Ryton's on the change.

I read somewhere once that lakes go through cycles in relation to the dominant species within. It said that lakes are either dominated by bream or tench and that even if both are present it is normally a case that there will be one species that is dominant with the other only present in small numbers. At the time of reading this I never thought that much about it, but now thinking back and applying this theory to some of the lakes I fish, it makes sense. My old adversary Coombe pool was in the past renowned for being a bream Mecca, and although there is still a giant shoal of bream swimming round in it, there is no doubt that the bream numbers are dropping and more tench seem to be showing up. Napton reservoir in all its bleak resplendence is predominantly a tench water with apparently a handful of big bream. Personally I think the dominance of a species in an environment is simply down to environmental factors and who they benefit, and my belief was further reinforced when the other week I returned to a favourite lake of mine, Ryton pool. Ryton has changed a lot since I began fishing years ago. I remember the first year I fished it when the water was gin clear and the weed grew so much that by midsummer I reckon with a spot of luck and light feet you could have run across the top of it. Others years after that there was differing amounts of weeds and clarity but one thing remained the same; tench were what you caught and bream were just rumors. Fast forward ten or so years and I once again stared into the water exactly where I did when I first came to this lake and one difference was that I quite simply could not see the bottom as I could on that first visit. Over the years this sandpit lake has become more and more coloured during the warmer months and possibly as a result things might be changing.

When I arrived on my first session a while ago the water was coloured but the lake looked pretty much as it had when I last walked away four years ago. The few stages still dotted the woodland bank, people were still feeding the water fowl copious amounts of food from the duck feeding station and the long concrete road bank was still infested with rats all the way down to the very last swim on the side of the road point where I decided to fish.

Much to my amusement I was lectured quite arrogantly by a pair of young carp anglers after I asked how it was fishing. The pair of Noddys must have thought they were auditioning for a role on Thinking Tackle the way they were talking. Everything was casting out tight to this or using that and honestly, they sounded a proper pair of idiots. Worst of all was that I reckon when I first started fishing Ryton one of them might not have been that long out of nappies.

The faces sitting around the pool may have changed since back in the day, but the fishing it seemed hadn't. After pitching up on the end of the concrete I began fishing exactly as I used to, by casting method feeders at range. This tactic always worked well here as the disturbance caused by putting down a bed of bait seemed to put the fish off too long to be of benefit. By roaming the feeders round I always seemed to pick up a fair few fish, then once an area came to life repeated casting usually found more fish.

It didn't take much more than fifteen minutes for the line I had cast onto the plateau in front of the island to scream off. Much to my annoyance this fish snapped the five pound hook link I was using and straight away two new heavier links were tied and cast out baited with 10mm boilies, which proved to be the down fall of a slew of nice tench.

The best of the session was not much over four pounds but still I was very happy to see that the tench were still about in Ryton. Much to my amusement the arrogant young carpers down the bank were being driven crazy by my buzzers going off all afternoon and I wasn't helping the situation by increasing the volume with every fish to make sure they heard the shrill tones. They might not have been carp I was catching, but every time a buzzer sounded I could see their little faces looking over to see what I was reeling in.

What came along next though would herald a change which I think could well be the end of the tenchs domination of Ryton pool. After a single bleep the bobbin dropped back and for Ryton that's unusual. Every tench you catch generally pulls the bobbin up be it gently or violently and when I lifted into the fish I was met with a dead weight. In all the years previously fished on this pool I have caught two bream. The first was a random four pound silver thing and the other was an old bugger that was knobbly, black and blind in both eyes. What rolled into my net was young, a few pounds and just turning from skimmer too bream.

The tench were gone after this fish and no matter where I moved my feeders they seemed to be found by another little bream. Four more homed in on my ground bait topped method feeders and sent my bobbins back as they moved off with the baits.

Where these young bream had come from was a mystery, everyone who fished this pool knows of the shoal of big old bream which rarely got caught and everyone was of the opinion that they were well past breeding age. Turns out that might not be the case and that possibly some bream Viagra might have found its way into Ryton about three years ago from the look of these healthy young buggers.

A few days later I went back to have a second crack at Ryton under the belief that these bream might have just been a freak occurrence, but exactly the same thing happened. Two tench were landed not long after arriving...

Then the rest of the session was dominated by the veracious horde of young bream which quite literally followed my feeders back to my own bank after I began fishing at range and ultimately ended up margin fishing in an attempt to avoid them. 

It is with disappointment in my heart that I say I reckon Ryton is on the change. Yes the tench are still present, but undoubtedly after a couple of sessions it is obvious that there is a hell of a lot of these 2-4lb bream present at this time. Looking at them they look really young and strong, they almost seem pre programmed to eat boilies, which is no suprise as loads get fed into this water. It's a sad time for the tench fishing at Ryton which I used to love so much, as these bream will ultimately have a huge effect on the water and probably push the tench out over time. Although there could be a silver lining to this change! If they can avoid the predators and keep growing as they seem to have, maybe in a few years Ryton might be filled with really big bream which could make for some interesting fishing in the future.

Nearly back

There is no other way to start writing this other than by saying its a little more than overdue. And it is with good reason may I say! I have had at least ten days in which I could have sat in front of the computer and put finger to key, but frankly I have been in a bad place filled with discomfort and pain. Should I have attempted to get into the writing zone over this time I feel sure this little piece may have read like the inside of a Radiohead album sleeve; miserable and macabre. You see the day after the session of which I am about to write I was begrudgingly attempting to finish of our all new and recycled raised bed veggie patch. 

As it had turned out to a classical English bank holiday weekend of pissy rain interspersed with moments of blazing sunshine we found ourselves retreating in and out of the house as the showers came and went. After one such interlude Jacky and myself attempted to pump each other up for one last push by voicing such war cries as 'lets have it' and 'come on, ends in sight' 'arraghhhh.' Moments later only fifty feet from the house I nonchalantly bent over to pick up a small brick and ping! My back went like a plump cancan girls knicker elastic.

Ever since this internal snapping of only god knows what, I have spent most of my time prostrate. The thought of even trying to sit up straight has left me with a feeling of impending dread. But as they say time is the best healer and now here I find myself sitting at the key board with a slight niggle in my lower back and a walk that would not look out of place in a Monty python sketch, trying to scratch about in a mind numbed by lashings of pain killers, attempting to recall something I feel sure would have been a lot better should it have been served fresh.

I suppose the gutting thing is that the session the day before my unfortunate twanging was amazing. It was heaving with rain of course, but this had deterred all others from the sodden sandpit. Leaving me the whole lake to myself.

By my own admission I had been a bit lazy by my standards, not bothering to go out and buy a few pints of fat red magics to ply onto old red eye, and instead just grabbing a bag of Halibut pellets from the shed to soak in a little water the mould around my feeders.

This turned out to be the best decision I made that weekend as after firing one onto the slope of a gully and the other on top of a plateau I only managed half a sip of whatever I was drinking before a rod was off.

The first three fish were mental little males in that 2-3lb bracket but shortly after the last one of those was released and the rod recast I got a slower take. When playing a fish with a second rod in the water I always assume that if the other one starts going that the fish has crossed the other line. But when it happened on this occasion a quick check confirmed the tench I was playing was definitely to my left and the the rods slowly bleeping on the alarm was bending to the right.

Should I have been fishing with a companion I would have called for them to pick up the running rod but all alone in the rain there wasn't even a dog walker to appeal too, so it was just a case of keeping a watch full eye on it whilst I reeled in the first fish as quick as then with that in the net get on the other one as soon as.

All went well and soon enough two chunky examples of both genders of tench resided in my net. Looking at them both there in the water it hit me. They both looked around 4-5lb and my current tench fantasy is a double so these two combined would equal what I sought.

10.2lb was their combined weight according to the scales. The deep shouldered male was 5.11lb and the slender female 4.7lb and it made me realise exactly how big a ten plus tench really is...massive

The next taker of my crude but seemingly effective method feeder rig was getting along the right track for sure. It was one of those plodding around fights, where she just kept swinging right to left and back again. In the net it was one of those fish that looks the next size up from everything else.

Perfectly proportioned apart from an empty lower half past her pectoral fins. A few weeks ago she would have been well over seven if not bigger. But today post spawning I was still very happy with 6.9lb.

With the rain battering down I knew I was going to get a bit damp but an hour of the fish knocking the method balls around the bed of the lake kept me from the shelter of the umbrella and constantly striking into non runs. A few more dry pellets into the bucket and the breakdown rate of the method balls was adjusted enough to provoke another small male to surge off with my bait.

The last fish of the session really ran me around and in the net turned out to be a super long thin female which looked quite young. With her long length and big head she is one to watch out for in the future as if she gets on the food she could well end up being one of the biggest in the lake.

Eight fish in four hours and maybe five missed or aborted runs was quite a good performance from this lake, and not only that but the fish seem to be getting their condition back much quicker this season. Which would be great if I wasn't about to abandon this venue when the season kicks in later this week in favour of the rivers and any other places I can't access until the glorious 16th.

Hopefully I may be somewhere near fitness in time for the fast approaching whistle but if not I know it won't be long till I cast again into sparkling streams of running water, and good luck to everyone else once that clock turns twelve on Friday night.