and this was no exception. It was a present all right, a mix of dark green and gold, just perfect.

Here's the weed, the poor person who fishes here next is going to think I've raked the swim.

I packed up not long after and looked at my tally of 17 roach, 14 rudd, 32 perch, 15 bream and 1 tench, a really good 4 hour session with loads of fish with one good one at the end. It beat going all in for big fish and failing although I do know I was fortunate, but that makes it more special. Soon the weed will be far too dense for this approach but for today it was ok and this trip was just what I needed.

Poor Fishing But Perfect Perspective

 Perspective is a funny thing, it's almost something you can't obtain unless it is thrust upon you, to have it you must suffer both highs and lows, to see things deeper and to put yourself in another's shoes, be it someone else or the person you once were in the place you once was. I am of course talking fishing related perspective and there's nothing like this pastime to ask questions of you on a regular basis.

The first of two trips to report was on the bank holiday, this saw a long awaited trip down the docks for a bit of sea dangling. Ok I knew the start of May was probably a bit too early but I hoped to winkle out a small bass or blenny. A long road trip for a tiny sea species is less mad than it sounds given I hadn't been down the coast to wet a line since before Covid, the missus was up for it so that road trip beckoned.

The docks looked still and lifeless when I arrived and no one else was fishing on what was a cloudy day forecast to brighten up later. I fed some mashed bread and the surface erupted as many tiny fish hammered the white stuff and with that moment the docks came to life. I even jubilantly stated that I won't blank today which as we all know is probably the most stupid thing any angler can say, some people never learn.

I was regretting my words two hours into fishing without a fish but with many a bite, these fish were too small to hook as they looked around the size of minnows with the odd slightly larger fish in there. Usually even the smallest bass will wolf down a bit of bread here on a size 12 (a small hook by sea standards) but these fish were dragging the bread around under the surface and just sucking at it. Even changing to a size 18 to get a sand smelt didn't work so I'll never know what these tiddlers were. 

I then watched a shoal of mullet sulking around just below the surface, these fish seem pretty impossible to catch here when they first enter the docks, from what I've both seen and heard but it's nice to see them turn up.

Then the first other angler of the day arrived and we had a good chat and a laugh with us both having the same mentality of any fish will do. The guy had such enthusiasm having taken up fishing during Covid and had only fished these docks with his carp rod set up, which to be fair was pretty decent and whoever had had given him advice had done a decent job. I then pointed him in the direction of a good spot where they catch on cage feeder as he was also fishing bread. The folly of me giving someone advice regarding sea fishing was negated when I saw him bend into a small bass, it was however the only fish I saw anyone catch that day.

Boats came and went as did other anglers all catching nothing like me, the newbie angler packed up and I informed him he was the only one to catch which he put down as a fluke of the bass taking his bread first cast but there you go, it happens and you have to make the most of it, he did and was over the moon and I couldn't blame him one bit. His enthusiasm was the highlight of the day as was me and the wife stopping off at a nice pub before the drive home, the sun had finally come out and fresh sea air was in the lungs, the fish were missing for me but that's sea fishing for you.

The next weekend I'm off down the tench pond with the goal to sit there and catch maybe one tench and rest the arm a bit, it had been a chilly night but It seems everyone is catching them now, I was therefore surprised to see the pond devoid of anglers although the cold night and the bright sunshine may have made the wise stay home, the fish certainly stayed away again and to cut a short story even shorter I caught nothing on a variety of baits in a couple of spots.

I then dragged the wife round the corner to the bream pond featured in the last blog entry, I knew here my bread attack would get plenty of bites - Wrong again!  This time the float wasn't getting zipped away, there were no bream bubbles and even the carp in the upper layers were ever so cagey with half hearted, infrequent takes of bread from the surface. The difference a few weeks can make this time of year.

There was a lot of pressure on the little pond to be fair, two had packed up already and another two were giving the whole area a running commentary of what carp were where. Then others stopped near why I was fishing as if to point them out by counting them. This must be what I look and sound like when I'm going "Ooh there's some mullet" down the coast, although you would think seeing carp in a pool stocked with carp wouldn't be such an unusual event.

By now I am trying to catch one of these carp off the top just to catch something. I had gone full circle in going for catch the fish I am often trying to avoid, to make matters worse one of the noisy fellas just caught a nice bream on his carp set up. I was also fishing too heavy for my liking using 6lb line as I started on the snaggy tench pond, the difference between floater fishing with 6lb and 4lb line is chalk and cheese both in presentation and casting distance, It was however gloriously sunny and I by now was too lazy to change.

Another couple of anglers then turned up, one of whom had pretty severe disabilities which put into perspective my painful arm which of course I haven't mentioned in every blog post since February. I then said to the missus I'd rather he caught a fish than me if one of us were to blank, much like with the enthusiastic lad down the coast last time. Seeing others catch can be as fulfilling as catching yourself although I'll never know if they caught or not as they disappeared around the corner choosing a spot opposite the noisy pair, even the bird life stayed well away.

Finally I slid the net under a 5lb common then an even smaller mirror before packing up, both really tatty fish which left me wondering why people target then so much, but at the same time I was grateful that they were there for me to catch today. It was hard to get perspective with my own contradiction, especially with a two carp day being deemed poor given I had blanked previously, I should have been over the moon to get two off the top last knockings but even that catch was taken for granted, maybe another blank would have served me better as I packed up rather than try for a third. 

I know the next trip will be with a small hook and a pint of reds fishing in the margins just see what mix of the unknown comes along, this of course will negate any pain in my arm, and will see me catch loads. Of course neither could well happen, I'll likely be plagued by tiny roach, be popping painkillers by midday and be opposite the noisy brigade again. Hopefully however I'll draw from the last few trips and get a bit more perspective to make the day more positive, who knows? I sure don't.