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.

.

Catch up part 3 - Searching for a speck of gold.

Summer fishing for me is all about tench and crucians. Occasionally carp take my fancy and the river calls me away, but for most it's all about warm early mornings, hot summer nights, bubbles around floats and the sticky smell of sweet corn on my hands. With my tench and crucian mojo now in full swing it was a happy coincidence that a trip south to the Marsh Farm fishery with my good friend Martin Oxley had come around. It's been a few years since I originally went and it was Martin's first time but both of us had high hopes for this little trip. 

With baking weather predicted for the day the pair of us set off south about as early as I like to be out of bed, to make the gates of Marsh Farm for opening time. Our organized start and clear journey saw us first in the queue with half an hour to wait before the hallowed gates were opened to let us onto the well manicured banks. It was actually very quiet angler wise and after paying our day ticket fees we had the choice of most of the Harris Lake to choose from. Picking a peg on this lake is not an easy prospect with so much choice on this occasion. In the end we headed for a pair of end swims where the wind had blown most the flotsam off the lake and several tench were obviously rooting around, judging from the fizzing along the scum line.

From the off I stuck by my plan which I had pre-formulated prior to coming down; bait a tight area close to a feature, fish an over-sensitive rig on that spot and hit even the slightest movement of the float. For a proper tinca head like me, Marsh Farm is a winner even if I didn't catch my target crucian as the tench are actually the pest fish in this lake. Literally you can observe them approach your bait by watching the small patches of fizz rising intermittently ever closer to your hook bait. This was exactly what happened pretty much immediately after I cast out for the first time. Three or four different fish where quickly homing in on the bait before my Drennan antenna float rose gently up out of the water and I struck. This tench cleared the swim in two violent charges back and forth over the baited area and scattered its compadres far and wide.

It seemed as the morning ran on that the all the fish seemed reluctant to stop in the shallower water we were fishing at the end of the lake. My swim had been devoid of fish since that first tench had smashed the place up and the obvious lack of fish had me itching to move to new pastures. Martin though had had several crucians roll on his spot and was keen to press on with his swim. After a quick recce up the bank I located a swim with a large lily bed tight on the right had side of the swim. The sun was now high in the sky and baking down and this cover seemed the best option to keep the fish going.

A couple of exhausting yomps later me and all my kit were settled in the new swim and fifty inches of umbrella was erected to offer me some shade from the savage rays. The plummet revealed a decent depth just the other side of the pads and a tempting mixture of ground bait, pellets and casters were potted out to the edge of this feature. It was a perfect spot as there was little more than eighteen inches from the rod tip to the edge of the pads and this enabled me to fish as if I were using a pole while using a rod and this was something that would soon come into play.

It wasn't an easy afternoon given the steamy temperatures but there were bubbles rising intermittently from my swim and I was certain a crucian might well slip up. The bottom of this swim must have been different, that or the tench feed differently here as I wasn't getting any tench fizz at all but every forty minutes or so I would receive a very tentative bite, that every time seemed to be a crucian , but always resulted in a screaming reel and a chunky tench battling it out with me all over the swim.

I might not have been getting anywhere near the target for the day but as far as I am concerned catching tench on a float close in is about as much fun as you can have on this fair isle on a day like this in my opinion. The condition of these fish as well is a credit to Godlaming Angling society as everyone is perfect and fighting fit, which considering the popularity of Marsh farm is a real feat. The size of the fish I was catching was pretty mind boggling too, with an average of four pounds plus and some easily over six pounds. Even without any crucians involved just travelling down to Marsh Farm is certainly worth it when fish like this are on offer all over the complex.

I never did catch that crucian from Marsh farm, but a few days later I was back on the crucian hunt in my home county of Warwickshire. This time I was fishing the lunar scape crater that is Snitterfield reservoir. Traditionally Snitters, as many people call it, holds a stock of old stalwart crucians that have lingered in its depths for years. A little while ago the controlling LAA began a stocking program. At first a few native fish were extracted and a small number of young born of them were released along with their parents back into the pool, but more recently an injection of new blood was added and batch of spritely newbies were added and I was keen to go back and see what was going on with the crucian population. 

Having heard of large bags of crucians being caught I was hoping it wouldn't prove hard to tap into the golden vein. Snitters never changes much apart from the fish populations which seems to go up every year. I used to use maggots when fishing here but nowadays maggots can't even get halfway down to the bottom there's that many fish. Unusually this venue has a habit of producing small tench. These tiny bars of soap were introduced along with the most recent crucians, but unlike other venues where small tench just disappear until they are over a pound, these tiny green menaces have been caught constantly since stocking. The little buggers do great impressions of crucian carp by giving tiny lift bites and circling fights. Between the tench and the silvers I couldn't keep a bait in the water long enough for a crucian to find it.

I persisted though and pushed on fishing through the tiny tench and silvers until finally not long before I had to leave the float did a little lift and I struck into a lovely little crucian that was quite literally ten times smaller than the last one I caught, but certainly was the speck of gold I'd been after.

Pushing my luck.

It didn't really occur to me that I was pushing my luck a bit going out fishing until I was already ensconced in staring at a sliver of glowing fiberglass a few feet of a reed bed. It was as my mind came out of visualising the events I hoped were going on under the waters glassy surface that I remembered we were going on holiday the following morning and maybe I should be packing or something rather than pursing ghosts on the reservoir. As I had already crossed a good proportion of the county to get here and spent half an hour tearing every sprig of weed out of the area I was fishing using my new weed rake, it seemed foolish to leave straight away. With an early exit firmly in mind, I set about concentrating on the orange tip of my Drennan antenna float close to the reeds and waited for it to make the slightest movement up or down.

Although the bottom of the area I had raked off was liberally covered in very expensive ground bait and a few speckles of corn, I was supplementing that with regular sprinkles of fresh casters. It was this regular feeding which I felt sure attracted the initial slew of nice perch which in this deep clear water give a magnificent account of themselves, fighting hard and deep at first then slowing as the reach the surface. Five or six of these colourful little predators took my triple caster bait as it fluttered onto the deck.

Once the perch capture petered off I knew something a bit feistier was soon on the cards. The first over exaggerated lift was somehow missed but the second more subtle lift of the float was subsequently struck and connected with a savage fish which tore the swim apart. Only a little male tench went this mad and as predicted the culprit did turn out to be a young male full of vim and vigor.

The swim took a good while to settle down after the first fish had made such a fuss. It was nearly an hour before the fish to drifted back in again. The signs were very slight at first, with the float rising a little here and dipping a little there. It seemed most of what I was seeing was probably accidental contact as the fish moved around the swim with tails and fins knocking the line. But being as I was hoping for a crucian carp I did strike at a couple of delicate lifts just in case, but that just resulted in nothing. Trying to hit those early signs of movement on the float proved thankless, so I began waiting a bit longer until both of the yellow lines below the orange tip of the float rose out of the water. The next positive rise was struck and made contact with a very angry tench which really pushed my outfit to the limit and as per normal turned out to be another male.

As the clock ticked down on my session another small tench was landed before I struck into what had to of been a rare carp. One moment I was watching the float wobble a bit, the next line was stripping off my reel far too quickly for my liking. I am not sure how wide this water is, but given that I only had a hundred meters of line on my reel I really didn't fancy seeing if it was more than a hundred meters to the other side. With little to no choice I applied the brakes a bit more and wound down on the clutch. Not long after that the line went at the hook link knot. The suspected carp had cleared the swim upon exiting it and with no time to wait for it to rejuvenate, I packed away whilst it was still light and headed back home to apologize for going fishing rather than getting packing.

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.

Poor relations #2

I've never been particularly inclined to spend much time at Leamington Angling Association Jubilee pools. I think the reason for this solely lies in the hands of the constant melee that rolls over daily on the larger island pool. I have fished there in the past but truthfully, the incessant spodding and casting of the resident carp anglers proves very distracting to me. The result is I have never been enamoured with the island pool or its poor relation, horseshoe pool, either. But saying that, the possibility of a decent rudd lured me back to check out the smaller horseshoe pool which nestles amongst the trees behind the island pool.

As far as I can remember I have only ventured onto this pool once many years ago and on that occasion I caught one single fish which just turned out to be one of the largest carp in the pool. Since then though it's been totally off my radar, until I started looking for rudd.

When I had a wander round a few weeks ago on the way home from another session, it looked a lot better than I remembered. Shrouded almost entirely with trees, the water was clear and weed beds could be easily seen. It took a little while for me to get round to going back but when I did I was back with a float rod and a load of casters, corn and ground bait.

My plan was to begin by finding a clear spot and initially bait up with a couple of balls of ground bait. Then I would regularly feed casters and corn over the top to try and draw fish in then up in the water, with the ultimate aim to try and catch the rudd shallow as the hook bait dropped through the water. Well that was the plan anyway...

If there's any fish that's going to distract me from a plan its tench, and my swim was paved with them. I never even bothered trying to bring the fish up in water, the tench fishing was that good. Literally in just under three hours that I had to fish, I caught over thirty tench ranging from two pounds up to five.

It was a bit of a shock really because I never knew this was such an exceptional tench water. Every single fish I caught was in perfect condition and fought so hard that I quickly had to scale up hook link to prevent breakages. I have chased tench all over the Midlands for a fair old amount of time now and I reckon I know a good tench water when I see one. So it is the absolute truth when I say that given the environment and the condition of the tench in this pool, I think that in the next five years horseshoe pool at Jubilee will be one the best tench venues in the Midlands. 

Something that did not go unnoticed as I was hoiking out tench after tench was the parade of big carp circling the edge of the pool. It was plain to see that in the middle of the two large bodies of water either side of the spit were large groups of carp being targeted by a few chaps. Those fish though looked to be mainly five to ten pounds with the occasional bigger fish amongst them. In the margins though, the fish were a different stamp altogether; everyone was a double or bigger, and some of them were proper wide back grey submarines.

A little known secret I like to keep under wraps is that I am a closet carper. It's something I keep under tight control as I know should I give into my carper urges then I'd find myself going full blown carp crazy, and I  have neither time nor money to follow such an endeavour, so its best kept on the back burner. Very occasionally though I give in to my carpy urges and pull out a carp rod just to satisfy it, and seeing those big old submarines on such close quarters seemed the perfect opportunity.

So a few days later I came back to again fish for the tench again, but this time I brought along my nine foot Nash dwarf rod to fish in the clear spots peppering the margins for those carp. Before even setting out my stall I baited a perfect looking clear spot to the left of my swim with a few pellets and a handful of corn which I'd pepped up with a dusting of krill powder. Next I carefully placed an in line bolt rig with a short fluro carbon hook link baited with three grains of corn on the spot, before delicately sinking the line along the edge of the marginal bushes so as not to spook any fish over the spot. Then I set the rod up on an bite alarm with the line hanging slack.

I'd no sooner turned around to sort out my gear when the alarm beeped quietly, the rod bent round and a carp shot out into the pool sending the reel into overdrive. The fight was savage and I knew this was not one of the little fish from the middle of the lake. It took a bit of subduing but the little 2.25lb dwarf rod took everything the carp could throw at, even when it repeatedly dived under a bush to the right of the swim. In the end a long lean common went into the net. It didn't look that big in the water but when I lifted it up onto the mat I realised it was basically the same length as my large fox predator spoon net and a low double.

After such an instant reaction from the circling carp I quickly concluded that putting out the tench rod might prove prohibitive. So I decided to concentrate on just keeping back away from the edge of the swim whilst fishing the single margin rod, which already had more carp back on the spot. I waited for the current residents to move off before repositioning my re baited rig on the hard gravel and then topped up the area with a handful of pellets and corn. Every so often more carp would drift in and dip down to suck up a few free offerings. When two carp moved in side by side I was sure I was going to get a take. Both were commons though one was much smaller than the other and in that situation I knew the smaller of the two would end up hooked. Saying that, after a crazy run and really hard fight, the smaller fish which had taken my bait still turned out to be a scraper double.

The last fish had caused quite a disturbance so it took some time for the swim to calm down. In that quiet time the tench drifted in over the weed and sank down to clear out the spot. I watched five fish around two to three pounds clear up nearly all the freebies whilst mockingly eating around my bait. It wasn't until they too drifted away that a single much larger tench ghosted in, instantly saw my lone bait and sucked it in before rocking back, where the full weight of the lead pulled the hook into its bottom lip and it instantly shot off in panic.

The clear spot was now devoid of bait and fish of any species, but I was sure topping it back up with more free offerings would soon draw more attention quickly. So once again I repositioned the rig and scattered more pellets and corn over the top. It did take a while, but soon I spotted a large dark grey fish lingering in under the cover of the bank side bushes. The first time it passed over the spot only slowing a little to acknowledge the bait,  and then I watched it drift out and circle back under the bush. This fish kept very tight to the cover and I could barely see its head peeping out, but I could see the clear water clouding up as it sucked in mouthfuls and blew out unwanted gravel. I knew the run was coming and it quickly did as the fish felt the prick of the hook and bolted in panic out from the margin.

This one was a much different fish altogether. After the initial panic and charge it turned into a heavy a plodding fight. It kept well away from the margins and the snags and circled around deep down out in the open water. My little nine foot dwarf rod was bent right over under the pressure but slowly the fish tired and little by little I came towards the waiting net. When I first saw it I knew it was stunning apple slice mirror.

How I would have loved a trophy shot of this lovely near twenty pounder, but as this was a bit of an impromptu carp session and I only had a small unhooking mat and with no one to help out I decided to play it safe and think of the fishes safety, so I just got a quick mat shot on this occasion.

A couple of days later I dropped back for a couple of hours after work and baited the same spot and three others along the same bank. This time I was fully kitted out with a proper sized unhooking mat and a 36" landing net. This time I didn't bother with the bit e alarm as I wanted to move between swims constantly. The weather had cooled a little and the carp seemed to be a little further out than on previous sessions. I kept moving carefully in and out of the swims checking the baited areas for feeding carp until I noticed the first of the spots I'd baited was now occupied.

Once again I watched until the fish drifted off and then I carefully placed my rig at the edge of the clear baited area and scattered a few more freebies around it. I sat back behind some cover on top of my mat with the rod lying on the ground next to me. Through my polaroids I watched a few fish move in and out quickly from the left hand side of the swim. After they disappeared I turned to see a long common moving intently in from the right had side. It never paused for a moment before dipping down and starting to tear up the bottom. Only a moment later the rod skidded across the ground with the free spool spinning. The initial run was as savage as ever but the weight of the fish seemed heavy, like the apple slice mirror of a few days before. This one fought for ages though not giving me an inch all the way to the cord of the net. It turned out to be another fish just less than twenty pounds and this one had a tail bigger than my hand which helped to explain its crazy power.

That fish released, I spent the next two or so hours chasing fish around the swims. I had a few dropped runs and plenty of spooked of fish in the shallower swims I'd baited. The session ended on a frustrating note though when I located a pair of very nice fish feeding on some bait I'd put tight to a weed bed. I patiently waited for them to move off long enough for me to get the rig in the water, but it never happened. Soon some smaller fish clocked what was going on and moved in. In no time at all there were ten or more smaller carp tearing the spot up and churning up the bottom until the entire swim was clouded. I did try putting a bait in amongst them, but there was actually to many fish in the swim bumping into the line. The final view was kind of good though, when one of the fish felt the line catch in its fin or something and it shot off sending every fish in the swim off in all directions like a star burst of panicked carp. Now with all the baited spots cleaned out and the carp gone it seemed the perfect end to the session, and I headed for home satisfied with another fun carp stalking session on Horseshoe pool.

In honour of others joy.

At Napton reservoir there are those who fish for carp, those who fish for tench and then there are those who pretend to fish for tench but are really hoping for something much rarer. I think the reason that those of us who pretend to fish for tench but are really after something else persist with this ruse is simple; we would be categorized as mental by others or even think ourselves mad if we admitted we were after crucian carp. 

Napton is rife with tench no matter what anyone says; literally at times you would think the bottom was paved green. Once a friend of mine, Pete, said he fished 24hrs for them and literally caught something stupid like over a hundred fish. Conversely the crucian numbers in Napton could probably be counted on a single human's fingers and toes, which in a water of its size makes them the proverbial needle in a haystack. They are the ghosts of the lake as far as I am concerned and quite often their presence seems more rumour than truth. Over the years I've heard whispers on the bank that there is little more than fifteen of them in residence and no one seems to know when or if they were stocked. I even spoke to a chap well in his sixties who said he used to catch them when he first fished the lake as a young man. Things like this seem to indicate that this small group of crucians could be very old and if what I have read is true they are quite capable of living this long. How old they are aside, catching one of these ghosts takes time. Keith off of Warks Avon is quoted as saying it took him over forty years to catch one and look what it did to him...

 ...Considering how lucky he is catching target fish then that means we normal lucked folk are in for a long wait!

It had started as any normal Napton session would; arriving very early, struggling to get a level seat position and the wind blowing in my face. This time Andy had joined me and was set up down the bank. I actually ended up back in the swim I'd fished the week before with the ripple coming onto my own bank and even though the conditions were due to deteriorate throughout the morning, the fish it seemed were on the feed. 

The tench were having it and my score with the hard fighting red eyed demons of this lake was soon settled. By fishing my usual fine tackle over a bed of Bait-Tech super G ground bait laced with casters and corn, the float soon lifted. I don't know whether I'd forgotten how hard tench in general fight or whether these particular fish are a just hard fighters, but every one hooked certainly tested the gear to its limits and more in a few cases. Disappointingly the first fish I landed had some very severe damage to its mouth from either being tethered to a rig or being mistreated by some heartless angler who consider them trash fish. Either way the matter of how the tench are being treated by certain types of anglers fishing the lake will be raised next time I see an official from the new controlling club.

Although the rain came in soaking me to the bone, the tench sport just got better and better through the morning and fish of all sizes were continuously moving into the swim and rolling all around the area of the lake we were fishing. Some were old warriors and others, like this one, looked perfect as if they had never been caught before. Seeing these younger, cleaner examples seems to indicate new fish are coming through and the future of the Napton tench fishing looks good.

Somewhere in the rain the session changed in a big way when Andy breathlessly shrieked he had a crucian on. I shit you not, from down the bank I could see a grown man shaking as he repeatedly said "Please don't come off." When that net lifted around that bar of gold you'd have thought that Andy had just scored the winning try for England at the Rugby World Cup. I don't think I have ever seen him so happy with a capture and I have to say I was over the moon for him as it was the most stunning old creature I have ever laid eyes on.

It wasn't his biggest ever crucian but I think it was possibly the best he'd ever caught, and why shouldn't it be when he's been trying for ten years to catch one of these Napton Ghosts. All I can say it well done mate, you deserve it.

Really that should have been the perfect way to end this post, but I could not not include this string of shots I took of Andy releasing the fish back into the clear water, as it is simply the best group of photos I have ever taken, and what is shocking is that I used my camera phone to get them!

Off she goes.

The Lake #29 Some serious green.

It was still humid and hot and the sun only just still lit the lake as I watched a shoal of rudd nervously lipping at the surface. From nowhere a near two foot wide section of water right on the edge of the shoal just disappeared like a massive plug had just been pulled under it on the bottom of the lake, which was followed by a massive swirl. At first I couldn't fathom what I had just seen and instantly my float became forgotten as I stared intently as the shoal reformed. Obviously a large predator of some kind had just hit the shoal of rudd, but the attack just seemed different, strange in some way.
It took a while to happen again and before it did the shoal had done several turns around the swim. But as I hoped it might, once again a second hole appeared in the smooth surface of the water and this one was followed by a vortex , a swirl and the momentary view of an unmistakable tail! It was the sight of that tail which drew me back to the bank of the lake as soon as possible and this time I was proper tooled up!

I was in no rush as I leisurely set up sitting on my bed under the trees, as what I was hunting for is largely associated with the night and I still had a few hours till dusk. It was good I wasn't rushing as it gave me time to check and recheck my rigs and knots were up to the job. The Eagle wave hooks were spine tingly sharp as I ran them over my nail, the 60lb Dacron hook link and knots stood up to being pulled as hard as I could pull them and the knot that secured my 20lb line to the swivel was so good that the line wrapped around my sleeve covered hand I swear began cutting through the material of my jumper.

I was ready to go and I'd thought about this long and hard. I knew it was a sizable catfish I'd seen hunting in the margin a few nights ago and I wanted in on that action. Seeing it surface feeding had drawn my to use a dumbbell rig to suspend a bait off the bottom. But the only cat I had ever caught from this pool came to a bottom bait and that made me think my second rig had to be on the deck. The summer rules forced me to fish a massive load of worms as my suspended bait and as it was a fishy bait that tempted that first cat, I ladled in some very heavily scented munga to help attract a night prowling moggie to my two 30mm donkey chokers that was fishing on the bottom.

It was actually hard to get to sleep as I was quite excited about the night ahead. But somehow I did manage to drift off just as dark crept in as I lay stewing in the scent of some weapons grade mozzie repellant. The night it turned out was fitful. All night I was getting liners on my bottom bait rod and I knew it would probably be a shoal of bream mopping me out and that it would only be a matter of time before one got the monster pellets into its cake hole.

I only had to get up a couple of times in the night, once to deal with a foul hooked bream that was only just maturing from silver to brown. The only other real action of the night was the single bit of interest was that my six lobworms drew. Around 2am I had a definite proper pull on that line which caused the buzzer to signal a slow take which suddenly stopped. I did check the bait only to find three of the worms severed in half which I suspect may have been done by an eel.

Considering all the disturbances from my sounder box hanging above my head I actually got quite a good nights kip. So when the sun began to rise I was up and moving around. All had been quite for the last few hours of dark but as I stood rubbing the sleep from my eyes the bottom bait rod again sounded another liner. It was that liner that caused me to look through the light summer mist towards my baited area, and what I saw changed the game in a big way!

I had thought that before getting to bed I might have a go with a float rod, but the disturbance I had made chucking in bait put me off. Now though I was scrabbling to get that float rod set up. The swim looked like it had a pot full of alkaseltzers chucked in it. There was tench fizzing all over the area and they were really getting their heads down judging by the frequency of the rising patches of bubbles. Slowly and carefully I teased the heavy lead out of the swim before also removing the second rod just in case.

With the rig set a little over depth I cast the float out into the mist and drew it back onto the fish. The float was warning me by way of a myriad of dips and sways that there was quite a few fish moving around, and it wasn't long till I got my first bite. Nothing quite wakes you up as striking into a good fish and it ripping of like a marlin in the mist. This fish really went for it in the shallow water and was fighting harder than anything else I have caught from the lake in a long time. I took it very easy on the fish playing it lightly on the clutch as it again surged off and eventually it came towards my sunken net Just as I lifted the handle hard the fish rolled and I saw a black flank. The whole fight I was convinced I had a tench on but now with me capture hidden by the folds of my oversized net I was unsure of what I had just netted.

All was explained when I pulled up the net and revealed what the mysterious black beast was. Turns out it was a tench and a big old male as well, hence the hard fight. In the water it did look black but on the mat I could see that it was actually dark green fading into black.

Several years ago I caught a similar almost black fish from another estate lake and I even heard tell of a fish from the same lake years ago that was red. This fish was a real old warrior and as well as it unusual colouring had some of the most prominent pelvic bones I've ever seen on a tench. Kneeling down holding it in the water it occurred to me that this could be the grandfather of all the tench I have been catching lately and it was real pleasure to see the old gent cruise of back into the lake and to his harem.

I'd no sooner dried my hands after releasing the first fish that I looked up to see the spot was still very obviously getting hammered by the tench. I was straight back on it like white on rice and within minutes I had an odd sliding bite which I struck and felt a fish before it was gone. That was no bother though as they seemed still in a frenzy and were undeterred by any fuss I'd just caused.

The next fish I didn't miss, but it did send probably every resident of the swim scattering. It went instantly out of the swim before turning and hammering straight through the still feeding fish. In the shallow water the result was obvious. I reckon I saw at least ten other fish bow wave off in every direction as the hooked fish barged through them. Moments later I had the smallest tench of the season in my net and half laughing I did curse her for ruining my swim or so I thought!

I decided to take a chance and introduce the little bit of ground bait I had left whilst the swim was quiet. Simply I put four more loosely squeezed balls that I knew would smash on entry onto the spot. Knowing it might be a while before anything came back in I began breaking camp so I could get home and have bath before I had to be at work. The shelter was down and the barrow was half loaded before I looked up to see tench fizz once again appearing on the outer limits of my baited area.

Judging by the individual patches of bubbles I reckoned that there was four or more fish creeping back in quite tight line. Not wanting to cast a bait right onto them I quickly dropped what I was doing and grabbed the rod again. I managed to get the bait in place before they came right onto the spot and now it was just a case of waiting and hoping one of them would pick up my hook bait from amongst the freebies.

Soon enough they slowly moved in sending hundreds of tiny bubbles up as they methodically moved across the bait. I knew something was about to happen when the float began swaying from side to side. I was so in tune to what was going on that I was all over it when the float began to rise, so much so in fact that I struck before the quill even began to fall over as the fish lifted the small weight off the bottom. There was no savage run just solid resistance and slight thumping. The fish swung out to the left banging its head like a bream before the rod took a serious bend. The fish felt big and I was sure it was a tench but the fight was laboured and heavy. The culprit took little line from the spool really and just kept swinging from one side to another banging its head. Then when it swirled towards the surface the amount of water is shifted was epic. Time and time again as I drew it closer it just dived down causing massive areas of disturbed water before it finally rolled over and big yellow mouth and red eye popped up. Good as gold it slid into the massive net I had submerged in the edge. I did that thing we all do when you get something special in the net and lifted the net to draw the fish up whilst sticking my head in it and what I saw got my heart thumping even more than it had been before.

I thought it looked big in the water, then out out of the water it seemed even bigger. It was generally a large fish across the shoulders and in length, but this was easily the fattest tench I had ever seen before and straight away I knew where this was going. I was so careful with her as she looked like one of those fish that without the neutralising effects of water supporting her she was quite uncomfortable. I worked as fast as I could to get everything done and confirmed before finally I lifted up her awkward bulk to get a few quick photos of the largest tench I have ever been lucky enough to hold and a new PB which amazingly and to my joy was caught on a lift float.  

The Lake #26 Bookended tench.

I had watched them feed from quite close up only days ago so I knew where they were. For hours I studied the knocking lily pads and patches of fizz that rose as they perused morsels of the lake bed. At first it had all seemed to be the random movements of  multiple tench which I suspected were in the area. As always though time told, and after two dawns and two dusks when I was unable to fish for them but could watch them, I was able to decipher a definite patrol route. It wasn't a big patrol either considering the size of the lake. Starting at the north end of the little circuit they were making, the tench seemed to be moving in small groups along the shallow margin sending up puffs of coloured water as they did, till they arrived at the start of the lily pads. Immediately as they came to the lily's, the first three pads on the corner leaves would knock and signal their arrival. Then they seemed to move away from the shelter of the lily's and track along them about two feet out. As they came to the gap in the lily bed all noticeable evidence of their presence stopped until they again came along side the next jutting patch of pads. The next stretch of lily pads was the biggest on the route and most times the fish lingered here a while sending up tempting signs that they might be feeding beyond the covering of round leaves. Slowly the groups would move out and at the very last pad turn and come back into the margin where I could actually see them sometimes. After that they seemed to cut diagonally across to the nearest reed bed before moving out of sight only to reappear fizzing along maybe twice as far out as they had before. It took me a bit of careful plumbing up to figure that they were following a very slight marginal shelf back from the southernmost point of the patrol up to the north where they would begin all over again.

Three days it took me to put all that information together as it wasn't just one lot of fish moving around the route. I'd tried to count as best as I could but the most I'd seen within a small space of time was nine possible tench. Knowing where they were was only half the solution as they did seem to be feeding as they went, but judging by the lack of interest the two carp anglers had got in the days they were pitched up in front of the paroling fish with a margin rod each, these tench weren't into big baits at all.

I am sure JB noticed me drifting off into la la land pondering my move over the following few days, though if she did she was good enough to not mention my mooning. The biggest problem was the general shallowness of the areas in question. I had thought about targeting the slightly deeper back run they took to get back to the northern end. The problem here was that I had already discounted using even light bottom rigs as the random patches of weed sprouting from the bottom would only mean a line cutting through the swim somewhere and so a float rig seemed the better option. But the light float rig stood no chance being fished on the further line due to the excessive filamentous algae blowing up the lake which would destroy my patience very easily.

It had to be the close in line and it had to be one either end of the patrol that I would fish. That way if I did hook one I had at least half the water in front of me open so as I had some area so play the fish on the light tackle. As for bait it was to be a sparing affair. Corn struck me as a bit too obvious in the shallow water and maggots wouldn't linger on the bottom long enough to attract their attention. Casters though were light enough to sit on top of any silk weed and a little helping of pungent but unobtrusive ground bait, should lure them down.

Three days after leaving I was back again at first light. Just about the only thing moving on the bank was the bloated mosquitoes returning from their night raids on Bivvy's along the bank. The dawn chorus was under way and as I carefully took the short cut across the top of the giant rabbit warren on the slope down to the lake I did spy a couple of pars of long ears and the odd white tail before they shot back down some hidden hole. The lake was flat calm with wisps of mist rising off it but as yet no fish dappled the surface. Although I walked through many pegs I only stopped once to admire the cadged orchid that had popped out of it's chicken wire prison and now was beginning to flower freely above. 

I knew even if I saw something tempting as I tracked along under the trees that I wouldn't stop, as I only had one area in mind. One of the carp anglers still remained where he had pitched up seven days prior at the south end of the patrol route. The north was free and this was were I crept down to the bank. Not wanting to create to much of a disturbance I had brought my pole and pole cup along for some stealthy baiting. In the full light of day I wouldn't consider sticking an alien shadow over the shallow swim, but in the half light I knew it should go unseen. Three pots of fine uncompressed ground bait with a good helping of casters as well before I retreated back to the trees to watch and wait.

The rod was barely assembled when the first fizz broke the surface. With the baited spot on a clear gravel patch not two rod lengths out now undeniably occupied I tried my very best to quietly get as close to the only bit of cover available. There was no need to for plumbing as I had noted the various depths of the areas and so all I had to was slide the thin peacock quill two inches above the second ring of my rod. Now all I had to do was cast! The first cast went no where, it was as if something was hampering the line coming of the spool. Still trying to keep hidden checked the entire set-up only to find the line going around the rod at the join between the two sections. A quick twist and I was ready to try again. This time the pea sized ball of rig putty dragged the line and float just beyond the target clear patch and all I had to do was hold back whilst lifting the rod to get the bait spot on target.

Immediately the float was signalling all the right things from the bottom of the lake to the surface. Twice the float slid side ways as something slowly brushed against the line. Now I just needed to do was wait for that proper bite to occur whilst ignoring the multitude of knocks and taps. Then perfectly the float did a couple of nervous bobs before lifting up and falling to the side.

It was like a mine had gone of under my float! The water just seemed to grow in mass before a bow wave shot out from it. If that wasn't shocking enough the instant commotion caused several other fish to bolt out of the shallow water all heading in different directions. Any fish that finds itself hooked in little depth goes berserk and this tench was no different. It made four or more savage runs out towards the centre of the lake and me holding the rod low and trying to stop it reaching the weed beds just made it swirl on the top. For the sake of any fish I caught Id purposely brought a particularly long landing net along so as pulling capture into the inch deep edge could be avoided and soon enough I slipped my first lovely Coombe tench into my over extended net.

With all the disturbance I honestly thought not a single fish would still be patrolling and the sun was about to be the wrong side of the trees so it was unlikely I would get a second chance. So happy with my capture I resolved to leave it alone for the day, but not after rebating all along the patrol route with a return the following morning in mind.

The World Cup put pay to an early start so it was evening before I found myself marching back to the prebaited area. I knew all the bait would be long gone, but hopefully the fish would have committed the smell of it to memory. The bank was deserted with even the carp anglers seven day vigil over, so rather than go back to the swim at the north of the patrol I instead opted for the southern turn. Fishing here closer to the lily bed would enable me in the bright sun to again use the pole pot to bait up accurately using the cover of the pads to mask it looming over the swim.

Almost right on cue I spotted signs of movement further down the pads just as the sun began to drop towards the horizon sending shadows half way over the lake.  I didn't wait to for signs of feeding on this occasion as I wanted my bait in place before anything turned up to feed. The tench began fizzing right on cue about three feet along the lily line from my float and it was an agonising watching the patches of tiny bubble rising intermittently ever closer to my bait. Then once again my float rose from the water just after a massive fizz clouded around it. I never waited for a millisecond before lifting the rod swiftly up to my left in the vain hope it would head away from the snags. Heaven be praised, it went the right way and straight away I was up leaning out with the rod at full stretch trying to stop it heading round the corner. This fish did one massive hard run before turning round rolling on the top and coming to the bank like a aged bream. I thought at first maybe it was just a little fish that had gone mad until an open mouth and red eye appeared round the reeds  then I saw its fin and flank, but then it just kept on coming into sight. This was one of the longest tench I have ever seen and although the angle I was holding it at in this self take doesn't show it very well, it was as long as I am wide.

As with the session before, the commotion caused by hooking a fish in shallow water caused any others to disappear. Though this time they melted away rather than stampeded off like the last time and then I to like the fish packed up and melted away home. Right now I find myself satisfied by just catching just one decent fish at a time and given that every bite counts on this lake it kind of makes a little sense walking away after such a catch rather than hanging around wanting to catch a bag load and whining when it doesn't happen.

But before I left I once again deposited all the bait I had left along the patrol route knowing full and well it wouldn't be long before I was back again...