Impossible to avoid the inevitable.

The elation of my last session has now passed and all that remains of that high is stored in the cold computerised world. Occasionally though a warm memory creeps back and I smile with satisfaction as I picture it again.  

I have been in a ponderous mood all week and the question now, is what next?  How could any other experience stand up against it, other than smashing another personal best. So I find myself asking where can I go to catch say a 12lb bream or a 10lb tench, and then I answer myself and say 'don't be so bloody stupid Everitt, you know from this position the only way is down'. So the answer right now can only be to either accept second best and be satisfied with the forgettable, or gamble it all again with the chance to win big. 

With little or no wish to capture hollow spawned perch, the next targets in my cross-hairs are the aforementioned bream and tench. The latter of which I worry will still have sleep in their eyes and mud covering their buttery bellies. But still I cannot change tack, for the wheels are in motion and to the Tench pit we go.

Warm days have been here enough for me me to think I have an outside chance, but clear overnight skies see that when I wake frost clings to my lawn, and I make that noise a plumber makes before he tells you it ain't cheap. Again still I worry that we are going down the wrong track. My mood swings though as I read from the eye burning computer screen that both bream and tench were taken from the pit yesterday. So on we go over the top like soldiers from the great war destined to succeed or fail.

We arrive in the dark and are set up soon enough to enjoy sunrise which never looks better than when it is over misty water. This picture alone makes taking the gamble worthwhile, for I have forgotten this as I overwinter fishing rivers on grey days.

The sight of a green tench launching itself clear of the water not long in gave me hope. But my experiences of bright days on this pool which is so clear as you can see the gravel bars with the sun at the right angle, is that the chances of bites once the sun is up are minimal.

Two moves to try and search out hiding fish proved fruitless and I feel the gamble is lost. No fish will come my way today or anyone else's either. So what to do but sit back, let the spring sun warm my face, and drag back that memory for another cheeky smile.