With my wife and daughter off on a jolly to the Chelsea Flower Show, I took myself down to Farnham’s Kings Pond for the afternoon. This used to be one of my favourite venues, as the bread punch was ideal for the wide population of fish available, roach, crucian carp, bream and tench, plus the occasional carp, but these fish are also enjoyed by cormorants, which have devastated the stocks, due to cormorants being on the protected bird list. Our legislators are blind to the facts that this mostly invasive species of sea bird, are now permanently resident on our inland waterways, each cormorant eating at least a pound of freshwater fish a day, which adds up to 400 lb per bird a year. It does not take long for them to decimate a fishery. Environmentalists say, “Don’t worry, once they find it hard to catch fish, they will move on to the next water!” No wonder their nick name is The Black Plague.

Rant over. By 2:30pm I was set up with my Edge Monster pole and ready to fish, having mixed up a tray of liquidised bread, ground hemp, ground pellets and strawberry flavouring, putting four firm balls seven and eight metres out into the four foot deep swim. Due to a stong wind blowing down the pond, I tried a 4 x 16 antenna float, baulk shotted a foot from the hook, held back at eight metres.

I started off with a 7 mm punch on the size 14 barbless hook and caught a small roach first cast, followed by more, but going up to an 8 mm punch brought better roach.

At this point there was a swirl in my swim and the bites stopped, there are a few big perch in this pond, but no pike, although a 10 lb catfish was caught a few weeks before. As part of the same fishery, one of the carp lakes now has been stocked with catfish and one possibly transferred by a carp angler, not happy to share his water with one of these voracious feeders? Another swirl along the opposite bank saved the guess work, it was a cormorant. Just it’s hooked beak was above the surface, breathing in a lungful of air as it cruised along submerged, before diving again to surface twenty yards further on, kicking back it’s head to swallow another unsuspecting fish. A few more balls of groundbait later and I was catching again. One of the roach showed signs of an attack on it’s back.

The roach haul continued, fish now taking on the drop and running off with the bait, these were good fish, which burst to the surface, often bouncing off against the heavy elastic used in case of carp. Despite this, there was always another roach waiting. A quick rebait and another roach was in the net.

One cast justified my caution with the heavy elastic, when the float went under and kept going, taking out elastic as it did. Raising the pole, it took on a curve due to the hooked fish, which continued to stretch out the red elastic. Letting the fish make the running, I followed it with the pole at 8 metres, soon the float was visible, then gone again as the unseen fish made another run. It had to be a carp, as they make straight line runs, tench roll and slide. Minutes later the carp briefly surfaced, it was a fat mirror carp. It was now below the surface and I unshipped a two metre section of pole, which seemed to spur the mirror into action again, pulling the pole down close to the water. This was the carp’s last gasp of power and it surfaced, while I unshipped another section, bringing it across the surface to the landing net.

 A quick weigh up settled the scales at 3 lb 8 oz. I’ve landed bigger than this one from here before, once again with bread punch on a size 14 barbless hook. I noticed that part of it’s lower gill plate was missing, bad handling, or another predator?

Casting back out again, the float settled, then lifted and I struck to feel a slower fight. It was a skimmer bream, that I brought in slowly and netted for safety. A softer elastic works better for skimmers.

This one had obviously been browsing my groundbait, judging by the colour of it’s lips. This was the only one that made it back to the net, due to the heavy elastic. The roach were soon feeding and taking on the drop again.

This was my last roach of the afternoon, as my wife rang to say that they were on the train from the Flower Show and would be home in an hour. It was my cue to pack up. I’d been fishing for under three hours and apart from the cormorant interlude, had never stopped catching.

My fishing time would have been limited anyway, as my bread was drying out quickly in the sun, not helped by the strong breeze and was lucky to get half a dozen punches out of each small piece. Once it hardens off it is more difficult to keep on the hook, but more importantly the fish prefer the bread to be soft and easy to suck in.

I’d had a good session, depite the cormorant and bumping fish off due to the heavy elastic, weighing in just short of 9 lb along with the mirror carp.

Reports of trout catches from my nearby River Whitewater, have not been encouraging so far this season, but with the news that Mayfly were now hatching on the Hampshire chalk stream, controlled by Farnborough and District AS, I decided that it was time to retrieve my fly rod from the corner of garage, where it has rested, ignored for the last year.

The afternoon had begun cool and overcast, but by the time that I had parked the car, the sun was at full blast, a Whitewater regular, Richard, was putting on his waders and I stopped for a chat about our chances of catching. He’d had three trout from two visits, but two blanks lately and was not optimistic, but happy to be back on the river. Richard was going downstream, so I opted to fish upstream.

The river looked in perfect condition, despite the lack of rain and with no rises, or Mayfly showing I tied on a Goldhead Hares Ear and cast across to a slack, working the nymph across the flow. Second cast the line pulled back to the slack. A good take and I missed it. Hopefully it was a small dace and not a trout. No more offers and I walked up to the next pool, wading across to get a better cast beneath the trees. At the top of the pool was a bush stretching across and I cast as close as I dared. As I brought the nymph back, a pound trout followed and turned. I struck thinking that the trout had taken, but no, it was spooked. Suddenly there were small white Mayfly lifting off and fish were rising to the emerging insects. It always stikes me as sad, that after three years of growing down in the mud, that at the moment that it sees the sun for the first time, it is crushed by the jaws of a hungry trout!

Snipping off the nymph, I pulled a small white parachute Mayfly out of my flybox, tying it onto a three foot length of 4 lb line, which I looped onto the leader. For dry flies I prefer a longer leader, which gives a softer presentation of the artificial on the turn over. By the time that I had done this, the hatch was over, but did some false casting to get the range. As I was drying off the fly, a trout rose close to the bush and I made a cast. Too short. Another foot of line and it dropped in. The trout came up, took a look and turned away. A reflex cast and the fly was back again. Whop and it was gone. The trout stood on its tail and dived straight for the roots in seconds. My seven foot, three weight flyrod, bent double and the trout won, taking my fly with it. That was my only white Mayfly, so a small yellow hackled, ribbed fly substituted.

I moved on upstream looking for rises, passing dozens of groups of Mayfly bobbing up and down in their ritual dances, but no rises. Close to the weir I finally saw the spreading rings of a rise and walked toward the feeding trout. Keeping low, I watched it moving around the pool, sometimes aggressively taking two flies at a time. I measured out my line, gradually getting into the area. Spent flies were coming down and the trout was slurping them into its big mouth. Several times it was preoccupied with flies ahead, or either side of mine. I kept casting. It came up behind and studied the fly as it drifted down, then shot away. A big fish. Then. It was on! Fighting hard upstream, it was looking for snags. It turned and rush off downstream past me. I turned it again. The runs got shorter and it was on the surface and in my net.

A very solid, slightly kiped up stockie, that saved my day. With the trout in the net, I held the net facing upstream waiting for the brownie to recover its strength. A few minutes of this and it nosed its way out and swam into the depths. I had probably been fishing for under two hours, but the sun, walking over rough ground and using muscles not used for a year casting, plus fighting this beast, had me ready to go home for a cup of tea.

The fly

On a recent visit to my local Wickes store for gardening materials, my wife drew my attention to an assembled Utility Folding Trolley on sale for £65, pointing out it would be an ideal replacement for my current 30 year old specimen, which is definitely on it’s last legs. This item was lightweight with plenty of room for my tackle box, bait bags and nets. A quick whizz round the aisles stacked with paint, proved how light and manouverable it was, running on four independent wide wheels, the front pair allowing tight turns, as they followed, where ever I steered it with the wide ergonomic tiller. Buying it on line was a bonus, as a £20 discount applied, with a click and collect from the store available. I bought one and couldn’t wait to try it out later that day.

Removed from its box, the trolley pulls into shape, the floor lays flat and the sides hook over the frame, ready to use in seconds. Another couple of minutes and my tackle box and bait bag were loaded, while my nets located beside the tackle box. My pole bag conveniently passed through the bait bag straps, while the front end was secured by a bungee strap. Perfect!

Where to go? Allsmoor Pond of course! Only half a mile from my home, it was the obvious choicc. The walk to Allsmoor is partly on housing estate paths, bumping up kerbs, etc, holding the trolley back on downward slopes, the remainder being rough paths and grass, over which the four wide independent wheels took in their stride. I just hoped that the fish would be just as obliging.

I was pleased to see that someone else had spent time clearing the over-growth from one of my favourite swims, which has two lily beds within range of my pole and began setting up immediately, as it was already close to 7 pm and I wanted to finish by 8. After all, this was a test of the new trolley, but as I was here with my gear, then I at least should to try to catch something. The setting sun was blinding, but fishing over to the right, toward the lillies, illuminated the antenna of the 4 x 16 float. I mixed up a quarter tray of liquidised bread and strawberry flavoured groundbait and put four egg sized balls in, 7 to 8 metres out toward the lilies on the right. Casting over the area with a 7 mm punch of bread on a size 14 barbless. I didn’t have long to wait for a bite, the float dipping and then tracking under. Lifting into the fish, catapulted a rudd across the surface in a shower of spray. It fought well, but was no match for my Edge Monster Pole and heavy elastic, swinging it in to hand.

The rudd were soon lined up and it was one a chuck, often with the same punch in place.

The surface was covered with furry catkins from the surrounding trees, forming washing lines of the soft flower fur, but the rudd didn’t seem to mind.

The trouble was that I had more than twenty rudd in my net already and I had not been fishing for an hour yet. Where were the crucian carp, that I caught here in large numbers last year?

This image shows the moment that made my evening. I took the picure to show the catkin scum, that was blown in, but it is also the instant that my float lifted, then slowly moved toward the bed of lillies. Dropping the camera in the side tray. I lifted into a dead weight. A carp, that at first did not realise, that it was hooked, being able to steadily draw it away from the snag, before it rapidly became aware of the situation and exploded into life. Having been busted on my last visit, I’d made up a new heavier rig, 4 lb hook line to a size 14 barbless with 5 lb main line to heavy elastic. If the hook held, all I needed was to follow the carp as it zoomed back and forth, keeping it away from the snags. Soon it was on the surface, although the elastic was at full stretch. I broke the pole down to 4 metres drawing the common carp toward the landing net and it was mine.

The hook was securely in the side of the mouth, but easily pushed out. Weighed in the net, the deep carp went just over 4 lb, before being returned.

This was enough for me, crowning a busy day of non fishing tasks.

Once again the simple bread punch had done it for me. I keep the liquidised bread and half slices in bags in the freezer, which allows an instant supply for spur of the moment sessions like today.

All that was left was to load up my new freewheeling trolley and head up the hill toward home and Tea.