Big Tench Programme – Part TwoCARRYING ON FROM where I left off in Part 1 of this article, as I had already caught a fair number of tench, I was now giving even more time to thinking about what I wanted to achieve and what I could do in the forthcoming months to overcome the problems that would surely arise. I think I would be right in thinking that we had been on a tench bonanza across a fair part of the country and that I was doing nothing special in these first few months as regards to my catch rate. So my thoughts were now running to wondering what will I do when this tench bonanza slows down and the carp suddenly switch on and get their heads down? Up to now the carp had not been giving me too much of a problem, although I had caught one or two. As the tench are supposed to be more partial to the smaller sized baits, I had bought a bag of 10mm fishmeal boilies seeing that this was the bait (only in much larger sizes) the carp lads had been catching the tench on. The Bristle Rig The type I bought were quite soft in their texture which I thought was an added bonus for the tench, but I had a problem with splitting them at first as I tried to put a baiting needle through them. Not to worry though, this problem was easily overcome by using the ESP splicing needle, the small one with a hinged gate that closes to the barb, or by using the bristle rig. The latter of the two would be very useful in the dark, and if like me you have a bunch of bananas growing on the end of your knuckles instead of fingers, the bristle rig is easier and quicker still. It certainly beats all that fiddling about with hair stops and baiting needles, and it’s really is surprising how much force is needed to pull a boilie off the cut down bristle off a stiff yard brush. (Chub anglers take note). One word – “Corn” It can’t be said enough times that time is well spent walking about and chatting to the other lads. It was on one such occasion when I was talking to one of the carpers that I mentioned I would soon have to change tactics and or baits once the carp got onto the feed as they surely would. Without taking his eyes from the middle of the lake where he had just spotted a tench doing a bit of tail slapping on the surface, he uttered one word, “Corn”.
Here we go Baz he said, you can have this, I’ve caught loads of tench on it. He unzipped his neatly laid out rig wallet and took out a single piece of fake corn. But it was no ordinary piece of corn, it was a Frank Warwick special from under the counter. Perfect conditions and too wet for work It was now three days after my first article went on view that I got the chance to have another session. The weather was cloudy, warm, and overcast with light drizzle. Perfect fishing conditions I convinced myself, but much too wet for work. I was in the van and down the road like a rat up a drain pipe lest one of my customers should ring me up and offer me some inside work for the day. As I arrived at the water, a quick scan told me that there were a fair number of anglers already present on the lake, and it was now sheeting it down with a really heavy drizzle. So what, I thought to myself, I’ve packed a towel to dry myself off with, and I’ve also got me Nash Groundhog shelter that I can shove up in no time. I was feeling quietly confident for some reason, confidence not in catching tench though, just that things felt right. I’m sure you know what I mean. I left the rods in the van and began to walk up one side of the lake. I had only gone about 500 yds when I realised my pants were clinging to my legs with the wet grass, and not only that I had brushed my head against some low lying branches and got really soaked. Stuff it! I was going no further so I legged it back to the van, and comforted myself with a brew from my flask. There was a short lull in the rain after ten minutes so I quickly took the shelter out and stuck it up on the first available peg. Somehow I had convinced myself that this is the spot I should be fishing anyway with only a smidgeon of laziness thrown in. The wind had been blowing into this corner now for four days. The day previous, although I wasn’t fishing, I listened to a conversation between a dad and his lad. The dad had said to his son, “now then David, tell me what you know about the wind and the affect it has on the fish in this lake.” “Right,” said the young apprentice, “the fish on here will follow a new wind for one day, and then go back to where they came from. But if it is a cold wind the fish will stay behind it in the warmer water.” I couldn’t help but notice that everybody else was fishing the opposite end of the water to where I had chosen, and if the apprentice carp angler’s predictions were right, then I would be out of the running. I should be up there with the rest of the crowd. Naaaah, this is the place to be I said to myself, nowt to do with being wet through either. Well, not much. Conditions and what I already knew about the tench’s movements dictated that this was the spot to be in. The shelter was up and I sprinted to the van for the rest of my gear. The wind had dropped slightly and I didn’t bother pegging the shelter down as it seemed quite stable. Aren’t those Velcro strips that are either side of the shelter door really handy for holding your rods in? What have I been missing all these years? Oh yes, I was really feeling quite the man I can tell you. The next minute I was spread-eagled on all fours, my feet on the groundsheet flap and my arms wrapped around the spokes of the shelter trying to stop it from blowing away as the wind picked up again. If another angler hadn’t been passing at the time I’m sure I would have been away over the tops of the trees. The panic was soon over and I got down to tackling up the first rod. This was really comfy fishing and beats working any day of the week. A free running lead of one and a half ounces is all I needed to cast to the spot I had in mind. I had a short hooklength of five inches, unusual I know for a free running lead, but this is what had been working for me with a small bag of crushed boilies threaded up the hook length and that single piece of magic corn on a size ten hook, the first rod was ready to go. As I was going to be casting against the wind my first chuck was a false one to make sure I could hit the nail squarely on the head. Yes perfect casting Baz my man, right on the button. I then tied a piece of powergum onto the mainline just in front of the Cardinal reel. On each successive cast, once I could hear the powergum whizzing through the rod rings, I would feather the cast down and stop it right on the spot every time. My far bank marker was a small gap in the hedge. Forty minutes and three casts later with each cast landing in the same place I settled down to a well earned brew. There was plenty of time to set up the other rod and I was in no hurry. A steady screamer Just as I was tossing it over in my mind on whether to have another cuppa or not I got one single beep, and then a steady screamer. Carp, I thought to myself as I gently lifted the rod and trapped the line against the rod blank. The Harrison rod was hooped over but I felt confident that the rod could handle it. The fish came in steadily, and swirled once or twice in the margins. Definitely a carp said a passer-by who appeared from nowhere (Bluddie Anthead). I think so I said, but then I saw it, no it’s a tench mate and a big one at that. Suddenly I had no enemies and the Anthead and everybody was my friend, I was absolutely buzzzzzzing. The kindly gentleman who had witnessed the capture took the photograph then we weighed it together – 8lb 7oz. Yes!!
I punched the air, I had done it and a lot sooner than I thought I would. To be honest, the area that I fished today was the last place I would have thought that a biggie would have come from, and this was the first time I had ever fished from this peg. I had learned a lot from the carp lads in a short space of time. That together with a pinch of luck and being in the right place at the right time was all that was needed. The importance of stealth Richard Walker had it right when he said that one of the most important things in anybody’s angling career had to be stealth. It was with this thought in mind that I made my last outing for a big tench as the spawning season was fast approaching. I had made an early start on the Sunday morning at 5am. And what a morning it was. The sun was already up, coots were calling amongst the reed beds and there was a Jacuzzi of tench bubbles rising up over the gravel bar; surely the fulfilment of any tench fishers dream. All about me, save for the calling of the coots, was in complete silence. One of the carp lads, Steve Budd, as he is called (he works for Budweiser) was bivvied up on the spot where I would need to cast my rod from, but he was still in the land of nod. Just like Bruce Lee walking over rice paper, I silently and carefully picked my way over the loose gravel bank so as not to wake him from his slumber. With barely a sound I pushed a single rod rest into the hard stony ground and laid my trusty Harrison rod up against it. My fishing bag with its bits and bobs was laid neatly on the ground next to it, and my chair was set up on the other side. I was no more than five feet from his bivvy door. I can assure you that it was the last thing on my mind, but just like something from a snake charmer’s basket my left hand slithered under his bivvy door until I felt the unforgiving shape of a plastic bait bucket, and my hand came back with a kilo of Maple 8’s and three rashers of bacon. He was still fast asleep.
My bite alarm was turned down to the lowest audible beep and I cast my first bait over to where I had seen the tench feeding hard over the gravel bar. Fifteen minutes later and the line was peeling off the old Cardinal 55 and a Male Tench of 6lb 2oz came to the net. Over the next four hours I netted a further six male tench all over five pound in weight, plus a surprise showing of decent sized roach all on hair-rigged mini boilies. It was now 9am and I decided to move off to another swim where I could see that another angler was awake and had the kettle on, also I had three rashers of bacon that needed cooking. Apart from having had a good catch I had also caught from right outside somebody’s bivvy door and all my actions were done in complete silence. No scrabbling about on the loose gravel or running for the rod as I was sat right next to it. I took what I came with and left nothing but footprints. Apart from the tench slime, which was plastered all over the sleeping carp anglers weigh sling and unhooking mat which he had so kindly left out for me, there was no evidence that he had been paid a visit during the early hours, and it would have taken the life-long skills of a White Mountain Apache scout to prove otherwise. Richard Walker was certainly right. Stealth shall be playing a big part in my future fishing escapades, as it can be the most rewarding and fulfilling of all angling disciplines. (In many ways). Now then, I wonder what that little piece of untouched water holds in store for me?  When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission, which supports our community.
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