David, Jeff, Lee, Martin,
Pete and I were in attendance and Messrs. pike, perch and tench were all invited
along via our baited hooks.
There were some notable
aspects to the preparation for this trip. Local specimen angler Merv'
Wilkinson had been producing hand-made floats whilst convalescence prevented him
from the strains of hauling in big fish. I'd arranged to meet with him prior to
our trip and as well as topping up on leads which he makes I acquired some
floats suitable for Blenheim. I handed these floats out (and a generous slice of
birthday cake) to each guest before we started fishing in the hope that they
might vicariously play a part in the downfall of a decent
fish.
Whilst readying my tackle
the night before and enjoying a beer, revelling in the anticipation of a whole
day afloat, I thought it would be a good idea to add a slug of brandy to my
canteen of orange squash. This would later prove to be an unwise move as I'll
explain in due course.
To the day then, and
let's not beat about the bush, we were all late arriving for one reason or
another. Pete was driving me down and we'd planned to call in at Banbury for a
MacDonald's breakfast but we missed the motorway turn off in the gloom of dawn.
We then tried to gain access to the Palace grounds via various exits as he'd put
the wrong postcode into his sat nav. Not to worry, it was barely light once the
others arrived just after six.
Fishing reports from
Blenheim are thin on the ground and so unsurprisingly we all headed in the
direction of the grand bridge to kick off.
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| View from the bridge at dawn. |
I picked off a couple of
pike to my deadbait rod early on which weighed 9lb 9ozs and 7lb 10ozs
respectively.
 |
| A Blenheim pike. |
The first fish managed to dart around the anchor chain at the back
of the boat whilst my attention was diverted, hysterically barking orders at
Pete who was trying to assemble the landing net. Luckily I had 18lb line on the
reel and managed to pass the whole kit and caboodle around the chain to get back
in direct contact. Indirect contact with any fish is an unsettling state of
affairs.
 |
| Around the chain goes the whole kit and caboodle. |
After the first pike and
whilst fishing a skimmer deadbait I had a run which I missed. I rebaited with a
roach and cast roughly to the same spot and half an hour later had the run which
lead to the second pike. Whilst this second fish was resting in the landing net
at the side of the boat it coughed up my skimmer bait from the previous cast!
Now partially bleached from stomach juices, I never did get round to using it on
the hook again. I was using a big barbless single hook on my trace which made
unhooking very easy indeed.
 |
| Regurgitated skimmer. |
Despite these two pike
our other float rods sat without a bite and at around nine o'clock we made off
up the lake to try and seek out perch and tench.
What followed was six
hours of trying here there and everywhere attempting and failing to buy a bite
from something other than a crustacean.
Whilst by the lily beds
opposite the boathouse we saw a shoal of rudd being hammered a number of
times from beneath by an unseen predator. Wobbling a deadbait through the area
didn't get any attention.
We saw a shoal of bream
rolling out towards the centre of the lake in front of the boathouse in about
14ft of water and so stealthily rowed upwind then let the boat drift down to the
edge of the area before gently lowering the mud weights and fishing for them. You
guessed it, we didn't see another sign.
By now, with nothing more
than cake for breakfast, a very early start to the day and a steady stream of brandy
and orange for drink the atmosphere aboard our boat was becoming more ramshackle
by the minute. It was only when Lee radioed in reports of bites back up by the
bridge that our enthusiasm returned and we cast-off at top speed to try and
conjure some action.
That evening spent with
three boats moored within hailing distance of each other against the backdrop of
the grand bridge went on to provide the most persistent memories of the day.
Lee'd had a pike and Jeff a perch by the time we arrived.
 |
| Lee's pike aint too happy. |
Pete had a nice tench and
I landed a third pike of fifteen pounds exactly. My pike fought extremely hard
and at one point powered off into bright silvery water as the sun sank low in
the sky, tail-walked on the surface throwing the dead bait from it's mouth and
assumed a perfect 'S' shape in the spray. Amazing.
 |
| Nearly there...... |
 |
| 15lb Blenheim pike. |
We witnessed Lee catch a
tench on a sardine and once again saw a huge shoal of rudd which were sipping at
the surface being attacked repeatedly from all directions.
Our float rods were now
indicating bites every so often and I hooked a tench on a worm which went on an
epic sixty yard first run before I could slowly coax it back to the boat. It was
a good fish and when I lifted it out I exclaimed to Pete, "If I'm a lucky boy
this is going to be over six". On the tared scales it weighed 7lbs 2ozs which
offered an unexpected challenge points return on the day for
me.
 |
| 7lb 2oz Blenheim tench. |
Pete and I inexplicably
missed a few more bites on the float. I resorted to drinking Kronenberg as it
was now the liquid with the lowest alcohol content in the entire boat and then at last light we had a rowing race back to the boathouse. It would appear my middle name
is 'Redgrave'.
At eleven pm and after
twelve hours afloat the floor of my bath felt like it was moving beneath my feet
as I showered away the dregs of the day.
A trip to Blenheim is a
long day and not something you'd want to do every week but although I've been only twice it has never failed to provide good memories which linger much
longer than the sea legs and back ache.
 |
| Blenheim delivers. Better late than never. |
Here are the challenge
scores this evening:
Cheers.
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