I’ll tell you how I got on next week.

The blue-green algae now had a firm grip on the water, and had reduced visibility from around ten feet, to just two or three inches. It looked as if someone had tipped hundreds of gallons of turquoise paint into the water, and with no signs of fish anywhere, I began to think it a waste of time to continue fishing there. The fish in this lake are very few and far between, and the amount of natural food is staggering. I think they have to be feeding well before you get a chance to catch them, and doubted whether that would be the case in the prevailing conditions. We did toy with the idea of transporting straw bales to the lake in an effort to reduce the algae, but discarded the plan as totally impractical on such a large water. The lake in question is like a magnet to me, difficult in the extreme with a very small number of carp over 20lbs, (and a very small number under 20lbs) but still with several of them uncaught. I am though, at times glad of an excuse to go and fish somewhere else, and the Thames had long been beckoning. The massive attack of algae gave me that excuse, and I went off to try to find some carp in my local area of this big river. Let me lay one myth to rest straight away – Thames carp are not difficult to catch. Difficult to find maybe, but when you do find them, they can be far easier to catch than many of their gravel pit brethren. Although many of the Thames fish are small (single figures), some amazing catches can be had if you know the right areas. Catches of 7 or 8 carp in a night are not uncommon. A friend of mine, put onto a swim by another of my angling companions, caught 9 fish in 3 nights, with 3 20’s among them. I’ve no intention of telling anyone on which part of the Thames that was (sigh of relief DB), and it was nowhere near the place I fished. I had 2 particular areas in mind, one a big backwater in which I had seen carp some time ago, and the other a big bend on the main river. Earlier reconnaissance had shown several carp in the backwater, though none of them looked over 15lbs, and just one or two bigger fish in the main river. The first area, the backwater, I had tried some years before, when, just before the season opened, I had the carp going crackers on floaters. My priority at this time was though, as ever, a handful of uncaught carp in yet another big gravel pit, and on the one occasion I ventured onto the river with a rod I couldn’t get the carp pre-occupied enough to make a mistake with the hook-bait. They spawned that night, and that may have been the reason. I never had time to go back. The second stretch of river was adjacent to an area where I knew carp to reside, but as it was ultra private and I couldn’t get within 300 yards of that spot, I decided to do some heavy baiting around some interesting features on my side of the river. This is where my summer of bad luck chose to rear its head yet again. Whilst baiting up I inadvertently stood next to a wasp’s nest, and was attacked by dozens of the varmints, getting stung about 10 times on various parts of my body. One was on my hand, and it swelled up so as to resemble a cow’s udder! Was someone trying to tell me something?! I swore vengeance on the wasps, and plotted to go back with a flame thrower! Never got round to it though (haven’t got a flame thrower anyway). However, I have to say I really don’t like wasps; bees are fine, but wasps – I have been stung many times, and usually it has been, as far as I could see, completely unprovoked, though I suppose they thought they had a good reason at the time. Trouble is, you can’t explain to them can you? “Look here Mr. Wasp, I only want to stand by your nest for a few moments while I throw these few grains into the river – if you behave I might bring you a sticky toffee!” Anyway, for the next few weeks, any wasp that showed itself in my vicinity was liable to come to a very squidgy end! Access to this part of the river was difficult as it was heavily overgrown, but there was one small clear patch from which it was possible to fish, and it was here I put in the pre-baits, maize and hemp soaked in Kryston’s Ambio. I wasn’t sure that I would need the Ambio once I had got the carp used to visiting the swim, but thought it might help provide an additional attraction in bringing fish not only from the far side, but from 300 yards downstream. So I baited both areas fairly heavily 3 times each in the ensuing week, then chose to fish 2 consecutive nights, one in each. I gave some thought to rigs, but in the end could see no reason why I shouldn’t use a basic running leger, with relatively small leads of an ounce or so. I intended to hit any significant movement of the indicator, so wanted to know if fish were at the bait, something you don’t always see with big fixed leads. As you will see, that later proved to be an error of judgement. I chose to fish the backwater first, then if nothing monumental happened, to fish the second night on the main river. I thought I had planned everything, but there was just one thing I forgot, which led to some discomfort later that evening. The swim on the backwater was actually in someone’s back garden, and though I had permission to fish it, knowing the owners of the house fairly well, what I didn’t know was that they had moved away and rented the house to a young nurse, who lived there alone. (Do I hear you say “Oho!”). Said young lady was reasonably happy to have me fish there, though I think she was a little apprehensive when I turned up to fish the whole night, complete with bed-chair and sleeping bag. Anyway, I bought her a bottle of wine as a measure of my thanks, and wandered down to the river to tackle up. An hour later, and everything was ready, and I was enjoying the first of 2 cans of ice cold Budweiser, a real joy on a hot summer’s evening. Everything was going fine. A few people from the houses on the far bank came down to look at me, and one very pleasant old chap engaged me in conversation for quite some time, telling me all about Pete Springate’s carp from Wraysbury, which he had seen in the Angling Times and with which he was mightily impressed. A few fish began to roll further down the backwater, and though I thought they were probably chub, it’s always nice to see some signs of life. Halfway through the second can of beer, I suddenly realised I had a problem, a contingency for which I hadn’t planned. Quite simply, I was bursting to go to the toilet, just number ones you understand, thank goodness, but that was embarrassing enough. No way could I piddle in the young ladies garden in broad daylight, and I certainly didn’t know her well enough to ask to use her toilet – I think she was suspicious enough of my motives anyway – I’m sure she thought I fancied her. I had mentioned that I’d show her a big carp later, but she may have misunderstood me! In the circumstances, I felt the only thing I could do was to hang on until dark, some 2 hours away, then have a surreptitious pee in the river! Well you know what it’s like don’t you. I managed to hang on, but at times it was extremely difficult to concentrate on the fishing. Darkness came at last, and with it relief. I just hoped there were not going to be more sinister rumblings from within during the night – that would have been difficult! Now earlier I said that choosing to fish a running leger was a mistake. As darkness deepened, so began the twitches. Nothing to strike at, just single and double beeps almost every few minutes, and though I did hit one or two of the more ambitious ones there was no satisfying weight on the end in response. Chub – and lots of them too by the state of my indicators. I had to go to work the next morning so was hoping for at least a few hours sleep. No chance – no sooner did I shut my eyes than a bleep from one of the buzzers forced me to open them again. Not a wink did I get! And no fish either, not even a chub. Take it from me, if you are going to fish for Thames carp exclusively, and don’t want to be kept up all night by marauding chub, stick a big fixed lead on, wind up your indicators and ignore everything bar screaming runs! At 8 am in the morning the young(ish) lady came down to see if I’d caught anything – no tea or bacon sandwich though – she obviously didn’t fancy me. Didn’t ask about the big carp either! I gave it another hour, then packed up. So ended my first serious crack at the Thames carp, and after a quick scout around, I’d failed to reveal any fish in the vicinity. I decided that the fish must have moved back into the main river, as they are generally quite visible here, and indeed arrive in good numbers in early summer. I don’t think though that they hang around much after mid July. This and the fact that the water authority had knocked down the carp’s favourite ‘skulking tree’, for no earthly reason as far as I could see, made me think it would be better to concentrate in the other area, which was situated about four miles upstream. So, on to night two, and as I said, on this stretch there was only one small area to fish from. Though you were not officially allowed to fish here at all, I did have a sort of permission to be there – the ‘I know a man who knows a man who knows a man who said it would be OK’ sort of permission. Still, I was having kittens about someone being in the swim, as this would have made life very difficult, especially as I didn’t want anyone to know I was after carp, as I don’t think anyone else suspects their presence here. There is another reason for being a bit secretive – unfortunately there are a growing number of people around who, if they know you are fishing overnight, will pay your car a visit during the hours of darkness. I have suffered from this twice in a year, once when £300 of damage was done in breaking in to steal an old pair of wellies and a landing net top, and again when, presumably put off by a visible alarm, some t*** brained imbecile ran a screw-driver along the whole side of the car doing £500 worth of damage and giving me problems with the people who re-sprayed that side and who couldn’t match the original colour which continued for the next 18 months. Still, I suppose it made some cretin somewhere very happy. Then we have the ‘on the bank’ tackle thieves don’t we. So I try not to give the impression that I am going carp fishing. Of course, it’s a bit difficult trying to hide the fact that you are after carp from the millions of boats that go up and down the Thames all summer long, when you are sitting over 3 matching rods (did I say 3? – oops sorry, I meant 2!) and lounging on a Fox super-de-luxe. And from the serious looks I got from some of the not so ancient mariners, at least a few of them must be carp anglers.

I’ll tell you how I got on next week.