Old gold - part two

Should I go or shouldn't I bother was the question that bounced back and forth in my mind. It had been a busy weekend so far though; swimming lessons with BB early Saturday followed by breakfast in the pub with dad club, then a couple of stops on the way home before the true madness began. Being more of a fan of grubbing round near water than of formal occasions, getting glammed up for one of my brother's weddings was always going to a stressful occasion. Add to that the high temperatures and a three year old sans nap and you've got a rare heady brew. The wedding went well but never underestimate how tiring it is chasing an over excited child and his cousins around a country house in the mid summer heat. 

The next day was no cooler and our sanity came into question as we wandered around with the hordes at Jefferson Gardens 'Art in the Park'. By three pm I was in full doubt of whether it was even worth going out. I felt sure this heat would have the rudd in a frenzy to which they've been rather prone in these conditions. So straight away I knew it would be a last hour job but was it worth it in this heat...all the insects would be having a field day and no doubt the local kids would be swimming in the ressie in this heat, trying their best to make the evening news with their belligerent stupidity...'Bollocks to it', I thought-I had to make the effort if I wanted the prize. Even if I only fished for an hour or two it might be worth it!

I couldn't believe it when I arrived; there was no-one there bar a carp angler and a chap hidden in the reeds down the other end. I had kind of thought I'd arrive to a full car park and all the best swims taken, but here I was with the choice of every swim we'd been baiting up and the only thing effecting my choice was the conditions. Choice is the worst thing in these situations! I had four swims in mind and they all looked equally great. I decided to take my time in choosing, plonked my gear down on the path between the swims and began wandering back and forth between them, wearing my new Fortis glasses hoping something might come to light. 

It turned out half an hour just watching was the best thing to do. One of the swims had noticeably less rudd swimming round in it and that alone is an advantage at this time of year. I stood under a tree watching the water for a while and as I did, something big and golden rolled at the end of the reed bed I was watching. I couldn't decide if it was a big rudd or a crucian, but it was enough to get me fetching the gear to this swim and watching a bit more. Then again I saw another flash of gold as something big rolled further out. Now every time I have seen a crucian at Napton I have caught a crucian and to me it's a sign that they are up for it and all I have to do is get a bait in the right spot. This fish, be it rudd or crucian, seemed to be moving away from the swim I was in. That was it decided; the gear was on the move again before even setting up, to the swim at the opposite end of the small reed bed, thinking they might be going that way.

Fifteen minutes later and I was set up, plumbed up, the ground bait was down and the trap was set. Then the nightmare began. Every time my corn hook bait entered the water the mass of ravenous rudd descended on it, hammering it away before it reached the bottom. My only choice was to employ the loaf of bread I had bought along to pull in the hundreds of ducks that seemed to push the rudd away momentarily, buying enough time for me to carefully drop the bait in place.

Time was ticking away quickly and the rudd were doing there damned best to ruin this session. I wouldn't have minded but the majority of the rudd in my swim were around an ounce too two ounce in weight. I'd be happy with a few big ones here or there but this lot were just pike bait and were basically ruining my chance to actually fish effectively. The rudd went at it constantly the whole session but somehow I managed to get enough hook baits down to the bottom to root out a load of the small younger tench that have appeared recently, as well as a couple of very nice four pounders which had moved in under the rudd madness above.

Having spent so much time at Napton of late I have literally become a human sun dial and can pretty accurately tell at least how much more time I have left to fish. With the sun nearing the dam end of the lake I knew I had forty five minutes to an hour to fish before my gaudy float tip began to blend into the murk. Thankfully the rudd seemed to have shoved off or at least simmered down and now my float sat motionless protruding from the waters mirror-like surface. As I sat there willing either bubbles to rise or the float to slide away, I saw a disturbance just beyond my float indicating a fish had made a big movement just under the surface. It was as I pondered the culprit that a golden head appeared to the right of my float. It rose from the water in almost slow motion till half the fish was exposed to the warm night air before it did a little roll onto its side and disappeared...In no uncertain terms it was a crucian that head and shouldered by my float and instantly I knew I wasn't going home till I had one.

The moments after seeing that fish were some of the most exciting and joyful of my angling life. Bubbles now dimpled the surface and they were not those made by tench. These individual bubbles the size of peas rose and held on the surface film until three or four more rose around them, then they popped almost audibly. I knew it was going to happen; everything was perfect and then the float stuttered under like some pecking little rudd had made off with my bait. I struck expecting nothing and was surprised by resistance, and hard resistance at that. The fish zipped around just like the small tench had done before it but then began circling, holding deep. I dared not believe as I applied gentle pressure to raise it to the surface, but it did not want to come and it dived back deep sending oily swirls up to the surface. Circling again I applied pressure and somewhere in the depths I saw a huge golden shape through the clear water before it broke the surface, a huge golden slab of crucian carp...

I bent over to stare into the net and could hardly discern it from above, it's colour so well matched my net and the bottom of the lake. I could barely catch my breath after holding it so long and it seemed to be totally out of rhythm with my thumping heart beat. Thinking a moment, I stowed it safely in the margin and prepared a suitable place away from its environment for such special prize. The hook was removed in the net and then I lifted this amazing fish up and it suddenly grew bigger as it turned onto its side. On the mat it was huge, bigger than any other crucian I'd seen firsthand from Napton.

This was it! This was the fish I d had been searching for so long and there it lay in front of me nestled in my net atop my unhooking mat. For so long I have studied the previous captures by myself and other anglers. I collected images of all the caught fish and begun to see the individual traits of each. The repeat offenders have become known and with their identification the obvious signs of predation borne by their fins has saddened me. This fish though was new to my eyes and even though it bears the same wear and tear all of its generation does, it still seems sprightly. So long have I theorized that we haven't seen truly how big these fish could grow in this water and again and again I have spouted ideas that bigger fish still could remain un-captured in such a large water and now here I was with the crucian of my dreams in my hands, my heart again thumping, finding myself unable to stop smiling at the sight of such a resplendent fish.

Well this is it, the end of a crucian quest for another year. Going back after more would only serve to taint such a wonderful experience so it's best I think to let the sun set on this campaign knowing full and well that this winters dreams need to be of even bigger ones if they're to draw me back again next year. That's not to say though that I won't go back for a few sessions here and there at Napton, as I have seen a few nice tench rolling during my summer on its banks and of course there is the matter of those roach and pike which could do with addressing in colder climes.

Old gold - part one.

Obsession has been my fuel the past hazy few months as the country has burnt crispy in the incessant heat of June, July and August. This obsession was born long ago and it's something I ruminate on traditionally over the long cold winter planning for the summer months. You see I think I am inclined as an individual to always dream of the seasons to come for some reason. For example, when it's hot I dream of cold crisp mornings and winter fishing for chub or pike; whereas on a cold winter day when I can't feel my hands I cannot help but think of baking hot days and summer fishing for tench and crucians. I don't know whether it's because I am a natural dreamer or whether it is simply because I am English that makes me like this. Whatever the reason, I know that this winter just past I dreamt of nothing but massive ancient old crucian carp. So much so that I feel sure that if telekinetic power is real then I cleared several spots of debris ready for fishing in summer through January alone just by thinking about them as much as I did.

I suppose that if you are reading this then by now you'll have a good idea of where this is going and what I have been doing since the start of this season and you'll have realized that by 'old gold' I mean the few rarest of fish that inhabit Napton reservoir. The whole situation seems this year to have been intensified by my failure last year to bank even one of those precious crucians I so much desire and seeing others catch one here or there was a very bitter sweet experience indeed.

The start of my obsessive campaign was an odd one as not long in I actually caught a crucian carp and quite a big one at that. But this elating experience left me in a unexpected position of target achieved very quickly. It was at this point when I suddenly found myself thinking, do I just leave it here and go and do something else, or do I actually take that as a win and follow the path of obsession for the summer and try for more. Even after catching my target so quickly it seemed too much of an anti climax to walk away at this point and even knowing how fruitless the summer might be crucian wise I made my decision to go with it and continue to obsess, safe in the knowledge that I had already caught and therefore could not fail from this point on. So with a crucian in the bag I went headlong onto this campaign to try and catch another crucian carp from Napton and thus spent most of my summer watching a float bobbing around in the clear margins of this moody venue.

I think that the fact that I adore tench fishing, love catching them on a float even more and that they are most of what you catch in this venue is a rather happy coincidence for me, and this tends to keep me pretty occupied as I angle after a crucian carp throughout the summer months. How many tench I have caught over the last three months or so is unknown. If I was to say on a bad session catching two or three might be about right and on a good day ten to fifteen is quite common, then I am sure it would be about right. I suppose therefore given the shear amount of sessions I have done this year then hundreds of tench have fought hard in the margins under my bent rod.

I have grown to love my 15' Greys Toreon rod so much this summer

I must have seen every sort of tench that swims in this water, from big females to tiny males. Happily I can say it seems that Naptons tench populations are in a very healthy state; even with some of the older fish looking a bit battle scarred there are loads of pound plus fish both home grown and stockies coming through to replace them.

One of the best captures of this campaign has to be a huge male tench, which along with looking quite young and very fancy with his huge fins, weighed in at close to six pounds. Now although I've always thought that old tome that female tench grow to twice the size of males to be a little of an over exaggeration, I do know that females grow bigger and this could point to there being some near double figure tench produced from this venue in the future.

Just recently I sat fishing at Napton and I spent some time trying to calculate the numbers of mornings, days and evenings I have spent at there. It took some time and brought back memories of all sorts of things, from seeing the otter chasing all the birds off the water, right through to the guy who thought the goose shit crusted banks were the best place to woo his lady. I've driven the country lanes so many times that I reckon my car could do it of its own accord. I've seen just about two thirds of the types of weather you can experience up there; from thunder storms to temperatures so hot that the air almost burned going into your mouth. And hand on heart it's been one of the best summers fishing I have had in years. I have thoroughly enjoyed it. Surprising to me as well is that I still feel as obsessed at this point as I did at the start, as the sun set once again on wonderfully tench filled failure of a crucian session.

Catch up part 2 - Tench curse over.

I don't know what it is about me but I always push my luck with the timing when going after some species throughout the year and end up having some kind of mare. You see I had been gagging to catch me some tench but in truth I have wanted to catch them on the float rather than sitting behind rods and buzzers, for which I don't have too much love right now. Three sessions attempting to catch a tench in the margins at Napton on float and caster and the highlight of catching a few hundred average perch was the one male fish who seemed to think his capture was the crescendo of some kind of mating ritual and proceeded to ejaculate all over my right leg, the dirty bugger. Anyway, back on the subject of tench; after watching them rolling at forty yards as the milt dried into my trouser leg I concluded that to break my tench curse before I had to make a libation I would have to give in a pull out the bite alarms, dust off the Avon rods and fling a few feeders to put this tench mare to bed for the year. 

Instead of Napton however I opted to head back to Ryton for a short session, as this water-filled sand pit is always the first venue where the tench get going round these parts. It's been almost a year since I had been back to Ryton and in that time the payment system for the car park had changed, as had the charge making this an expensive club water when combined with the annoying stocking fee charged by the club. Money aside, this is a reliable water for tench and that's what I needed: a session of confidence boosting captures.

Catch fish I did... catch tench I did not! Somewhere in the three hundred and sixty five odd days since I had last fished Ryton my mind had seemingly blanked the fact that this once tench heaven had been ruined by the appearance of generation of bream, so greedy and annoying that even the dedicated carp anglers who seemed to frequent this water have abandoned it to mother nature. Literally those bream might soon be behind the ruin of one of Warwickshire's great tench waters. The dam b$*#%£s eat anything you cast in, and worst of all there is obviously tench still around but the bream just get to your baits first.

After four hours of three pound bream shitting up my gear and scoffing down just about every morsel of bait, I finally got a blinding run which resulted in me being connected to a fish that did not fight like a Tesco bag full of silt. Thank god it turned out to be a lovely beautiful green tench.

Quite literally after I watched that fish swim I reeled in my second rod, packed away my gear and went home to mow the lawn. Yes, I actually voluntarily stopped fishing whilst I still had time to fish and went home to do the garden, and honestly I can't see me going back to Ryton for any serious fishing in the future. 

Little did I know that my next outing after tench would end on a much higher note than my last. This time and with my duck broken I headed back to Napton to try and get back in tune with the tench fish there. On arriving I was met with a joyful sight: British waterways, the CRT or whatever people control the canals, had been pumping dirty muddy water into the clear waters of Napton for a couple of days it would seem and seeing the happy little fishes topping all over the dirty water I thought a good day could be on the cards.

After a quick subtle racking of the swim using my mini stealth rake, which makes little more disturbance than a spod, I was happy that the swim I was about to start fishing was clear of weed and debris. With the water now even cloudier than before I deposited a few loose balls of ground bait laced with casters and corn onto the spot. 

One and a half hours later I was convinced that I had in some way ruined the swim. Maybe the rake, stealthy as it is, was too much or simply the fish weren't comfortable in the new dirty water. Whatever it was they weren't biting. A quick reccy down the bank revealed nobody was fairing any better and rather than make a rash move to another area I opted to sit it out and play out my gamble on raking the swim. My patience paid off when a small patch of bubbles emanated at the back of the raked area. The tench were here and on course for my bait. A few knocks and nudges later and the float rose from the water slowly in a very deliberate manner and a tench was on. In a hectic spell I landed five pristine tench, both males and female between two and five pounds all only two rod lengths out.

Little did I know there was still better to come. I have often said that although outwardly I may essentially look like I am tench fishing at Napton, the fact remains that I always fish here with crucians in mind. By that I mean I fish very sensitive rigs strong enough to stop tench and refined enough to trip up shy and very rare ancient crucians that ghost around this venue driving us a bit mad. Thank god I do always fish this way as not long after watching another tench swim off and recasting my rig I spotted a suspicious flip of fish a bit further out than my float. The last time I saw this sort of thing here I had an absolute red letter day.

The next bite was nothing to shout home about. A small rise in the float preceded a slow slide away and I fully expected to be playing a tench. The fight was different though and I soon suspected a big rudd was the culprit. When I saw a huge dinner plate size golden side roll under the rod tip I in no uncertain terms pooped myself. It was a huge crucian! Luckily there was no fuss and it went into my net quickly before I realised it was hooked by the smallest possible amount of flesh and could have easily come off. But it didn't and as I folded back the net my eyes lit up at the sight that lay before me. The size of these old fish is shocking when you see them out of the water and if it weren't for them being so thin in the back these fish would easily be contenders for the UK record.

The weight though doesn't matter to me, all I cared about is that fact that after all my efforts over the last few years chasing after these wonderfully rare little group of highly prized fish, I am lucky enough to have captured another one and I think my face says it all...

You'd think that having put number five on the bank might have satiated my urges to catch these wondrous fish. Well it hasn't! And in fact the sight of that fabulous fish just serves as fuel to the fires of my desire to catch more. Hence I will be resident for most of the summer at Napton I should think now.

A bit of obsession, preoccupation, mania and addiction.

A little over a year has passed since I found myself in the right place at the right time and fished exactly the right way to realise a dream and bag myself a quartet of Napton's rarest residents. I can recall the memory of that day perfectly in my mind, from the moment I saw the first golden flank roll close to my float and through the frustration of catching tench when I knew the crucians were so close by, then ultimately the panicky joy of netting that first one. Now though I have had a year to ruminate over that day and weirdly, although I should be satisfied by catching four ancient fish in one go, I actually find myself even more eager to catch more. 

Frankly, although outwardly it might seem to even the most informed passerby that I looked as if I were fishing for tench at Napton, the reality is that if I have a float rod out I am always fishing for crucians. You see I believe that unlike the few accidental captures that occur through the year, most possible captures are missed by the shear ridiculous shyness of their bite combined with normally difficult conditions. Because of this I opt to use a sensitive method combined with a selection of identical floats in various sizes. By doing this I believe I can cope with the testing conditions that you can experience at Napton whilst still registering the slightest of bites and thus am satisfied that I will see even the tiniest of bites.

Being able to see their bites aside the reality of actually trying to catch a crucian, or should I say one of the tiny group of old crucians from Napton, falls simply into a category that could be entitled with any of the following; obsession, preoccupation, mania, addiction. Its madness really as it simply is like looking for a needle in a hay stack and Napton is one huge haystack. Now although this is the first time I have written of it this year, the fact is that I can't even recall how many times in the last few weeks I've made that trip across the county and back. What I do know is now when I walk out our front door and JB asks me where I am going and I reply Napton she says "again" and the chap in our local petrol station seems to like me more than ever and greets me with a big smile and a, "back so soon", every time I go in to top up.

Without going to much into to my current obsession, it began on the 16th when the tench were feeling fruity and all I caught was a hundred weight of perch averaging eight ounces and one old carp, which happens to be the first of its type that I have hooked and tamed on my light gear in Napton.

God, if it weren't for the fact that I love catching tench I would be in a bad place right now. Literally I have caught loads of them in every conceivable shape, sex and temperament. I've had them close in and far out. I've caught them when they were biting so shy that the float only rose half a centimeter out of the water and when they were having it so much the float shot up like a rocket.

I've tried to be practical and pragmatic about this, targeting three key swims and more specifically a key area in each of those swims for them, but in absolute honesty I have not seen hide nor hair of a crucian in a sea of tench. I have seen a few eye opening things being up there so much; like a massive fully scaled mirror carp which swam right under my feet, what I think may have been a sterlet swimming around in the clear water and some very nice rudd and roach to boot. The latter of which were the first on the scene when I made the change to bread hook baits a few nights ago.

Other species aside, the tench keep coming and now that their nuptials seem to be done with, they have stepped up a gear of the feeding stakes. The case in point being one of the three swims I am targeting is in some very clear water and is festooned with weed which myself and another chap have been diligently clearing out with weed rakes. Its a perfect ambush spot for a late evening crucian just as dark creeps in. But the tench are so into feeding that they will come right into the clear spot only a few feet from the bank at any time of the day and let me tell you, playing even the smallest tench in a pool-table sized gap in the thick weed is a nightmare.

The one thing I can say for the tench is that I do finally seem to be seeing a few better examples appearing after a spring full of sub five pounders. 

It almost sounds like am being ungrateful for catching all these beautiful fish and in a way I suppose I am, as none of them are the ghosts of Napton that I seek. But then again if I am going commit to trying to catch another one of the deep bodied golden treasures then I'd rather the in between time is filled with lovely tench which are after all one of my favourite species, and catching them on the float whilst whiling away my time is so much more rewarding than being parked behind buzzers waiting for runs.

Although other summer targets need some attention and if I want to achieve those targets I know I will have to drag myself away from the bank of this epic water and this insane quest. But I don't think I will be totally abandoning this venture any time soon and as I got a sniff of a lead on a possible target area where they may have been spotted very recently and it's certainly worth following up.

Happy fishmas one and all.

I've had some pretty dire June 16ths in my time I can tell you. I try my very best to not work on this sacred day, I get all wound up like a chocolate crazed kid and charge off to the river or some venue where I've been unable to fish, with sky high expectations and in most cases it all ends being a bit of a letdown. This year I decided to not get all excited and instead of charging off to the river or something, that I would just go and fish somewhere I knew I would have a good time. Bucking the trend, I went to Napton thinking as it's been open all year it might be a bit quiet on the first day and I was right; only one other angler was in residence when I arrived.

Though I knew when I arrived that I would more than likely catch a net load of tincas, I half had it in my mind that today might be as good as any to actually have a shot at catching a crucian carp. A few days before I had witnessed Andy realize a dream and catch a cracking old fish that will stick in my head for a long time to come. 

The swim I chose was shallower than the ones I normally fish and after plumbing up and fine tuning the float to register even the shyest of bites, I committed and baited heavily alongside a reed bed using Green Bait-tech super G ground bait and fresh casters. As intended to use corn as hook baits I carefully flicked out a few grains over the bed of bait to get the fish used to looking for them, but kept the amount down so as fish would hopefully not have too much choice and struggle to find the one with a hook in it. 

Thankfully I had collected the repaired section of my fourteen foot power waggler rod from the kind chaps at Lanes who had got it repaired in time for the 16th. I knew this rod would be perfect for fishing this venue as it's got loads of low down power to help fight the hard fighting tench, whilst still being sensitive enough in the tip section to fish lighter float rigs.

I watched as the ground bait broke down, sending tiny bubbles up all over the area. Really, I expected the tench to get on it like white on rice but nothing occurred for the first half an hour. Then the game changed in a big way when a crucian rolled off the back of my bait. If my heart wasn't in my mouth enough then, when a second one rolled to the left of the patch my heart was literally in my mouth. They were here and if I was ever going to catch one it was going to be now. Then the float rose less than half an inch and I struck! The culprit was blatantly a tench which powered off quickly out into the lake before getting off in the blink of an eye.

One cast later the whole session became a blur... The next slight rise in the float was hit and this fish felt different, very different. After an initial dull resistance it began circling round for a short while before rolling on the top and that's when I saw a dark gold shape the size of a dinner plate. When that fish went in the net I could barely believe it. Less than week ago I was writing about how hard people have worked to catch these rare Napton Crucian carp; here I was on the first day of the season and my first fish of that season was a ancient crucian. I had to actually calm myself down to prevent myself flapping around whilst dealing with it, I was that excited. So after securing it safely in the net I engaged the other angler to help me photograph my prize. 

The fish looked very much like the fish I'd seen the previous week, apart from not being as high in the back. What it lacked in height this one made up for in thickness across the shoulders. It weighed 2.10lb but some checking of my scales later confirmed them to be weighing 1oz heavy for some reason, making the fish's actual weight 2.9lb. But really, I didn't care what it weighed as I genuinely felt honoured to have such an amazing fish be my first of the season.

I considered going home after I watched my first Napton Crucian swim away in the clear water but I knew no matter how rare they were, today I stood a chance of another. The very next cast the float settled down leaving the red tip showing as the corn nestled on the bottom. Just as I was about to reposition my net next to me, the float almost swayed rising slightly as it did. I struck into a second fish that wasn't a tench either and lo and behold, moments later a very young looking second crucian of two pounds was mine.

Now, I was flabbergasted to say the least. In the very short time I'd been fishing I landed two of these Napton ghosts and from the looks of the bubbles rising in my swim there was more action on the cards. I cast again almost trembling and the float never settled fully before sliding off. The tench had moved onto the bait in a big way and were so keen to feed they were intercepting baits on the way down. I caught nine tench over the next two hours and everyone battered me senseless, tearing line off the reel and repeatedly diving in the deep water.  

What a session to start a new season with! I was in pure heaven catching all these wonderful tench one after another on the lift float. Soon though all went quiet and there was a perplexing lull in the action. But it soon became clear why when the float rose preposterously high out of the water and my strike provoked a very large fish to bow wave out of the swim rather quickly. No tench, no matter how big, had this power and it confirmed its identity to be a carp when I attempted to slow it down before all the line went of my reel. In doing so the fish rose up onto the surface and came back towards me so quickly I could barely keep tension on the line. The battle under the rod tip was just way too much for my light hook link and the entire rig was soon wrappped around the tip of my rod.

This loss of the carp turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Thinking the carp had more than likely cleaned me out, I baited up again heavily with the rest of my ground bait and lashings of casters. I took my time to tie a new hook link and retune the depth of my un-baited rig in the hope it would allow the fish to move back onto the spot. Lo and behold when I was done and cast out I only waited moments before getting another tiny bite and connecting with a third old bar of Napton gold.

"Three...honestly three," I remember saying that to myself as I released the fish back into the clear water. But that wasn't it! Not ten minutes later I got exactly the same quivering rise on the float and number four was dancing around under my rod tip about to really top off the 16th of a life time. 

I feel sure the shoal of crucians had been lurking round the reeds all morning just waiting for the tench that had pushed them off to do one. But it was probably the carp coming in and panicking out of the swim that moved the tench on and allowed those shy old crucians to slip back in. The tench though weren't gone for long and a trio of bigger examples up six pounds finished off the morning for me.

That was without any doubt the greatest 16th and crucian session I have ever had in my life. I kind of feel foolish for how hard I have described the crucian fishing to be on Napton now. BUT! I also know this really was a case of being in the right place at the right time, doing the right thing. Had I been fishing one of my favoured pegs then I would have never been on them and had I been fishing a float rig that relies on the float going under, then maybe I would have never even struck at one of those bites. It's quite likely that it might be a few years before I get a second chance to catch any of these wonderful wild old crucians again if form rings true. So with a smile on my face still, all I can say is...

Happy fishmas one and all.