I don't know what it is about me but I always push my luck with the timing when going after some species throughout the year and end up having some kind of mare. You see I had been gagging to catch me some tench but in truth I have wanted to catch them on the float rather than sitting behind rods and buzzers, for which I don't have too much love right now. Three sessions attempting to catch a tench in the margins at Napton on float and caster and the highlight of catching a few hundred average perch was the one male fish who seemed to think his capture was the crescendo of some kind of mating ritual and proceeded to ejaculate all over my right leg, the dirty bugger. Anyway, back on the subject of tench; after watching them rolling at forty yards as the milt dried into my trouser leg I concluded that to break my tench curse before I had to make a libation I would have to give in a pull out the bite alarms, dust off the Avon rods and fling a few feeders to put this tench mare to bed for the year.
Instead of Napton however I opted to head back to Ryton for a short session, as this water-filled sand pit is always the first venue where the tench get going round these parts. It's been almost a year since I had been back to Ryton and in that time the payment system for the car park had changed, as had the charge making this an expensive club water when combined with the annoying stocking fee charged by the club. Money aside, this is a reliable water for tench and that's what I needed: a session of confidence boosting captures.
Catch fish I did... catch tench I did not! Somewhere in the three hundred and sixty five odd days since I had last fished Ryton my mind had seemingly blanked the fact that this once tench heaven had been ruined by the appearance of generation of bream, so greedy and annoying that even the dedicated carp anglers who seemed to frequent this water have abandoned it to mother nature. Literally those bream might soon be behind the ruin of one of Warwickshire's great tench waters. The dam b$*#%£s eat anything you cast in, and worst of all there is obviously tench still around but the bream just get to your baits first.
After four hours of three pound bream shitting up my gear and scoffing down just about every morsel of bait, I finally got a blinding run which resulted in me being connected to a fish that did not fight like a Tesco bag full of silt. Thank god it turned out to be a lovely beautiful green tench.
Quite literally after I watched that fish swim I reeled in my second rod, packed away my gear and went home to mow the lawn. Yes, I actually voluntarily stopped fishing whilst I still had time to fish and went home to do the garden, and honestly I can't see me going back to Ryton for any serious fishing in the future.
Little did I know that my next outing after tench would end on a much higher note than my last. This time and with my duck broken I headed back to Napton to try and get back in tune with the tench fish there. On arriving I was met with a joyful sight: British waterways, the CRT or whatever people control the canals, had been pumping dirty muddy water into the clear waters of Napton for a couple of days it would seem and seeing the happy little fishes topping all over the dirty water I thought a good day could be on the cards.
After a quick subtle racking of the swim using my mini stealth rake, which makes little more disturbance than a spod, I was happy that the swim I was about to start fishing was clear of weed and debris. With the water now even cloudier than before I deposited a few loose balls of ground bait laced with casters and corn onto the spot.
One and a half hours later I was convinced that I had in some way ruined the swim. Maybe the rake, stealthy as it is, was too much or simply the fish weren't comfortable in the new dirty water. Whatever it was they weren't biting. A quick reccy down the bank revealed nobody was fairing any better and rather than make a rash move to another area I opted to sit it out and play out my gamble on raking the swim. My patience paid off when a small patch of bubbles emanated at the back of the raked area. The tench were here and on course for my bait. A few knocks and nudges later and the float rose from the water slowly in a very deliberate manner and a tench was on. In a hectic spell I landed five pristine tench, both males and female between two and five pounds all only two rod lengths out.
Little did I know there was still better to come. I have often said that although outwardly I may essentially look like I am tench fishing at Napton, the fact remains that I always fish here with crucians in mind. By that I mean I fish very sensitive rigs strong enough to stop tench and refined enough to trip up shy and very rare ancient crucians that ghost around this venue driving us a bit mad. Thank god I do always fish this way as not long after watching another tench swim off and recasting my rig I spotted a suspicious flip of fish a bit further out than my float. The last time I saw this sort of thing here I had an absolute red letter day.
The next bite was nothing to shout home about. A small rise in the float preceded a slow slide away and I fully expected to be playing a tench. The fight was different though and I soon suspected a big rudd was the culprit. When I saw a huge dinner plate size golden side roll under the rod tip I in no uncertain terms pooped myself. It was a huge crucian! Luckily there was no fuss and it went into my net quickly before I realised it was hooked by the smallest possible amount of flesh and could have easily come off. But it didn't and as I folded back the net my eyes lit up at the sight that lay before me. The size of these old fish is shocking when you see them out of the water and if it weren't for them being so thin in the back these fish would easily be contenders for the UK record.
The weight though doesn't matter to me, all I cared about is that fact that after all my efforts over the last few years chasing after these wonderfully rare little group of highly prized fish, I am lucky enough to have captured another one and I think my face says it all...
You'd think that having put number five on the bank might have satiated my urges to catch these wondrous fish. Well it hasn't! And in fact the sight of that fabulous fish just serves as fuel to the fires of my desire to catch more. Hence I will be resident for most of the summer at Napton I should think now.
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