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.