Lakes, like wives and offspring, have a way of keeping you humble. If the success of my previous two sessions had led me to conclude that catching tench from the pool was going to be easy my next session was to disavow me of any such delusion. I had less than three hours in which to fish, and those three hours were in the afternoon which is rarely prime feeding time for tench, but I arrived with hope and a modicum of expectation. My main objective this season is to get to know the lake and so I chose to experiment and ignore the area which had proved productive and provided all my tench thus far, and instead went for a "walk on the wild side." I have already mentally divided the lake into sections, and one section is dominated by an enormous bed of Norfolk reed and is in an area less tamed than that surrounding the rest of the pool. Despite the reedbeds looking like an obvious hiding and holding up spot for crucians and a likely patrol area for tench my bobbin remained lifeless, my alarm silent. I plan to return to the reedbeds when Spring has fully metamorphosised into Summer, although I suspect it will be with a float rod. My angling inactivity, however, was more than compensated for by the activities of the Reed Warblers as they flew in and out of the reeds, busily doing whatever it is Reed Warblers do.
Two days later, and my next session following the reedbed blank saw me return to the area from which I'd caught all my tench to date. I arrived at the lake at 6:00am, with a light wind and a noticable chill in the air. Three hours passed with the pool appearing to be in an implacable, passive mood. There was no bubbling or fizzing to behold, and only the occasional leap of a small silver fish, doubtless being harried by marauding perch. I started to rehearse the usual platitudes in my mind: "it's a tricky lake and you're new on it", "manage your expectations, you're currently in a learning phase, Jon" and, as the first hint of desperation began to surface: "just one fish is all it takes."
By now, the weather had grown milder and the chill receded, when the pleasant calm was interrupted by the shrill alert of the alarm. The fish, which turned out to be a fine male of 5lb 7oz, fought well before surrendering to the indignity of the landing net, camera and scales.
Shortly afterwards another tench was tempted beyond its ability to resist, but dogged resistance for a couple of minutes gave way to that horrible slack feeling that accompanies a hook pull. However, I wasn't too disappointed as one of my faults as an angler (of which there are many) is that once I've had my first decent fish of the day and have removed the "monkey from my shoulder", I lack the single-minded ambition to press home my advantage, not posessing the requisite greed and avarice that is the requirement and hallmark of the really good angler.
An hour elapsed before I was once again called into action, the fish exhibiting a slow but determined and dogged desire to avoid making my full acquaintance before eventually conceding defeat. As soon as I saw the tench in the net I knew that this was my biggest from the pool to date, and so it turned out to be, registering a weight of 6lb 8oz, a new PB.
After the weighing and photographing rituals were completed (thanks is due to Eric who was fishing a couple of swims down from me for the photos) and the fish returned to its natural habitat, I decided to pack up in leisurely fashion and after briefly chatting with Eric and Pete exited the lake, locked the gate and headed back to suburbia.
Ever since first walking round the lake, I have always maintained that my first season on it will be predominantly an exercise in learning. In the days before SatNavs made everything easy, would-be taxi drivers would spend weeks pouring over detailed road maps learning routes and street names, an activity known as "doing the knowledge." As I begin the journey of getting to know the moods and foibles of the pool, I feel as if engaged on a similar task. My five sessions to date have resulted in seven tench (four of which have exceeded 5lbs in weight) but have also seen me twice leave the lake with a dry landing net. My two attemps at building a swim with groundbait and loose feed have failed to elicit any fish, and float fishing has also, thus far, proved fruitless. All seven tench have fallen to small hair rigged pellets and Method feeder and a "trapping" approach that relies on placing the bait in areas that tench are likely to patrol, recasting only a couple of times an hour, and waiting for a fish's interest and curiosity to be piqued as it passes through.
There is much knowledge still to acquire, and its acquisition will only come as a result of experience, trying new things, and putting in the hours. I have much to learn but I'm beginning to see the veracity in the words my infants school teacher told me over half a century ago: "it's fun to learn." I didn't believe her then. I do now.
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