My annual expedition across the countryside, to a small, wooded farm pond close to the village of Hitcham, in search of crucian carp, seemed doomed to failure, when I finally arrived bankside. Autumn leaves were clattering to the ground, when having completed the obstacle course of gates and muddy tracks, I emerged from the wood to see the surface of the pond covered with leaves. There was hope, the breeze had blown the leaves into a corner and the other side seemed clear, so the simple answer was to set up on that side. It was a beautiful Autumn afternoon and I looked forward to a good session.

I had plumbed the depth, set up my pole and put my groundbait in, when the breeze picked up again, showering the pond with more leaves, but causing me no problems. I had to wait ten minutes before the  first indesisive bite began showing on the fine antenna of my 4 x 16 float. I had started with a 7 mm bread punch on a size 14 barbless hook and was considering that the combination was to big, when the float tracked away and sank.

The first of several small skimmer bream swung to hand from my baited line at eight metres. The breeze had continued to blow, causing a drift that was rotating the leaves around the island and I was beginning to need to drop the pole rig into the gaps. Another tip, tip, sink bite saw the elastic draw out from the pole top and I was playing a much better fish, that ran to the left and right, plunging the top. The landing net was out for the first time and a flash of gold told me that it was a crucian.

This was what I had come for. It had taken an hour to catch one, but they are shoal fish and where there is one, others will follow. The next bite was different, with a lift, that bobbed and sank. More resistance and a splash on the surface, much like the better skimmer bream in this pond, but this was no skimmer and I netted a fat roach.

Next bite was another roach. This was a good sign that the small fish had been pushed off the feed.

A decent rudd was next in the net. It was now becoming difficult to find a gap to drop the rig into, but when it reached the bottom a bite would follow.

I decided to mix up some more feed and spread it about generally, instead of targeting my original area eight metres out.

The sun was now so hot, that I had to remove my two jackets. It had been cool with a heavy dew, when I left home and in late October the weather can change for the worst in half an hour and two jackets are a good insurance policy.

Back to the fishing and the gap window had gone, the whole surface was now on the move and I searched around for another. I have fished through holes in the ice before, at least they stay where they are. After a couple of attempts, I dropped the float rig into a narrow gap and the float dipped then disappeared. I counted to ten and the float stayed down. A lift and I was into another hard fighting crucian. Sliding the landing net out, it filled with leaves as the crucian slid across the surface into it. They were back!

The surface was getting worse by the minute, as mountain ash leaves covered the surface from surrounding trees, but the crucians were taking with enthusiasm.

I contined catching these battling bars of gold, but knowing I had to retrace my steps back to the car, then join nose to tail traffic home in the rush hour, I forced myself to stop fishing at 3:30. Apart from struggling against the leaves, it had been a perfect few hours on the bread punch.

I will not deny that these days I am a fine weather angler, checking out the weather forecasts days before I venture out and often leaving my decisions to the last minute lately, due to the heavy showers, that have swept across the UK. This week was a typical example. One clear day that I fished, was followed by two days of heavy rain, then one of drizzle. My intention was to continue fishing another new swim created by the removal of dead trees from the my local River Cut, but that heavy rain would have pushed it back over the banks again. Following a day of no rain, I decided that it was worth a try in the afternoon, getting to the river after 2 pm for a looksee. At the confluence of the natural river and the outlet from the town run-off, the river was pushing and coloured, but not imposible and I walked downstream to a swim that is on the inside of a bend.

This swim used to have a tree lined opposite bank with a bush growing out into the flow, then the dead tree. Now either side, including the bush, have been ripped out, leaving a stand of small trees. The bush used to restrict the flow creating an eddy, but now it is gone, also the dead tree directed the flow over to my side of the river.

From now on it is an all new swim and I started off by throwing a ball of groundbait to within a few feet of the opposite bank, then casting my 5 No 4 stick float over to follow it down under the overhang. As the float reached a length of driftwood, the float dived and my 14 foot Browning was bending into a decent fish that turned and began running upstream at speed. It stayed deep and I thought that it was a small carp, or even a perch, but was revealed when it rolled, to be a 10 oz chub. It gave up mid river and drifted back down to the waiting landing net. An encouraging start.

Sticking to the far line, I fed another ball and eased the float down at half speed. The float dived, then came up again before my brain sent the message to my arm to strike. It went down again and held as a six inch chub grabbed the 7 mm punch of bread, the brief tussle a sign of the fighting potential of this lighweight. A few more of these chublets, gudgeon and small roach, saw me feed up a slower line, where I began to start dragging up twigs and leaves from the bottom. Shallowing up and changing my shot pattern to give longer tail, resulted in a long hold down and the juddering fight of a decent roach, that was lightly hooked in the bottom lip.

Another ball of feed and the float sailed off downstream and I lifted into a running fish, that just kept going as I back-wound my Abu 501 to avoid pulling the hook free. Through the coloured water I could make out the shape of a good roach and I took my time bringing it back to the landing net.

These better roach wanted a small ball of feed a trot, casting, holding back, then letting the float run produced a bite that sank out of sight, these roach being rod benders.

Having only mixed up a small amount of groundbait to start the session, as I wasn’t sure if I would catch at all in the highly coloured water, I soon ran out, scraping up the last and squeezing it into a ball, then lobbing it slightly upstream. As the ball began breaking up in the flow, I followed down with the float, held back, then watched the float lie flat and move upstream. A large roach had hooked itself and surfaced, then dived away downstream. All the other roach had been lightly hooked and I feared that I would lose this one and treated it with kid gloves, giving line to avoid putting too much bend in the rod. I was right to worry, the barbless hook was in the soft bottom lip and dropped out with no pressure in my hand.

With no more groundbait going in, gudgeon moved in to mop up the remainder, the roach having beaten them to the drop each time. I got out a fresh bag of liquidised bread and mixed in more ground pellets and the last of my ground hemp, before adding water. I had been going flat out since starting to fish at around 3 pm and poured a refreshing cup of tea to wash down a chocolate wafer, while I waited for the groundbait to firm up.

I began feeding the swim again and even the gudgeon had got bigger, fighting hard along the bottom, before swinging to hand,

Bang! I was in again as another quality roach took the bread. There was nothing shy about these roach,  being in top condition, they did not give up easily, but after an intitial frantic attempt to escape, they were on their sides and ready to net.

By now it was close to 5 pm and the light was failing under the trees. My camera shutter was stalling, causing blured images. The ground bait was used up and my punch bread full of holes. It was time to pack up.

A busy couple of hours.

After days of heavy showers, a dry sunny day was forecast and an afternoon fishing my local pond at Allsmoor had been planned, but so had several other committments, which rapidly ate into my fishing time. I was on the verge of cancelling the session, when my wife offered to complete a couple of the tasks, leaving me free for a couple of hours. The sun was still shining, when after a last minute rush to get my tackle together, I arrived on the bank two hours later than planned. My liquidised bread was still frozen solid from the freezer and I broke it into smaller lumps, before setting up my pole, then positioning the keepnet. Not the best start for the afternoon.

Long shadows were already creeping across the pond, when I introduced half a dozen balls of groundbait in a line from a gap in the lillies, to a spot three metres to the right. Due to the shallow depth of the pond, the feed of liquidised bread, ground pellets and ground hemp, laced with raspberry flavouring, was mixed up sloppy enough to break up on contact with the surface, leaving a trail of sweet feed eight metres out.

I was hoping for crucian carp, but was not surprised, when the 4 x 16 antenna float slowly tracked across the surface and sank with a small rudd on the size 16 barbless hook. The 6 mm pellet of soft punched bread was still intact, a sign that the recent heavy rain and frosty mornings had affected the appetites of the resident fish.

After the first few fish, the rudd seemed to have got their appetites back, with the catch rate returning to summer levels. Sizes were improving too.

The expected crucian carp were absent, maybe the temperature drop had put them off the feed? Gudgeon give a good impression of a dithering crucian bite, bobbing the float before slowly moving off, several of them causing disappointment on the strike.

One of those crucian/gudgeon bites resulted in an explosion of power beneath the surface, with the pole elastic stretching out towards the lilybed in a second, the pole taking on a bend that looked terminal, until the unseen fish turned and headed off in the opposite direction, only to repeat the process seconds later. The battle continued back and forth, until at last the decent sized common carp rolled on the surface, before trying again. Soon the carp was on it’s side and sliding into the landing net.

The hook was just inside the cheek of this four pound common carp.

As I sat recovering my breath, while drinking a reviving cup of hot tea, my wife called to say that she was walking to the nearby Tesco and intended to continue down to the pond on her way home, would I still be there? Of course I would. I’d just landed a 4 lb carp!

A couple more false alarms from gudgeon and I was in again! This time a smaller carp of about a pound, but still a fighter, trying to make it back to the safety of the lilies.

My wife Julie was walking toward me along the path, when I lifted into another carp and was preparing to net it when she arrived behind me. Number three. These carp had obviously come out to mop up the remaining ground bait, not causing a stir, or bubbles, just a wary sucking in of the beadpunch, then bursting into life once hooked.

I was down to the last holes to be punched in my square of bread and said to Julie “Last cast.” Five minutes later the float drifted under and I was in again. Another big carp, but this one did not want to turn away from the lilies and kept powering ahead. The hook flew out and Julie put out a whistle. I looked at her and shrugged. “At least the pole didn’t snap.” Time to go home.

Earlier as I landed the four pounder, three teenagers watched me and asked what bait I was using. I held up the perforated piece of bread and replied “Bread Punch” Three baffled looks. You don’t need complicated baits to catch carp.

A sucessful couple of hours, that nearly didn’t happen.

It is a pity that due to a general lack of finance, the local council and the Environment Agency have neglected this prolific little pond, trees and reeds have been been allowed to grow unchecked around the the banks, while the once flowing outlet has been allowed to silt up. When I first fished it fifteen years ago, the swims were open and accessable, whereas today only a few are, being choked with litter. We filled two bags with beer cans, bottles, plastic bags, crisp packets and heavy discarded line, then put them into a near empty litter bin only yards away. What ever happened to the slogan, Keep Britain Tidy?

Bad weather and a lack of opportunity have kept me away from fishing recently, one of my aims being to try out the new swims created, where dead trees have been removed from my local River Cut. With no heavy rain for a couple of days, I took a chance visit to the river with my tackle for a few hours after chub and roach. The river was still high and pushing, when I arrived, the flow diverting around the original raised fishing platform cutting off access from the bank. Backtracking to the upstream peg, I was able to hack my way through two metre high Himalayan balsam toward the bank, then to drag my loaded trolley to a gap between two trees, blocked by a fallen tree and flood debris. The trolley was too wide, but my tackle box could be passed sideways over the log, followed by holdall and net bag. There had been a ground frost that morning, but now I was sweating. I hoped that the time and effort would be worth it.

The swim has in the past few years become a tunnel of overhanging trees, making the use of a stick float impossible, but today both banks have been opened up and plumbing the depth showed about a metre from the middle to the opposite bank, where the flow was at its strongest. Along my bank was a back eddy full of snags, my plummet pulling up a branch, when I tested the depth. Above my head was an overhanging tree and I moved my box upstream as far as I could go, effectively fishing in a bush, while the branches above caught my rod top all afternoon. As I said before, I hoped that all this effort would be worth it.

I needn’t have worried. I had fed a ball of compressed neat liquidised white bread and followed down with my float rig, a 6 No 4 Ali stemmed stick float to a size 14 barbless hook in a 7 mm punch of bread. The float trotted a metre and then sank out of sight. A roach dived for the inside and found a snag immediately. I slackened off and lifted again, the roach coming free and I swung it in. Not a bad roach, if a bit thin.

The following roach was smaller, but the next bite was unmistakeable. The float skated off downstream and disappeared. I reacted with a lift of the rod, setting the hook as a chub ran for safety, giving line to avoid a break, then keeping the rod low to avoid overhanging branches. Reeling back, I pointed my 14 foot Browning to toward the opposite bank, keeping clear of the snags on my side. Not as big as it seemed, its white mouth was open and I netted it.

I followed another ball of plain liquidised bread down and I was in again, this time a thumping roach, that stayed down, until pulled up for the landing net.

A few smaller roach and gudgeon were swung in and then my rod was bending into another hard fighting chub that took at the bottom of the trot, running to the overhanging tree further downstream. Raising the rod to take the strain, the line caught in branches on my side, but the charging chub soon ripped the line free and the battle continued, with the fish making full use of the current, until a roll on the surface signaled the white flag being waved.

Again not a big fish, I would have been in trouble with a three pounder in this swim, but it kept me on my toes all the same. The gudgeon were getting bigger, fighting deep and putting a bend in the rod.

I had burned through the plain white liquidised feed and added ground pellets and ground hemp, which seemed to have attracted these two ounce gudgeon. It didn’t put off the roach either.

These were quality roach and it was good to see them, considering the pollution over the past few years, the roach in the second image running off downdstream like a chub and fighting all the way to the net. It wasn’t long before another chub put in an appearance, when reeling hard against a bending rod kept it out of the snags on the inside.

I wasn’t so lucky shortly after, when a good sized roach headed upstream and across into the snags. I slackened off and it was still there, but the hook came free and the whole float rig pinged up into the branch above it. I eventually retrieved the float by wrapping my landing net around it and snapping the line. The tangled mess was dropped into the tackle box and I selected a smaller 5 No 6 float. The level had dropped by 100 mm, losing its colour and pace. It was time for a lighter float anyway. It was also time for more groundbait, as a small ball every other cast had kept the fish taking the punch, while also depleting the tray.

After a cup of tea and the last of my chicken and ham sandwich quarters, I was ready for the remaining hour of fishing. Dace were now in the swim, pulling the float down in a flash, but they were difficult to hit, a tight line  causing them to hook themselves under the rod top, but lightly hooked they all tumbled off, some real clonkers too. I can just hear my life time angling friend John uttering his favourite phrase “Lack of experience!” My little Hardy 12 footer was in the rod bag, its fine top joint would have been the answer, but this was not a match and the dace can disappear as quickly as the arrive. Their name is from the Anglo Saxon word dash, which sums them up.

I put up with the missed bites and bumped dace, as there were plenty of others lining up for the bread, good roach for instance.

The monster gudgeon also kept putting a bend in the rod. Its a shame that they don’t grow bigger.

Before my three hours were up, the last of my ground bait mix was gone again. The roach were obviously still in the swim, but they wanted to see that ball of groundbait bouncing along the bottom before they took. This was my last before the gudgeon moved in to mop up the remainder, another clonker.

It had been one of my better sessions on the Cut and I was pleased that the bread punch had kept the fish taking the float under.

A busy session with over 6 lb of fish in under three hours.