At last, no blue skies and strength sapping temperatures, were a combination not to be missed today, for my first visit this year to the outfall weir of the local the water treatment works, hoping for some rod bending roach from this shallow water. The clouds had now blotted out the sun and the wind was gusting. What a difference a day can make.

Arriving at 3 pm, I was fortunate to find the swim empty, although the usual litter and empty sweetcorn tins told a story of regular occupation, discarded cigarette butts carpet the bank. Someone here has a serious nicotine habit. The bank, once a bit of a parrot cage with overhanging trees, is now devoid of vegitation. Today there would be no problem casting. There are several swims along this half mile of bank, each one now widened to accommodate at least two people, this one being the best with the outfall. The road runs parallel to the river, which is unadopted and popular with night fishermen

Mixing up a stiff mix of liquidised bread, ground hemp and boiled hempseed, I set about feeding this complex waterway, where the outfall dominates the sluggish flow from the River Cut, creating back eddies and undertows at the confluence. Finding a successful line to feed can be pot luck, as the fish move around all the time. My approach is stiff balls of feed with hempseed anchoring the ground bait to the bottom. There were two other problems today, tiny three inch chublets attacking my bread punch and a rare northern upstream wind, blowing my 4 No 4 stick float toward my bank, which meant constant reeling in of slack line. Due to the shallow water, the better fish tend to charge off against a tight line and cause a break, or manage to throw the size 14 hook barbless hook, so my soft twelve foot Hardy float rod was pressed into use.

The answer for the tiny chub was to just keep the balls of ground bait going in, to feed them off, while a 9 mm punch was too big for their mouths, but just the right size for the bigger fish, as I found out after tiddler bashing for five minutes, when the Hardy rod tip was wrapped round by a much bigger brother, that ran straight into the white water from the weir. I clicked open the bail arm and let it run, before raising the rod and reeling back, swinging in the chub to hand.

A new 9 mm punch of bread was now on the hook and as I cast out, the wind caught the rig, blowing it back to my side. While I reeled up the slack, the line stiffened and another chub was heading for the far bank at lightning speed. Slightly bigger, the hook was just hanging onto the outside of it’s lip and I was lucky to net it.

The tiny chub were still there, dace and gudeon too, but so were the chub, possibly after the small fish, but following on after a ball of feed had hit the surfice, I cast to the middle of it and watched the float zoom away upstream. A typical small fish bite, that just kept going, bending the rod double as I released the reel handle of my ABU501, leaving it to backwind. The unseen fish hugged the bottom under pressure, toward the boiling white water. At first I thought perch, but that big white mouth was a giveaway as it broke surface, giving up the fight.

This chub was too big to swing, maybe 12 oz and I put in the landing net. Lifting the net over vegitation in front of me, the net head sagged and fell off. The chub was still hooked, I didn’t want to lose either the chub, or the net head. Fortunately the net had been trapped my side of the vegitation. Trying to lift the chub, merely put a dangerous bend in the fine rod tip and woke up the chub, which now began jumping in the net. The bank here is very steep and covered in roots. Once I would have been down there without a thought, but now I attempted to retreive both, using the landing net pole to hook the net back up the bank. The chub had jumped off the fine wire barbless hook, but was still in the net and tried to swing them both up the bank to my right. Oh well, I tried. The chub bounced onto the lower bank and slithered back into the river, while my attempt to retreive the net was a success, being able to get it to the top of the bank.

The thread in the pole was stripped. It had held with no weight in the net, but no more. I did a McGuiver fix, by cutting a thin strip of Gaffa Tape and wrapping it around the brass thread of the net head. It screwed in tight and held. I had no more chub that evening to test it, all of my roach afterwards were swingers.

One of the clonker roach,

Steady feeding brought the roach into the swim, although it was impossible to line them up, the varying eddy flow spreading them out, however once the roach found the ground bait, the bites were predictable and solid.

I was lucky to keep this roach on, the hook it was barely holding on the tip of it’s lip.

Concentrating on fishing, I was aware of someone alongside me. “Still using the bread punch I see!” I almost jumped out of my skin. It was Chris, a local angler, who has witnessed several of my catches from this swim in the past, recalling a near twenty pound catch of monster roach, most between eight and twelve ounces, caught on the bread punch, on a mild day in March at the end of the coarse fishing season. That was when few knew of this swim, which then was hidden from the road. He was about to fish his favourite swim, about a quarter of a mile downstream, where the river takes a sharp bend to the right, creating a deep hole, where he catches bream. He fishes light, as the way downstream is an assault course of sloping banks and fallen trees. Chris showed me a recent catch of a 3 lb 8 oz common carp from the bend.

I continued fishing, taking yet another good roach, until a whistle came from further down the river. It was Chris with a 3 lb bream in his landing net, taken first cast from the bend.

It was soon 6 pm, I’d had a busy three hour’s fishing, catching around thirty quality fish, and had begun packing up. The ground bait mix of liquidised bread, ground hemp and boiled hemp had worked well. Chris was by my side again, with photos of another bream and a 2lb perch. This swim used to hold it’s share of bream, big chub, carp and perch, but I feel that the night time visitors are fishing for the pot, not pleasure.

I used 7 mm and 9 mm punches and caught well on both, but the better fish came to the 9 mm.

News of fish deaths at my other local pond, Savernake, prompted me to pay it a visit this week, armed with a pole and bread punch, once the heat of yet another rainless day had subsided. Bare areas of mud were exposed all around, the level being at least two feet down on normal, the two small streams, that feed this once prime fishery, now just a trickle. Locals reported that several large carp had been found dead, but from what I could see, judging by the pools of black mud being stirred up from the bottom, there were still fish feeding.

Arriving at 7:30 pm, there were only a few swims available, but fortunatelyfor me, three young lads, had decided to abandon a spot opposite the island, where they had managed only two small carp between them, all afternoon on sweetcorn. They were getting plenty of offers, but could not hit the bites. The shame is that I could see why they were unable to make contact, they were all using the same four foot rods, available online as fishing kits from a well known Chinese general store. The nearest fishing shop is ten miles away, where they would receive expert advice on what to buy, but they just want to go fishing with their mates, so they took the easy option and went online. The adverts show Ai generated imagaes of massive fish being caught on these little rods and they are hooked! My father was an angler and bought my brother and I, an eight foot, two piece bamboo rod each for Christmas, complete with a plastic reel, line and two floats. Back in the day, these very basic rod kits cost well under a pound for both. First time out we caught small perch from the local canal. My brother hated fishing, but we were not allowed to go alone, so the deal was that I would go swimming with him, if he would go fishing with me. Eventually, I met other boys of my age from school on the bank and lifetime friendships were formed, although swimming has never been a favourite of mine.

Once I had cleared up the litter left by the lads, polythene bags and bottles, I set the pole at 8 metres, with a x16 antenna float, with just two No 6 down the line and 300 mm to the size 14 barbless hook, with a 12 mm punch of bread, casting out over a couple of small balls of compressed liquidised bread, catapulted out in front of me. The response was immediate, with small carp attacking the ball of feed, as it sank to the fine mud bottom. The float dipped and slanted over as a fish ran away with the bait. I lifted into a small carp, that ran elastic out of the pole, before coming off. The next drop in, I left the float long enough for it to disappear completely, again a short run and a quick hand over hand retreive to the top two, brought a small mirror carp  to hand.

A chunky little fish with plenty of fight. I have caught these to 8 lb in here, but I am told of them being caught well into double figures from this shallow lake. There was much more water in the lake then. My bait was overdepth, although these ravenous juveniles had no trouble finding the bread in the thick mud.

Small commons were out numbering the mirrors, but after another couple of balls of feed, a flash of gold connected with my hook, when a bronze common of about 2 lb, arced through the smaller fish, stripping the elastic from the pole tip, swinging the pole round in my hand, as it headed for the island. The common kept going, throwing up boils of black mud in its wake. Reaching the shallows of the island, twigs began entangling the line as it turned left, rolled and leapt clear of the water, throwing the hook. I now pulled back a washing line of rubbish, including a polythene bag full of mud and water, which I netted out. On the discoloured polythene, I could make out the words, HALIBUT  PELLETS. I like to think that this bag got loose and blew into the lake, but know that it was probably disgarded at the end of a fishing session and thrown in along with other prized items such as meat and sweetcorn tins. When anglers are often asked what attracts them to fishing. Most will say, the peace and quiet and getting back to nature, yet many will not walk five yards to a waste bin to dispose of their unwanted rubbish.

I continued catching these small carp, being joined by a Georgian national, who having just moved to the area, was unaware of the lake. He preferred spinning for Pike and Perch, which he ate, a fact of life for most East Europeans, but frowned on by present day Brits. My first fishing book by Collin Willock, a once noted journalist, had a How to Catch section on British fish, had a How to Cook addendum for each species. After the Second World War, when good food was in short supply, coarse fish were often on the fishmonger’s slab, while wild rabbits hung from the butcher’s rail.

Although I would have preferred larger carp, I was quite happy bashing these little ones out, probably losing a third of these to my barbless hook. They were quite happy taking my soft bread punch too.

I did not count my evening’s catch either, about twenty being returned to the lake after the 90 minute session.

After days at a tropical 30 degrees Centigrade, a mere 26 degrees seemed pleasant enough for me to venture out after dinner this week to fish Allsmoor Pond, finding most swims occupied as I walked my trolley round. Unloading my gear, I saw my landing net and keep net were missing. In my haste to get fishing, I’d left them hanging up to dry since my previous outing to another local venue last week. A call to my wife at home found her in the garden, but thankfully, she was happy to walk down to the pond with the nets, which left me time to mix up my groundbait, 30% each of liquidised bread, ground hemp and strawberry flavoured ground bait. By the time that Julie arrived, a few balls of feed had been put in ten metres out towards the lily bed and I was ready to fish.

As I was taking this image of the swim, the float went under and this snatched shot is the result, Julie witnessing a carp first cast. Not a big one, but it was a good start.

With work to do in the garden, Julie had seen enough, and she set off again to to begin the uphill walk back home. Thanks Julie.

I put out another ball of feed, dropping the 4 x 16 antenna float, baited with an 11 mm punch of bread on a size 14 barbless hook, over the spot. A slight lift of the yellow antenna and it cruised under, pulling the red heavy elastic out of the pole tip in response to the instinctive strike. This was a better common, which after a pole bending run to the left, out of sight behind reeds, turned and ran back in the opposite direction, while I broke the pole down to the top three to bring this new fish under control. Still full of fight, more runs soon tired the carp and it was soon in the landing net.

In contrast, the next bite produced another common carp, just. It was only a few ounces, but stll put up a speedy running fight. It was good to see, as although the pond is under half its original size due to encroaching reeds, the carp are still breeding. The pond was OK until the Environmental Agency decided to wild up the pond, which had a plain brick surround. Now it is choked by reeds and the trees planted around it need cutting back. The EA say it is not their responsibility, as they left it to the Council to control, but the Bracknell Forest Council have no budget apparntly.

The bites continued, encouraged by a ball of feed after each feed. The lads opposite had called over asking what I was doing special to catch these carp, nothing special just the bread punch. One of them came round for a look, just as I was playing another. It is difficult to compress my years of experience with the punch into ten minutes. He said that I ought to write a book on the subject, which of course I replied that I have written two!

The next carp was the best of the evening, being over three pounds. This fish did not want to come in, rolling and running, after the lightest of bites, which I assumed was a crucian carp, bobbing the float and slowly submerging the antenna, but exploding out of the shallow pond on contact with the hook.

This carp turned the water back with stirred up mud, which put the carp off for a while, allowing a few rudd to get in on the act. As the sun began to set behind the trees, I caught a couple more smaller commons, but the fading light did not allow my camera to produce, coloured images and I packed up dead on 9 pm. All in all, this was one of my best sessions at Allsmoor for several years, my two hour tally being a dozen common carp and several rudd. Hopefully this is a sign of recovery for the pond, which has suffered from food poaching in the recent past.

With the light going fast, my camera needed the flash for these last couple of images, too bright for the bait tray and too dark for the net.

At 30 degrees Centigrade, it has been too hot to fish lately, the river has no water in it, with flow just a trickle, while one of my nearby ponds has dead fish littering the margins, due to lack of oxygen. Locally my only option was Jeanes Pond, where a tench was a possibility. Arriving before 6 pm, I hoped to bag one of the shaded swims, before other anglers turned up. I needn’t have worried, no one was desperate enough to brave the heat.

At least the water pump was operating. As I set up my pole, a burst of bubbles erupted under the bush on my right and I quickly punched a 12 mm pellet of bread, ready for the size 14 hook, on my 2 gram antenna float. I dropped the rig straight down over the bubbles, which looked like a carp was busy feeding there. The bait had no sooner touched the bottom, than the antenna lifted, then dropped, the float moving with a series of jerks and bobs. I struck, no bait. I knew the signs. Crayfish.

I mixed up a small amount of raspberry flavoured groundbait laced with ground hemp, a winning combination at Jeanes in recent years and lobbed three balls to the left, under the bush on that side. Dropping the pole rig over the area. Within minutes, bubbles were bursting all over the surface. Once upon a time, this meant bottom feeding fish, tench, carp and roach, but those tell tale bites, bob,bob, bob, meant the dreaded crayfish were crowding around my bait. I hooked one, that dropped off half way to the surface. If left, the double punched bread was gone.

Two more joints were added to the pole and I readjusted the depth to a foot off bottom over the deeper water, throwing in a 40 mm ball of white crumb, mixed with ground hemp. The float dipped and glided away, at least this was a fish. A smallish rudd.

There were shoals of big rudd here once, but this was before the cormorant epidemic. The 12 mm punch was selecting the “better” fish and I decided to entertain myself taking these rudd, in the hope of a random tench. The crumb and ground hemp combination, did not seem to interest the crayfish, while the rudd were queuing up, feeding two swims a couple of metres apart, holding some better rudd.

Throwing in a couple of punched squares of bread, resulted in a pair of 6 oz rudd making smash and grab raids on the floating pieces, ripping them apart. Shallowing up, moving all the shot beneath the float and allowing the bread to sink slowly on a greased line was the answer, although the lightly hooked rudd, both came off in spectacular fashion, somersaulting off the hook against the heavy elastic.

We have to be out of the carpark by 8 pm and I was packing up by 7:30. This session left me with the conclusion that, with the bottom crowded with crayfish, my next visit may include a fly rod, greased line and balls of crumb with ground hemp added.

I missed the opening day of 16th June for the UK River Fishing Season on my local River Cut, but managed a brief evening visit the following day. Getting down to fish after 6pm, I was dismayed to see that the Cut was at its lowest level yet, despite recent heavy rain. Getting my 14 foot Browning float rod out of out of its Fish Ready holdall, I realised that the 3 BB Drennan stick float, already assembled since last used in the winter, was unsuitable for the almost static river in front of me, but I was keen to get fishing and decided to see how it went.

What flow there was, along the opposite bank, was the target for the raspberry flavoured groundbait, that I had made up. First cast across to the outside of the bend, the float sailed under and I was playing a decent chublet, that had made off with the 7 mm punch of bread on the size 14 barbless hook.

Bites now came thick and fast, small roach and dace often coming off the hook, before I could swing them in, many of these being released upstream to avoid them being crushed by bigger fish in the keepnet. The 3BB float was too long for the shallow swim, needing to fish well over depth to avoid the baited hook from wrapping over the top of the float. Casting downstream, then holding the line back, before the rig hit the surface was the answer, allowing the bait to drift to the bottom ahead of the float. Greasing the line helped to hit more dace, after I added plane bread and ground hemp to the ground bait, dace flashing through the slow sinking cloud giving positive bites.

The cloud soon attracted tiny dace and roach, so I returned to the heavier groundbait with shot moved toward the hook, laying on with bread inched down the swim produced, a large gudgeon  and a better roach.

I should have changed to a lighter float right from the start, but I was still getting bites and hitting the occasional fish, mostly small roach.

The bites faded away, then bursts of bubbles appeared behind the float. It was obviously a carp feeding on the groundbait. When the float flipped up to lie flat on the surface, I got ready for action, quickly checking my line to the reel, taking in the slack, just as the float slid sideways and under. I lifted steadily to feel a solid resistance, then a slow bounce as the carp moved upstream and across to the opposite bank under the overhanging bushes. A swirl of its tail accelerated the carp upstream and I lay the rod flat to avoid the branches, sliding round on my tackle box to face upstream into the shallows, allowing the ABU501 to freewheel from the surging pressure. The run came to a halt in about six inches of water. I had not seen the fish in the shadows, until it turned back, then a glimpes of its tail, as it rushed past downstream, mean’t a possible Double. It kept going, down through the gap between the berm and the bush, constantly under pressure from my bending rod. It stopped in the open water and broached, before swimming back upstream, while I recovered line. It then began swimming toward the tangle of branches at the berm, as I tried to pull it clear. It all went solid. I rested the rod and clicked the reel bale arm open and waited. Washing a Ginger Nut down with some cooling orange juice, gave some relief, as I realised that I was sweating. The float popped up again as it moved downstream. I lifted into the fish again, but the line was caught in the berm. The carp thrashed hard against the snag, while I pulled hard to free the float. The float was free, minus the carp, several shot and the hook.

After another drink and a reviving Ginger Nut, I was ready to search through my floats for a more suitable candidate, a 2 No 4 bodied stick float was removed from its winder and attached loop to loop and I was back in business. It was still early and I hoped for some better fish. This rig had a size 16 barbless on the link and this buried itself easily into the 7 mm punch. I scraped up the last of my groundbait and put it in just past middle and waited for a bite. The flow was so slight, that it took about 10 minutes to travel 5 yards, by which time there was usually a bite. These included the smallest gudgeon I’d ever seen, about 2 inches long, some small roach and the surprise roach below.

A Lithuanian man and his two young sons came down for a chat about fishing, complaining that he had fished all day below Reading, only catching a small perch. He also commented on the number of paddle boarders and canoeists crowding the River Thames there. He was curious about the bread punch method that I was using. I explained that it was complicated and that he should buy my book, BreadPunch Fishing Diaries. Another Slice. He was interested to see the variety of my fish taken that evening, never having seen a gudgeon before. It was time to pack up now, as I wanted to get home to watch England beat Croatia in the first round of the World Cup, 4 goals to 2. That game was also a game of two halves, England were average in the 1st Half and brilliant in the 2nd Half. Well done Lads.

Glorious June has been more like April Showers lately and after being treated to a heavy downpour at another local pond last week, I decided that with a dry evening in prospect, a brief visit to my nearest and dearest, Allsmoor Pond, was more likely to provide some action on the bread punch. Tackled up by 7 pm, I was once again hoping to find some crucian carp feeding, after feeding a few balls of strawberry flavoured ground bait into an area eight to ten metres out, mid way towards the lily bed ahead of me.

Usually the surface at this time of year the surface is ringed by small rudd topping, but today it was clear of fish and bubbles. Maybe the earlier showers had cooled the surface, putting the small stuff down. No, they were there alright, just waiting for my bread to fall through. About a dozen two ounce rudd pounced on the bread, despite me bulking the shot close to the hook, but once the groundbait had settled on the bottom, better fish moved in and pushed the scavengers away. These bites were slower and the rudd were better.

I settled down and caught a few more rudd, before the elastic was out of the end of the pole for the first time that evening, as a one pound carp was making for the lily bed, but persuaded to turn by the heavy elastic, the line cutting a V across the surface again toward bushes on my bank. The pole was still fully extended, which helped to keep it away from the roots on my right. Breaking the pole down to the top three, I let the fish swim in decreasing circles, until in range of the landing net. These crucian shaped carp, are now referred to as brown goldfish.

For it’s size, this carp fought like a demon, making runs in every direction, but the next long dithering, float bobbing bite was a sign of something different and the moment that I struck, I knew that I had hooked into my target fish, a crucian carp. An initial short run, turned into a tug of war, with rolls and flapping slides across the surface, while I kept a tight line, as I pulled the pole back to my bank, brief glimpses of gold scales and bright red fins visible as the pound fish stirred up the mud, then flapped on the surface. Landing net it hand, I was ready, when it dived under the net and kept going. The size 14 barbless hook had come out!

The time was getting on and the light was beginning to fade. I was ready for a reviving cup of tea and a custard cream, while I scraped up the last of my ground bait and lobbed it out into the swim.  A pair of small rudd predictably made off with the bait, while a steadier bite brought the elastic out, as a more solid fish hugged the bottom. Not big, the small common followed my lead into the landing net.

Keeping me interested, a smaller brown goldfish took it’s time taking the 10 mm punch of bread, slowly moving away, while submerging the 4 x16 antenna float.

Now in “just one more cast” territory, another long dithering bite produced a small 4 oz crucian carp, lightly hooked in the bottom lip of it’s upturned mouth.

There was no doubting the next bite, which sank the float with the line following it down, while my strike was automatic in the opposite direction against the already extending red elastic. This was a much better carp that accelarated toward the lily bed. I raised the pole and stopped the charge just short of the lillies and the carp broached and turned back, then turned into the nearer snag. The pressure was on again, with the pole taking on an unhealthy looking bend against the carp’s strong survival instinct. It now turned toward the point of least resistance, me, as I rapidly pulled the pole back behind me into the trees, down to the top three sections, with ten feet of elastic still fighting the carp. Now began a tough game of tennis, while the carp rushed from the reeds on my left and the roots on my right, each time countering each change of direction with the pole in my right hand. These are wild carp, not like pampered commercial fish, that know that they will give a bit of a fight, before being put in a net, weighed, released and fed again, ready for the next day’s set of anglers. The hook hold held and the three pound common carp was in the net. The hook was firmly in the bottom lip, requiring a push with the disgorger,

Solid Raw Power

There was still enough light to fish, but after this battle, I decided to call it a night. It was quite possible that there were more carp sitting over my groundbait, but they will have to wait for next time. The bread punch had proved itself yet again.

There are some gudgeon in there somewhere, while the lone token crucian is visible, shame about the one that got away!

With a full title of Braybrooke Community Nature and Fishing Club, local anglers at Jeanes Pond today, June 1st, were enjoying their first day back at the Bracknell Town Council water, after an enforced break from fishing during the month of May. When the club was formed over ten years ago, the Nature side was at full strength, with regular Nature events taking place, Reptile talks, Birds of Prey demonstrations and Bat Walks. The idea of closing the pond to regular anglers, allowed the bird life and water birds to nest and rear their broods without interuption. From an angling point of view, it was also a chance to train up youngsters, giving them basic skills and knowledge through the accredited Angling Trust CAST course, using proffessional angling coaches. Those were heady days, with no shortage of volunteers to run the events, but as seems the norm today, partly due to Covid, the wish to get together for the common good has evaporated. Now only a few club events take place. Although a heated club room was provided overlooking the Pond, the CAST courses are also a thing of the past.

That explains the Pond’s continued closure during May, which is a shame, as Jeanes is just waking up from winter then, which is why I planned an early morning visit today. However, when my wife asked if I was getting up early this morning to fish, I turned over for another 40 winks. I did eventally get up, but there were still little fishing tasks to complete before I left the house, that should have been done last evening. Jobs completed and the car loaded, I arrived at the Braybrooke carpark after 9:30 am, just as the welcome grey clouds were giving way to very bright sunshine. Not ideal for tench fishing, tench preferring dawn and dusk for feeding. There was quite a strong wind blowing from the East down the pond, creating a steady drift. Setting out my stall takes more time these days, , but soon I had plumbed up the depth along a shelf that gives about five feet and introduced a line of firm sweet groundbait balls with a bait dropper alongthe drop off. With a 2 gram antenna float, bulked to within a foot of the hook, I was ready to fish with a 10 mm punch of bread on the hook.

My groundbait was already having an effect and bubbles were beginning to rise along the drop off and I dropped my float along the edge of the lilly bed. After a few minutes, the antenna was beginning to dither, dipping and holding down, causing me to get ready to strike, only to relax, when the float became still. Was this small rudd, or crayfish? More rings radiated from the antenna, then it slowly sank out of sight. I lifted and the elastic streatched out of the pole. The fish gradually came alive, running diving and rolling. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that it was a tench, fighting deep down, not a big one, but my first of the season. Bringing the pole back, the tench broke the surface, then rushed toward the bank, but pointing the still full length pole out to the middle, it gave up and lay on the surface, where I netted it. A young male of a pound and a half, the barbless size 14 in the outside of the bottom lip.

Another punch of bread and I dropped the rig in again. In minutes, more bubbles were bursting around the float. It moved toward the lillies and slowly sank. I lifted and missed the bite. The bait was gone. I double punched with the 10 mm punch and dropped in over more bursting bubbles. The float lifted, then buried out of sight, with the greased floating line following. This time there was resistance and a slow thumping on the line, as the elastic drew out. Drawing the pole back behind me, a rudd splashed over the surface, the gold flanks and scarlet fins flashing in the sunlight.

The sun was now blasting down and my punch bread was already hard and replaced it from the pouch on my bait apron. I was keeping my eye on the Great White Koi that was among the lilybed. I had a run in with that last year and lost. I wasn’t keen on a repeat! There were now fewer bubbles coming up and smaller rudd were taking the bread. A rudd bite, that moved off to the middle at speed, turned out to be an unstoppable carp, that just kept going, until the hook pulled out.

I put the last of my groundbait into the shadow of a bush to my left and waited, a good bite was missed. A smaller 8 mm punch resulted in a couple of 3 ounce rudd. Then I hooked a much bigger tench that thankfully rushed away from the roots of the bush, zig zagging toward the lillies in a powerful run, which I stopped, leaning hard over to the left. It rolled vertically and turned, its black body throwing up spray, as it dived toward the bush. Leaning over to the right, the pole looked in danger of breaking, when the hook lost its hold, firing the float back and wrapping line and shot around the pole tip.

I couldn’t unpick this tangle if I tried. It was time to go. I was reminded of the  old Noel Coward song, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”. I will have to return earlier next time. At least there are fish to be caught from Jeanes Pond again.

The punch bread dried out quickly, and needed replacing to keep it soft for the fish.

I joined Farnborough and District AS for the fly fishing on the nearby River Whitewater, but then found out that they had a couple of lakes at Shawfields with very big carp, which did not interest me, but the big tench and bream certainly did and I enjoyed a couple of seasons enticing them onto the hook with my favourite method, the bread punch. With a couple of personal bests with these two species, I moved onto other waters and methods, especially when the Club acquired the rights to a very productive stretch of thr River Blackwater, where I could combine another favourite method, fishing the stick float for bream, roach, chub and dace on the bread punch.

Hearing that big tench were being caught again, I parked up near the Shawfields complex for a late afternoon session and was met by chief bailiff Mark, who walked me round, showing me a few swims, that look very inviting, with decent depth in close for use with a pole, the swims having plenty of room for laying out my gear, with good headroom.

The lack of  surface activity was a bit worrying, having got used to waters with cruising carp and surface bubbles from feeding fish, however I’m always up for s challenge and I set out my stall by ignoring the fine antenna floats used on my usual shallow ponds and fitted a 2 gram float rig to a size 14 barbless hook. Plumbing the depth, I found a useful three feet around the lillies, which dropped away to five feet another yard out. This drop off received a line of strawberry groundbait and I optimstically cast in, waiting for a bite. That wait went on for at least fifteen minutes, recasting occasionally to check my 10 mm punch of bread. Oh dear, it was still there? I tried another ball of feed and came up six inches from the bottom. Rings radiated out from the antenna, then it sank out of sight. Missed it! In again and the float sank away. Leave it another second and lift. Resistance and a broad shaped fish was fighting deep down, then rushing about through the lillies. A nice rudd.

It had taken a while, but now it was a bite a chuck. These were decent fish, but I lost the next two on the way to the surace. Expecting tench, or carp, I had my heavy elastic tip fitted. I know, if I’d had my match fishing head on, the light elastic tip would have been ready to fit, instead of in my pole bag, leaning against the tree behind for safety. Slapped wrist! The landing net was ready for the next one, another quality rudd.

A couple of smaller rudd followed, then the elastic responded to a much better fish and the landing net was ready, but I had to chase it through the pads to finally net it. These rudd were fighting fit and did not want to give up, even in the net!

A ball of feed was followed by the rig, this time a fussy bite, with the antenna dithering about, then a very slow move away as it sank. With the float gone and the line following, I was into a different fish. The rudd rolled over and over, as they were brought to the surface, this one ran back and forth. A decent roach.

This roach was a bit slim, so I guess it had recently spawned, unlike the rudd, which were well rounded. A few more smaller rudd were followed by another roach.

Bubbles now began rise from the bottom, first in a burst, then intermittently further down the drop off. Plumbing the depth showed another foot and I responded by adding depth to the float. Strange bites, dipping and dragging the float in short movements, with the bread gone the. I’ve had this before on other waters. Crayfish! Confirmed shortly after, when I hooked a dead weight, that came off. Shawfields has a direct feed from the River Blackwater, which is full of them. They move in like an army onto ground bait. I shallowed up again, but only caught smaller rudd and when it started raining, it was time to pack up

It had been an interesting, but short session. This was effectively a new water for me, where the bread punch had caught fish, when the bailiff and another angler, who stopped to watch, had blanked using other baits. My keepnet showed about thirty fish.

A cold blustery wind was blowing down Allsmoor Pond, when I arived for a brief evening session this week, arriving after 5 pm, to find that the surounding beech trees were in full spring moult, with fluffy white pollen coming down like snow onto the surface, forming a scum. It wasn’t too bad, as apart from forming a washing line of cotton like particles on the line, it was quite fishable. I mixed up a half tray of strawberry flavoured groundbait, and lobbed it into a metre square area, eight metres out, then set up my pole with an anntenna rig to a size 14 barbless hook.

With a 10 mm punch of bread on the hook, I cast into the baited area, adding a couple more small balls of groundbait for good measure. A few sharp knocks on the antenna indicated small rudd were interested in the bread, but the next half sinking of the antenna suggested a bigger fish, sitting there for a minute, before very slowly moving away, as it submerged, dragging the washing line behind it. A brisk raising of the pole set the hook, which activated a dosey carp into action and it rushed off toward the middle out of my sight behind the bushes. Raising the pole stopped the run, causing a U-Turn as the carp arced round to the lilybed on my right. It was only about a pound and rolled on the surface, before being guided to the landing net. Lightly hooked, the carp freed itself in the net, before being popped into the keep net.

After a start like that, it was a disapointment to begin catching small rudd, that were taking on the drop, as the line sank slowly through an increasing layer of pollen scum.

Each one of these rudd added to the growing number of strands of silky pollen, requiring constant clearing of the line and float individually. Throwing in a ball of ground bait would create a metre wide circle of clear water to drop the float into, but the slight breeze would soon fill the hole. With the bait now getting to the bottom, I began catching gudgeon, not my expected plan for the evening, while the bread suspended in the scum attracted the rudd.

Checking my watch, it was just after 6 pm. I’d not even been fishing for an hour, but was now squinting at my static, scum bound float and regretting my decision to fish this evening. I brought the float in. The bread was gone. If it had been a fish, I had seen no indication of a bite. Creating another opening in the scum with a last ball of groundbait, the rebaited and cleaned rig was cast into the new hole. The float tilted and went under. I struck on instinct. There was a swirl on the surface, as a long dark shape powered off toward the lilybed. With the pole at eight metres, I leaned to the left and took the strain, as the elastic came out of the now bending pole. Ignoring the pressure, the fish kept going, boring into the tangled lily leaves, until it stopped and rolled. This was definitly bigger than the 6 pounder, that I’d landed earlier in the year. Moving the pole round to point at the carp to reduce the pressure, saw the carp waddle through the lillybed into the open water to the left. Raising the pole against the weight of this fish and the heavy leaves trapped in the arc, required the strength of a younger man, as the carp now flapped on the surface, freeing the elastic from the lilies. Feeling less pressure, the carp dashed into the corner reeds, then back into the lilly bed, as I yanked the pole virtical to drag it out to the open water. It was beaten, as was I, but I still had to keep it away from the bank, which was full of snags under the bushes. Out of sight, I could hear it crashing though the reeds, then the line went slack. The hook had come out leaving me gutted and knackered, as my adrenalin slumped.

My float rig was a tangled mess with a collection of pollen on the line and float. That carp was a lump and would have provided a good final image for this blog. I had an identical rig made up in my box, but I’ll have to save it for another day. Maybe when the crucians come out to play.

With my local Jeanes Pond closed for the month of May, I went for an early evening session at the Braybrooke club’s water this week to try for tench. It was not ideal tench weather, despite bright April sunhine, a cold easterly wind was howling through the trees and along the length of the pond, when I set up at 6 pm on peg 13.

The previous week, I had been troubled by small rudd attacking the bread punch bait, offered on a 4 x 16 antenna float, although I did eventually hook into a good tench, which went airborne like a polaris missile and threw the size 16 barbless hook.

This week, due to the strong wind, I had settled for a much heavier 2 gram antenna float to a size 14 barbless, set just off bottom, with the bulk of the shot close to the hook, to pass through the rafts of tiny rudd close the surface. I concentrated my strawberry flavoured groundbait into a gap in the lillies, which was an easy swing for the pole at 8 metres. After a few minutes, rings radiated from the antenna, which raised and sank out of site. A tench! No, there was resistance, but only from a small rudd, which had taken a 10 mm punch of bread. This fish was very cold to the touch, a sure sign that the pond had not warmed up, despite weeks of sunshine.

Bites were slow and I missed the next sink away. Probably too eager, should have waited longer. In again, there was early movememt of the antenna, then nothing. Possibly a small rudd had chased the bread down? I was about to lift the rig back out to check the bread, when the float bobbed and moved into the lilybed, then sank away, followed by the line. I tensed and lifted expecting a tench, or carp, but no again, although the elastic came out with a better fish, that fought deep down. I carefully inched the pole back, seeing a flash of gold before I netted it. A nice rudd.

This was an encouraging sight, as I was worried that the comorants had eaten them all. We used to catch rudd like this all the time. I scraped up the last of my groundbait and lobbed it back into the hole in the lilies, followed by the float for another small rudd. The wind had got up again and I was not dressed for this chill. It was time to pack up anyway, the sun had gone down behind the houses and I needed to beat the 8 pm curfew on the carpark gate.

This had not been a busy session. It was cold even for April and I will probably be complaining about the heat, when the pond opens again on June 1st.