To be honest I was in a mood most of Monday after Pete's two point weekend and his lead in our fishing competition. I won't go over old ground, suffice to say my brain's wired up wrong when it comes to contests. Competitiveness coupled with dyed in the wool honesty sometimes leads me to beat myself up.
The weather was fine and I took off to Napton after a Tench point of my own. I dithered whether to float fish but the strength of the wind and the desire sit into the teeth of the Southerly put me off. Another excuse to shoehorn the 10ft wand into a new scenario!
I filled a small feeder with a lovely mix of particle, pellet and groundbait and settled on the causeway facing the wind on the big lake. I lassoed a pellet on a ten hook and cast repeatedly every five minutes early on. Tests in the edge revealed that upon breaking down the groundbait released particles and oil upwards in the water.
It took forty five minutes to get an indication - and it came just as I was doing something in my tackle bag. I looked back at the tip to see it woy-yoinging round. I struck and missed.
Although by no means plagued by weed there were thin green strands coming back on every cast plus the occasional more significant stem. After a few more missed bites I had a revelation and added a piece of plastic corn to the hair. This made the hook and pellet sink very very slowly.
Next cast and I was in almost immediately after the feeder hit the deck. I reckon the fish took the slow sinking bait on the drop.
After this is was a case of trimming pellets and honing the rig to achieve the same results.
I had six Tench in all. None massive but between them just over seventeen pounds worth. They went 2-5, 3-1, 2-14, 2-5, 2-13, 3-12.
The last one at three twelve was very welcome as the light had nearly gone and there was no way I was moving until the Tench point target of 15lbs 3ozs was in the bag!
Here are some Tench:
The moon rose and all was fine come the end.
To get to Napton from Coventry you have to pass through a small village called Long Itchington. This village has long been within the folklore of my school fishing pals as we gave the village our own moniker: 'It's Long and Itchy and Weighs a Ton'.
To my absolute delight, someone has professionally vandalised the sign to the entrance to the village from the direction of Coventry.
It now reads:
|Funniest thing of the week.|