I joined Farnborough and District AS for the fly fishing on the nearby River Whitewater, but then found out that they had a couple of lakes at Shawfields with very big carp, which did not interest me, but the big tench and bream certainly did and I enjoyed a couple of seasons enticing them onto the hook with my favourite method, the bread punch. With a couple of personal bests with these two species, I moved onto other waters and methods, especially when the Club acquired the rights to a very productive stretch of thr River Blackwater, where I could combine another favourite method, fishing the stick float for bream, roach, chub and dace on the bread punch.

Hearing that big tench were being caught again, I parked up near the Shawfields complex for a late afternoon session and was met by chief bailiff Mark, who walked me round, showing me a few swims, that look very inviting, with decent depth in close for use with a pole, the swims having plenty of room for laying out my gear, with good headroom.

The lack of  surface activity was a bit worrying, having got used to waters with cruising carp and surface bubbles from feeding fish, however I’m always up for s challenge and I set out my stall by ignoring the fine antenna floats used on my usual shallow ponds and fitted a 2 gram float rig to a size 14 barbless hook. Plumbing the depth, I found a useful three feet around the lillies, which dropped away to five feet another yard out. This drop off received a line of strawberry groundbait and I optimstically cast in, waiting for a bite. That wait went on for at least fifteen minutes, recasting occasionally to check my 10 mm punch of bread. Oh dear, it was still there? I tried another ball of feed and came up six inches from the bottom. Rings radiated out from the antenna, then it sank out of sight. Missed it! In again and the float sank away. Leave it another second and lift. Resistance and a broad shaped fish was fighting deep down, then rushing about through the lillies. A nice rudd.

It had taken a while, but now it was a bite a chuck. These were decent fish, but I lost the next two on the way to the surace. Expecting tench, or carp, I had my heavy elastic tip fitted. I know, if I’d had my match fishing head on, the light elastic tip would have been ready to fit, instead of in my pole bag, leaning against the tree behind for safety. Slapped wrist! The landing net was ready for the next one, another quality rudd.

A couple of smaller rudd followed, then the elastic responded to a much better fish and the landing net was ready, but I had to chase it through the pads to finally net it. These rudd were fighting fit and did not want to give up, even in the net!

A ball of feed was followed by the rig, this time a fussy bite, with the antenna dithering about, then a very slow move away as it sank. With the float gone and the line following, I was into a different fish. The rudd rolled over and over, as they were brought to the surface, this one ran back and forth. A decent roach.

This roach was a bit slim, so I guess it had recently spawned, unlike the rudd, which were well rounded. A few more smaller rudd were followed by another roach.

Bubbles now began rise from the bottom, first in a burst, then intermittently further down the drop off. Plumbing the depth showed another foot and I responded by adding depth to the float. Strange bites, dipping and dragging the float in short movements, with the bread gone the. I’ve had this before on other waters. Crayfish! Confirmed shortly after, when I hooked a dead weight, that came off. Shawfields has a direct feed from the River Blackwater, which is full of them. They move in like an army onto ground bait. I shallowed up again, but only caught smaller rudd and when it started raining, it was time to pack up

It had been an interesting, but short session. This was effectively a new water for me, where the bread punch had caught fish, when the bailiff and another angler, who stopped to watch, had blanked using other baits. My keepnet showed about thirty fish.

A cold blustery wind was blowing down Allsmoor Pond, when I arived for a brief evening session this week, arriving after 5 pm, to find that the surounding beech trees were in full spring moult, with fluffy white pollen coming down like snow onto the surface, forming a scum. It wasn’t too bad, as apart from forming a washing line of cotton like particles on the line, it was quite fishable. I mixed up a half tray of strawberry flavoured groundbait, and lobbed it into a metre square area, eight metres out, then set up my pole with an anntenna rig to a size 14 barbless hook.

With a 10 mm punch of bread on the hook, I cast into the baited area, adding a couple more small balls of groundbait for good measure. A few sharp knocks on the antenna indicated small rudd were interested in the bread, but the next half sinking of the antenna suggested a bigger fish, sitting there for a minute, before very slowly moving away, as it submerged, dragging the washing line behind it. A brisk raising of the pole set the hook, which activated a dosey carp into action and it rushed off toward the middle out of my sight behind the bushes. Raising the pole stopped the run, causing a U-Turn as the carp arced round to the lilybed on my right. It was only about a pound and rolled on the surface, before being guided to the landing net. Lightly hooked, the carp freed itself in the net, before being popped into the keep net.

After a start like that, it was a disapointment to begin catching small rudd, that were taking on the drop, as the line sank slowly through an increasing layer of pollen scum.

Each one of these rudd added to the growing number of strands of silky pollen, requiring constant clearing of the line and float individually. Throwing in a ball of ground bait would create a metre wide circle of clear water to drop the float into, but the slight breeze would soon fill the hole. With the bait now getting to the bottom, I began catching gudgeon, not my expected plan for the evening, while the bread suspended in the scum attracted the rudd.

Checking my watch, it was just after 6 pm. I’d not even been fishing for an hour, but was now squinting at my static, scum bound float and regretting my decision to fish this evening. I brought the float in. The bread was gone. If it had been a fish, I had seen no indication of a bite. Creating another opening in the scum with a last ball of groundbait, the rebaited and cleaned rig was cast into the new hole. The float tilted and went under. I struck on instinct. There was a swirl on the surface, as a long dark shape powered off toward the lilybed. With the pole at eight metres, I leaned to the left and took the strain, as the elastic came out of the now bending pole. Ignoring the pressure, the fish kept going, boring into the tangled lily leaves, until it stopped and rolled. This was definitly bigger than the 6 pounder, that I’d landed earlier in the year. Moving the pole round to point at the carp to reduce the pressure, saw the carp waddle through the lillybed into the open water to the left. Raising the pole against the weight of this fish and the heavy leaves trapped in the arc, required the strength of a younger man, as the carp now flapped on the surface, freeing the elastic from the lilies. Feeling less pressure, the carp dashed into the corner reeds, then back into the lilly bed, as I yanked the pole virtical to drag it out to the open water. It was beaten, as was I, but I still had to keep it away from the bank, which was full of snags under the bushes. Out of sight, I could hear it crashing though the reeds, then the line went slack. The hook had come out leaving me gutted and knackered, as my adrenalin slumped.

My float rig was a tangled mess with a collection of pollen on the line and float. That carp was a lump and would have provided a good final image for this blog. I had an identical rig made up in my box, but I’ll have to save it for another day. Maybe when the crucians come out to play.