Following a morning of sunshine and showers, I took a chance of better weather for a few hours on my local pond this week. It’s only a short walk from my home, ideal if time is limited, intending to be on my way back by 6 pm. Travelling light with just the basics, bait was an 8 oz premixed bag of liquidised bread and ground carp pellets, with a slice of Warburtons medium white for the hook.

The surface was alive with small rudd as I wet down my feed, throwing out half a dozen sloppy balls in an area 8 metres out toward the lily bed on my right. With 8 metres of pole and my waggler set to two feet deep and the line to hand from the top two sections, I could cover the line of feed with a 7 mm double punch of bread on a size 16 hook.

The first dozen casts saw the float sail away with small rudd that had formed a barrier close to the surface, rapidly pushing the pole back through the bushes behind to reach the top two, then swinging the rudd to hand. All good exercise on a warm afternoon.

These rudd were all fat with spawn and their fry will provide fodder for the visiting herons and kingfishers to this shallow pond.

For once the float did not zoom away, when a series of bobs of the yellow tip indicated something better. A slow sink was responded to with a sharp upward lift of the pole and the elastic streaked out toward the lilies, until the strain stopped the fish, which churned up black mud, before heading back in the opposite direction. This was my cue to retrieve the pole, passing it back as fast as possible to keep tension on, seeing the red elastic stretching out into the pond. Down to the top two again, I was in control as the unseen fish battled through the mud toward the landing net and lifting it clear.

A very nice crucian carp, my target fish. There were once many common carp of around the two pound mark in this pond, but they are few and far between these days, there being no anti poaching controls in existence on this public water.

For the next half hour I was back to catching rudd again, although they were half the size of those on my previous visit.

The elastic was out again with another powerful fish running off to the lilies. The slow faltering bite belied by the explosion of power once the barbless hook was set.

A smaller crucian followed before the elastic was tested again by another quality fish that fought shy of the landing net, diving under it twice, third time being lucky for me.

Bubbles were now bursting all over the fed area and I varied where I placed the bait, the fish obliging with an eventual sinking of the float.

This barrel shaped crucian was heavy with spawn, but it fought to the last.

An angler on the opposite bank called out “Got another one? You’re catching a fish every three minutes” I wasn’t counting, but they were definitely on the feed now, this tench reaching the lilies before I dragged it back, rolling and diving in one sliding motion all the way to the net.

I stopped for a cup of tea after the tench, its unpredictable fight keeping me busy steering its head out of the roots at my feet and I needed a rest.

There was brief respite, while I waited for the next bite to develope and I was in again as an even fatter crucian ploughed through the bottom mud, creating a washing line of debris. Once again the size 16 barbless hook hung on.

There was no fussy bite from this common carp, the float just vanished and kept going to my right. Reaching the lily bed it turned in toward my bank, rolling under the bushes. Pushing the pole out into the pond, it responded to the pressure and turned back to the centre, the elastic cutting through the surface film at speed. It was now safe, there being no snags apart from the other bed opposite and it was now slowing down, time for me to keep up the pressure, feeding the pole back behind into the bushes. When I detached the top two sections, I thought that I had been too hasty, as this was a cue for the carp to renew the fight, but the 12 – 18 strength elastic did its work and the common was in the net.

I had netted a smaller common and a few big gudgeon, when red finned crucians moved onto the feed. It was now at my cut off time of 6 pm and time to pack up with one more.

As if I didn’t need any encouragement to walk away from a swim that was still producing, the heavens opened without warning, dousing everything in sight, myself rushing round to put the stuff away, then stopping as suddenly as it began. While others sprayed pellets and sweet corn into their swims, good old bread punch did the business for me yet again.

Travelling light has its advantages in that it does not take long to pack up, the last thing to do being to take a pic of the net of fish, a wide mix of species.

As I put away my net, my fellow angler from the opposite side of the pond was already making his way over to my swim. He was welcome to give it a go.