The Indian Summer is long gone, now we have cold foggy mornings and thermals on to go fishing, with no sign of sun before lunchtime and darkness by 5 pm. On Friday morning, a weak sun was peeking through the mist, as I drove my wife into town. Seeing the drying roads, she commented that I hadn’t been fishing this week. “Not bothered” I’d replied. Sad, but true, going fishing at this time of year requires enthusiasm, which I didn’t have. A frosty chill on the water, lowers the body emperature of cold blooded fish and can shock fish enough to stop them feeding, so who wants to sit in the cold and struggle for bites? Not me, but by the time that I had returned home, the sun was bright and warm on my skin. I changed my mind. Allsmoor Pond is very close to my home, it is very shallow and quick to warm up, with a south facing aspect. At least I would be warm.

Of course, although I had got my liquidised bread from the freezer and swapped my float rod for a pole in quick time, I arrived at Allsmoor to see that the mist was rolling in again, shrouding out the sun. Only a month ago, the lily bed was stretching over in my direction, now it had died back to the far side. There were no signs of fish movements, although there was a plus point, there was no wind and no leaves littering the surface. It didn’t take me long to set out my stall, strawberry flavoured groundbait, a 4 x 16 antenna float rig to a size 16 barbless hook with a 6 mm punch of bread and I was ready. A few small balls of groundbait out at 8 metres, soon persuaded a rudd to respond to the punch with a slideaway bite.

As I steered this small rudd past a branch in the water, it became entangled in a length of line attached to the branch. I pulled the line in. I intially thought that it was a night line, a baited line left in the water over night, for a carp to swallow, to be pulled in and taken for food the following day. Thankfully there was no baited hook, but the line was a surprise, it was at least 20 lb breaking strain. The biggest carp that I have had out of here was 8 lb and that was on the pole with elastic and 5 lb line. No need for this stuff.

I coiled it up and cut through the coils with my scissors. It was tough old line. Who would fish with anything this strong? Poaching was rife in this pond at one time and I am sorry to say that I have found many here over the years, but none with a fish on. A favourite was to attach the line to a brightly coloured aerosol can, which was then tied to the end of a whippy branch. When the carp swallowed the bait, it would run and hook itself against strain of the whippy branch. This was the method used by a gang of four East Europeans, that was emptying another local pond of carp, they would sit on bank side seats and watch for movement of the aerosol can from the opposite side of the pond. They would then go round and collect the carp and put it in a wetted canvas bag. These four were observed and caught by the club secretary, who was also a retired police sergeant. There were live carp in the bag, which were released. I don’t know what happened to the gang.

The rudd were feeding, but I had no sign of my target carp, but the rudd were obliging, despite being very cold to the touch, so continued taking them at regular intervals. Nothing big, but keeping me busy, pulling back, breaking down to the top two sections, unhook, rebait and extend the pole and swing the rig out over the baited area again.

Colour variations, usual red fins.

Green fins.

Orange Fins.

Usually, when a carp comes around into the swim, the rudd move off, but this did not happen, the only quiet periods were taken over by gudgeon.

The path around the pond is very narrow and every minute, or so, my pole blocked the path, while supported behind me, as I unhooked a fish and rebaited the punch. I was aware of a pair of trainers to my right, as I blocked the path again and appologised to the legs, saying that I would only be a minute. The legs had a voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve been watching you from the other side of the pond. It’s good to see a real fisherman, who knows what he is doing fishing this pond.” This began an All Our Yesterdays conversation about match fishing in the 70s, through to the 90s. We had both fished for competitive teams in Open Matches, Winter Leagues and Nationals and both had been tutored to fish the Bread Punch by top London anglers on the Grand Union Canal. He still had his rods, reels and poles of thirty years ago. We laughed over the fact that I am still using my 50 year old rods. He was no longer married and was considering taking up fishing again, all he needed was a new keep net, as his old one had been eaten by mice. It was now 4 pm, the fog was coming down and the light was going fast, so we shook hands and I began packing up.

I had gone up to an 8 mm punch, but still caught rudd, or gudgeon, trying to attract a carp, but I think the cold weather had put them off. Last month I had seven common carp, three of them around two pounds, but today was a different story.

Summing up, this was not my expected result, a few common carp would have brightened a dull day, while I wonder what has happened to the many crucian carp that were the main attraction here a couple of years ago. At least I’d met a like minded angler, who may just get his rods out again.

Recent rainstorms, had put some life back in the drought affected River Cut near my home and I was determined to fish the river, before Winter got a grip. The temperture had already dropped, when I arrived on a bright afternoon this week, but was pleased to see that the leaves were still on the trees, rather than covering the surface of the river.

I had not fished this swim for some years, when better flows had produced good nets of roach and chub on the bread punch, while trotting a stick float beneath the trees. Now the river is shallower, with less pace and I opted for a lightweight 2 No 4 float, fished over depth through a cloud of groundbait, with a 6 mm punch of bread on a size 16 barbless hook. I mixed up liquidised bread, ground hemp and a fine strawberry groundbait, that was very sloppy to sink slowly in the clear water. Fishing “The Slop” on the Grand Union Canal, had worked well for roach in the past and it was worth  a try today. The idea is to feed little and often, producing a column of fine groundbait that keeps fish in the swim without actually feeding them. Although suited to fishing a pole, I use my twelve foot Hardy rod that does not bounce off small fish, yet can handle any bonus fish.

As expected, very small roach and chub were the first fish, flashing over deep down on the strike. Each time I expected the rod to bend into a perch, but no such luck today. The dace below did put a bend in the rod however, tumbling over and over as it tried to shake out the hook

I was over casting the float downstream, with a single No 8 shot a foot from the hook and a No 6 midway, the float slow to cock and often sinking out of sight, when it did. A better roach was next, searching out the opposite bank foliage in seconds of being hooked.

The small chub had been beaten to the punch by very welcome roach, this one barely sucking in the punch before it was hooked.

More small roach, dace and chub followed before another bite produced a rudd, that surfaced immediately scudding across the surface.

This was now a bite a chuck, although a brief spell of wind blew in a collection of oak leaves, dragging on the surface line. This roach taking on the drop.

The sun had by now sunk below the houses of the estate that lines the Cut, the river running through a narrow green corridor of wilderness hemmed in by a busy road and houses. Recently the Town Council have begun a steady programme of mature tree removal, leaving wide gaps along the roadside, which has destroyed any illusion of peaceful solitude, when fishing here. At least the fishing is holding up against the constant threat of pollution and water abstraction, to supply the thousands of new homes built in the area over the last ten years. The other side of this major road, no longer bluebell woods, but a thriving community of 4,000 houses and a school. Such is progress?

I kept feeding a small ball of groundbait every cast and the fish kept obliging by taking the bread punch. My next notable fish was a solid dace, that fought all over the river.

A decent rudd, one of many, still hanging onto the punch.

There were too many fish to photograph, this final chub being landed at 4 pm and time to pack up, before it got dark. There was now a chill in the air and I was glad that I had put on a thick woollen shirt.

It had been a busy two hours, and well worth the visit.

A mixed bag of silver fish, roach, dace, chub and rudd.

A  year ago, I visited a small secluded day ticket water, hidden away in the wilds of Berkshire, West End Fishery in a rural hamlet that lends it’s name. A carp fishing friend had spoken of the big roach that were taking his carp baits at the tree lined pond and I went along for an afternoon visit. On that day I fished with bread punch and groundbait on the pole. I caught roach from the off and after 30 minutes began catching 8 to 12 oz specimens. The bailiff came around for his ticket money and watched me catching on the punch and I commented on the “No Keepnet Rule” to which he replied, that it did not apply to roach, only carp. On that day my net was in the van, but I always resolved to return for the blog.

I was a bit late returning, due this summer to the continued high temperatures, but now cooler in the low teens, I arrived mid morning this week hoping for a red letter day. The empty car park was a bit disconserting, as before I had stuggled to find a vacant swim. I dropped off early at a bay between two trees and began plumbing the depth, finding a drop off from three feet to four feet, five yards out, gradually increasing to six feet seven yards out. Last time I had fished a foot off bottom and caught in the lower two.

My pole rig was a 4 x 16 antenna float, shotted with the bulk two feet from the size 16 barbless hook, with two No 8s down to the 6 inch hook link. I had mixed up a tray of strawberry groundbait, ground hemp and liquidised bread, squeezed up into egg sized balls, dropping one six yards out over the drop off. There were a few leaves on the surface, but there were plenty of gaps to fish between and within a few minutes the float dipped, came up, then sank out of sight. I lifted and missed it. My 7 mm punch of bread was gone. I plopped in another ball of feed and cast over the centre of the spreading ripples. A repeat bite, but this time I paused, watching the line follow the float. Resistance and the bounce of a roach pulling out the elastic from the pole proved contact. As I netted this slim 9 inch roach, I double checked, as it was very chub like. A voice behind made me jump. It was the bailiff, who confirmed, that it was OK to use a keepnet for roach. He also spoke of a 2 lb roach coming out this year, plus a couple of pound plus fish

Encouraged, I fished on, the roach fighting hard, some getting off before the net. I decided to change the elastic from the heavy red, to a lighter green and went down to a 6 mm punch. A small common carp scrapped hard and riggled out of my hand into the net.

The wind was now getting up, blowing more leaves onto the water, these catching the line as they passed and dragging the float. I was still hooking fish, but washing lines of leaves were now acting as sails, causing slack line and more lost fish. A carp took the bread on the move and charged off, hooking itself, only to come off a few minutes later. I had another good roach, which I managed to net, however the enjoyment was over as conditions continued to worsen. I’d had enough of this, when match fishing in Winter Leagues, when every point gained in a section, made a difference to the Team’s standing at the end of the match. A single gudgeon precious after 5 hours in the wind and rain.

The biggest roach of the afternoon.

A powerful drift began moving from behind the island in front of me, bringing a four foot deep mass of moving, sunken leaves from the trees on the other side. There were now no open spaces to fish through and I packed up. The result of the two hours fishing, 11am until 1 pm was a dozen fish and probably a dozen lost fish.

Bank to Bank leaves.

The outcome of this has to be another visit. There are plenty of good roach here. On reflection my Edgemonster pole is probably too stiff for bouncy roach, my previous visit being with my 11 metre Shakespeare pole, which works well, as it has a softer action and a fine top joint with a medium strength elastic.

The Bread Punches

About 3 lb of fish from a difficult swim.

It has been a while since I have been able to devote a day to go fishing and this week was no exception, with various social committments filling the blank spots on my calendar. This week, a fishing window opened up on Friday afternoon, when my wife declined a joint grass seeding operation in the garden, due to a sudden cold snap. She obviously saw my fishing mind ticking over and said the magic words “You can go fishing if you want to!” It was already past 3 pm and my options were few, but Savernake Pond is only minutes away in the car, which was already loaded from my recent outing on the River Cut. All I needed was to swap the float rods from the car, for my 10 metre pole, grab some liquidised bread from the freezer, microwave some hook bait punch squares, then steam them over the kettle, while making a flask of tea, grab my camera and get changed at the speed of light, like Superman. By 3:15 I was waving goodbye to my wife and by 3:30 unloading the fishing trolley at my preferred Savernake swim.

Before tackling up, I mixed up my usual groundbait of liquidised bread, ground hemp seed and strawberry flavoured crumb, adding water to form soft balls, that would break up on impact with the surface of this shallow pond, targeting an area eight to ten metres out. With that done, I tackled up with a 16 x 4 antenna pole float to a size 14 barbless hook, complete with a 7 mm punch of bread. Since my last visit, more rain has increased the depth, but set to two feet, my rig was still dragging bottom. No bites? I catapulted a few small balls of ground out and cast over them. A bite on the drop. The elastic shot out of the pole tip, as a stocky junior common ran away from the strike.

Judging by this small common, the carp were already showing an increase in weight over those that I caught six weeks ago, no doubt helped by the local mothers feeding the ducks along this stretch of bank. Another one taken on the drop.

I shallowed up by a few inches and adjusted my shot for a slower fall through and followed with a small ball of feed. The float buried again and another chunky common came to the net.

These were not giving up once hooked, although the heavy elastic soon brought the little battlers under control.

I had been watching some large carp on the surface along the island bank, nosing among the snags, but now they were close to my swim and I chanced my arm with another ball of groundbait, while putting an extra joint on the pole. Even with the additonal two metres of pole and swinging out the pole rig, I was still a couple of metres short. I couldn’t see the fish clearly, their dorsal fins were visible, while slight movements were causing swirls on the surface. My float lifted, then moved to the left, before sinking. I lifted into a heavier fish and the elastic came out, adding to the weight if the pole. This was not one of those big lumps, but a better fish all the same, throwing up a cloud of black mud as it fought back. I ran the pole back, using my trolley as a roller, until I could detatch the top two and slipped the net under a carp that fought well above its weight.

A cold wind was now blowing along the pond and I removed the two lower joints, as it was becoming impossible to hold the pole steady. Sinking the pole tip prevented the float from skating across the surface and I continued to catch.

It was fast approaching 6 pm and was having trouble seeing the bites. I had dropped a few smaller fish off the barbless hook, but I guessed that I had netted about twenty fish, the one below being the last.

Bread punch continues to be my only bait and once again it did not let me down.

These carp continue to grow at a noticeable rate and hope that they are willing to feed during the colder months. When I first moved to this area, Savernake, or as I nicknamed it the Duck Pond, was full of 2 to 5 lb common and mirror carp, which would feed, even with ice in the margins. I look forward to those days again.

Promises of rain by the smiling lady weather forcaster on TV, had persuaded me to sow grass seed on my parched lawn, but after days of watering by hand from deminished water butts, a warning of a 90% chance of heavy rain was ignored by myself, when I set off in bright sunshine for a late afternoon session on the River Cut a few miles from home.

Passing areas of bare gravel and mud, covered by falling leaves, I continued downstream looking for a swim with some signs of flow, to no avail. This once fabulous stick float trotting river, now resembled a shallow pond, but on the outside of a long bend, the floating leaves were sluggishly creeping past the opposite bank. This spot would have to do and I searched the depths of my tackle box for a small canal waggler, finding one with chipped paint on the reed antenna, but locked to the line with 2 BB, 2 No 6 shot down the line and a size 14 barbless hook, an easy underhand cast with my lightweight Hardy 12 foot float rod, put the float close to the bank. The 8mm punch of bread was taken on the drop and a six inch chublet was the first fish in my keepnet.

While tackling up, I had mixed up a small amount of light groundbait of liquidised bread, ground hemp, mixed with strawberry flavoured fine crumb, which I added enough water to just hold together, when lobbed over to the other side, breaking up on contact with the surface, forming a cloud. The last thing I wanted was to build a pyramid of hard balls on the bottom, that would not break up, due to the low flow. The groundbait was certainly attracting something, as showers of fine bubbles began erupting from the bottom. In the middle of the bubbles, I got bites, but few fish, all small, most of which fell off the hook. The tiny roach, chub and dace were not worthy of my keepnet and I threw them back, but the gudgeon were bigger. I persevered with the 8 mm punch, as a carp kept swimming through the swim, nudging at fallen leaves. It appeared to be about five pounds, and cruised within inches of my bank and not interested in my bread, when offered in front of it’s nose.

The wind was getting up, blowing through the trees behind me, and soon rain was showing on the surface opposite. I had no waterproofs, but pulled my hood to cover my cap and repossitioned my bait apron over my legs. At least the rain was warm. Whoosh. Like a mini tornado, the wind and heavy rain rushed through the little river valley, stripping leaves from the trees.

Like a tap being turned on, the river began to flow again, gradually increasing. Upstream the river is captured by several lakes, while it serves the town as a drain for its surface water, flowing south to north and the mighty River Thames. Silver fish began replacing the gudgeon, as the float made progress down the swim. The float went under and the line followed. The rod had a bend in it. At last something was fighting back. It was a small roach, but much bigger than those before it.

My bread was super soft now in my bait tray, due to the rain and possibly easier for the roach to mouth, whatever the theory, my next bite produced a better roach that fought all over the swim.

The fresh flush of water was obviously a tonic to the fish and another ball of groundbait created a cloud that visibly drifted downstream. A cast to the middle of it brought a sailaway bite, that took line, the strike being more of a lift into a moving target, as my rod bent round in response. Was it that carp? The line went solid, then came free again as the fish headed upstream, still pulling hard, then turning to the middle hugging the bottom. I was convinced that it was a carp, until a muddy chub surfaced ready to be netted.

This was not as big as I thought, but it had tried to get under a snag earlier and got buried in the mud, its mouth was full of the black sludge from the bottom.

Throwing in a ball of feed brought another quality roach searching through the cloud, with an instant dive of the waggler. I let it continue to take line before lifting into this hard fighting fish, the roach running upstream against the current, then curving across to my side, before surfacing to slide into the landing net.

I began catching gudgeon again and scraped up enough feed for a small ball, but decided that big was better and pulled out the ingredients for another few balls, tipping them into my bait tray, then mxing them with my left hand, while I watched the float, holding the rod with my right. Two more gudgeon added to my catch, while this went on, before glugging in some more water from the bottle. Rolling up another ball with my left hand got me into trouble, when the float went down and I hooked another good roach with my hand in the bait tray. Lifting my right index finger allowed the roach to run, while my left hand disengaged in time to grab the handle on my ABU 501 and bring another pristine roach to the net.

The flow was now slowing again and the first ball had only brought a small dace and a couple of gudgeon, so in went the second, more gudgeon, then solid resistance and a run with the characteristic thumping fight, as a roach zigzagged down the swim. The light was going already and once netted, I decided to pack up.

Deciding to fish with the waggler rig had made a difference to presentation, allowing very light shot down the line, although I was expecting to make contact with that carp at any time during the afternoon. Likewise, the constant bursts of bubbles could have been that carp rooting about in my groundbait, or as I suspect it was a colony of bread stealing crayfish.

Another good reult for the bread punch.

My last visit to Allsmoor Pond was during the July heatwave, but now enjoying an Indian Summer in late September, I paid an afternoon visit for a few hours fishing, while my wife was preparing a fish pie for our evening meal. I was suprised to see that bull rushes now choke two thirds of the pond, leaving only one end fishable from half a dozen swims. Reaching my intended swim, I found it filled with large logs, which could not have been an accident and can only assume that the anti fishing brigade are responsible. I backtracked a few yards to the only other swim on that side and saw that this too had a sunken log a few yards out from the bank. This must have been a two man job, as this was a big log. Oh well, live and let live, is my motto.

Fishing the pole in this swim did not cause me any problems and I continued setting up, although later in the afternoon, I did hook the snag and pulled twig free. I mixed up the usual liquidised bread, ground hempseed and strawberry flavoured groundbait, which I formed into small balls and catapulted half a dozen, eleven metres out. Setting up with a 4 x 16 antenna float rig to a size 14 hook with an 8 mm punch of bread. First cast over my groundbait, the float slid away and the elastic stretched out toward the lily bed. Raising the pole, the run was stopped and the fish turned left and rolled on the surface. This was the signal for me to begin pulling the pole back to the top three sections, while the elastic stretched out further, putting the now visible common carp under more strain, The carp was soon on the surface, sliding toward my landing net.

This was a good start and I punched out another 8 mm bread pellet, slid it onto the hook and cast back out. The float slid away again, brace and lift. A small rudd splashed on the surface. This was quickly drawn back and unhooked.

A couple more balls of feed were catapulted out, followed by a cast into the area. The float settled and lifted, then disappeared in a flash and I was in again. This one briefly running, then stopping to fight, rolling and diving like a crucian carp. I let the fight continue, until the fish made another run and I again broke the pole down to the top three, this resulting in a fight back, before the fish gave up and came to the landing net. Not a crucian, just an angry common.

Another small rudd was swung in, then the elastic was out again, with another running common. This one made a sudden bid for freedom by diving to my left, out of sight behind the reed bed, needing extra pressure to bring it back round to be netted.

I had now attracted the attention of an angler on the opposite bank, who came round for a chat about my bread punch method, only to find me playing yet another carp, this one a very deep fish, that I thought was a crucian. Wishful thinking I think, as crucians often made up 50% of my catch in the autumn. I do miss catching crucians. This angler wanted to know what I was doing to catch so many carp, while he had none. I showed him my punches and floats, plus my ground bait mix. He was using an eight foot spinning rod, with large pieces of bread flake pinched on a size 10 hook. He was casting with a bubble float to the edge of the lily bed. Nothing wrong with that, but he was leaving the bread to be discovered by a roving carp. I was fishing light, using the pole to drop the float over the groundbaited area, then having a direct strike to the float, the fish having been attracted into the swim. I suggested that he mash up some of his bread and throw it to the edge of the lilies, or just throw in a few free samples. While he was there I unhooked the carp that I was playing, when he arrived.

I demonstrated how the bread punch works, fitted the pellet to the hook, cast out and hooked a small common straight away. He was amazed. It is not magic, just a combination of doing the right thing to catch fish.

A cold wind was now getting up, blowing through the gap in the trees and I had to add another few inches to the depth to hold bottom. I had been fishing just off bottom and this may have been why I began catching gudgeon. I say catching gudgeon, but most of them came off the hook.

The angler on the far side finally hooked a carp, a mirror of about two pounds, which his young son managed to net for him. I was pleased to see this father and son action, with photos for the albumn taken by a walker.

It was getting close to 6 pm, time for me to get home to the fish pie,  that my wife was making. I had been systematicly catapulting my remaining groundbait out in an attempt to bring the carp back on the feed. A better than average rudd was a false alarm, but good to see.

Piling in the feed finally paid off at last, with bubbles bursting on the surface and the hope of a nice carp to round off the afternoon. The float steadily moved to the right and sank, with solid resistance, that exploded into action.

This took me all over the pond, testing the elastic to the extreme, but the hook held and it stayed on for the landing net. The carp were probably coming back on and I was tempted to make one more cast.

They were definitly back in the swim, as this young common proved, but time was marching on and although reluctant, I began packing up, as my fish pie was waiting.

Decent roach usually appear at Allsmoor and even the rudd were scarce this year, still I’m not complaining, the bread punch again proved to be the bait to beat for the carp.

I was determined to get to the Farnborough DAS stretch of the River Blackwater this week, after a two vehicle crash had blocked the road at my last attempt, causing me to divert to my local river Cut. The roads were clear this time and I was parked up 20 minutes later, looking over the bridge at a river desperate for rain. I have never seen the water so clear and shallow and dismissed my intended downstream swim and began a search upstream for something deeper, with enough room to cast and trot a stickfloat. As I walked, I realised that my options were limited, stopping to check every 50 yards, eventually finding a spot that I have fished before, which used to have a foot of water straight off the bank, but now was bare gravel. Tackling up, I was amused to see a trio of mallard ducks giving up trying to swim upstream, instead walking along the exposed gravel on the opposite bank!

I set up with a 2 No 4 pole float, with No 8 shot down the line to a size 14 fine wire barbless hook, overdepth at 2 feet. Being on the outside of a bend, there was good flow and I balled in a mix of ground hempseed, liquidised bread and pink strawberry groundbait. Sitting well back from the bank, I could see the balls break up into a cloud of particles and first drop in, the float dived away upstream with a hard fighting chublet rushing away on the short line. I had to take care swinging it in, as the 12 foot Hardy rattled through the branches above.

Much smaller chublets pulled the float under, as I held back lifting the 7 mm punch of bread clear of the bottom, some fish hooking themselves. The strong downstream wind was no help either, blowing the smaller fish away from my outstretched hand, while trying to avoid the branches overhead.

The next fish of note was a roach, which swam then turned in quick succession, giving that classic thumping fight. Roach filled this swim the last time that I fished it in the winter, but they were missing today.

Dace now came into the swim, giving lightning fast bobs of the float, that often stripped the soft punched bread from the hook. Increasing the tail and depth, while holding back intermittantly, seemed to get more in the net, the soft top of my Hardy float rod, resisting their explosive tumbling fight.

The sun was beginning to set and seeing my float in the shadows was more difficult, often the ripple created, when the float sank being the only sign of a bite. The line jerking forward was too late for the dace, that were long gone with the bait. The chub were braver and held onto the bait for longer.

I had increased the feed rate and the chub had responded, most giving a brief fight when hooked, but a firm take twenty yards down the trot was a different matter, with a decent chub jumping clear of the surface, when the lightweight rod bent into it. Being so shallow, there was nowhere to go for this chub, but to run downstream and I took my fingers off the handle of my ABU 501 to let it freewheel, with the Hardy taking the shocks. It was only seconds, but seemed longer, when the chub turned and began swimming back under load, with bursts of energy, while searching the bottom for snags. I could not raise the rod for fear of becoming caught in the oak leaves above my head, but the white gaping mouth of the chub was on the surface and soon guided to the landing net.

Apologies for the blurred image of this chub, but my tired old camera struggles in low light under trees.

I had expected to fish for longer, but finding a suitable swim had taken precious fishing time, however my short two hour session had been productive in the end, while the bread punch continues to be an effective way to catch a wide variety of fish.

I was geared up for my first visit of the season, to the Farnborough DAS stretch of the River Blackwater at Camberly this week, now that Autumnal temperatures are the norm and following reports of roach and bream bags being taken on the bread punch. My enthusiasm evaporated at the top of my road, where it crosses a dual carraigeway at traffic lights, when I joined a queue of traffic waiting to cross. My side was slowly moving forwards, a few cars at a time. Drawing closer, I could see the blue flashing lights of police cars, while traffic on my side wishing to cross the lights, were being directed to the right away from the junction, back into the town. As the normal function of the lights was allowing traffic each way along the carraigeway, it took sometime for me to reach my turning point, seeing that a large van had hit an estate car in the rear, blocking progress across, while bollards restricted those cars turning right and across to follow left. At the next lights was another queue. This was mid Friday afternoon, when traffic is usually heavy, and knowing the diversion route would be clogged, I abandoned the Blackwater idea and cut through the centre of the town and headed for the Cut at Jocks Lane.

Parking the car, I loaded up my trolley and headed for the river, seeing that it was still low, despite rain earlier in the week. The oil barriers are now a permanent fixture at the weir, which was passing a scummy trickle over the sill into the slow moving river. I continued down to the disabled platform and saw that the level was right down again, with exposed mud and the bottom visible across to the opposite bank. Being on the inside of the bend, there was no flow and a film of scum was static over the shallows, with a pervading smell of oil.

Thames Water are obviously extracting more water from the Cut, recently a multi gallon tank was sunk into the ground, attached by a pipe to the outfall tunnel above the weir, having a direct link to the water treatment works a mile downstream. At the time, Thames engineers said that this was to avoid flooding of the river, but the water passing over the weir sill is now always a trickle, even in times of high flows on the main river. With thousands of new houses on estates springing up all around the local area, the water has to come from somewhere?

The days of using 5 No 4 bodied ali stemmed stick floats on this river are long gone, my new float of choice being a pole float carrying the equivalent of 2 No 4. A single No 6 under the float with three No 8 shot shirt buttoned down the line to the size 14 barbless hook. The old river depth here was three feet, with the float trotted down and held back in the flow, but now there is only two feet of depth with minimal flow. This week I was casting downstream to the deeper water, to avoid being seen by the fish, while the float was shotted with the fine tip just above the surface film. Bites were usually a couple of bobs before the tip disapeared, followed by the greased line, when I struck. Feeding was by catapult, at intervals firing small balls of strawberry flavoured liquidised bread, mixed half and half with ground hempseed. My first cast produced a runaway bite from a hard fighting chublet, that put a good bend in my 12 foot Hardy match rod.

A few gudgeon followed, before the steady thump, thump was felt from a small roach, that took the 7 mm punch of bread.

Some of the gudgeon were of a good size, fighting well above their weight on this fine tackle.

Among the gudgeon, the silver fish were keeping me interested, another small roach taking at range, followed next cast by a chublet.

Steady feeding brought a gudgeon a chuck, along with a better chub that took the bread on the drop, seconds after the cast, then running downstream needing a backwind from my ABU 501, requiring the landing net for the first time that afternoon. Not a big fish, but it certainly gave me a run for my money.

I was beginning to get a few better fish, when a young couple walked down the disabled platform and peered over the rail looking for fish, saying that they had been watching me catching fish, making it look easy, but now couldn’t see any. As politely as possible, I informed them I had purpously sat ten yards upstream to avoid scaring the fish in the clear water and suggested that they stand behind me, if they wanted to see some fish.

I fed some more groundbait with the catapult and cast downstream, the float disappeared and I struck into the best fish of the afternoon, a good roach, that was visible from the moment that it was hooked, ziz zagging from side to side, until I netted it, saying that they had brought me luck. They were impressed! There you are, making it look easy again!

The couple thanked me for the demonstration and continued downstream, which coinsided with the arrival of some noisy teenagers with a ball, which soon found its way into the river upstream. One of the lads soon had his shoes off and waded into the FREEZING water, hollering at the top of his voice about the cold. A game of kick about football was soon taking place on the green above my swim and the ball was back in the river. This is a public recreation ground and open to all and I decided to call it a day after two and a half hours of fishing. Beggars can’t be chosers.

My last fish, another fat gudgeon

A sign of a busy afternoon in Gudgeon Alley

At last the weather is changing from non-stop heatwave, to a more tolerable temperate climate, where in the South of England, we have even experienced moderate rainfall. No thunder storms and flash floods, as predicted by the technically aided weathermen, but moderate rain. Not too far in the distant past, the weather was predicted using a lump of seaweed and a piece of wet string. At least then, we did not expect too much from our weathermen. Many people still remember the now notorious BBC forecaster Michael Fish, who in 1987, jokingly referred to a viewer’s concerns of a Hurrican approaching the British shores as wrong, answering ” Well if you are watching, don’t worry there isn’t.” that reply did not go down well in the UK, after 115 mph winds caused devastation, hundreds of thousands of homes without power and 18 people killed. So it was this week, that after a wet afternoon was forecast, a hot dry afternoon followed.

Having completed my outside jobs in the morning, I was now at a loose end in the afternoon. I only had time for a couple of hours of fishing and took five minutes to drive to my nearest water, Savernake, where the exposed mud of a few weeks ago was now covered by water.

The lake looked refreshed by the recent rain and I soon set about mixing up a light groundbait of liquidised bread, ground hemp and fishmeal. The bottom here is very fine black mud, washed down from the pine forest upstream, heavy groundbait would sink through away from the fish. The depth is impossible to measure with a plummet, due to the silt, but fishing here has proved that a light bait, like bread punch will sit on the silt. Unlike last month, there were no signs of feeding fish, such as bursts of black mud rising to the surface, but once a few small balls of groundbait were catapulted over the middle, like black ghosts, the mud began appearing. Putting up my pole to ten meters, I flicked my 4 x 14 antenna float out over the fed area with just 18 inches under the float, with just two No 8 shot equally down the line to the size 14 barbless hook. The bread was attracting interest within seconds, with the antenna dipping, then slowly moving away. A gentle strike saw the elastic pull out about two feet, as a small carp resisted and a hand over hand pull back to the top two sections, revealed the fish. A chunky little common carp.

This was just the start of the session. It was 3:15 pm and I was due back home by 5:30 and I wanted to see what I could catch before packing up at 5. All went well for the next 30 minutes, until the wind got up, a strong gust blowing the pole round dragging the float across the suface, hooking another small common in the process. Despite there being about a dozen fish in the keepnet by then, this too was dragged round. I was frantically grabbing packets of hooks, disgorgers  and other items in my tackle tray. The wind settled down again, but I reduced the pole down to 8 metres in an effort to control the float, more feed closer in saw thc carp follow the ground bait, keeping up the catch rate.

Like the carp above, they were getting bigger, running for longer and needing the landing net. The bites were very fussy, heavier tackle would not have indicated the bites, or the carp would have been scared off.

Every now and then I caught a small mirror carp

A surprise fish was a small orange and black koy carp. These koy and other exotic species often end up being caught in these urban ponds, due to out growing a tank, or new owners wanting to fill in a garden pond. In this case, it has been added to my garden pond. A call to my wife about the koy, saw her collect up a strong polyphene bag and a couple of litres of clean water, then carry the lot to Savenake. The walk is shorter than the road way, so she was there sooner than I expected. When she arrived, I was trying to attract the attention to my bread, of several 2 lb commons swimming in a circle of black mud, but the bites brought more smaller brethren.

The punched soft bread  was ideal for these small carp, they were just sucking on the bread, most being hooked in the outer lip, not requiring the disgorger.

The rate that these carp are growing at will see them giving a better acount of themselves later in the year. Some of them have already migrated downstream to my other local pond at Allsmoor, as I am catching them there now. As it was, the net below was taken in under two hours.

Not having fished the local River Cut since the start of the river season, due to very low water levels, I decided on fishing a late afternoon session in one of the deeper areas, although I was surprised to find it resembled a pond, with no apparent flow. Knowing that carp are taking over as the main species in this once fast flowing stream, I left my float rods behind and opted to use my beefy Edgemonster pole, with heavy elastic through the top two sections. When we first began catching carp, mirrors and commons from the Cut about ten years ago, they were a manageable 8 to 12 oz, which boosted the nets of roach and chub that we were landing, but today they are much bigger, tending to shoal in groups, usually with a large gang leader. On June 16 th this year, Braybrook club member Martin Bryant, called me to ask if I had any 20 lb scales, as he had a landed a big carp. Living very close to the Cut, I was soon at his swim and photgraphed the carp below.

Martin with his 15 lb 12oz common carp

Martin had started fishing for silvers, netting good size roach and dace, plus a few decent chublets, but being troubled by this inquisitve common, rooting around in his swim, so Martin took his carp gear out and cast to the cruising fish, that took his bread hookbait on a size 12 hook. A twenty minute fight that covered the full length of his swim, up and down, eventually tired them both out, several attempts at getting the carp into the small landing net, finally proving successful.

The lush greens of early summer were gone, this area not having seen decent rainfall for months, while the Midlands and the North have had more than their share. Setting up, bursts of bubbles were breaking out over the surface. Carp were on the feed. I mixed up a hemp influenced tray of groundbait, liquidised bread loaded with ground hemp and lose hempseed with a dash of strawberry for luck, wetted down to form small balls and catapulted out beyond the middle to the bay opposite. I could see several snags in the clear water, two long branches to my left, extending beyond the middle and the usual shopping trolley upstream to my right, plus a tangle of branches beneath the tree. Again another reason for bringing the pole, as it has the leverage to stear a wayward carp away from snags. First catch a carp.

I started off in a snag, when a gudgeon suddenly gained weight, stretched the elastic, but then came free. The hook was embedded in a sunken branch and I swung both in.

Despite casting into the centre of the fizzing bubbles, a sailaway bite, saw a decent roach leap clear of the surface, not the expected carp. I fed the pole through the trees behind me to land this roach, almost lancing a cyclist passing by on the path, when the thick end of the pole suddenly appeared out of the trees in front of him. Apologies made to the unseen cyclist, I broke the pole down to the top two and netted the roach. A deep fish.

Every time that I cast my float into the area of bubbles, I had a sailaway bite, that took line and after a delay, I gave a firm lift of the pole, only to send a gudgeon skyward. Some good roach were in there too, but no carp.

Small gudgeon and tiny chublets were constantly the culprits, so I upped the punch size from 8 mm to 10 mm, which then resulted in missed bites. I was now convinced that the bubbles were from crayfish, that now infest the Braybrook club’s other water, Jeanes Pond, where they can strip the bread punch from the hook in minutes, giving short tugging bites. But then again these were full bites. A sudden snatch of the float saw another quality roach coming to the net.

Negotiating my pole back through the bushes a familiar voice greeted me, it was another Braybrook member Russell Haworth. He had been fishing upstream and had counted eight big carp swimming around, but he couldn’t get a bite on his light legered meat. He watched me get perfect bites, which turned out to be small rudd, dace and more gudgeon. After a chat he went back upstream to another of his favourite swims.

I went up to a 12 mm punch and squeezed it around the shank of the hook. More feed amd more casts kept the bubbles rising to the surface, then the float dipped and moved very slowly downstream, except that there was no flow. The float slid away, with the line following. I lifted and was IN! Being close to the tree, I pulled the pole round, feeling the carp buck, before it accelerated deep beneath the tree. The elastic was still coming out and the pole bent round, when the float pinged back. It was gone. I checked the size 14 Drennan barbless carp hook. It was still OK.

I fed again, the carp were still there, closer to the far bank. I put on another pole joint out to 9 metres, which allowed the float to reach an area of branches beneath a tree on the bank. Another sailaway and another roach, which I netted. It was now getting dark and this roach was out of focus. The flash on my camera whited it out, so apologies.

I guessed that the carp were not taking the bread pellet, merely pushing it around with their lips. I’d only hooked this last one, as the hook had lightly snagged the fish as it swam away from me. My phone beeped , it was from Russell, he’d finally hooked and landed one of his carp circus. His photo is below.

I replied  that I had hooked and lost one and was packing up, as it was getting dark. It had not been a complete blank and had caught a whole range of species on the bread punch

A Mixed Bag