Fake 'n bake.

For the longest time I remained unconvinced by fake baits. I could not for the life of me put any faith in these imitations over the real thing. It was time that told though, and gradually fake baits wheedled their way into my fishing. At first the bright and buoyant nature of fake sweetcorn seemed a perfect compliment to a 10mm bottom baits; not only did it act as a visual flag for the fish, but its buoyant quality counter balanced the weight of the boilie, making it so light that should a passing gudgeon foolishly suck when it was within half a foot then my bait would surely end up wedged in its mouth.

Soon the flexibility of plastic corn became evident. Flavouring it to suit how I wanted it to taste for any particular season. Sweet in the cold, savoury in the warm, the permutations were endless. I also began to use it in different situations and different ways. Many an aloof patrolling canal carp came undone by two grains popped up ten inches or more of the bottom  fished tight to the far side cover. A zander too was genuinely caught out by this ruse. Lord only knows why it ate it, but it did!

As always one thing always leads to another and soon enough found myself pondering other false foods being sold at the local tackle retailer. At this point I must make it clear that I did early on draw a line regarding fakes. With baits such as bread, worms, meat and boilies I never thought that in any way would the fake versions out-fish the real thing. It was only ever going to be corn, maggots and casters that became part of my armoury, and the latter has fast become the most relevant revelation to my fishing in years. Not long after I began using them I stopped using the real thing, as there is no point buying both fake maggots and casters! The maggots generally come in only single colour packs where as the casters come three of four different colours in one pack, and the shape of them is only different by maybe one millimetre at one end.

Why these little rubber grubs should have had such a profound effect on my fishing is down to one of my most favourite of fishes, the tench. Why the tench is so susceptible to both fake corn and fake casters I do not know, but they are without a doubt, and I can hand on heart say that since I started using fake baits for them four or more years ago they have accounted for no less seventy percent of the tench I have caught.

Early on as the tench are just waking up I am a big fan of not putting any large amounts of bait down and instead fishing small piles of unobtrusive highly flavoured bait with a bright hook bait, such as a single grain of sinking plastic corn or a 10mm boilie critically  balanced with a bit of floating corn. Either one will fly into any enquiring mouths before anything of the real bait does.

Later as the temperature rises, much as it is now, similar tactics as just described work well for me over loosely scattered ground bai,t and when smaller fish like roach, rudd and perch begin picking over beds of bait that's when the fakes come into their own. Quite simply its a case of knowing you have bait on your hook with hundreds of pecking mouths are around and with fake baits it is always still there when a maggot would of been skinned and a caster shelled.
Adding dead maggots to ground bait or fishing live ones in feeders are both devastating methods I don't mind admitting I have ignored in the past. But after I began using fake hook baits the idea of attracting loads of little fish just seems a good thing rather than a annoyance to be avoided.

As we see so many new products and techniques in the angling media nowadays it hard not to find yourself being cynical about most of them and I think it is fair to say a lot of the things they are selling and we buying are just ways to get us to spend money. But as someone who thought fake baits were a bit of flim-flam I can now truly say I am a convert, and as my tench fishing for one has done nothing but benefit from it I cannot help but recommend to anyone who reads this that you have to give it a go.

If that's not enough to inspire anyone to replace your real corn for fake or fish a fake grubs in conjunction with live ones, then here is a few examples of some lovely tench I caught fishing a mid week session on the hottest day of the year so far. After mixing together all the left over bits of pellets a few handfuls of ground bait, half a pint of left over dead maggots that I had frozen, I found a nice clear spot an easy cast from the bank of my favourite tench lake and cast fifteen or twenty large feeder loads roughly onto the area.
My feeder baited with two fake casters hadn't been out for ten minutes before the first tench took the bait.

Steadily through the day fish up to just under five and half pounds kept on stopping by my baited spot, and it seemed they found my fake grubs just fine as they sifted around the swim picking up freebies.

Although on this occasion the rubber casters were responsible for the lions share of the fish I landed, a single bit of pop up corn in conjunction with a small method feeder fished just off the spot did also account for a few nice fish as they swam in and out of the baited area.

By the end of a truly glorious day filled with some wonderful fish I still had every hook bait I had used, as well as a rather severe case of truckers arm, where despite my best efforts to keep in the shade, my right arm had still managed to catch the sun.

I know I will be preaching to the converted for a lot of anglers, but if anyone is on the fence or needs convincing that it works, then I hope this may have given you a little push to try it again or else wait a little longer before changing your hook bait back to the real thing.

A case of the runs.

Ever had the feeling that you are on a run? You know, it's that time when you everything you do is right. You could cast a bait into a puddle on the pavement outside your house and land a twenty pound carp or just generally turn up to any old lake and bang a monster first chuck.
Now although what I caught last week were no record breakers they did give me the feeling that I was a member of the golden rod club. Paradoxically this weekend I have landed back in reality where my golden rod is snapped, I am soaked, my back hurts and the Avon once again falls into the shite and barren category.
I know, as we all do, that highs and lows are integral to stimulate passion. for if you do not have one or the other you automatically become apathetic about what you do. But honestly, to fall so far in one foul drop has been a smack in the face and worst of all it has come from my beloved Avon. And after I have been faithful to the last this past winter.

Like many my mind has been filled with the romantic notion that I to could chance a chubby barb before the bell rings time on the season in not much more than a weeks time.
My first step into the blank void it was nothing more than a bird-like reaction to spring. The weather had warmed us all to the point of breaking into song and the seemingly stable double figure temps proved too much temptation, resulting in me charging off into the sunset to angle after lovely golden barbel. When I left the car the handy thermometer highlighted in green told me the temperature was a balmy 12c. When I returned less than three hours later it said 2c. In between twelve and two degrees I sat in the dark and stared vacantly at two tip lights for no apparent reason. I did worry a little when the normal buzz of activity of rolling fish never happened at dusk. I dismissed it as nothing, though thinking back, that was probably a good indicator.
Every time I have caught here, there has always been a rise of some kind. Maybe I would have stood a better chance a day or two earlier as I get the distinct feeling I was late of the mark hitting that mild spell.

My second trip was ill founded from the start and again the Avon slapped me as a result. This session carried a hundred memories of fishing in my childhood. Freezing cold, water running down my back as damp maggots escaped my bait box. All the crappy suffering that make up the cliché's of our sport rolled into one stamina sapping session. It rained from the moment I awoke till the moment the last bit of kit was shoved in the car boot and I went home to sulk in the warmth, fishless and f***** off.

But as I have said before these are downs which punctuate the ups. So rightfully I should feel challenged to return with renewed vigour and make one last attempt to woo something special onto my hook before the fat lady breaks into song.

Well we will see next time won't we.

Two ruddy close for comfort

Tuesday night after work I joined Keith for a short evening session on Jeff's Rudd pond. This was to be a blast from my past for me in two ways. Firstly because these ponds are situated in an area where I did a lot of my formative fishing and secondly because it's been many a year since I last fished for little Rudd using whip/maggot tactics.

To be honest I wasn't sure of which of the three ponds I was heading to or where they were as I walked across the field. So as I speak the local lingo I stopped to ask directions from a couple of young tearaways who where smashing up some fencing, who obviously taken back by my aggressive tone merely pointed over the field.

Finally I located Keith on a small featureless drainage pond. In time it took me to approach I saw him catch at least seven Rudd and when near his grin signaled it had been going pretty well. By the time I had put my new three piece cane pole together Keith was convinced he had the Rudd point in the bag. The time being around seven pm I thought that by half nine I could have my Rudd point in the bag too.

My cane pole performed well on all accounts bar one. The pond was very shallow and the better sized Rudd seemed to come from about four feet further than I could cast. So after only a pound of tiny Rudd I switched over to the only other rod I took a five foot American style rod with fixed spool reel.

Keith had by now weighed in an impressive 9.8lbs of Rudd and had joined me for a chat whilst I tried to ground out the point. At this point I must thank Keith for his advantageous help as a bait slinger whilst I snatched Rudd after tiny Rudd at three to the ounce.

I knew I had to keep at it till the light went and in the end I could no longer see the tiny float and instead began relying on The Force, as Keith called it, and striking when I suspected the bait to be in a fishes mouth, which strangely worked.

Pulling the net from the water I looked in and straight away and thought, I ain't done this. A few moments of two men crouching over a flapping mass of tiny golden fish tossing out any unwanted perch and I was ready for my result.... 4lb 12oz. Woo hoo! Two whole ounces over the 4lb 10oz Rudd record for my second point. Though we weren't sure of the exact weight and had to call Pete for confirmation (thanks Pete)

Though this is the second time I have felt the unnerving feeling of being so close to a  challenge point, I still enjoyed it and would recommend that 'Every so often put away your specimen rods, forget about giant fish, big lakes or rivers and go back to your childhood roots to try and recapture a moment or two from your youth'.