It has been a while since I have made a post, due in the main, because of prolonged freezing, then storms, followed by more of the same weather, which has affected fishing results across the south of England. Seasoned match anglers having blank after blank returns on commercial fisheries stuffed full of fish, have become the norm. One such local match star recently commented that he thought of changing his name to 007. No bites, No fish in 7 hours.

I have no such demands on my time, but I prefer to catch fish. Any fish, but sitting with frozen hands without a bite for an half hour is my limit these days and then it’s time to pack up. My wife has often doubted my sanity for fishing on frosty mornings, but when I began to agree with her, it was time to wait for better weather.

This week I thought that time had come. High atmospheric pressure had kept the UK trapped in a cycle of single figure Scandinavian temperatures for weeks, but at last winds from the south drew welcome rain north and even occasional sunshine to warm the skin. Thinking of this February catch below, from my local Allsmoor Pond a few years ago, when I had walked though frozen puddles to fish, I gathered up my neglected tackle after lunch, for the short walk to the pond.

Winter Carp from Allsmoor

First sight of the pond did not encourage me, as there was not a sign of a fish. No topping rudd and certainly no browsing carp, but warmth from the weak sun was welcoming and I settled into my setup routine. Mixing up some light raspberry flavoured groundbait first, I fed a line eight metres out, before setting up the pole with a x16 antenna float rig. A burst of bubbles from the middle of the fed area, had me scrabbling for my bread punches, hooking a 7 mm punch of bread onto the size 16 barbless and casting over the bubbles. The float sat for a few minutes, before the antenna sank to half mast. Do I strike or wait? I waited. The float very slowly began to move, inch by inch to the right. I followed with the pole and lifted. Solid! Then, like on rails, it headed off towards an old lily bed, pulling out the pole eastic at speed, while I held the bending pole at right angles.  The carp rolled and the line pinged back. The hook had come out. I cursed the size 16 hook that had been on the rig. The other rig on the winder had a size 14. I thought that it was going to be hard going today and had opted for the smaller hook.

I put in another two balls of feed, punched out another 7 mm pellet of bread and cast back in. Before the float settled, it dipped. Something was on it straight away. The float dithered for minutes, a crucian? Then went under. Missed it! I decided to not put in any more feed, as maybe a shoal of shy biting crucians had moved in. After the next bite took the bait off, I went down to a 6 mm punch. Each bite was taking about ten minutes to slowly develop into a strikeable take. I went down to a 5 mm punch. Another bite that slowly tracked across the surface and sank. I lifted into the unseen carp. A gudgeon!

A proper carp angler arrived to fish under the trees to my right, casting his float into the middle of a dead lily bed, spraying pellets around his float, with each cast. He gave it an hour and packed up. He called over “It’s Dead” with a shrug and walked off. I had to agree.

Tiny pinprick bubbles were now bursting over the fed area, so I scraped up the last of my groundbait, enough for a couple of small balls and put them in. There was immediate reaction, as the float went straight down. Another gudgeon. I tried the larger punch again, more missed bites. Back on the 5 mm, it was more gudgeon. As the sun sank behind the railway embankment, the gentle breeze began to gust a bitter wind in my face and I decided that I would give it another ten minutes, until four o’clock. Another tracking bite took the float over the dead lily bed to my left, when it submerged. Sorry, not a carp, but a tiny rudd. Time to pack up.

With the pole in it’s bag, a carp had a final defiant act of the day, when it rolled in the swim.  I hesitated for a second, thinking of setting up again, but thought, what for? There will be other warmer days.

Oh well, not much to show for two hours concentration, at least I hadn’t blanked.