After days at a tropical 30 degrees Centigrade, a mere 26 degrees seemed pleasant enough for me to venture out after dinner this week to fish Allsmoor Pond, finding most swims occupied as I walked my trolley round. Unloading my gear, I saw my landing net and keep net were missing. In my haste to get fishing, I’d left them hanging up to dry since my previous outing to another local venue last week. A call to my wife at home found her in the garden, but thankfully, she was happy to walk down to the pond with the nets, which left me time to mix up my groundbait, 30% each of liquidised bread, ground hemp and strawberry flavoured ground bait. By the time that Julie arrived, a few balls of feed had been put in ten metres out towards the lily bed and I was ready to fish.

As I was taking this image of the swim, the float went under and this snatched shot is the result, Julie witnessing a carp first cast. Not a big one, but it was a good start.

With work to do in the garden, Julie had seen enough, and she set off again to to begin the uphill walk back home. Thanks Julie.

I put out another ball of feed, dropping the 4 x 16 antenna float, baited with an 11 mm punch of bread on a size 14 barbless hook, over the spot. A slight lift of the yellow antenna and it cruised under, pulling the red heavy elastic out of the pole tip in response to the instinctive strike. This was a better common, which after a pole bending run to the left, out of sight behind reeds, turned and ran back in the opposite direction, while I broke the pole down to the top three to bring this new fish under control. Still full of fight, more runs soon tired the carp and it was soon in the landing net.

In contrast, the next bite produced another common carp, just. It was only a few ounces, but stll put up a speedy running fight. It was good to see, as although the pond is under half its original size due to encroaching reeds, the carp are still breeding. The pond was OK until the Environmental Agency decided to wild up the pond, which had a plain brick surround. Now it is choked by reeds and the trees planted around it need cutting back. The EA say it is not their responsibility, as they left it to the Council to control, but the Bracknell Forest Council have no budget apparntly.

The bites continued, encouraged by a ball of feed after each feed. The lads opposite had called over asking what I was doing special to catch these carp, nothing special just the bread punch. One of them came round for a look, just as I was playing another. It is difficult to compress my years of experience with the punch into ten minutes. He said that I ought to write a book on the subject, which of course I replied that I have written two!

The next carp was the best of the evening, being over three pounds. This fish did not want to come in, rolling and running, after the lightest of bites, which I assumed was a crucian carp, bobbing the float and slowly submerging the antenna, but exploding out of the shallow pond on contact with the hook.

This carp turned the water back with stirred up mud, which put the carp off for a while, allowing a few rudd to get in on the act. As the sun began to set behind the trees, I caught a couple more smaller commons, but the fading light did not allow my camera to produce, coloured images and I packed up dead on 9 pm. All in all, this was one of my best sessions at Allsmoor for several years, my two hour tally being a dozen common carp and several rudd. Hopefully this is a sign of recovery for the pond, which has suffered from food poaching in the recent past.

With the light going fast, my camera needed the flash for these last couple of images, too bright for the bait tray and too dark for the net.

At 30 degrees Centigrade, it has been too hot to fish lately, the river has no water in it, with flow just a trickle, while one of my nearby ponds has dead fish littering the margins, due to lack of oxygen. Locally my only option was Jeanes Pond, where a tench was a possibility. Arriving before 6 pm, I hoped to bag one of the shaded swims, before other anglers turned up. I needn’t have worried, no one was desperate enough to brave the heat.

At least the water pump was operating. As I set up my pole, a burst of bubbles erupted under the bush on my right and I quickly punched a 12 mm pellet of bread, ready for the size 14 hook, on my 2 gram antenna float. I dropped the rig straight down over the bubbles, which looked like a carp was busy feeding there. The bait had no sooner touched the bottom, than the antenna lifted, then dropped, the float moving with a series of jerks and bobs. I struck, no bait. I knew the signs. Crayfish.

I mixed up a small amount of raspberry flavoured groundbait laced with ground hemp, a winning combination at Jeanes in recent years and lobbed three balls to the left, under the bush on that side. Dropping the pole rig over the area. Within minutes, bubbles were bursting all over the surface. Once upon a time, this meant bottom feeding fish, tench, carp and roach, but those tell tale bites, bob,bob, bob, meant the dreaded crayfish were crowding around my bait. I hooked one, that dropped off half way to the surface. If left, the double punched bread was gone.

Two more joints were added to the pole and I readjusted the depth to a foot off bottom over the deeper water, throwing in a 40 mm ball of white crumb, mixed with ground hemp. The float dipped and glided away, at least this was a fish. A smallish rudd.

There were shoals of big rudd here once, but this was before the cormorant epidemic. The 12 mm punch was selecting the “better” fish and I decided to entertain myself taking these rudd, in the hope of a random tench. The crumb and ground hemp combination, did not seem to interest the crayfish, while the rudd were queuing up, feeding two swims a couple of metres apart, holding some better rudd.

Throwing in a couple of punched squares of bread, resulted in a pair of 6 oz rudd making smash and grab raids on the floating pieces, ripping them apart. Shallowing up, moving all the shot beneath the float and allowing the bread to sink slowly on a greased line was the answer, although the lightly hooked rudd, both came off in spectacular fashion, somersaulting off the hook against the heavy elastic.

We have to be out of the carpark by 8 pm and I was packing up by 7:30. This session left me with the conclusion that, with the bottom crowded with crayfish, my next visit may include a fly rod, greased line and balls of crumb with ground hemp added.