I missed the opening day of 16th June for the UK River Fishing Season on my local River Cut, but managed a brief evening visit the following day. Getting down to fish after 6pm, I was dismayed to see that the Cut was at its lowest level yet, despite recent heavy rain. Getting my 14 foot Browning float rod out of out of its Fish Ready holdall, I realised that the 3 BB Drennan stick float, already assembled since last used in the winter, was unsuitable for the almost static river in front of me, but I was keen to get fishing and decided to see how it went.

What flow there was, along the opposite bank, was the target for the raspberry flavoured groundbait, that I had made up. First cast across to the outside of the bend, the float sailed under and I was playing a decent chublet, that had made off with the 7 mm punch of bread on the size 14 barbless hook.

Bites now came thick and fast, small roach and dace often coming off the hook, before I could swing them in, many of these being released upstream to avoid them being crushed by bigger fish in the keepnet. The 3BB float was too long for the shallow swim, needing to fish well over depth to avoid the baited hook from wrapping over the top of the float. Casting downstream, then holding the line back, before the rig hit the surface was the answer, allowing the bait to drift to the bottom ahead of the float. Greasing the line helped to hit more dace, after I added plane bread and ground hemp to the ground bait, dace flashing through the slow sinking cloud giving positive bites.

The cloud soon attracted tiny dace and roach, so I returned to the heavier groundbait with shot moved toward the hook, laying on with bread inched down the swim produced, a large gudgeon  and a better roach.

I should have changed to a lighter float right from the start, but I was still getting bites and hitting the occasional fish, mostly small roach.

The bites faded away, then bursts of bubbles appeared behind the float. It was obviously a carp feeding on the groundbait. When the float flipped up to lie flat on the surface, I got ready for action, quickly checking my line to the reel, taking in the slack, just as the float slid sideways and under. I lifted steadily to feel a solid resistance, then a slow bounce as the carp moved upstream and across to the opposite bank under the overhanging bushes. A swirl of its tail accelerated the carp upstream and I lay the rod flat to avoid the branches, sliding round on my tackle box to face upstream into the shallows, allowing the ABU501 to freewheel from the surging pressure. The run came to a halt in about six inches of water. I had not seen the fish in the shadows, until it turned back, then a glimpes of its tail, as it rushed past downstream, mean’t a possible Double. It kept going, down through the gap between the berm and the bush, constantly under pressure from my bending rod. It stopped in the open water and broached, before swimming back upstream, while I recovered line. It then began swimming toward the tangle of branches at the berm, as I tried to pull it clear. It all went solid. I rested the rod and clicked the reel bale arm open and waited. Washing a Ginger Nut down with some cooling orange juice, gave some relief, as I realised that I was sweating. The float popped up again as it moved downstream. I lifted into the fish again, but the line was caught in the berm. The carp thrashed hard against the snag, while I pulled hard to free the float. The float was free, minus the carp, several shot and the hook.

After another drink and a reviving Ginger Nut, I was ready to search through my floats for a more suitable candidate, a 2 No 4 bodied stick float was removed from its winder and attached loop to loop and I was back in business. It was still early and I hoped for some better fish. This rig had a size 16 barbless on the link and this buried itself easily into the 7 mm punch. I scraped up the last of my groundbait and put it in just past middle and waited for a bite. The flow was so slight, that it took about 10 minutes to travel 5 yards, by which time there was usually a bite. These included the smallest gudgeon I’d ever seen, about 2 inches long, some small roach and the surprise roach below.

A Lithuanian man and his two young sons came down for a chat about fishing, complaining that he had fished all day below Reading, only catching a small perch. He also commented on the number of paddle boarders and canoeists crowding the River Thames there. He was curious about the bread punch method that I was using. I explained that it was complicated and that he should buy my book, BreadPunch Fishing Diaries. Another Slice. He was interested to see the variety of my fish taken that evening, never having seen a gudgeon before. It was time to pack up now, as I wanted to get home to watch England beat Croatia in the first round of the World Cup, 4 goals to 2. That game was also a game of two halves, England were average in the 1st Half and brilliant in the 2nd Half. Well done Lads.

Glorious June has been more like April Showers lately and after being treated to a heavy downpour at another local pond last week, I decided that with a dry evening in prospect, a brief visit to my nearest and dearest, Allsmoor Pond, was more likely to provide some action on the bread punch. Tackled up by 7 pm, I was once again hoping to find some crucian carp feeding, after feeding a few balls of strawberry flavoured ground bait into an area eight to ten metres out, mid way towards the lily bed ahead of me.

Usually the surface at this time of year the surface is ringed by small rudd topping, but today it was clear of fish and bubbles. Maybe the earlier showers had cooled the surface, putting the small stuff down. No, they were there alright, just waiting for my bread to fall through. About a dozen two ounce rudd pounced on the bread, despite me bulking the shot close to the hook, but once the groundbait had settled on the bottom, better fish moved in and pushed the scavengers away. These bites were slower and the rudd were better.

I settled down and caught a few more rudd, before the elastic was out of the end of the pole for the first time that evening, as a one pound carp was making for the lily bed, but persuaded to turn by the heavy elastic, the line cutting a V across the surface again toward bushes on my bank. The pole was still fully extended, which helped to keep it away from the roots on my right. Breaking the pole down to the top three, I let the fish swim in decreasing circles, until in range of the landing net. These crucian shaped carp, are now referred to as brown goldfish.

For it’s size, this carp fought like a demon, making runs in every direction, but the next long dithering, float bobbing bite was a sign of something different and the moment that I struck, I knew that I had hooked into my target fish, a crucian carp. An initial short run, turned into a tug of war, with rolls and flapping slides across the surface, while I kept a tight line, as I pulled the pole back to my bank, brief glimpses of gold scales and bright red fins visible as the pound fish stirred up the mud, then flapped on the surface. Landing net it hand, I was ready, when it dived under the net and kept going. The size 14 barbless hook had come out!

The time was getting on and the light was beginning to fade. I was ready for a reviving cup of tea and a custard cream, while I scraped up the last of my ground bait and lobbed it out into the swim.  A pair of small rudd predictably made off with the bait, while a steadier bite brought the elastic out, as a more solid fish hugged the bottom. Not big, the small common followed my lead into the landing net.

Keeping me interested, a smaller brown goldfish took it’s time taking the 10 mm punch of bread, slowly moving away, while submerging the 4 x16 antenna float.

Now in “just one more cast” territory, another long dithering bite produced a small 4 oz crucian carp, lightly hooked in the bottom lip of it’s upturned mouth.

There was no doubting the next bite, which sank the float with the line following it down, while my strike was automatic in the opposite direction against the already extending red elastic. This was a much better carp that accelarated toward the lily bed. I raised the pole and stopped the charge just short of the lillies and the carp broached and turned back, then turned into the nearer snag. The pressure was on again, with the pole taking on an unhealthy looking bend against the carp’s strong survival instinct. It now turned toward the point of least resistance, me, as I rapidly pulled the pole back behind me into the trees, down to the top three sections, with ten feet of elastic still fighting the carp. Now began a tough game of tennis, while the carp rushed from the reeds on my left and the roots on my right, each time countering each change of direction with the pole in my right hand. These are wild carp, not like pampered commercial fish, that know that they will give a bit of a fight, before being put in a net, weighed, released and fed again, ready for the next day’s set of anglers. The hook hold held and the three pound common carp was in the net. The hook was firmly in the bottom lip, requiring a push with the disgorger,

Solid Raw Power

There was still enough light to fish, but after this battle, I decided to call it a night. It was quite possible that there were more carp sitting over my groundbait, but they will have to wait for next time. The bread punch had proved itself yet again.

There are some gudgeon in there somewhere, while the lone token crucian is visible, shame about the one that got away!

With a full title of Braybrooke Community Nature and Fishing Club, local anglers at Jeanes Pond today, June 1st, were enjoying their first day back at the Bracknell Town Council water, after an enforced break from fishing during the month of May. When the club was formed over ten years ago, the Nature side was at full strength, with regular Nature events taking place, Reptile talks, Birds of Prey demonstrations and Bat Walks. The idea of closing the pond to regular anglers, allowed the bird life and water birds to nest and rear their broods without interuption. From an angling point of view, it was also a chance to train up youngsters, giving them basic skills and knowledge through the accredited Angling Trust CAST course, using proffessional angling coaches. Those were heady days, with no shortage of volunteers to run the events, but as seems the norm today, partly due to Covid, the wish to get together for the common good has evaporated. Now only a few club events take place. Although a heated club room was provided overlooking the Pond, the CAST courses are also a thing of the past.

That explains the Pond’s continued closure during May, which is a shame, as Jeanes is just waking up from winter then, which is why I planned an early morning visit today. However, when my wife asked if I was getting up early this morning to fish, I turned over for another 40 winks. I did eventally get up, but there were still little fishing tasks to complete before I left the house, that should have been done last evening. Jobs completed and the car loaded, I arrived at the Braybrooke carpark after 9:30 am, just as the welcome grey clouds were giving way to very bright sunshine. Not ideal for tench fishing, tench preferring dawn and dusk for feeding. There was quite a strong wind blowing from the East down the pond, creating a steady drift. Setting out my stall takes more time these days, , but soon I had plumbed up the depth along a shelf that gives about five feet and introduced a line of firm sweet groundbait balls with a bait dropper alongthe drop off. With a 2 gram antenna float, bulked to within a foot of the hook, I was ready to fish with a 10 mm punch of bread on the hook.

My groundbait was already having an effect and bubbles were beginning to rise along the drop off and I dropped my float along the edge of the lilly bed. After a few minutes, the antenna was beginning to dither, dipping and holding down, causing me to get ready to strike, only to relax, when the float became still. Was this small rudd, or crayfish? More rings radiated from the antenna, then it slowly sank out of sight. I lifted and the elastic streatched out of the pole. The fish gradually came alive, running diving and rolling. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that it was a tench, fighting deep down, not a big one, but my first of the season. Bringing the pole back, the tench broke the surface, then rushed toward the bank, but pointing the still full length pole out to the middle, it gave up and lay on the surface, where I netted it. A young male of a pound and a half, the barbless size 14 in the outside of the bottom lip.

Another punch of bread and I dropped the rig in again. In minutes, more bubbles were bursting around the float. It moved toward the lillies and slowly sank. I lifted and missed the bite. The bait was gone. I double punched with the 10 mm punch and dropped in over more bursting bubbles. The float lifted, then buried out of sight, with the greased floating line following. This time there was resistance and a slow thumping on the line, as the elastic drew out. Drawing the pole back behind me, a rudd splashed over the surface, the gold flanks and scarlet fins flashing in the sunlight.

The sun was now blasting down and my punch bread was already hard and replaced it from the pouch on my bait apron. I was keeping my eye on the Great White Koi that was among the lilybed. I had a run in with that last year and lost. I wasn’t keen on a repeat! There were now fewer bubbles coming up and smaller rudd were taking the bread. A rudd bite, that moved off to the middle at speed, turned out to be an unstoppable carp, that just kept going, until the hook pulled out.

I put the last of my groundbait into the shadow of a bush to my left and waited, a good bite was missed. A smaller 8 mm punch resulted in a couple of 3 ounce rudd. Then I hooked a much bigger tench that thankfully rushed away from the roots of the bush, zig zagging toward the lillies in a powerful run, which I stopped, leaning hard over to the left. It rolled vertically and turned, its black body throwing up spray, as it dived toward the bush. Leaning over to the right, the pole looked in danger of breaking, when the hook lost its hold, firing the float back and wrapping line and shot around the pole tip.

I couldn’t unpick this tangle if I tried. It was time to go. I was reminded of the  old Noel Coward song, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”. I will have to return earlier next time. At least there are fish to be caught from Jeanes Pond again.

The punch bread dried out quickly, and needed replacing to keep it soft for the fish.