A Double-Figure Tench

Fishing back into serious mode with a double figure tench

I don’t know about you, but I bloody hate March and April from a fishing point of view. Yes, I’d been catch plenty of roach, but only up to about 1 lb max. Then the weather turned warm from Easter onwards and the roach went off, so much so that for the last three weeks I’d only caught four fish, on a water where I was getting a fish a cast.

The River Season Blues

I desperately longed for June, the rivers opening and the bream starting to show on the stillwaters I fish.

My enthusiasm by the weekend of the 12th May was at a low ebb as I phoned my fishing partner Ian Marsh, to see what we were doing for the weekend. Ian, like me, was suffering from ‘River Season Blues’ and hadn’t been catching much since the rivers had closed. He said he was giving it a miss and not bothering at all over the weekend.

This presented me with a dilemma as to whether I was going or not, and more to the point, what I was going to fish for.

I spent a good few hours arguing with myself in my head as to whether it was worth going at all, given the poor results I’d been having of late. My wife came home from shopping about 12 o’clock Saturday, asking whether I was going or not. “Don’t know!” was my answer.

“You’ll be like a bear with a sore head if you don’t,” she piped up.

Oh sod to it, I’m going then! The thought of having to suffer Eurovision and that prat Terry Wogan on the telly all night nailed it for me really.

“Will you be home late or are you going overnight?” she asked.

Given by this time the big rucksack, bedchair, bivvy, etc, was out and being sorted on the living room floor seemed a strange question to ask.

“How long have we been together and how many times have you seen my overnight gear Luv,” I asked?

“Just checking,” she replied! Don’t you just love ’em!

A brew and a natter

I arrived at the water and spoke to a few anglers as to what had been happening. Some reported catching a few tench the night before, others nowt! I found an available swim, set up and put the bait in, then went round the other side to see a couple of mates for and hour or so while the swim settled. After blagging a brew and having a natter I made my way back to my swim, not brimming with confidence or enthusiasm I may add, as the two mates hadn’t caught anything other than two small perch in 24 hours fishing.

Back at my swim I put the left-hand rod out to the marker braid, loaded the second feeder up and cast that out to the same distance and about 10 yards to the right.

I bent down to put the indicator on and the baitrunner started to rip. What the hell’s happening here? “Shit it’s a bite, strike you dummy!” I said to myself.

Not a bad start

I played it to the bank and put the net under it, and it looked a good fish, a 7.14 tench. Not a bad start for five minutes fishing I said to myself.

The next few hours were quiet, so I got my head down at about 11:00pm. At 1:45am the left-hand Delkim sung to me. I got out of my pit and struck at it. The fish powered off and kited to the right, picking up the other line as it went. No doubt about that one; an escapee from the pig farm. And the small (14s) maggot hook pulled. Not to worry, I don’t like catching Simmons’ pigs anyway!

I recast and got back in my pit. At 6:00am the right-hand rod was away again. I made the strike, and this one headed for Scotland. Sh*te, another Simmo’s pig had picked the bait up! Thankfully it parted company with hook and hooklink. Oh well, it saved me having to put the net under another potential nuisance fish!

“I could see it was a tench, and a big one!”

After losing that pig, the swim died until 11am, by which time I’d put worm on the right-hand rod, a bigger hook and more bait in the swim. I started to get single bleeps off the right-hand Delkim, which is a sure sign of something grubbing about. At 11:15 it was away, and the strike met with firm resistance and I knew it was not another fat Simmo’s. As the fish came over the margin weedbed in the clear water I could see it was a tench, and a big one!

Phil and his 10lb 1oz tench

It’d got my name on it, and it went in the net first time.

I placed it on the mat and opened the mesh, and I just knew I’d beaten my personal best of 9.3. Not daring to think it was a double but knowing it was over my previous PB. At the time I’d have been happy with 9 1/2 lb.

I wet the sling, then zeroed the scales with the sling on them. Then I placed the fish in the sling and hoisted it clear of the mat. Round the needle went, and settled at 10lb 1oz. I then lowered the fish and sling to the mat and lifted it again to check that I wasn’t misreading it. Then again. No, three times the scale read 10.1.

The ancillaries of weighing a big fish were done, the photos taken and the fish returned safely. I put the kettle put on to celebrate another milestone in angling life.

I fished on until 5pm, taking another tench of 6.12 and losing a fish of about the same size in the margin weedbed, but by that time I really didn’t care, I’d had the kick up the arse I need to get my fishing back into serious mode!