My monthly fishing diary...

SPRING, by its very nature, brings lots of ups and downs. Unpredictable. The angler endures tough days and brilliant days in equal measure but isn’t that what drives us on, keeps things interesting? I’m loving the time spent by canals and ponds but soon the rivers will open and I’ll be torn between the two. How can anyone suggest fishing is boring?

Week one...

My regular tench water has proved to be a rather tricky customer this season. Whether it’s been the up and down weather or, more likely, the water being reminiscent of mouthwash has had a massive influence, and where I could previously rely on catching anything between six and a dozen tench in a session I’m now struggling for a bite. In fact I’ve only had one bite in the past two trips and this week three of us blanked in what appeared to be excellent tench conditions, providing you overlook the now weedless, crystal clear water. With nothing to show for my diary I now had a dilemma. Gamble on returning or head elsewhere. I decided on the latter, on a bit of a whim really.

One of my fellow blankers suggested I try a little pool in the middle of a housing estate. “You will be pleasantly surprised, Bob, there are some quality crucians and you will catch bream as well. Give it a go!” So I did.

The pool is tiny yet absolutely teeming with skimmers, roach, rudd, perch, tench and crucian carp that reputedly run to over 2lb. That’s what caught my attention. Crucians of that size in these parts are exceedingly rare, as Mr Kipling might say.

I arrived at 9am on a lovely spring morning with the sun shining brightly. So warm and pleasant was it I chose to leave my coat in the car and that turned out to be a big mistake. The two pools were indeed tiny and I felt like a grown up sitting in a primary school chair.

Choosing a swim on the left bank, I plumbed around but couldn’t find much more than a couple of feet at five sections which was concerning as I had been advised to fish the margins. A gentle breeze was blowing into the dam bank which led me to think I was probably in the wrong area so, without even starting to fish, I moved my gear round to that end. The new swim gave me a good 5ft of depth on four sections of pole with a gentle ripple lapping the margin rushes. Perfect, or so I thought.

Feeding expander pellets, I was soon catching skimmers, a few silvers, plus a bonus tench. Then the skies clouded over and the bright sunshine was gone. What had been a warm breeze deteriorated into a decidedly chilly one and my bites began to tail off. Ten minutes later I was shivering and regretting leaving my coat in the car.

Two guys were fishing on the right bank barely three feet out from the edge and one of them, Richard Sainsbury, proceeded to knock out four crucians over a pound while I failed to tempt a single one. It was time to head back to the sheltered bank where I’d started, if for no other reason than it was a top coat warmer.

The move paid off as I caught a load of decent skimmers, pulled out of a big tench at the net and finally, I caught myself a battered old crucian. It had been a long time since I last fished such a small water and I’m not sure I will return in a hurry but everyone who spoke to me talked about 2lb 8oz crucians, so who knows, I may have to find out for myself. It was certainly a more enjoyable session than the complete blank I had endured two days previously.

Being a glutton for punishment I sneaked in a bonus crucian session on a venue that has been split up into three different ponds. Originally they were all joined up and held a sparse stock of huge crucians. Trouble is they are needles in a haystack, so rarely are they caught no- one even knows for sure which lake they now reside in. I could actually have been fishing where they don’t even exist. It didn’t surprise me to bomb out. A regular who is also targeting them in the smallest pool is certain four big lumps were transferred into his choice yet he’s suffered over a dozen consecutive crucian failures. That doesn’t fill me with great expectations!

“It wasn’t long before the red- tipped pole float slid away and I lifted into something quite heavy”

Week two...

The Stainforth & Keadby Canal has completely transformed itself in the two decades since I used to fish matches on there. What was once a rather barren moonscape inhabited by roach, perch, skimmers and chub has matured into a rather pretty water. The far margins are lined in many areas with Norfolk reeds and both margins feature sunken cabbages and yellow flowering lilies.

In my match fishing days tench and rudd were practically unheard of but, according to the messages on social media, both species are now prolific and running to good sizes. A trip down memory lane was in order.

Dragging myself out of bed at 5am is never my idea of fun but sometimes it has to be done. Car loaded, I headed off to the Scunthorpe Amalgamated Anglers stretch at Ealand, where a barrow is recommended and consequently doesn’t get fished much. Indeed I was the only angler there.

Swim choice was a matter of pot luck. They all looked inviting but with gin clear water, a pastel blue sky and eyeball scorching sunshine, catching anything might prove tricky. Thankfully, I’d brought a light rake to stir up the swim and once that was done I cupped in five balls of Sweet Fishmeal loaded with expander pellets, casters and corn. Surely a feast to tempt any tench.

Let me come clean straight off and confess that the much talked about tench were noticeable by their complete absence. I kept an eye out for splashy rolls and bubbling but there were no signs. Never mind, it wasn’t too long before the red- tipped pole float slid away and I lifted into something quite hefty. It was a bream – a good one, too.

It had fallen to a worm tipped off with a red maggot but I had to keep chopping and changing hookbaits to keep bites coming. This was one of those days that will go down as a brilliant failure. I didn’t catch my target species but who in their right mind would turn their nose up at this fabulous net of bream?

By lunchtime all bream activity had ceased and after an hour without bites I switched to a waggler. Loosefeeding maggots and casting towards the far rushes brought an instant reaction from rudd, but not in the kind of numbers I can expect to catch in a few weeks time when spawning is finished.

Roach and rudd notoriously disappear for a few weeks in late spring and become almost uncatchable until they reappear out of the blue. Perhaps I’ll return for them another day.

As for catching tench, it really isn’t going my way at the moment, is it?

Feeling I was doing nothing wrong other than perhaps fishing the wrong area, I returned for a bonus evening session at Medge Hall, fishing just over the pads on the edge of the boat channel. The emerging lilies screamed fish but it was not to be. I reckon I must have killed a robin, or something.

The Bonny Hale stretch is now calling out to me but I can’t see how I can fit in a trip.

Week three...

Like a responsible driver I pulled over to allow an oncoming Stagecoach bus to pass me. Alas the driver misjudged the tight gap and swiped the side of my Volvo. Thankfully, Stagecoach accepted responsibility and told me to book it in for repairs, but the replacement courtesy car provided was a Toyota Yaris hybrid. A very economic little motor but nowhere near big enough to accommodate an angler’s kit so for a while my fishing will have to be with minimal gear, perhaps the perfect opportunity for a bit of floater fishing, I thought. But where had the sun gone? Having completed a full circuit of Alderfen’s carp lakes no fish were showing on the surface. Had I hung around until afternoon things might have changed but I was in no mood to wait so I moved on to Tyram Hall Fisheries for a catch up with owners Phil and Irene who

I’d not seen since last summer. After a welcome cup of coffee, I asked if they’d mind me having a wander around with a floater rod. “The members lake is closed until Friday,” said Phil. “The fish have been spawning, but help yourself elsewhere.”

First stop the match lake.

It was my intention to try Horseshoe but once I’d raised a few fish on the Match Lake I had no desire to move. Seagulls and mallards were a bit of a pain but it didn’t bother the fish. Fishing in the shelter afforded by an island I soon lost count of how many carp I caught. Not massive fish but the better ones would have run into double- figures and it was fun fishing and good to get my eye in for the months ahead when it certainly won’t be as easy as this.

“Seagulls and mallards were a bit of a pain but it didn’t bother the fish. I soon lost count of how many carp I caught”

Week four...

Can you believe I’m still stuck with the courtesy car? Me neither, so my fishing options were severely limited as a consequence. I ended up at Harthill Reservoir with just a small chair, rucksack, net bag, waggler rod, a couple of pints of casters and a tin of hemp shoehorned into the vehicle. Unbelievably, the place was deserted when I arrived mid- morning.

In bright, almost flat calm conditions I fancied the roach would be in shallower water rather than in front of the dam. Unable to fit a platform in the car I was restricted to setting up in the margins where soft weed extended out a good 15 metres. With a platform and waders I would have set up close to the edge of the weed, instead I was restricted to fishing only as far out as I could catapult bait, which was not much further than the weed line in 2ft 6in of water.

I figured the weed would offer a bit of cover but with little or no ripple I expected to struggle. Well, how wrong could I be? Within 10 minutes I was catching. First off, a couple of halfpound roach. Nice. Then a few smaller ones but each fish had to be bullied to the surface and over the soft weed. Play them gently and they weeded me up so no situation for subtlety, it was hook and haul – until I hit something that pulled back. A cracking roach which needed no encouraging to hit the surface. An angry boil told me I could be in trouble now, praying that the hook would hold firm. Unbelievably, the fish swam through every gap in the weed without getting stuck once. And what a cracker it was. Well over a pound.

After that things began to go a little awry. Bullying and having fish make a commotion on the surface saw the better fish backing off. Where I’d opened up on 6oz- 8oz fish, the stamp dropped to half that. On reflection I would have been much better off fishing maggots, but you use what you have with you.

Odd better fish put in an appearance as the session wore on including a clonker that would easily nudge a pound and a half. I really need to return here, properly kitted out. It would be so tempting to fish the pole but there’s a magic about catching roach on a waggler and in shallow, clear water the pole can be a disadvantage. Unfortunately, the river season is about to open and the Trent is calling me. I’ve not had a decent tench session yet, failed miserably on crucian carp and there are some proper carp to catch on floaters. My head is spinning. So many fish to catch, so little time and I desperately need my car back!