check out his trophy room page. Ian uses a bait

In the last month I have been out several times with varying degrees of success. My short tench trips are not turning out too well. Three trips so far have produced a big fat zero, despite being in the right swim with the right bait etc. I know this because other guys are fishing the same swims and they have been catching. Take Mario for instance. He’s carp fishing a lake that I am tenching on. What does he catch? Yep. Tench, big ones too. What do I catch? Carp? Er. no. Perch! Little ones. That’s fishing for you. Fishing is not just about catching fish, thank God, but the odd one or two now and then wouldn’t go amiss. Hey! Are you listening up there!Had a trip up to Rutland a couple of weeks ago, fishing for the elusive wels catfish with Ian Wakeford. Maggi came along for the sleep(!) and had more bites than both of us – mozzie bites that is! We were fishing Maxey lake, which is about 65 acres and holds very few catfish – about ten of them in all that water. Ian has been catfishing one night a week on this lake for the past four summers. He averages one catfish run per season and has landed just one fish from Maxey in all that time. His photo of it shows it to be about 4ft long which would make it a 30lber but he recalls a weight of 19lb. We both reckon he must have mis-read the scales. This lake was stocked with about a dozen fish twenty odd years ago and, as the conditions are excellent for catfish, there is a possibility of a monster turning up there. We both fished with 2 rods for the cats and, at Ians suggestion, we also had a spare rod for mini-carp bashing to relieve the boredom. So that’s how he survived four years! Against all odds, I had two runs on my livebait rigs. And connected with neither. One was absolutely, without a doubt, a catfish take. The other, well – it could have been a predatory carp or an attempted alien abduction or something. No teethmarks were in the 4oz perch bait when I retrieved it, so we ruled out pike or zander. Maggi? She caught a record silver bream. Well, it might have been, but was more likely just a big skimmer. I put it back quick – just in case it was a genuine one! I can’t have Maggi in the record books, can I? Well, not unless I get in them first!Ian is a predator angler. Equally at home with pike or catfish, he uses a very distinctive method and some very sophisticated equipment which allows him to present his baits exactly where he wants them in a fresh and lively condition. To good end results too – check out his trophy room page. Ian uses a bait-boat. A lot of people are against the use of these tools but I suspect that those are people who have never used one. If you have never tried it, don’t knock it. It takes a fair bit of skill to use a radio-controlled boat in anything other than perfect conditions and, when the conditions are right against you in every respect, a bait-boat can make the difference between a big fish and a blank session. Ian will be writing an article for us soon about the do’s and don’ts concerning this emotive, and very efficient, piece of equipment.The non-event of the year so far was the eclipse. On the appointed day, I decided to have an early morning session on the tench lake and arranged to meet Alan Tomkins at 4.30am on the bank. We had been wondering if maybe the fish would go on a berserk feeding spell with all the strange lunar activity. It was one of those sleepless nights and I never quite made it to the lake until slightly later. Okay, a lot later! 6am. Alan never made it at all! Which left me with a problem, as he had the bait. I dug around for some worms and found a small bag of trout pellet in a rucksack pocket, which I am normally loath to feel around in. (The last time I went into that pocket there was a bubonic plague warning). So I settled down and had a very pleasant morning not catching tench and practising my Wallies cast. That’s like a Wallis cast but slightly less expertly conducted. Nothing. Huh. So much for the berserk feeding spell. The magic hour came around and I pulled out the secret weapon against eye-damage, my digital camera. I watched the whole thing on the display screen, taking the odd photo now and then, but I couldn’t see any change at all on the little screen. I figured that was my old eyes playing tricks but the camera doesn’t lie does it? Well, perhaps mine does. I got home and downloaded the images and… It had recorded no change whatsoever in the suns image. I concluded that the whole thing was probably just some media stunt to encourage tourism in the west country. It certainly never turned on the tench!Totally cheesed off with not catching any tincas, a few days later I arranged a barbel fishing session with Pete Henton. Pete turned up with fly-rods so, to make it a bit harder, we went to Enton trout fishery, the oldest stilllwater trout lake in the country. This is a fishery with no barbel but plenty of spotties, and equipped with our fly-rods we hammered the water. Well, I did. My flies hit the drink like a four ounce bomb every time! It’s true I’m afraid, my fly-casting technique has never been much cop, but that’s okay. I still manage to catch the odd fish, and it does give the local anglers on the water a chance to have a good laugh. This day though, we had the laughs on them. For the previous few weeks, the very hot weather had put the fish down to the extent that hardly any fish at all had been caught. Like, perhaps three a week or some stupid figure. Even the fishery owner told us when arrived that we were ‘probably wasting your time until the weather gets cooler’. Despite his honesty, Pete and I were not deterred. We took a boat out and found a small area on the upper lake absolutely crammed with trout, but none of them were feeding. So instead of trying to tempt them with morsals of imitation food we decided to annoy the hell out of them with big colourful lures. It worked. We angered enough fish to be able to enter in the catch returns book the capture of 3 fish each (plus three lost each). That’ll teach them to say were wasting our time! It was a great afternoons fishing in a most beautiful location. I wonder what happened to the barbel fishing idea?Maggi and I were in severe need of a break and it happened that the kids were off with relatives for a couple of days, just as I had a hole in the diary. What we wanted was peace and quiet, and some pleasant fishing. Somewhere with a comfortable bed and no cooking or other chores to interfere with us. Fat chance of finding somewhere like that in this day and age, but we found it. Bill and Virginia Rushmer had told us that they were staying at Clawford Vineyard in Cornwall and Bill suggested that we joined them for a couple of days. So we did, but before I went I called Jim and told him where we were off to. In true enigmatic style he proclaimed ‘Beware of the Pasties’ and hung up. I wondered what he meant, but soon was to find out.Clawford is the bees knees. John and Wanda Ray, with their daughter Julie, have created a magic place where “children are welcome” signs are for the sake of politeness only. I bet my kids wouldn’t be welcome, they make far too much racket! I simply wouldn’t take them there. It’s too nice a place to spoil. It’s a much extended farmhouse (with excellent anglers fodder) overlooking 15 acres of lakes crammed with specimen fish of many varied species. There are even a few catfish in the trout lake. Yes, the trout lake! I wonder how big they’ll be in a couple of years! When we arrived on the Monday evening, Maggi took one look at the room and decided to take root there and then. It’s going to cost me a packet now to redo our bedroom at home to the standard of comfort that Clawford provides. In fact it might be cheaper to move in with the Ray family full time. Come to think of it, they charge so little, and with it costing so much to live in London, it really is almost a viable option! These couple of days, being my ‘holiday’, produced what was probably the worst weather for the past ten years. The rain came down in stair-rods. Don’t remember them? Okay, The rain came down in banksticks. (Is that better?). Now, a drop of rain has never stopped me from casting a line, but this was ridiculous. Maggi ‘suddenly discovered’ that she’d left the bag containing her wet-weather gear at home (Yeah, sure!) and plonked herself on the bed to watch daytime TV gameshows whilst Bill, Virginia and I all ventured out into the monsoon conditions. Did I ever mention that Maggi comes from a very intelligent blood-line? The fishing was not up to it’s usual standard with the atmospheric pressures playing havoc, but we did catch a few fish. Virginia got the best one whilst I was there, a carp of around 15lb. Bill was feeling a little unwell, it was either Virginia out-fishing him (again) or something to do with him viewing my impressive float collection. Which consists of a peacock quill and a polaris float. Bill’s a bit of a purist in some ways!On my first day, I had five different species in as many casts! Golden orfe, golden rudd, ghost, mirror and common carps. All good fun on the float and pin tackle, but I caught nothing of any great size. The bigger fish were probably sheltering from the rain. I know what the fishing is like usually at Clawford because Bill put on a slide show for us one evening, and very good it was too. If you and your partner are looking for a relaxing break with top quality fishing then give Clawford a try.Bill and Virginia waved us goodbye in a downpour and we headed off to the smoke again, very relaxed and very, very wet. Aahh…

Geoff Maynard