The House Sale
The last time I came to Benwick on the Old River Nene, the empty house opposite was up for sale. When I first arrived, it was quiet over there, and I liked the look of the mooring, figuring there should be some depth tight to the pilings. But then a gardener arrived and fired up a noisy lawn mower, followed by an estate agent and some potential buyers. After that, there was a constant stream of people turning up, and most were immediately intrigued by the water, skylining where I had intended to cast a waggler. It must have been an open day. I went through the motions but never got anything properly sorted out. Homework about the venue had told me it hosted popular winter matches, where baits like punch, squatts, pinkies, chopped worm and hemp were all viable. I tried most of these things, but maybe the session drifted into mediocrity due to distraction.
Time Warp
Nearly two years had elapsed when I returned to the same spot. Remarkably, hardly anything had changed. For some reason, the house opposite was still empty, and the grounds around it had become overgrown. No pegs were visible down at the water’s edge on my side, so I had to bash through reeds and nettles to clear an area for my seat box and bait table. When I last came here, plenty of other anglers were practising for forthcoming matches. It was a bit earlier in the year this time, and it didn’t look like anybody had fished the venue for months. I found this a bit strange because fish were topping everywhere. Certain sections of the fens, such as this one, are renowned winter hotspots. Big shoals of silver fish migrate into them because they offer decent shelter. But now I’m living in the area, I’m discovering there’s plenty to catch year-round.
How it Was
While setting up my gear, I recalled what happened during my previous visit. My mate Chris from Grantham, where I was based at the time, had suggested we come to Benwick. He said many small fish were caught by match anglers, returning to the swing of things for the hectic winter campaign. Everybody was busy, apart from me. It seemed the trick was to bag up with bits close in or down the middle while feeding up a far-side hemp line for later. I had tried similar but suspected a pike was active in my swim. The inside line kept going quiet while all the activity on the far bank prevented it from producing anything. An angler was averaging several fish a minute with whip tackle a few pegs along while carefully feeding up a hemp line for later. Others were catching on the long pole or fishing down the margins. It was all action for everyone else.
Bad Day
We all experience sessions when things don’t go to plan. While trying to make the pole work on my first visit to this place, I don’t think I was positive enough, maybe confused by all the info I had tried to absorb. This was confirmed when I later watched a video on YouTube of Mark Pollard bagging a big net of perch from the same swim, making everything look so easy. I had attempted to get things going with groundbait and maggots, which only resulted in small perch and bleak. I tried chopped worm over the same feed line, and nothing happened with that, either. Try as I might, I couldn’t connect with anything decent. I continued to feed some casters across to the far bank in the hope all the commotion over there might eventually die down. A few exploratory casts with a waggler found a clear spot against the piling, but an awkward bed of underwater weed was just short of it.
Watching Others
When things aren’t going well on new venues, it’s worth looking at what others are doing. Chris was by this time bagging up on quality roach, having got them feeding on hemp. He said myriads of small fish were about, so baits like pinkies and maggots were going nowhere fast. It had taken him a bit longer to attract interest with the deadly seeds, but the resulting roach were much better weight builders. I relished using hemp on the canals and rivers around London a few decades ago. I’ve only dabbled with this bait since and need to get back into using it more seriously. Chris fastidiously prepares his own hemp to get it exactly right while I’ve got into the habit of using tinned stuff. The problem with that is size varies to extremes, plus it’s sometimes slightly overcooked. The best product lately has been the smaller 350g tins of Dynamite Natural Frenzied Hempseed.
Magic Seeds
Seeing Chris swinging in stamp roach and netting bigger samples on hemp made me want to get back into the method, but it wouldn’t work for me on this occasion. I’ve struggled in recent years trying to prepare my own seeds, getting patchy results. Some batches don’t seem to cook and open up properly, even after pre-soaking. I don’t remember it being that difficult years ago, and I suspect the dry seeds have been treated somehow. I like medium-sized hemp; the main problem is that it generally comes in mini or giant form. Returning to my tinned stuff and my noisy swim, the manic gardener was still busy, now strimming the edges of the lawns he had mowed earlier. It was tough going, and it wasn’t until later in the afternoon that things went quiet on the far bank of the small canal-like river. I started to catch a few better fish on the caster with waggler tackle.
Another Go
After clearing the swim and getting my kit arranged on my return visit, I sat for a while, contemplating what to try. Thankfully, things were quieter on this occasion, with no activity on the far bank. Plumbing around, I discovered it was weedy close in and over towards the other side but relatively clear down the main boat channel. Determined to be more positive this time, I simply set up my Cadence CP800 9m Margin Pole. I intended to fish it at full length, with Edge Tackle 10-12 Hollow Elastic and a medium strength rig set at 4ft deep. The float I was going to use carried a spread bulk of 4 numbers 8s, with 3 number 11s spaced out below. The water was on the clear side, and conditions were steaming hot, with no cloud in the blue sky. I cupped in groundbait, well laced with casters and a few pellets. This resulted in a frenzy of bleak and small rudd.
Blinkers On
It was so hot I had to put my umbrella up, but that didn’t matter because my swim was buzzing with activity. It was impossible to get casters or maggots through the small stuff. I upped what I was cupping in, putting in a few hard balls to get some bait on the bottom, adding the odd soft, helping to try and keep the small stuff out of the way. I didn’t want to fall into the trap of trying different things all over the place like last time. I switched to big baits like pellets and sweetcorn to try and get through the bits. These I could get to the bottom. Since living in the heart of fenland and gaining a better feel of what to do, being positive has worked wonders. Trying to avoid the bits, rather than targeting them, has generally resulted in much bigger catches. The small stuff often masks the fact that big fish are out there. Several fizzes of bubbles over my feed area confirmed that.
New Direction
Instead of concentrating my attack on the far side mooring, this time, I aimed at the overhanging willow to the right of it. This seemed more sensible in the bright and near tropical conditions. There was plenty of shade over there, which I suspected the fish might retreat to. But it was never going to turn out that way. Maybe it was due to the area not having been fished for a long time because suddenly, my float trembled and shot under, resulting in elastic streaming out of my top kit. Something big and powerful shot off to my left on a searing run. I thought at first it might be a tench, but when I managed to turn it, I saw the deep bronze flank of a bream a couple of feet beneath the surface. Bream always fight much harder in shallow swims, and this one was no different, testing my rig to its limits. It came close to leaping out of the water a few times, it was that annoyed.
Another World
The bream calmed down after I netted it, and it was a nice surprise. I didn’t see anything like this on my last visit, but maybe fish like this were present, and I simply missed them, thanks to playing about with small baits. Back on a big offering next put in, and it didn’t take long before my float darted under again. A repeat performance resulted in a similar-sized slab, then another. From then on, every time I topped up the swim with a ball of groundbait, bubbles erupted over it within seconds. Not all bream, because yet another elastic stretcher was a lot more erratic, darting all over the place to try and weed my rig up. That was a tench. It turned into one of those weird days that dumbfound what the textbooks tell you. It was incredibly hot and super bright, yet I was catching quality fish down the middle in four feet of water from a narrow river, almost standing still.
Unlocking Secrets
I had expected to target pristine roach, like this one I caught on my last trip here, although I didn’t get many on that occasion. Others did on baits like punched bread, pinkies, and hemp seed, which are favourites to work through winter. On my return visit, there wasn’t a sign of any red fins. It used to be the same when I fished the Fossdyke Canal, where the roach didn’t start to show in numbers until it began to get chilly at night with the first frosts. Where the fish go is a mystery. Another mystery leads me to ponder how easy it would be to miss out on the true potential of venues like this one. I might have completely bypassed what was on offer if I hadn’t returned after such a bad day. A problem with new venues can be sketchy, out of date, or no information at all, which I hope I’m putting right in this instance. I’m glad I went back.
Different Result
I wasn’t expecting bream on my return to Benwick and reckon I could have bagged even more, but it was so unbearably hot I decided to put the fish back. This catch resulted from a short session, but I aim to return for another go when conditions are closer to normal. Maybe it was just one of those rare days, never to be repeated, a gamble that keeps us anglers intrigued. It was interesting how taking a positive approach, instead of trying to work a way into a new place gently, made such a big difference. It can be a fine balance between carefully working up a swim or heavily attacking from the start. The latter tactic could work again or be disastrous. I suspect it will be a case of modifying my approach as summer fades away and autumn sets in. But already, after an intriguing first few months living in the fens, I’m getting a completely different picture to the one I was expecting.
