A Morning for Me: Chasing My Favourite Fish, the Tench

We all have that one fish. The one that gets into your blood. For me, it’s not the pike, not the trout, but the tench. And on my rare days off, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than on the bank at dawn, waiting for that first bite.

This morning was one of those perfect mornings. The alarm went off in the half-light of 3 AM. For some, it’s a rude awakening. For me, it’s the start of something magical. There’s a peace to the world at that hour that you simply cannot find once the day has begun. The mist was just lifting off the water as I arrived, the only sound the gentle cooing of wood pigeons and the distant splash of a rising fish. This is my church. This is where I reset.

I truly believe the northwest of Ireland holds some of the finest, and often most overlooked, tench fishing in the country. Our lakes and fisheries have that perfect mix of rich natural larders and quiet, sheltered bays that tench love. They’re not always the easiest to find, but that’s part of the appeal. The hunt is on before a line is even wet.

Setting up in the silence, introducing a little bait, and making that first cast as the sun begins to colour the sky… it’s a ritual I never tire of. Then, the wait. But it’s never a boring wait. It’s a time of anticipation, of watching the water for signs of life.

And then it happens. The delicate lift of the float, or the steady pull on a quiver tip. The strike. And that’s when the peace explodes into raw, unadulterated excitement.

People sometimes underestimate the tench. Let me tell you, a good tench does not know it’s supposed to be a bottom-feeding pond fish. The first run is an unstoppable, powerful surge that tests your tackle and your nerve. They fight with a dogged, powerful strength that is just incredible for their size. It’s a proper battle, every single time. Playing a good tench on light tackle, seeing that beautiful olive-green flank break the surface… that’s the thrill. That’s the moment I chase.

Today, the fish were kind. I landed a few beautiful, mint-condition specimens, each one a prize. But the real catch of the day wasn’t just the fish. It was the solitude. The connection to the water. The reminder of why I fell in love with this sport in the first place.

It’s this passion—for the northwest’s waters, for the thrill of the tench, and for those perfect, quiet mornings—that I try to bring to every single guided trip. Because everyone deserves to experience a moment like that.