Sunshine on a rainy day

 It's a venue I like to fish at least once a year. A Warwickshire reservoir that holds many carp, but also crucian carp, and I like crucian carp a lot. I arranged the trip with Mark Everard. His diary is a mess of meetings, travelling, and fishing. He needs to live in a world with 40 hour days and fifteen day weeks. My diary is a collection of blank pages with the odd reminder that I need to cast my car to the feeding frenzy of a garage again, and a few tear spots when I imagine the bill.

The day approached, and the weather changed. If we were NASA, we'd have rearranged the launch time, but fishermen are a hardy/stupid lot, so we went ahead. At the hotel, Mark scoured over his 'weather modelling' apps. I glanced at a forecast. No matter who you looked at, it was going to piss down early on then brighten. Our 'Sparrow's fart' start was abandoned, and a buffet breakfast was paid for. That's more like it.

We walked a long way, laden with several approach options piled high on my back, and settled in some sheltered water. The heavens opened as I put my shelter up. None of the pontoons caters for anything that isn't built around a central pole. Mine is a lightweight brolly with side flaps, storm poles and pegs, again, not conducive to wooden pontoons. I settled under a tree next to the platform. 

The worst of the rain passed, but was quick to return if I dared venture onto the platform to fish more comfortably. A light 'lift float' using a float that was gifted to me last year, and is superb. I also put out a method feeder, but didn't get a touch in it all day.

Sport was slow, a roach or two to me, and Elmer Fudd next door, accurately trickling feed right next to the reeds, was catching more readily. I like to frequently change my baits when fishing for crucians as they seem to switch on and off your offerings at a whim. I had a small tin of corn and peas, something I wanted to try on my tench venue. After a lull, I popped a pea on a size 14 and sat back more in hope than expectation. I've never baited with a pea before, but they must be edible for fish, right? 

Huwoh Wabbit

Down went the float and off went a carp like I had set light to its tail. My 11' float rod was hooped over but I did start to get some control over it. Mark arrived, saying something about a "Pesky Wabbit", and before he could get the net to it, one last dive into the roots under the bank saw my rod bounce straight again. "Bloody mud pigs", muttered my esteemed colleague. I decided it was time to move.

The bank we settled on was much calmer now, and the rain was just a bad memory. Mark immediately set about upsetting the rudd community whilst I was catching roach. I was using Fjuka Squeez Ready pellets on the method, and even squeezed some around my bottom shot as the casting distance was minimal. It was a bite-a- chuck and great fun. Then Mark said something about a tench. "Are you in?" I asked, "Yes" came the minimalist reply. " Is it a tench?" I enquired, "No, it's a not tench".  I went to see for myself, and there he was with a cracking crucian in his landing net. I held the handle while Mark fumbled for scales and sling. "And awaaay" I said - implying that I had released his prize. His look was, for a second, a picture, and I think he may have said something rude. On the scales it went 2.06, which was enough to justify all of the effort. I was made up for him, you know, you have to encourage these youngsters, but I sorely wanted one myself. 

2lb 6oz

Mark had three more 'not-tench' over the next hour or so, all between 1.06 and 1.14. To add to my grief, he had scared his rudd friends my way, and I was getting all sorts of unmissable bites that I often missed. Eventually, I hit something that felt like a not tench. It played deep but unspectacularly, and I had my crucian. 1.12 of golden beauty, this was my sunshine, and even the real sun had peeped out from the clouds. That weight that we anglers carry, the anticipation versus the need for success, was lifted. When I soon landed a 1.13, a stunning fish in great condition, I was sated. After this, the swim died a bit, as they all do from time to time, and I knew that I'd had my crucian action for the day.

1.12

1.13

We packed up during rush hour, so with both of us facing long journeys home, we dropped into the nearby pub and dined on some delicious but heart-attack-inducing food. Fishing with Mark is always enjoyable, and this was no exception. We already have several other projects and maybe, just maybe, I'll catch more or even bigger fish than him. Well, we can all dream.