I had been absent from the comfort of the bivvy for over 3 weeks now for various reasons, unfortunately, as now was the prime time to be out there catching those hard fighting giants as they feed prior to spawning. This session couldn’t of come quick enough, and I booked a few days off work to make the most of the fishing whilst there was still a chance of a good fish, the tackle and bait had been organised for what seemed like an age.
I barrowed the mountain of kit round to a swim on the lake that I had been targeting this spring. A lovely lake, which resembled an upside down egg box, a rich gin clear weedy pit, with a abundance of natural food- part of the reason why the tench here grew to such sizeable proportions. The weed had really sprouted while I had been gone and through the water I could see gravel patches glowing like beacons in amongst the underwater jungle. All well and good- although I wanted to find some spots that were a little more discreet – where they might feed a little less cautiously. I watched the water for a while to see if the tench would reveal their presence, but nothing was showing, and with the warm wind blowing into my swim, it was out with the marker float to find some spots to lay my traps.
I was looking for a mixture of features where I could present my baits, like light fresh weed growth, edges of gravel bars, plateux’s etc all natural larders that tench frequent. It was a chore with the heavy weed, each cast was painstakingly pulled back through the dense vegetation, the marker came back choked every time. Eventually clear areas were located, and hopefully the fish were lying up in their sanctuary nearby, not too put off with all the commotion. My sleeves were rolled up, and it was off with the lids on an assortment of different buckets, the banquet was about to be laid.
I strongly favour groundbait for Tench, as traditional as it sounds, the mixing bowl is present in many modern tench anglers’ units. Rightly so, tench love rooting around on the bottom and there is no better dinning table than a carpet of fine particles. My mix consisted of what I had confidence in and what they loved, Hemp, Wheat, a Handful of corn and a light scattering of casters. This was bound with Crumb, and a new addition to the blend, some sample groundbait from Teme Severn. It smelt so sweet, adding fizz to the mix, and with a deep red colour when wet, hopefully it would entice any browsers to come down and feed on the concoction.
Rods were cast out to the markers, pin point accuracy with the feed and the end tackle is a must. A foot to the left would land in weed, and a foot too short would be the wrong side of the bar. Pole elastic is tied onto the 10lb Esp Crystal Mainline, and when matched with a prominent feature on the opposing skyline to recast to, you’re in the knowledge of it being bang on. Accuracy is so important with feeder fishing, it can make the difference between a bite and a blank. Why bait an area the size of a tennis court and drop one rig into it? You could be sitting there for days waiting for a bite. Instead I prefer to set a small dining table, 5ft round max, then, when your sample is in the feeding zone, there is a greater chance of a faster pick up, especially if your hookbait is more attractive than the rest of the fodder. I do these by flavouring the maggots that go onto the hook, it gives the tench something to home in on.
It was now a case of sitting back and getting ready for a possible dusk feeding spell, with the warm sun now cooling down, and disappearing behind the distant trees on the horizon. No action was to commence so the next opportunity would be the following morning. Other than early spring, when the feeding spells can come night or day, I’ve never done particularly well at night.
I sat on my bedchair watching the water with a brew, as the mist burnt off in the morning sun. I saw a fish porpoise over my left hand spot, so with action imminent, I awaited the bite, but it wasn’t to be. Still though, with fish in the area I was hopeful of a take, and the morning was spent recasting the rods every 45mins or so, keeping the swim topped up with red maggots.
I waited patiently, and waited, and waited some more. No matter how many changes I made to my set up, I couldn’t buy a bite. Then they decided that they would rather spawn. Typical, I book time off, knowing that the weather hadn’t be nearly warm enough for them to spawn and then they are chasing each other at my feet with anything but feeding on their minds.
With my head in my hands, what was I to do? I couldn’t bare sit here and blank, what a waste of time that would be, even if it was better than being in the office. A few phone calls were made and no one could assist me, the fishing was patchy across the board. There was a lake nearby, deeper than the one I was on, and a visit the other evening to see what it was like, revealed some active tench. There were no two ways about it, although they were not as big, the tench weren’t spawning here and they were evidently feeding too.
I made my way to the new venue, and with not fishing it before, didn’t know what I had infront of me. The carpers said that the weed was sparse and patchy, and with a chance of a bite, forfeited the marker rod and opted for a feeder full of maggots where I had seen activity the night before. A bump down on the cast suggested I was on gravel, so I left it there whilst I assembled my other rods. Before I had that chance, I had a run! I struck into solid resistance, and the thumping on the tip as it took on a inspiring curve suggested that my target species was responsible. A spirited fight commenced and before long, a defeated tench lay beaten in the mesh of my net. What a confidence boost this fish was, and at 7.12 and filling up nicely, it looked like my timing was spot on, on this venue at least.
I was using a modified drennan blocked feeder that was shown to me by a friend. This rig when coupled with a short supple hooklink, is a very effective tangle free arrangement. It acts as a great bolt rig as the fish doesn’t have to move much before the weight of the feeder drives the small hook home. The afternoon heat was intense, but I was excited at the prospect of landing another fish.
The swim was dormant for 2 hours, so now was the ideal time to get some bait out there before dusk. The baiting ritual took place yet again, and the marker rod showed I was fishing down the nearside of a gravel bar, literally inches away from a small weedbeed. I clipped up my rod, and out to the spot went 20 balls of feed. Realistically only a pint or two of actual food, the rest was groundbait that would attract the tench, but not feed them. I didn’t want to over do it, just enough to get a bite. Content with the preparation, I couldn’t wait for the morning. What else was out there in the weed? Only time would tell.
Morning came quickly, so I started to recast the feeders, keeping a steady stream of bait going in. I was perched on my chair scanning the water, when I had a lift on the bobbin and a few bleeps. It looked like an eel bite but reeling in I could see that a small rudd had hung itself on my offering.
A fresh caster was impaled on the hook, and the feeder sailed out to the target on the skyline as the line hit the clip. No sooner had I sat back down the bobbin smacked into the rod butt, and the line started to purr off the spool, this was no rudd! I was on it like a flash, knowing that it would be trying to get back into its weedy lair, and the rod swept round as I piled on the pressure. Initially it felt decent, the bigger ones always keep their distance, forcefully kiting from left to right, with you just hanging on, praying that you’d win the battle. Once it was closer, I slacked off the clutch, knowing that it was still very much still in control, and as expected it took another 10yards of line. I coaxed her towards my sunken net, and as she popped to the surface, first attempt and she was mine. I peered in the net in excitement, wondering how big she would be. It looked awesome in the clear margins, and I let her rest whilst the mat and sling were wet.
I thought she might be a double, but I didn’t want to tempt fate, although my fingers were secretly crossed. I needn’t of worried, she was well over the magical 10 – she was 11lb! I felt privileged to land such an immaculate, well proportioned fighting fit creature. I was over the moon, in the space of a day, my session had been transformed into a belter! My sixth double and my first of the new campaign- RESULT. Throughout the morning I floated about the swim, leisurely cooking some breakfast in amongst catching a steady stream of fish. I packed up when the action died down, content that It was mission accomplished. I ended the session with the beauty at 11, and 6 other specimens, an 8.5, 7.12 and few smaller samples. It all worked out in the end. I hadn’t even got a mile down the road on my departure, yet I was already planning my next trip, where I might be lucky enough to land another. Until then, I’ll have to just think about the beauty of that fish. Get out there yourself while there is still time.
