Catch up part 4 - A 16th weekend

A few years ago I had the insanely genius idea to avoid the rivers on the opening day of the season. It turned out to be the best decision I ever made as I ended up practically having Napton to myself and having a red letter day to boot. Ever since that day I have continued this avoidance of the hordes of anglers desperate for river glory and destined for trickling disappointment; instead I have bagged up on loads of cracking fish by slowly sauntering down to a lake whilst everyone else is succumbing to bleary eyed boredom of the river.

Unusually this 16th turned out to be a rather cloudy and chilly occasion round these parts. Normally it is bright sunshine wall to wall to get those barbel and chub scurrying for cover. I actually had to get my old hoody from the car boot to keep warm on the breezy Napton banks as I angled after another vintage crucian. The one great thing about this overcast and cutting breeze was that if I got into a decent and fish-able position the fish should feed for as long as I could keep them in the swim.

After pitching up in a swim with the wind on my back I deployed the weed rake to confirm the swim was clear enough to fish and went about setting up stall to keep under the wind and fish tight to a nearby reed bed. The rake always clouds up the swim nicely and in the clear waters of Napton this is like ringing the dinner bell. The roach were first on the scene and after a few annoying plucks I finally got a decent bite which resulted in me hooking the first of several nice roach between ten ounces and a pound.

I knew if the roach were that quick to arrive that the tench would soon arrive and when they did things really went off. The first fish got off but after quickly re-baited and getting back on the spot I was straight away into another tench which couldn't resist my sweetcorn hook bait sitting temptingly amongst the scattering of pellets and dusting of pungent ground bait. This fish gave me a right run around and quickly informed me of all the weed beds in proximity of the swim. Being careful and gently pulling it out of all of these weed beds soon saw me netting a stunning first tench of the day.

The tench kept coming all afternoon with the crazy smaller males charging here, there and everywhere and the much bigger and powerful females really pushing my gear to the limits as I tried to weave them in and out of the maze of weed beds along my bank. Most of them ended up in my net but a few managed to dive so deep in the weeds that all my tugging only served to pull the hook and leave the embedded tench to find their own way out.

As per normal it turned out to be another of those sessions where I probably didn't get within half a lake of the precious old crucian and thus it was filed away with the hundreds of other sessions just like it. I did end the session on a high by landing a large stunning female tench that was a decent step up in size from most of the fish I had caught so far this year. Her capture adds credence to my theory that the tench in Napton, though reduced in numbers, are becoming bigger.

Sooner or later I had to get down the river and after a reccy lure session along the Barford AA stretch of the Avon with a lure rod, I concluded that although low and clear there did seem to be fish holding in the faster oxygenated water. So the night after the day before I returned armed with a barbel rod and a bucket full of fishy bait to hopefully garner myself a bite or two. With the conditions being sunny and the river very clear I guessed things were going to be hard and that any decent fish would more than likely being hanging out in any cover they could find. This in mind I pitched up in a swim with plenty of beds of streaming weed thinking this was my best chance of teasing out a few fish in such dire conditions.

After watching for a while through polarized eyes I started to see the occasional dark shape drift from one weed bed to another. With as little disturbance as possible I dropped my rig along with a golf ball sized PVA bag of freebies in between two weed beds where I thought I stood a chance of extracting a hooked fish. I was kind of thinking I would have to wait for a bite and I went about busying myself making a few more PVA bags of pellets. I'd barely got half way through the second one when the rod which was trapped between my legs pulled hard over and the butt was pivoted up in my nether regions. In the panic the bucket of pellets went flying, my tube of PVA stocking fell precariously close to the river and a small yet pungent pot of bait glug was spilled on my lap as I tried to get the rod butt out of my groin.

From the savagery of the initial bite I was under the impression I had by sheer luck hooked a early season barbel, but it turned out to be a chub who did an amazing impression of a barbel. It turned out to be quite a nice chub in reality...

My luck however was seemingly spent on that first chub as for a lot of interest from the first fishes shoal mates I suspect, I received no more savage bites on this first river outing. Though for the records purposes I will mark this single fish session as a total success as there's been plenty of early session sessions when I have had the dreaded blank. Thinking back now the capture of that single chub, after spotting several drifting around deep in the cover on a sunny day when not a lot was doing, seem aptly pure to me.

.

Return to the river.

It seems like forever since I've paid the Avon any attention. I have had an odd look here and there since the season opened up, but frankly I've been a bit preoccupied with trying to catch a crucian out of Napton Reservoir. Anyway whilst away on holiday the idea to get my arse in gear and head back to the river really came to the forefront of my mind. It just happened that a bit of rain the few days before I got back had the river in tip top conditions for my return.

I have a new membership for a bit of the Avon which some of my angling buddies have been recommending for years, which this year I decided to get on. So with a couple of rods set up ready to go I decided to head down the A46 for a morning session. Normally I would have tried to be on the bank for first light, but my early morning bumbling roused BB and he discovered some presents which had been stashed in his room that were to big too transport on holiday, so my leaving was delayed a little whilst they were opened.

In the end I found myself pulling up in the car park around 9am and shockingly there was only two other cars evident. Where was everyone? I asked myself, as I had suspected everyone would be on the river given the conditions. The first angler I came across was on the first peg through the gate and a quick chat turned up that he'd already had three chub and two barbel from out in the faster water. This was good news and got me quickly heading off looking for a swim up river. I soon found a great looking swim where the fast water is deflected by a big bed of reeds and with the extra colour on the water it looked great for the barbel I so much wanted.  

Trying to be as careful as I could I gently cast into the crease with a PVA bag full of goodies attached to my rig. Although I did receive several taps of interest I was soon recasting again and again, working my way down the crease in subsequent casts towards some cover where I suspected the barbel might be lying in wait. After a few hours I was getting concerned I may have missed or messed up my shot at a barbel from this swim, but rather than just move off I opted to make one final cast a bit further out, away from the crease I'd been targeting into the faster water.

I'd been sitting on the cast for a good fifteen minutes before another angler from upstream dropped by to see how I was doing. We'd been whacking on for ten minutes as I kept an eye on the white rod tip out the corner of my eye. I clocked a slow nod of the tip which grabbed my attention then a quick sharp pull got my hand hovering over the rod and then bang, as predicted, the rod bent over as the fish tuned onto the weight of the lead.

In the fast shallow water I lent hard on the fish to stop it finding any of the weed beds which I knew lay hidden by the coloured water.  A long pause with both of us refusing to give an inch ended when the fish was pushed down stream by the flow... then all hell broke loose in the deeper clearer water under my own bank. This powerful fish worked me hard to keep it from getting back over the river into the fast water but everything held true and the soft action of my rod soon subdued the fish and a gaping mouth lined with barbules appeared on the surface before what looked a big fish slipped into the net.

After letting the fish recover in the water I lifted the net out and put it onto he mat. I lifted back the folds of the net to reveal a perfect long lean summer fish. I can truly say I was beaming with the sight of this perfect first barbel off of a new stretch of river, and my companion who had stood silent the whole fight seemed very impressed too. We both agreed it looked to be a good one though on the scales my suspicion that it was in lean condition proved true and even given its long length the fish was only 7.14lb. 

Maybe in the winter this fish could have been at least nine pounds or more. The weight though hardly mattered at all to me as I was over the moon that I should catch such an amazing fish for my first barbel off a new stretch of river.

The rain came in quickly after that and I opted to make a tactical retreat, but I was back a few days later to fish another swim aways downstream. This time the river had cleared and with that in mind I had brought a second lighter rod along to fish the maggot feeder upstream of the barbel rod, with the hope that the maggots going downstream, combined with the activity from other fish might draw up any wary barbel to have a look see what was going on. The plan actually worked, but not quite exactly as I wanted it to. The maggot line was alive with fish chasing the freebies as I dropped the feeder again and again onto the same spot at the head of the swim. Roach, dace, gudgeon and perch were queuing up waiting for the feeder to release more free maggots into the flow.

As the session went on the interest in my downstream rod increased slowly but surely. It took a while but random jags on the rod tip indicated something was afoot. Soon enough the rod bent over hard as something took the bait. After those initial moments when you lean into a fish feeling something powerful abated, the fish power dwindled and I realised the chub had turned up, attracted by all the activity. The first fish was a greedy two pounder but the second was a much longer fish just under four pounds, which like that first barbel would be much larger come winter.

The bug had really bit and another evening session was penned into my diary for a week or so later, after seeing that the long range forecast predicted another deluge of rain to bring the river into peak condition.

I arrived as quick as I could get there after work to find only one car in the car park, and after rushing over the fields to the river I scouted the whole section, baiting up a few spots as I went. The other angler was nowhere near where I wanted to fish and after a quick chat and finding out that although he was really after the silvers he had been skinned out a couple of time by big fish. This was perfect, no other anglers and feeding fish, how could I fail..?

The scene of my first barbel capture seemed the logical starting point and I was soon set-up and watching the river, trying to figure out the water in front of me as the added water and flow had seemingly changed the whole dynamic of the swim. It didn't take long to figure I'd chosen the most complicated swim to start with. There must have been seven or more areas in front of me screaming for a bait to go on them. In the end I began close in targeting a small crease right under my own bank. This produced nothing at all so I went about casting into each area I thought might hold barbel one after another for the next three hours. In the end I spent far too much time trying to logically cover the whole swim, in which time Mick had turned up and headed off upstream to fish for predators.

Having kind of shot myself in the foot time-wise, I decided to move downstream to fish one of the swims I had pre baited. With only enough time to fish one last swim I missed out a couple I had dropped bait into and went for the one I thought most likely to produce in the conditions. It was quite a simple swim I went to, with a large bed of bulrushes at the head that was creating a crease right down the centre of the river between the fast and slow water.

My first cast sent a tasty bag of morsels quickly down to the river bed just in the fast water, attached to a two ounce lead. The reaction was instant as my pre baiting already had fish nosing around on the gravel. Convinced the rod was going to bang over I had to sit on my hands as the small fish attacked the hook bait. I waited patiently and as I did, the rod soon indicated the presence of a bigger fish. A couple of nods later and the rod was nearly ripped of the rest and I was into a barbel. The initial savagery subsided and an interesting battle ensued in the slow water. It was only about four pound but this solid and fresh barbel took no prisoners as it dived into every possible place it could get snagged. In the end though the fact I was fishing gear capable of landing even the biggest fish won the fight and I netted an immaculate barbel that saved my session. 

The next cast produced the same response but this time I thought I'd hooked a small chub or something until I went to lift it out and a tiny sub pound barbel managed to shake itself off the hook, vibrating mid-lift, and dived straight back into the river. They were only small but two barbel in two casts were good numbers for me. I really wanted to get my bait right onto the bait I had put down earlier so I tried my very best to land the rig and new bag of freebies on the very centre of the crease. In doing so though I tightened up and it was more than obvious my bait was on the inside of the crease in the slow water. I decided to give it a chance and wait, letting it sit there for fifteen minutes at least, but I didn't feel in was the best place for it at all. 

The bite came out of nowhere with no warning which made it all that more shocking. One moment the rod was stationary the next it was bending double, lifting the butt out of the rests. Straight away I could feel this was a fish in another league. It powered all over the swim through both the fast and slow water with me just holding on tight and trying my best to steer it away from any hazards. After covering every bit of water in front of me, the fish dived straight into some lillies in the slow water, but its power and my power linked by the line just cut straight though the stems leaving the pad floating away downstream. A few dives later and I had what I knew was a good barbel in the net. As it rested in the water I made the call to Mick to ask for a spot of help taking a photo or two which turned out to be a brilliant decision as my camera phone, although great in day light, was useless in the half light. Luckily Mick brought his camera and I was soon proudly holding up my first double from this new stretch and beaming from behind all ten pounds and seven ounces of it.

In three close sessions this new bit of river has proved exactly how honest it is. By that I mean; it looks like it should contain barbel and chub and it does, it looks healthy and it seems it is and in the right conditions the fish should feed and they do. Which for the Warwickshire Avon, isn't that common from what I've seen in the past. A lot of the time I fished sections of the Avon and thought, this has to be a good area for this or that, and been let down. This place though seems different and I hope my theories about other different sections come to fruition over the autumn and winter. If they do, well, a few more red letter days for other species could be on the horizon.

Canal carp - a crisis of confidence.

Everyone who fishes canals will have some kind of tale or tome of canal carp to tell. I suspect it's the linear nature of canals that helps information travel down them to be dribbled like honey into people's ears by passing travellers. Personally with all the time I've spent on canals I reckon I must have heard thousands of stories about monsters hiding on the far bank cover over the years. The truth of the matter is that all canals contain carp, be them born or bred, dumpers, stockies or escapes, they are there and beyond all the bluff and bluster you hear about how to catch them there is one single box to tick in order to attain success as far as I am concerned; location. Quite frankly you could fish in a carpy looking location for the rest of your life and not catch a single fish if it is simply not their chosen home.

With regards to location, I can think of six spots on three different sections of canal that I have either seen or caught carp from. I have spent a fair bit of time on these spots in years past and as much as I reckon the fish have probably grown, I'd like to find a few unknown fish to me, so I have started looking at few more likely spots with supposed form to target. The first is a very well known supposed carp haunt of the Grand union were fish of preposterous sizes are reported to swim and I gave it a look on an evening session recently when the weather was fine enough for carp.

I like to keep things simple when carp fishing and on the canal, rigs hidden in PVA bags are always the way to go. Firstly you can cast them into any tiny space you want with little fear of tangles, secondly they sink slowly without the lead burying in the deep silt that can line the bottom and thirdly they are great for fishing for one bite by presenting a concentrated pile of smelly bait. All that said it seemed on this occasion my simple tactics might not have been reliable, as I did not generate anything near a bite in five hours. I had a few liners but definitely no contact with the rigs, which was concerning. Without dwelling on a blank I moved on to the next session along with my new compact kit.

I feel I should mention the new set up I am using this season for carp. You know I've always felt taking twelve foot carp rods and big reels down the cut to a bit of overkill. Then a while ago I bought a 9ft Nash dwarf rod for stalking carp and after seeing how great this little rod was I invested in a second one and matched them up with a pair of Korum KXI reels. I then bought a specific rod bag for the Dwarf rods which is not much over three feet long and also carries my 36" carp net with handle that splits into two. All the rest of the stuff I might need packs into my Korum day sack which leaves me with a kit so compact that no spot is too far away.

My next canal session was a disaster and that was pretty much all my fault. I agreed to meet Mick on a very reliable section of canal where he was going to fish for zander and I for carp. Anyway to cut a long story short I decided to hang out with Mick and have a chat rather than head straight down to the banker spot. As nice as it was catching up with Mick, it allowed some else to get on my spot. Frankly I was shocked as I have never seen another carp angler there ever and here was one right where I wanted to be. When I arrived and after chatting to the other angler I set up shop a little way up the canal  in a spot of lesser quality which produced zip all once again.

Confidence in any sort of angling is key in my opinion and at this point I had none. Worst of all though I had opted to use a new bait for this canal carp caper and as good as it smelt to me I wasn't sure it was doing the business. I expected those starving canal bream to be on it like a tramp on chips and so far I was saving a fortune on bite alarm batteries. With this crisis of confidence in both bait and me I had no choice but to have a session on somewhere a little easier. So with a spare afternoon off work I went over to fish Jubilee pools, or specifically horseshoe pool.

These pools suffer a bit of an image problem if you ask me and some of that is down to their name I reckon. Though referred to as pools they are in fact pits where sand and gravel were extracted from along with Ryton pool and Meadow lands. Should they be referred to a jubilee pits then certainly in carp fishing circle they would command a bit more respect than a lowly old pool. That aside Horseshoe for one looks like a gravel pit if you look beyond the wooden stages that line the lip of the pool like teeth. And the fish do behave more like gravel pit fish as they swim around the clear weedy water. The only way this pool differs from most gravel pits is in stock density. Being the coffer fillers they are, the controlling club keeps them well overstocked with fish as to please the day ticket paying masses. Weirdly though the fish seem to exhibit different habits. The small carp are nearly always lingering in the upper layers of the water, where as a totally different size class patrol the margins like nervous submarines, and it was those nervous submarines that I wanted to test my confidence out on.

After walking round the lake a bit and finding most of it empty of anglers, I fed four swims on one bank where I had seen a few groups of bigger fish nosing around. These bigger fish love nothing more than coming into the margins in the evening and mopping up all the discarded bait, and that's exactly what I wanted my freebies to look like. After putting out a handful of corn in each swim along with a few broken boilies and whole boilies I waited and watched to see which of the four swims offered the batter chance. Random fish kept coming into all of them but one swim had a couple of groups of fish the others didn't repeatedly stopping by, so thats where I decided to set my trap. Once all the bait was gone I quickly nipped in and set up my rods and alarms on the path leading into the swim. There was a large clear area all around the platform so carefully placed one rig on the further edge of the clear spot and the second right under the platform. After making sure my line was pinned down tight to the bottom by a few blobs of tungsten putty and a small back weight I re-baited with more broken boilies and corn and retreated well away from the peg. 

The fish were soon back and I waited a good hour before the water finally erupted and the alarm screamed as a fish found my sneaky two halves of boilie bait and sucked it in. It took a while for the fish to fully get its head round its circumstance and when it did the rod really started to bend.

After an epic tussle which destroyed the swim and my other rod, I finally dragged the net out of the brambles and slipped it under a stunning little common which filled my confidence jar close to the brim.

After I released that low double a few swims away I returned to carnage. In the panic of the fight everything had gone everywhere. My second rod was lying on the floor with the line still over the buzzer. There were mats, selfie sticks and half the contents of my bags strewn all over the floor. As I walked towards the second rod on the floor the alarm beeped once and thinking it was about to go off I froze. From just at the edge of the swim I could see a real strange group of fish had drifted into swim and were picking up odd bit here and there. There was a golden tench, a tiny common carp and a huge mirror. I would have said they had all arrived separately until the golden tench moved off and its buddies followed it. Quickly I got both rods out a again this time with a PVA bag on each. Both were in same positions as before when I saw the golden tench reappear followed by its two carpy friends. None of them dipped onto the baits but they all paused a moment as they passed over them. I watched those three fish drift in and out again and again, each time the mirror seemed bigger.

Soon my time was running out and worst of all their confidence was building with the more time they spent in the swim. With little over thirty minutes till I had to be off the water I watched as the two carp homed in on my close in bait. I watched willing them to dip down towards it... then Bleeeeeeeeeep the moment was shattered by the bite alarm I watched confused as the two carp shot off to the left and my line on my right had rod surged out into the lake. Whilst watching the fish I wanted to catch near one line someone had snuck in and taken the other. It turned out to be a very boisterous common not to dissimilar to the other apart from this one was rushed in a bit which meant it was very lively on the mat hence the crap selfie with it.

This trip to Jubilee pits was well served to boost my confidence in both what I was doing and in the bait I have decided to use. Now all I need is the weather to warm up a bit and I should be able to start homing in on a few canal targets myself.

Back after canal carp.

Over the last couple of months I have had a niggling thought in the back of my mind and it has been very hard to ignore. The thing that has plagued me so much is that I should be paying my coveted and secret canal carp spot some attention, as I know they will be feeding by now. But sadly I haven't felt up to the four mile walk out into the middle of nowhere due my still lingering injury. Until now that is...

I went to bed with all the best intentions of getting up at 5am. But that didn't happen - damn you snooze button! - so I arrived a little later than planned. Before leaving I had thinned out my gear, leaving behind anything unneeded to reduce the weight I would have to carry. So I was on minimum kit. 

Walking down a wet muddy country canal towpath carrying even the smallest amount of tackle for miles in wellies is a real task but I knew the possible rewards far out way the walk.

I cannot claim to be the discoverer of the carp sanctuary I was on my way to fish, as that honor must go to my good friend Rob whom is currently on a reptile safari in St Lucia, who a few years ago whist pioneering for new fishing venues discovered this place, and I thank him for it.

The resident carp population seem to have particular territory; two stretches that they move up and down dependent on varying factors, and within that area are three specific spots that will generally hold them. This can make fishing for them a little testing, as locating them can take up valuable fishing time.

My plan has been clear in my head since the last visit at the end of last summer. As I walk past each area I stop and spend a few minutes first looking to try to spot them, if I can't I then distribute small golf ball sized balls of ground bait laced with pellets and chopped boilies onto the far ledge in known feeding areas, or spaced about four feet apart but always parallel to each other. The reason for this I will explain later.

At the first spot, which I call the spawning spot, there was no signs of movement so I baited up and moved on. At the next spot which I call snag city, there were a shoal of small bream rolling so I again baited up and headed to the top of their range to a swim I call, by chance, top swim. From here I began fishing.

I only ever bait a swim I intend to fish straight away lightly, if at all, as the fish are easily spooked. Unlike the other swims which will have a few hours to cook, I wanted a fairly instant reaction and not to have to wait for the fish to come back in after being scared off.

Once in place I first put out a chod rig with two grains of buoyant corn about six inches off the bottom, to try and intercept any patrolling carp. The second rod is where the ground bait comes in to play. I use solid PVA bags about the size of golf balls with the rig and hook bait wrapped up nice and tight inside with a good helping of ground bait and pellets. When you cast them tight under the far bank cover they never get caught up on the way in. The small pile of bait is identical to the small patches of free offerings I distribute around, so if a couple of fish are moving along under the far bank and keep finding these tasty mouthfuls of food, sooner or later they will find the one with a hook bait in it. On both rigs I use tungsten putty on the line to help it mould to the bottom as well as a small flying back lead to keep the line on the bottom of the trench. This is finished off with a  clip on back lead on my side of the canal to allow barges to pass over the lines, and thus cut out the need for disruptive recasting.

When I first went after these fish I began by using lift float tactics but although this got plenty of bites I got turned over again and again when carp went hurtling into the snags. It didn't take long to figure out that by using conventional carp tactics with back leads when a fish was hooked the line could pass under all the snags. Without pressure from a strike the fish would head into open water when the hook pricked them rather than into the snags. Using bite alarms instead of watching a float meant I could walk up the bank to try and spot fish whilst still fishing confidently.

The first couple of hours were very quiet in the top peg until I spotted a rather useful fish Rob named golden balls (a golden/white koi) tight to the far bank, so I knew they were around. After carefully moving my chod a bit closer I waited. After another forty minutes I knew it was time to move on so headed back to snag city to see if any one was around there.

Snag city

As I crept back into the swim I was met by a glorious sight. Towards the left hand side of the baited area I could see three large tails swaying just under the surface. As the owners of said tails lazily fed directly on my free bait and under the snag itself, I could see two more dark shapes moving around. There was at least five good sized carp in residence and there would surely be a few others yet unseen.

The problem now was how do you cast to a bunch of feeding carp in only 18" of water without scaring them off. The chod rig wasn't a problem as the short underarm cast would allow me to slow the lead down to a mere plop right against the snag. The other rod however was a problem as the three feeding carp were in no rush to move on which would have allowed me to put a new ball of bait out. The geography of the far bank came to my rescue when I realised there was a small patch of grass through a gap in the trees. Making up a bag with the rig safely inside I intended to cast over the canal onto the grass bank, which in theory should cushion the impact of the bag; it would roll gently onto the edge where I could quickly pull it back into position before the bag melted. Or so I thought. The reality was that, yes, the bag went onto the bank but instead of rolling in it buried deep into the grass which I instantly realized would be damp.Trying not to panic I gently pulled the line by hand and by some miracle it slowly slid into the water were I continued to pull it over the gravelly bottom into position.

The traps were set and ready to be sprung and they remained that way for the next hour and a half till the boats started. After seven boats I  began to think I had missed my chance when the water around the PVA bag rod started clouding up randomly. My heart started racing as I waited. Then two small bream rolled directly over the bait as their shoal mates mopped up my bait below. I was running out of time and had already called Jacky to say I was going to stop a bit longer an hour ago. The sight of another barge in the distance  heralded the opportunity to recast one rod so I quickly pulled out the chod rig rod and hastily made a bag for it and changed the pop up for a bottom bait therefore turning into a bastard helicopter rig. I often use the disturbance of a barge makes as it passes to mask my casting of a fresh rig.

Half an hour later I had to go so I reluctantly began packing up with my head hung low. With everything away apart from the rods and net I was faced with a choice. Which rod, left or right. I knew the bream had cleared out the one to my left, so the decision was made.

Kneeling down with my back to the canal packing away the indicator I heard a bleep! Convinced I had turned it off  I knelt shaking the indicator in hand and holding it to my ear for a moment before it clicked "it's not that indicator" turning round I could see the bobbin slowly rising. Lifting gently to one side the rod bent very little as what I thought was a small bream moved off. Once in open water I lifted the rod and got a glimpse of a golden flank "oh it's a small carp" I said to myself. Then calmly as you like it rolled onto it's side and I was met by the sight sight of a good double lying there staring up at me with absolutely no idea it was hooked. Then when it set eyes on me I got my first ever taste of tail walking carp as it exploded in a blind panic across the surface.

After trying to get back into the snag several times it duly plodded around under the rod tip for ages before I manged to net net it and bank my first canal carp of  2010.

A solid wild canal common of 16lbs 9oz

The long walk back to the car was made much easier by this capture and I happily skipped back along the towpath home.

I don't think it will take me eight months to return again, as one of the fish I saw feeding was at least a twenty....

Ryton pays out a point.

With the heartbreak of last week behind me I decided to return to Ryton for a short morning session. I had been carefully studying the weather and knew that the fish were starting to move, which together I thought would give a decent chance of a run or two. For once I was right!

Upon arriving I was surprised to be the first one there. So with time on my hands I wandered round the lake before  beginning. There were no obvious signs of fish anywhere but with the wind blowing into the shallow bay and the recent high temps I decided to fish a swim in the woods, hoping it would be good place to start.

Fishing two rods, one with a pop up, the other with a pva bag full of goodies and bottom bait on the hook, it didn't take long for my bottom bait rod to shoot off with the bite alarm screaming. The first tench of the day, a fish of the 3.6lb was soon on the bank.

At this point I had a feeling a good session was on the cards and quickly recast back to the same spot. The next run came only fives minutes later this time a much bigger fish managed to escape only feet from the net. But it didn't take long to go again resulting in the biggest fish of the day a long 5.8lb female.

  

Now I knew there was few in front of me and that they were up for it I switched my other rod to an identical rig and made up two spare hook lengths, these combined with some Korda quick change swivels meant could recast a prebaited rig back onto the spot immedatley after reeling in or catching a fish.

All morning and afternoon my bite indicators were sounding with liners or runs and I added two more fish of 4lb and 2.5lb as well as losing another two.

Of all the fish this little herbert was the one that gave me the most trouble. Forcing me to step into the lake up to my knees to keep it from getting snagged up under a tree and was the only male fish I caught all day.

Finally I found myself in the unnerving position that I only needed one more fish to get my tench point. The waiting for this last fish was absolute agony but eventually the Baitrunner screamed again and my final fish of 3.8lb was in the net and with 18.6lb I was finally on the board at last..

I have to thank Barry (Return to Ryton) who was fishing down the bank, for helping my out by taking some of the photos and netting a couple of the fish as I tried to keep them out of a snag and from tangling my other line.

Eventually I had go home as this short session had overrun by at least four hours and I was more than a little hungry. As I drove home the rising smell of tench slime that was generously spread over my top by a couple of lively bars of soap brought a satisfied smile to my face.

I intend to go back one evening in the week to try and bag a few more, hopefully some bigger ones...