I had hooked him, and almost played him out

It is also a most frustrating month, as I can never make up my mind what to go for! The rivers are fishing well, pike fishing is starting, carp are on the move and the shooting season is getting under way. I could do with having the whole month off work and making it twice as long! I decided to continue carp fishing for the first fortnight of the month, mainly in an attempt to catch, and therefore prove the existence of, the big common mentioned in previous articles. A couple of short sessions prior to the first week-end were totally blank, and on the Saturday I arrived at the lake at 6 a.m. in pouring rain. I sat in the car for a while, but the tin-drumming on the roof seemed determined to go on forever, so I loaded up and slithered and sloshed through the wet grass and mud to reach the lake. It’s not so bad when the rain starts once you are set up, but setting up, or packing up in the rain is a miserable occupation. After about an hour the deed was done, and I had the HNV out to the left, the mega bait on the right. At 8.15 a.m. I had a run on the HNV, and landed a sprightly mirror of 12lbs 3oz. That cheered me up considerably, and for the next hour I didn’t notice the weather. At 10.20 a.m. I had another run on the same rod, and this time landed a small common, a bright little rascal of 4lbs. The rest of the day was miserable. It rained continuously until 5 p.m. and I just wanted to be at home. I didn’t want to have to pack up all the wet gear, and trudge across the soaking fields with it. I just wanted someone to wave a magic wand so I could miss that bit out, and be transported to the fireside in my living room! I eventually packed up at 8 p.m. when the rain had eased and things had dried out a bit. I was back at dawn the next day, and was greeted by a watery sunrise blinking through rain-blackened branches, each one holding on its tip a tiny crystal ball of rain-water, perhaps to tell my fortune. I walked across the slippery bridge that led onto the island, and soon the HNV and mega-baits were back in their relative positions. The bobbins twitched, and the rain came in showers all day. At 4 p.m. a heavier downpour set in, and continued for two hours, penetrating my old umbrella with a fine spray that was slowly, but almost imperceptibly, soaking me. I was glad not to have any action while this was going on. Just after 6 p.m. the sun came out, the birds began to sing, the carp woke up – and I had a fizzing run on the HNV. To use Peter’s immortal words from Mr. Crabtree, it was going like a train – an express train at that! It ran off thirty yards of line against the clutch, and even at sixty yards distance I still couldn’t stop it. Luckily it then ran out of room, coming up against the dam in the far corner of the lake. It turned back towards me, running along the whole length of the dam wall until it reached the opposite corner. This corner was about thirty yards away from me, and at about 4 o’clock from where I stood. This was worrying as I was fishing from an island, and the fish could easily have got right round behind me. I could move no further round as the island was heavy with trees. The fish was still in the corner, occasionally thumping the rod top. Then he moved slowly along the adjacent margin, taking a course that in a very short time would put him behind the island. I put on as much pressure as I could; hoping the line would take it. The rod tip bent right down to the water as I held it low to miss the tree branches. I half won that battle, and managed to stop the fish from going round the back of the island, but I couldn’t bring him round to the front, and he eventually ground to a halt in some tree roots just a few yards to my right. Like some huge spreading hand, the roots countered my every pull, while the carp sat bewildered beneath them. I could move him, but I couldn’t get him up far enough to net and as soon as I relaxed the tension, so the pink willowy fingers pulled him away from me. It wasn’t fair – I had hooked him, and almost played him out – now it seemed the tree was trying to steal my prize. While the roots caged the fish, so the rest of the tree made it difficult for me to get nearer to where he lay. Brambles made it impossible for me to get around the back of the tree. So taking my life in my hands, I held the rod out over the water with my left hand, took a firm grip of one of the smaller branches with the other, and swung out over the water, around the tree trunk and landed on the other side, immediately above the fish. I then reached into the water and freed as much line as I could from the roots. Much heaving with the rod finally brought the carp out into the open, and he swam out in front of me, now very tired from the long battle. Now, where was the net? You have of course already guessed! It was on the other side of the tree! I had to do a repeat of my monkey act, which I’m glad to say was successful, and at last I felt in control of the situation. After a few more half-hearted lunges the fish at last rolled into the net. It was a big mirror carp with an enormous tail, and in superb condition, all muscle. It weighed 21 lbs. 2oz. I wrote in my diary “What an incredible fight!”. I’ve no idea how long it lasted, but I hooked the fish in daylight, and landed it in the dark. A couple of young lads came round and took some pictures for me. They were quite excited, as neither of them had seen a twenty pound carp before. An hour later they saw another one! I had a run on the mega bait, and after a kerfuffle in the margins landed a superb leather carp which weighed in at 23lbs 10oz. After the photos were taken, I packed up and left. The two lads were staying the night and, after seeing my fish, were very excited at the prospect! The mid-week sessions on the Park lake were very wet, and I managed to lose yet another carp. This time I got it past the deadly reed-bed, only to have the hook pull out as it was coming to the net. It felt like a good fish too, but then, don’t they always! My last week-end’s carp fishing was now approaching, and I intended fishing a two day session. I wangled a day off work, starting just after dawn on the Friday. Once more I had the HNV on one rod, the mega bait on the other and again, I set up on the island from where I could reach the area I had been putting the big baits into. The morning passed relatively quietly, with a few twitches on the HNV, and an exciting three inch lift on the mega bait. I left it for half an hour, then reeled in to check the bait. It was okay, but I changed it anyway, in case the fish “remembered” it. Early afternoon I had two pull-outs from the clips on the HNV. Both times the bait was intact. After the second time, I left the clip off and put a backstop twelve inches behind the lead. I also put a few more free offerings out. Darkness came, and with it more rain. At 8.15 p.m. the bobbin rose to the top on the HNV rod, then stopped. I struck and found a carp on the end. It fought well, making runs all over the place, but I’d had plenty of practice by now, and it was soon safe in the net. I weighed it straight away, although I sacked it to get the photos in daylight. It was a mirror weighing 17lbs 15oz. (As an experiment I weighed it again in the morning – it went 17lbs 8oz – oh curses from you who have weighed a fish from a sack in the morning and found it went 39lbs 15oz – what a difference an ounce makes!). Exactly an hour later I had an identical take on the mega bait. The bobbin rose to the top and held there – no line was being taken. I briefly wondered whether or not to strike, as the bait was a very large one. But the bobbin held at the top, and tremored slightly, so I hit it. Another carp was on, and another good battle ensued. This fish ran out about forty yards of line, and then fought hard to stay out in the middle of the lake. Each time it started to kite I relaxed the pressure. This confused it, and it would stop fighting long enough for me to gain line. It was a very strong fish – I wondered if it might be the big common. As it approached the bank I was anxious to get a good look at it so I would know what I had hooked if it dropped off. But it stayed deep, and I had to be patient. Eventually it started to come up, and as it rolled near the waiting net, my heart stopped when I saw a big scaly flank. In the net it went, and my legs were shaking as I lifted it onto the bank. It was a common, and a big one, but as I pulled back the mesh it was apparent that it wasn’t the common. It weighed 17lbs 13oz, and I wondered how big a bait I would need to prevent fish under 25lbs from eating it! I didn’t have another sack, so had to scrounge one from John who was fishing next to me. We sat and chatted for an hour or so, that wonderful session carp fishing talk, and then retired to our bed-chairs for the night. At 1.30 a.m. the buzzer sounded briefly on the HNV rod, and when I looked, the bobbin was again held at the top of the stick, with no line being taken. It seemed the fish were moving off with the bait, but stopping when they hit the backstop. I wondered if they were trying to work the hook out instead of panicking. If so, they’d learned that trick very quickly! I picked up the rod and struck. Once again I was in business, as a surprised carp tore off down the lake. A steady battle soon saw me netting another fine common, this one weighing 15lbs 9oz – a mint conditioned fish. Luckily John had another sack for me to scrounge, so in went the carp, and joined the others hanging from the footbridge at the back of the island. I must say John was coping with this assault very well – he still hadn’t had a run, and he was using basically the same bait as me. The difference was that I was using balanced baits – John wasn’t. I was convinced that was significant. After pottering about for an hour or so, and ensuring that all was well with the sacked fish, I got my head down. We were out of sacks now, so I hoped any more action would wait until morning. At 4 a.m. the bobbin climbed to the top on the HNV rod again. Again I struck, but this time didn’t connect. On reeling in I found the bait had gone. I re-baited, forcing myself to balance the bait properly, and collapsed onto the bedchair. Morning dawned grey, wet, windy and horrible. This weather didn’t suit the lake, or my mood. How could the day be so miserable after such a glorious night! I wondered briefly if I’d dreamt the events of yesterday. But there were the sacks, hanging in a neat row from the bridge, looking like big black jelly-fish in the murky water. The light didn’t look like improving, so we decided to take the photos and return the fish. No matter how careful you are about sacking carp, it’s always a relief to see that sack wriggle when you pull it from the water! Trouble is, they then start to wriggle too much! I’m not into multiple trophy shots – I think there is far too much potential for damage to the fish. So we took each photo separately, after removing each sack in turn. The fish weren’t taken out immediately. As most carp anglers will know, it’s best to leave the sack for a minute or two before opening it, providing it is placed on soft ground or an unhooking mat and guarded, any attempt by the fish to flap being controlled by the angler. The fish then come out a good deal quieter and are far less likely to damage themselves by leaping out of the anglers arms! All the carp were photographed, and swam away strongly. I always enjoy watching the fish swim away, ponderously, suspiciously at first. Then, realising that it isn’t a trick, and that they do have their freedom, they confidently power down into the depths. That’s a nice moment. By 9.30 a.m. the rain had become continuous, and heavy. I hate being trapped under a brolly, especially a leaky one, but at least John was in talking range, which made it more bearable. I was glad he was there. Those sessions on the island, with either one of the Johns, or one of the Steves remain some of the most enjoyable sessions I ever had. I’ll always remember them with a tinge of sadness, because now they are gone, and for me, on the Island lake, days like that can’t happen again. Now, after a restocking, the lake has become a good deal easier, and people expect to catch almost every time they go. And most of them do. Sometimes I think we catch too many and wonder whether all this progress has been such a good thing. I mean, who leaps up and down when they catch a low double these days – no-one over the age of twelve, I bet. Anyway, despite the rain making me damp and miserable outside, inside I was ecstatic at the capture of the carp – John must have been really cheesed off! If he wasn’t then, I suspect he was when at 12.30 a.m. my buzzer sang out again, this time on the mega bait rod, which always caused great excitement! I struck into a big fish, and had quite a tussle with it. Not a fight of dramatic speed and long runs, more a deep slow and heavy fight. Obviously a good carp – could it be the long awaited common? But as it rolled on the surface, I thought caught a glimpse of a familiar scale pattern – it looked like Eric. The prolonged battle under the rod top confirmed it, and once again he slid into my net. He weighed 22lbs 13oz, and was the last fish I caught from the Island lake. Fitting really, for I never fished there again – it was like an old friend coming to say good-bye. He’s dead now, as are all the other carp that were in the lake at that time, killed by a farm pollution. You won’t have read about it in the papers – carp aren’t as popular as swans! But the pollution was still five years away as I said good-bye to the lake at dusk. The rain was still pouring down and John had already left. I hardly noticed the weather as I packed up. It had been a terrific season, especially considering the amount of time I had put in. I was only a little disappointed when I reeled in the HNV and found that for most of the day it had been out there with the hook stuck in a large plastic bag! That does wonders for the presentation of delicately balanced hook-baits! I was though, slightly sad to leave the lake. I knew I would never be able to fish it again, as it would no longer have that essential mystery and I need that. That was almost the finish of my carp fishing until the following summer. I had just one more evening fishing on the Park lake. And I almost had another carp. At 7.15 p.m. I had a run on the HNV, and managed to hold the fish out of the reed-bed. But just as I was getting the upper hand, the line broke. It’s getting to be something of a tradition for me to lose the last carp that I hook each season! The rod was a cane Mk IV, and the fish had not been travelling fast. The line was brand new, 12lb b.s., tried and tested. It should not have broken. I concluded that somehow the line must have been damaged.

So I finished the season as I had started it – by losing a carp. But the problems on this lake were only just beginning. The loss of fish was something I was going to become painfully familiar with over the next 12 months. But that, as they say, is another story!