A Night in "Deadman's" and the Green Reward

I have written before about the tricks ones mind can play upon oneself when angling alone at night. Personally,it takes a lot to spook me and I generally enjoy nocturnal solitude. However,there is a pitch that I have avoided night fishing for many years. Let me set the scene...
I was fishing for Carp over ten years ago,when from a neighbouring lake a single gunshot rang out. Obviously,at the time I was oblivious, but that shot was a friend tragically ending his own life in his bivvy on a neighbouring lake. To this day,I am baffled by the incident and for many years I didn't fish the lake. When I finally did, I found that the pitch has been disrespectfully christened "Deadman's".
With trepidation I have fished in the said swim during daylight hours a couple of times but never at night,however, when I turned up at the lake on Monday evening to find it deserted, I dared myself to fish there.
The wind howled and the trees rustled (of course it rained a while..again) and with the thought of what had happened all those years ago fresh in my mind you may have excused me for being a tad unnerved. A visit from my old mate Brian and a couple of large Bream diverted my attention but Brian was soon gone and I was alone again as darkness fell.

Something strange happened...the wind dropped and the lake fell flat calm,stars appeared;animals,birds and even road traffic fell silent. Although the night air was cold I felt comfortable and at ease. This night session I'd put off in my mind through a mix of respect and dread had actually become a tranquil,enjoyable time....I soon drifted asleep.

No fish in the night meant I was awake with the dawn chorus.I reset my traps of method feeder with mini boilies, and rebaited the areas in the knowledge that the next couple of hours were primetime for my intended quarry..Tench.

Around an hour and a half later the bobbin of the right rod rose and my alarm sung,I struck and immediately knew that this was a tinca. What a clever fish it was,diving into every weedbed and set of lily pads it could, it was no match for my newly customised rod though. As it sat in the net,I looked down at this most beautiful of gifts, I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back...and not just for catching my first Tench of the year.

Dedicated to M.L...Rest In Peace my friend.