Monday and I had another short session, just on the waggler and corn for a few roach. Watched the local Boi done good absolutely slaughter the bream on jaffa plus size method balls opposite me. Great to watch.
Tuesday and not surprisingly I was in the swim opposite but I have never really cracked the ground bait method feeder, and it would have been 3lb tc rod stuff for the jaffa approach so I went with a more finessed flat bed method feeder with dampened pellet approach in my hour and 20 minute window. Finesse or not, the key is to get the fish homing in on that splash and following the feeder down to break open the goodies. I'd only got 25 gramme feeders and wanted to make sure the fish knew I was banging the dinner gong so had bought along a spomb road to kick up a din but in the end decide not to use it on the easy swing out target area down the edge, and relied on regular casting.
I'm going to save you for a blitz in the middle with a bucket of proper munga you lovely little spomb.
I'd gone in with a 12 mm Source rather than a smaller bright yellow pineapple or brighter and pinker tuna wafter to try and cut to the chase:
I still had a couple of roach and a skimmer before a churner signalled the arrival of the bigger fish muscling in and this lovely tench made me work to guide it round the bed of pads. 12 foot 1.5lb tc rods and 6lb mainline are just about right I'd say for the flat bed feeders. A plump bar of female tinca soap.
Much as I love the Source they do get squidgy and squashed when pressed into the silicon mould and do need replacing every cast /fish so I changed over to these 15 mm bad boys, still bayonet stop soft but a bit more robust.
I was convinced that this was a tench the scrap it gave. I was convinced on seeing it, with that funny gold green colouration that it was a hybrid. On the mat I couldn't tell, but I bet a roach or two were doing a bit of dogging when the bream were getting jiggy. Nothing is binary these days and perhaps this fresh young thing was just identifying as a bream with attitude. And see, the shrimp and krill big fish buster was ok to go for another lob out. Result.
One thing I insist on , when a can of pop is called for and that is it must be ginger beer. End of.
Time was ticking on, so much so that wine o'clock was fast approaching, and given the extra mileage I was going to have to dodge the sentry to avoid jankers. Sometimes though you've got top push the boundaries. And there were a few mould fulls of damp pellet (Spicy Sausage and Krill, both in 4 mm) left. Enough for this chunky male.
No seat needed tonight, just the boards of the Royal Box as I soaked in the warmth of the evening, the evening chorus in full voice and the susurration of the leaves, rustling in the warm wind and the thrill of the alarm and bait runner as this second spawning dog rough bream put in an appearance. No hybrid vigour for him. A wet lettuce truth be told.
I needed to re-bait for one last chance or obey the chiming wine o'clock bells. Go on then and the bobbin was torn out of my pellet stained fingers.
Mouth damage presumably from a larger hook, my #12 QM1 barbless lodged firmly in top lip but popped out when the tension was released.
As I tackled the three lock gate, spraying disinfectant the nightly peacock calls bade me home and as I got out of the charabanc to deposit the stink net and mat a squadron of screaming swifts scythed though the newly still air above BureBoi Villas.
A blogger's libation
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