What do you do when nowhere is fishing? You try somewhere else of course. For one reason, or the other this has been the case for me lately and this week I travelled to one of my banker swims on the River Blackwater controlled by the Farnborough and District club, where big roach and dace have been guaranteed, although pike have also been a certainty, which is why I’ve stopped going there.

Another reason has been the difficulty in finding a parking spot, due to the presence of a “Jump” trampolining facility across the road, which of course I’d not realised that it was the Half Term school holidays and cars lined both sides of the road, with a long queue of cars being directed by an overwhelmed, teenaged young lady, not used harassed drivers with children in the back asking the inevitable, “Are we there yet!”

She spotted my desperate look and flagged me through and I turned off down the council service road to the river, managing to squeeze my car into the turning bay. It was already well past noon and I was keen to get fishing, bearing in mind the one hour earlier lighting up time. I loaded my trolley and made my way to the favourite swim and was pleased to see that it was empty, although less pleased with depth of the river from the high bank, being able to see every feature of the bottom, while trees from the opposite bank now hung over to the middle. I usually fish from the top of the swim, where a left hand bend pushes the flow down the opposite bank, but now the trees would restrict my rod. Problems, problems? Stop whingeing Ken, cut in a new swim and get fishing!

This swim gave cover over the shallows ahead of me, setting my tackle box back from the bank, while there was now a convenient back eddy, which carried my keepnet back upstream into deeper water. Despite the shallows, there was still a good flow and I set up with a 5 No 4 ali stemmed stick float to a size 16 barbless hook, with 6 mm punch of bread on a long tail. Plumbing the depth the deepest point was hard over to the opposite bank, but this swim had a gravel bar with only 18 inches of water over it ten yards down stream, where the flow split from the far side.

I put a couple of small balls of groundbait two thirds over and watched them break up as they rolled along the bottom, casting downstream and across to follow them down. I had expected a bite first cast, but had to wait for a second ball before the float stabbed under, bringing a roach to the surface immediately, lightly hooked in the lip, I netted it.

Not a big roach for this swim, I expected larger, but always tend to take a photo of my first fish. The bites were fussy, dips and bobs, with the bread stolen from the hook often, until I hooked my next fish, a small dace, that rattled off the hook. Dace, this is what they do, especially the small ones. They attack the hook bait, stripping the hook. With casters, or maggot, they shell the casters and reduce the maggots to skins in seconds. Holding back hard, the dace will often hook themselves, but being five inch fish they had no weight to stay on in this fast water.

I could have waited for the larger roach to swim up through the dace, but instead threw the  groundbait further upstream and cast down over the gravel bar, then held back, let it run, and held back again. The float sank and another roach splashed over the surface. This was better.

Small dace were still being hooked and lost, while small roach were playing with the bait. I stopped for a cup of tea and a sandwich, while I mixed up some more groundbait. I mixed in some ground hemp and bunched shot at the hook link, as I felt that the small roach and dace were taking the punch as it swung up, when I held back. When the better roach are there, they just take it, but this shoal were not that interested. Bulking the shot seemed to work, as the next fish was a good roach, that hugged the far bank.

Trotting further down, the float lifted, then turned right across the stream, then sank. I struck, there was a swirl from a big fish that kicked, then bore away down stream taking line, while I back wound the reel. I had seen a carp under the opposite bank, while tackling up, was this it? My 14 foot Browning was bent over with the weight of the fish in the current. I was aware of the size 16 barbless hook and hoped that it would hold, as it now swam toward me upstream, with the odd kick to let me know that it was there. Ten yards away it turned with a swirl. A small pike of about two pounds, not giving up, ruining my swim. Soon it was wallowing on the shallows out of reach of my landing net. I pulled its head up and drew it closer. It jumped and broke the line, firing the float into the tree above me. The pike was still there out of reach of my three metre landing net pole. Just lying there, played out in a few inches of water. I was in luck with the float, the shot was tangled in the leaves above me and a long pull freed it.

I considered making up the float again, or using another on a spare made up rig, but the pike now working its way back to deeper water, had probably put the fish down. The light was already going at 3 pm and decided that this was going to be yet another potentially good session cut short.

The River Blackwater has a fantastic head of fish, but pike have proved to be one the great survivors, that can sense small fish activity created by anglers, homing in until it reaches its quarry, often a hooked fish.

Some nice roach there, shame about the pike.

Following last week’s session on a local pond, trying to avoid pike, I made an overdue visit to Kings Pond near Farnham this week, where there are comorants, but no pike and a net of silvers, plus a few bonus carp on the bread punch, is usually on the cards.

It is a fair walk from the carpark to the pond and my first sight of the lack of water, indicated by the tide mark along the anti cormorant fence, lining the opposite bank, made me consider the long walk back to the car.  Walking along to the nearest angler didn’t help either. “How’s it fishing?” “It ain’t. Only one line bite all morning. It’s too shallow!” He had two feeder rods out for carp, but I was going to fish the pole with the punch, it was bound to be better, wasn’t it?

Plumbing the depth showed a maximum of two feet, six meters out, where five feet was the norm. I’d already suffered a halted dual carraigeway, followed by a round the houses diversion, that included a couple of roadworks, what more was in store for this pleasure fishing session? Had I mentioned the drizzle, that eventually turned into proper rain, while I tackled up? I never fish under an umbrella, and the TV forecast had said mainly dry in the South East, so no waterproofs either!

I’ve always been an optimist and today’s minor barriers were overcome. Groundbait was mixed up with liquidisd bread, but sloppier than usual to form a cloud, that would spread across the bottom, while a 4 x 14 antenna float, with the shot strung out to a 9 inch tail to a size 14 barbless hook on a long line, kept the pole out of sight for the fish. To start, a soft 7 mm pellet of punched bread was tried on the hook and cast into the baited area eight metres out. An immediate response saw the float sink away out of sight. A strike missed the fish. I left it longer next time. Still a miss. I changed down to a 6 mm punch. A hit, with quite a nice roach pulled back, hand over hand on the pole, to the top two sections and netted.

The next pair of roach bumped off the hook, due to the heavy elastic, a precaution due to the size of the carp in Kings getting bigger, but the next, a small skimmer stayed on, despite somersaulting all over the surface.

Among the small roach and skimmers was a standout rudd, its colours radiant in the weak sunshine.

Small roach were becoming a nuisance, running off with the bait as soon as it hit the surface and I made a point of fishing away from recently fed areas, one result being a better skimmer.

The sun had gone again and a cold wind was driving drizzle and fallen leaves down the pond, the gusts making the pole difficult to keep steady. The occasional better fish kept me going, but this session was proving hard work.

The sight of a couple of pound carp nosing around the margins, perked me up and I added liquidised bread to my groundbait to stiffen it up, throwing several balls along the bare bank between two bushes to my right. I punched out a 10 mm punch of fresh bread and folded it over the hook, adding sections to the pole for the full 10 metres, which brought the bushes within range. I sat and waited. After ten minutes, the float lifted, then sank and slowly tracked away. I lifted. False alarm!

How did this small roach get that great big bait into it’s mouth? Try again. A slightly bigger roach. Bubbles were now rising steadily in the gap and I dropped the float over the top. The float flicked up to lie flat on the surface and in the same instant, the elastic pulled out. I was in. That was almost too easy, why didn’t I do this earlier? This did not seem like a big fish and I drew it closer, removing the bottom section. It now woke up, and powered along the opposite bank, drawing out more heavy elastic, then rolling on the surface. Was it a bronze bream? It was very deep, but bream don’t fight like this. It’s head was out and coming toward me. I needed to break the pole down again, but the landing net was in my other hand. With the pole vertical at 8 metres, the carp felt the slack and powered away again. If I was going to lose it, now was the time, while it desperately churned up the swim. The pressure was telling on the carp and it was back on it’s side and steered into the net.

Quite a lump, very deep mirror carp. I pulled it up onto my lap and the hook dropped out of it’s lip. The size 14 barbless didn’t show a mark.

Weighed in the net, the scales read 5 lb and I allowed 8 oz for the net, returning it to swim away unharmed. Although there were now more bubbles rising along that bank, it was time to pack up and pulled the keepnet out. Not a bad catch for three hours on the bread punch, considering the dozen thrown back. Another carp like the last would have seen me packing up in the dark.

Not having fished my local Jeanes Pond since the early summer, I made a late afternoon visit in the hope of some decent roach, or even a tench this week. Despite recent heavy rain showers, the pond level was very low and I made my way round to the deepest part at peg 5.

The sun was already behind the trees as I set up my pole, the surface flat calm apart from waves from the aerator pump, it feeling warm for the second week of October. I mixed up some sweet ground bait, putting in a few small balls along the shelf, setting my 2g antenna float to fish just off bottom at five feet. The bulk shotted float took the 7 mm punch of bread straight down and had to wait several minutes for the groundbait to work, before slight movement of the antenna showed interest from a fish. After more minutes, it slowly sank out of sight, and the pole tip bent into a decent rudd that flashed on its way to the surface.

This was a good sign, as the pond has been full of tiny rudd all year, grabbing the bait on the way down. I dropped the float back in, this time with a better response, the float holding down for a couple of seconds, before sinking slowly away. Another “better” fish, a roach this time.

Once again good to see, this pond used to have quality roach on tap. Another similar roach followed, then the elastic pulled out of the tip and I was playing a clonker roach, the landing net was ready, when the dreaded green flash of a pike arced across and took the fish, pulling the elastic out, as I rapidly added another two lengths of pole to stay in touch. The elastic pinged back. Both fish were gone, but the barbless size 14 was still there. My dilema now was, stay where I knew that there were some good sized roach and expect the pike to return, or move to another swim? If the pike was munching on that roach, it would be a while before it was hungry again. I decided to stay, as I felt that I had only just arrived.

The pond was still swirling, when I dropped another three small balls of feed over the shelf, followed by the rebaited rig, which sat untouched for a few minutes, then dived under. I missed the bite. Small stuff? Next bite was a slow glide away and I hooked a much smaller roach. Oh well, try again. Ah, that’s a better roach, which I swung in.

I was back to the small roach again, when there was a swirl as I lifted it off the surface.The pike had returned. I cast the float round to my left, where I had first started and put in another ball of feed. The surface folded in a slow swirl, as the ball sank attracting small rudd. Further to my right, there was an  almighty splash and bubbles, when a pike broke the surface. It was too early to pack up, so I moved around the corner, where I knew that there was deep water close to a lily bed and a bush to fish under.

Scraping up the last of my groundbait, I seeded an area between the lillies and the bush to start again. A burst of bubbles got my interest, but only yielded small roach. It could have been a tench, or even a carp, but my mindset said that was probably another pike. I began packing up before 5 pm.

This heavy float was the answer to avoid the tiny rudd, getting down to the bottom feeding roach, but there were too many pike on the feed to let them settle. My next visit will be with a spinning rod and some sinking lures.

A last minute change of plans, left an afternoon free to fish this week, my original choice to give the local  River Cut a try, was dashed by the sight of anti pollution booms, collecting an oil slick flowing from the outlet, that runs from the town’s industrial estate. My next option was Allsmoor Pond, literally on my door step, where float rods were swapped for a pole, the bait, bread punch being effective on still, or running water.

This swim is now a bit of a parrot cage, hemmed in on each side and overhead by foliage, but fishable with a six metre pole, there being no room behind to ship the pole back. I fed a line eight metres out with balls of liquidised bread and groundbait, with a 7 mm punch of bread on a size 14 barbless hook, the float a 4 x 16 antenna. By the time that I had set up, the groundbait was drawing fish in, a decent rudd swinging in first cast.

The next cast saw an improvement with and even better rudd, that buried the float.

More rudd followed, before the float zoomed away and my heavy red elastic was stretching out toward the lily bed to the right, putting a bend in my Edge Monster pole. A carp rolled short of the lilies, then headed off in an arc over to the opposite lily bed. Raising the pole put on more pressure, which brought the carp under control and swimming in my direction. Breaking the pole down to the top two sections soon had the common carp on it’s side and in the landing net.

A burst of bubbles over the feed, left a dark stain on the surface and I swung a rebaited rig into the area. The float sat with the antenna raised, but did not move. A fish obviously had the bread in it’s mouth, but I waited until the float dipped, then very slowly moved off, before I lifted into heavy resistance and the fireworks began. After the initial run, the unseen fish fought all over the pond in front of me and I was convinced that I’d hooked a big crucian carp, as it zigzagged from side to side, searching out the bottom. Once down to the top two, it rolled, seeing that it was another common, but it seemed to fight harder and was worried that the hook may pull out. Finally it was in the landing net, where the barbless hook fell out! Not much bigger than the first, it certainly got my heart pounding and in need of a calming cup of tea and a nibble on a Wagon Wheel, a cream filled chocolate treat of yesteryear, that has suffered from shrink flation recently.

Among the greedy rudd bites came a dithering bite, that eventually tracked away and the frantic fight said crucian carp, backed up when I swung the golden scaled beauty to hand.

It was a fish a chuck from now on, even gudgeon giving false alarm crucian style bites.

More rudd and another small crucian were steadily filling the keepnet, then action from a small common carp, which was observed by a young angler in the swim opposite, before he collected up his gear and marched round to me. Asking what I’d caught, I replied “Loads”. Replying to what bait I was using, I pointed to the squares of punched out bread in my bait tray and said “Bread Punch”. He was using Tiger Nuts, whatever they are? He then plonked his stuff down in the next swim ten yards away, before showering the area with his Tiger Nuts. There was a mighty splash from a large feeder in the middle, before he set up a bite alarm. In response, I threw in a couple more small balls of groundbait toward the lily bed to my right. The float was gone in seconds and a better common went into the net.

The extra feed had brought the swim back to life and several of the rudd were worth catching.

As it approach 5 pm the light was already fading and decided that it was time to leave, having a several “last casts” before hooking my last carp, another ghostie with buging eyes. My young companion in the next swim was long gone.

Evidence of a busy afternoon was the bait tray with five perferated squares of bread. My keepnet also evidence, with getting on for ten pounds of fish in four hours, all on the bread punch.