The magpies woke me as they do every day. It was my intention to make this my alarm clock and to rise early but my wife flicked the curtain and they flew off, silence returned and I went back to sleep. Much later I was on the road and eventually I reached the lake. The long walk to my intended swim was no longer necessary as I now have a key to the fishery gate and could drive around it - rejoice! For once I arrived fresh and raring to go.
The bay is shallow and silty, it is a place where any activity from a feeding fish to a float landing causes bubbles. Last time here it was a veritable Jacuzzi but today not a one. Typical as I was hoping for a tench. Never mind, out went a little groundbait containing hemp and corn followed by an over depth float with a few grains on a size 10. I sat back full of expectation and trying to recall the last time I tench fished in June - it's been a while.
Less than fifteen minutes had passed when my beautiful 'Sussex Micky' goose quill stood up by several inches. I lifted my Chapman 500 and tightened into the fish. The water humped and the fish - a carp - ran full tilt into the nearby weed bed. As soon as it hit the weeds so the 5lb hooklink parted. The tight line had ejected all of the split shot from the line and the float sat amidst the resultant foam, too far for me to rescue. Sorry Micky but it died a warrior.
Plan B. Back to the car and a heavier rod was selected along with a fixed spool that had carp proof line on the spool. I re-rigged a float and tried again. Of course, the next bite produced a roach of about three ounces. I cast again and caught an overhead alder tree. I bloody hate alders. Sure they look nice but every line that finds one becomes irretrievably entwined and I had to set up the full end tackle yet again. But then, I was fishing like a plonker.
A nice roach followed and a few patches of bubbles indicated that some tench were in the bay and on the mooch. I got my float where I wanted it and sat back determined to sit it out until a tench found my bait. Time passed and I was beginning to think my luck was out. Then I remembered the red worms that my lovely lady had collected for me from the compost yesterday evening - bless her. I impaled two on the hook. The smell of red worms on my fingers brought back images of a similar lake from my youth especially a trip spent in a similar bay full of dead twigs and leaves where three of us youngsters all fishing worms from granddad's compost heap and scoured in moss, hooked - and lost - four small pike in a short period of time. It was particularly relevant as locals felt that no pike had survived the big freeze of '63 in fact my grand father refused to believe my story but, for three lads not used to feeling anything very lively on the line, it was an exciting day.
Shrugging off my bout of nostalgia I cast and put the rod on a rest. This is where it get's weird. Due to the overhanging bushes and trees I was stood in the margins - and needed to pee. Thinking nothing of it I removed the ol' toggle and two and began my leak. Diverting from job in hand I looked up and saw my float bury! I grabbed the rod but was well aware that I was beyond the point of no return - so I multi tasked. Avoiding unnecessary wetness I played and landed a beautiful summer tench to the accompanying trickle of a tiny waterfall. There's always something new to accomplish in fishing but I'm not sure I'll be in a hurry to repeat my actions on the river bank especially when an armada of canoes is passing.
I digress, it was the first time I've targeted tench on the lake as the carp are rather distracting but I enjoyed catching this fish as much as anything I've landed in a long while.
The fish photographed (badly), on my mobile and I recast. But the mood of the bay had changed. I gave it a while longer enjoying the scenery and bird song whilst revelling in a touch more nostalgia. Then it was time to shake a leg and go home.