“A fuzzy head is a small price for the perfection of daybreak”
IT’S a daft time of the day to be getting up. At least, that’s my first thought. It’s not even light yet and even my little firework of a daughter is still fast asleep. It takes a little self-persuasion to get moving, even for someone who loves tench fishing as much as I do.
As romantic as dawn on the water can be, however, certain obstacles come first. The floorboards always seem to creak twice as loudly at 5am and my wife is either sighing in her sleep, or is issuing some sort of wordless warning or complaint.
Next come the risky steps past my daughter’s room. With my big, clumsy frame I’d never have made a burglar, that’s for sure. Thankfully, she doesn’t stir and in no time the coffee is brewed and I’m leaving the house. If this all seems a bit of a bleary-eyed ordeal, however, dawn at the waterside makes everything worthwhile. The Grand Western Canal is a waking dream for any true angler. It’s like a Monet painting with added tench bubbles. Indeed, a fuzzy head is a small price to pay for the perfection of daybreak on the water.
It’s only now, once you’ve snuck out past the family, baited up and taken a deep breath, that the pleasure really begins and the rush ends. If only waking up every day was this serene. No two mornings are ever the same, but every time I get the privileged feeling I’m watching a special, never to be repeated nature show for one. And that’s before I’ve even hooked a tench. Today’s early sightings include a roe deer and even a hunting weasel, cavorting between bits of cover on the far bank.
It’s in these early moments that your preparation really matters. Like leaving enough time to walk to your peg, or bringing enough worms to chop and a fresh rig that is subtle yet tough enough to handle a battling tench.
With a bit of raking and prebaiting, it’s still possible to have some serious red-letter fishing on this classic waterway. Unfortunately, with my wife and daughter and antisocial working hours, I never made it out with the bait bucket for this occasion.
I’m not greedy, however. The two tench that come my way before the dog walkers have woken up are great fun on pole tackle. Indeed, I’m always enthralled at how a fish as cuddly looking as one of my daughter’s teddies can be such a powerful, streetwise fighter.
Suddenly every yawn and curse is worth it. And, even better, the other benefit of any dawn raid is that it’s still possible to be home for brunch, at a time of day when my wife is still willing to speak to me.
“The canal is like a Monet painting with added tench bubbles”