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.

Social committments had put a block on fishing earlier this week and as the weather steadily declined again, so did my enthusiasm to use up energy and precious fuel driving to the apparently lifeless lakes and ponds, that surround my home. I was encouraged a couple of weeks ago, when just a few half hearted bites put three decent carp in my net from my closest water, Allsmoor Pond.  A report from a friend, that he had caught some decent rudd, while carp fishing from the pond, got my interest, even though he failed in his attempts to persuade any carp to take his casters. If the rudd are feeding, so should everything else and as the grey clouds gave way to sunshine on Friday afternoon, I retreived some liquidised bread from the freezer, along with frozen punch bread, then loaded up my trolley for the walk down to the pond.

I prefer a swim opposite, but a cold east wind was blowing down that side, while mine was protected by a railway embankment to the rear, although my side is very shallow, requiring the pole at 8 metres to get into the deeper water, which is only 30 inches deep over the mud. I had hoped to fish into the lily bed on my left, but a dead branch was floating there, so I made up a sweet strawberry ground bait, that I trailed out along to my swim.

There were no apparent fish movements, but first cast of the 4 x 16 antenna float, with a 7 mm punch of bread on a size 14 hook, saw the float sail way, before the rig had settled and the first of many small rudd was speedily pulled back to hand.

I kept the feed going in, every four or five fish, mostly rudd, but gudgeon were making up the numbers, their bite similar to a carp’s, dipping then slowly tracking away. Some were quite large, but still a disappointment to hook, when expecting a carp.

The rudd were getting bigger too, this one having a beautiful golden sheen, doggedly fighting back against the heavy elastic.

At last, after bashing out rudd after rudd with little resistance, the elastic stayed out as a carp straight lined away from the pole, making a beeline for the lily bed and the floating branch. Keeping the pole high brought the carp to the surface. Not a large fish, it turned and accelarated back to the middle, where it gave up. The wind was gusting, catching the pole, bending it back to the carp giving it slack, but it stayed on and I used the net for the first time that afternoon.

The rudd and gudgeon bashing continued, with the occasional bonus rudd. I usually catch some large roach and crucians from this swim, but the water was still very cold despite the sun.

It was now gone 5 pm and the sun had long passed behind the railway embankment, the wind had increased to the point, that I was holding back to the float in the drift, although the bites could still be seen. On arrival I had removed my jacket. Now I put it back on, despite the constant pulling back of fish, it was getting chilly. I drank my last cup of tea, ate the last quarter of hot cross bun and scraped up another ball of groundbait, throwing it out in front of me.

The best time for carp here is once the direct sunshine leaves the surface, which was now, until dusk, but I set my time to pack up by 6 pm regardless. I knew that the next bite was a carp, not another gudgeon, when I saw the antenna very slowly sink. Yes! I was in to a much better carp, that steadily tracked off to the right, as I followed it with the pole against the strain. A burst of power stripped the elastic from the pole tip and I raised the pole to avoid losing one of the joints. Black mud was being stirred up, as the carp skidded along the bottom, bringing up a small branch in the process. Soon it was rolling on the surface and I broke down the pole joints, until it was at the top 3, bringing the fish over into the net.

It was now 5:45pm. I was happy with this carp. Another 15 minutes may have tempted another one to take the the 7 mm punch of bread, but this was enough. I’d been very busy all afternoon banging out the small stuff. Once the carp come sniffing around, the swim goes quiet until thay take. I’ll save that for another day, hopefully when it is a lot warmer.

The advantage of the bread punch, apart from actually working as a method, is that the bait and groundbait can be kept in the freezer, until the day of fishing. I took mine out and was using it an hour before I left home. No rushing around to the fishing shop to buy bait. There is an endless supply at my local Tesco. Cheap too, 41P buys a whole loaf.

A grey, bitterly cold morning, gradually gave way to a bright sunny Spring afternoon this week, causing me to abandon my wife to tackle a big Easter shopping expedition at Tesco on her own, while I tried to restore my faith in the nearby Allsmoor Pond, which has refused to provide anything, but a few small rudd in recent visits. Even these rudd had required hard winter canal tactics, a dotted down antenna float, giving the merest of indications of a bite, the ice cold rudd allowing themselves to be lifted from the shallow pond without a fight.

Today the earlier north wind had dropped and the air temperature risen to the point, that I was overheating by the time I had walked to my chosen swim. Another angler and his young daughter were already fishing and asked how they were doing as I passed. “A couple of knocks on the meat. No fish.” As has been the case all Winter, there was no sign of surface activity from the many rudd, let alone carp, but filling the water bottle from the pond for my groundbait gave the answer; it was icy cold, despite the sun. In the adjacent swim, I was setting out my stall with pole and antenna float to a size 16 hook, ready for another hard session, when next door came “I’ve got one Dad!” The young girl was leaning back on her box with her rod bent double, while a good fish took line from her reel, heading for the lily bed opposite. She was unflappable and had obviously done this before, listening to her father’s instructions, while she steered a carp out of the lilies and back across to the net held by Dad.

This was encouraging, mixing up more groundbait than usual and feeding two swims, one five metres out and another eight. At eight metres the breeze was causing a bow in the line, dragging the float, so removing a joint of the pole, I moved in closer, putting in more feed, a cloud of small particals, ground hemp and 2 mm pellets, with liquidised bread sweetened with strawberry flavouring.

It made a change from sitting freezing under a leadened sky, to be feeling the sun on my face, while from the wood behind a woodpecker was hammering away at a tree and a blackbird practiced it’s springtime call. Perfect. This swim however was full of twigs and branches, which I snagged on each put in. I shallowed up the float, hoping that the fish may have moved up into the sun warmed upper levels of the shallow pond, holding back to avoid the drift. The float lifted a centimetre, then dropped back. There was something down there. It may have been a line bite fom something bigger, or a small rudd. The float began to very slowly move upwind. No bobs, or lifts, just very slow steady movement. Then it was gone and I lifted into resistance as the pole elastic streamed out from the tip, out of sight round the bush to my left. At this point my neighbour appeared at my side, offering his bait of small cubes of luncheon meat. I replied that I was doing OK on the bread punch and had one on! This was a big fish for this pond, keeping the pole at 5 metres, while the float followed in an arc that was making its way toward the lily bed to my right. As the heavy red elastic guided the carp away, it rolled revealing a deep golden flank. The run was not slowing, heading back my way to the reeds hidden by the bushes on my right. I fitted another length of pole and pushed it out in front of me, turning the carp back to the middle. It rolled a couple of times and I broke the pole down to the top three, as it swam in toward my landing net, but it wasn’t finished yet and sped out toward the middle, before heading into to reeds on my right at warp speed. The extra pole lengths were quickly added again to pull the carp free and it was back to the middle in front of me, but rolling slower this time. I broke down to the top three and guided it into the net. My net was full of twigs and a couple of reeds, complete with roots. I’m not sure who was more exhausted, me, or the carp. I think the image below, taken by my neighbour, after I had unhooked the size 16 barbless, says it all! It was a shade under six pounds.

My neigbour had been packing up, when he’d brought his bait round and I had put in more groundbait and was drinking a reviving cup of tea, when he walked past on his way home, just as the float dipped again, then disappeared. He was out of earshot, when my “Yup” followed setting the hook into a smaller version of the last fish, this one making a dash for freedom toward the far bank lily bed. With the pole at length, I pulled back and a sizeable common carp leapt clear of the pond, before turning to the reeds on my right. Pole lengths were added and removed in quick time again, as I attempted to keep the carp out of the snags in front of me, before the net slipped under it. I weighed this one at three and a half pounds, before adding it to the keepnet,

The sun was now shining through the trees and a chill was returning to the air and I rang my wife to say that I would pack up at 6 pm. There were no more bites in close, so I scraped up the last of my groundbait, lobbing balls out to the eight metre area and began tidying up, while having a cup of tea, but keeping an eye out on the float. It went under and came up again. I put the cup down on my bait tray with my left hand and lifted the pole with my right, just as the float cruised away. This seemed like an even larger fish than the first, bending the pole round as it rushed off to the left and out of sight, pulling and pulling. I feared for the hook link, but keeping the pole high, I could see the fish was coming back to the middle on the surface, that run had played it out and it was a case of taking my time to bring it to the net. A much darker carp, it too weighed three and a half pounds. I put it in the keepnet and checked my watch. It was still only 5:30, time for another fish, but decided to call it a day, like the fish, I was exhausted. Once again my confidence in the bread punch had put fish in the net on what could have been a hard day.

 The bites had been very shy, while all three carp had been hooked in the lip, the size 16 barbless easily pushing free with the disgorger. The last, darker fish had a stab mark on its shoulder, probably from the resident heron, or even a visiting cormorant.