one of them had gone. Tench! I re

August 9th saw me back at the Island lake for my usual dawn to dusk session. I set up in the south west corner, as a north easterly wind had been forecast. I was now fishing the particle on both rods, though I was still keeping up the baiting with the HNV, putting some in before I packed up. The two Johns who were also using the bait (oh – didn’t I mention there were two of them!) were doing likewise. One rod I cast onto a small gravel plateau, the other tight to the right hand margins, over which a thickish scum patch had formed. For once the weather forecast was spot on, and by 7.30 a.m. the promised north easterly had arrived, and was pushing into my corner quite nicely, making the water look bright and alive. A couple of hours had passed quietly when I noticed bubbling in the vicinity of the bait out on the gravel. There followed several twitches and tugs on this rod. After a few minutes of this, I reeled in to check the bait. I had been fishing double particle – one of them had gone. Tench! I re-baited with a single bait, fixed tight to the hook. Almost immediately I had a three inch lift of the indicator on that rod. As I sat concentrating my thoughts on that bobbin, willing it to move again, so the indicator on the other rod scraped up its rusty stick and line began disappearing rapidly from the spool as a carp rushed out from under the scum patch where it had taken the bait. I had to hold the fish hard to stop it going into a tree which had fallen into the water. Against heavy pressure from me, it soon ran out of steam, and I netted a very prettily scaled mirror of 11lbs 8oz. August had started well! Nothing happened for some time after that, until, just after 2 p.m. fish began to bubble close in. Bubbles often bring to mind my early tench fishing days, and I remember how excited I used to get, as sprays of tiny bubbles would leisurely approach the float. For much of the time we are coarse fishing, we don’t know whether the fish are there or not, but when tench bubbles appear around the float, you can be fairly certain you are about to get a bite, and the tension can become almost unbearable. I should be careful to emphasise “almost” because I recall a day when I was fishing from a punt at Blenheim Palace with a girlfriend (who later became my first wife). We had identical tackle and baits, in fact I even put the worm on the hook for her, and the water around both floats effervesced continually. We fished our baits no more than a few feet apart, and all day long I never had a bite. By the end of the day I had become a little weary of unhooking the seemingly never-ending procession of fat green tench from my companion’s rod! As dusk fell and ‘last cast’ time approached at last my float had slipped away. I struck, perhaps a little harder than necessary, and from the water, like some miniature red and silver Polaris missile erupted a one ounce roach! Now I crumbled up a dozen or so of the HNV boilies in my hand, and threw them into the thick of the bubbles in front of me. The bubbling continued. I suspected that carp were not the cause but I had to know for sure so I reeled in one rod, and set it up with float tackle. This I baited with a small piece of the HNV and cast into the bubbles. The float went straight under, and the strike connected with something that was obviously not a carp. It turned out to be a 3lb bream, which fought surprisingly well on the carp rod. Isn’t it terrible how blasé‚ we get about other fish when carp fishing – it wasn’t that long ago when a 3lb bream would have called for at least a few shots from the camera. This fish however was quickly returned, unmourned and unphotographed. I re-baited and re-cast. Again the float disappeared immediately, and I was into another bream, a bigger one this time. Unfortunately (?) it came off just as I was drawing it towards the bank. The bubbling then ceased, as did the bites. Perhaps I should have scaled down my 10lb line and size six hook! Tying the carp rig back on I briefly wondered why it is that every other carp angler who casts into bubbles seems to hook a carp – with me it’s always bream! For the next three hours I got lumbered! Another angler came round for a chat. Now I don’t mind passing the time with brothers of the angle, in fact it can be one of the nicer parts of a day’s fishing. But I do think three hours is a bit excessive, especially when, as this chap was, it is someone who never listens to a word you say (oh you’ve met him too!). In the end I gave up saying anything at all. He didn’t seem to notice. Eventually, and I thought somewhat miraculously for it seemed he would never stop and was telling me the same dubious tales again and again, he talked himself into an uneasy silence which I didn’t dare break, then departed. I decided to move down to the shallows for the last few hours, feeling the carp had probably been bored out of the swim! I was now fishing the triple particle rig on both rods. Casting into the new swim I had immediate action, with several twitches on each rod. I put one of them into a tight clip to try to induce something more positive. Half an hour later it was away, and the clutch was screaming. I grabbed the rod – nothing! I reeled in to find all the baits stripped from the hook. How do they do that? That quietened things down a bit. In fact, nothing else happened at all, and at 10 p.m. I began to pack up. I’d broken down one rod and was just reaching for the indicator on the other when it flew up and once more the clutch screamed. I struck into the fish, but almost immediately lost contact with it. I kept reeling in but could feel no weight on the line at all. For a second I thought the line might have broken, but on looking down at the reel was surprised to see the bale-arm was missing! In the half light I could see no sign of it. For all I knew I still had a carp on – I didn’t intend hand-lining it in! Then I had an inspiration. The other rod had an identical reel, so I fitted this one to the rod with the fish on, minus the spool, and then fitted the original spool to it. A few turns of the reel handle and I was in business. The carp was still on, and for its weight it fought very well. It weighed 6lbs, and was as pretty a mirror as you could hope to see. Despite its size, it’s a fish I’ll always remember for the circumstances in which it was landed. I returned the carp, and managed to find the disembodied bale-arm before leaving. The next Saturday was short, and very sweet. I fished from 11 a.m. (hangover I think!) until 4 p.m. The first of my long line of angling principles had fallen – I had bought some new buzzers, and now sat eagerly awaiting the first beep. I hoped it wouldn’t be a false alarm, but from where I am now I can’t remember if it was or not. As they were antenna buzzers, I suspect it probably was. However, just after midday I had a belting run which christened the buzzers properly. What with the beeping, and the clutch screaming as the rod bucked in the rests, it was all very exciting. The fish was a fine mirror carp of 22lbs 4oz, and it fought exceptionally hard. I had taken it about six inches from the bank, on three particles side-hooked on a size one. It was my best mirror from the lake at that time. I didn’t know if there were bigger ones. I was so pleased I wangled another trip the next day. This was from 9.15 a.m. (hangover not so bad today) to 7.30 p.m. It was a blistering hot day, and I set up on the shallows not really expecting any action. Just before noon, as I sat watching a kingfisher fishing from a small island and diving into the water with a small plop (what a lovely descriptive word that is, “plop”), one of the buzzers gave a single beep. I hardly had time to contemplate this before the fish was away. It was an absolute screamer, and took thirty-five yards of line straight off. After a good battle in the shallow water, with plenty of exciting swirls and splashes, I netted a beautiful common. It weighed 18lbs 5oz- my best common from the lake. What a season this was turning out to be! There was no-one else fishing so I set up the camera on the tripod, and connected the cable release. Picking up the fish, I pressed the button on the release. Nothing happened. I pressed it again, harder. Nothing. Wrapping the fish in the weigh sling, I went to check the camera. It had run out of film! Frantically I searched my bag for the spare film that I always carry, and found out that I didn’t always carry one. I had to get a picture of the fish. There were some shops about five miles from the lake, so I sacked the fish up in deep water, in the shade of a tree. I reeled in the other rod, hid the camera and tackle in the reeds, and ran back to my car. It was hot, very hot, and what the shop assistant must have thought of this sweating camouflaged idiot urgently demanding film from her I don’t know! I bought two, just in case, and hurried back to the lake. I retrieved the sack, and the carp went wild. I waited for it to settle down before taking it out and photographing it. When returned he swam off at about ninety miles per hour giving me a good soaking in the process as he fondly waved me goodbye with his huge tail – I didn’t mind though! I left at 7.30 p.m. All was right with the world! For the next week temperatures remained high, and I only managed one evening, and a short pre-work session. I blanked on the evening session, recording a water temperature of 74 degrees Fahrenheit. During the pre-work session, I had two runs, landing a small mirror, and a small common, both just under 4lbs. Small fish maybe, but not a bad way to start the day’s toil – I always feel fishing on a work day is like stealing back a few hours that don’t really belong to you. Both fish were taken on the triple particle. The HNV was still going in, and none was coming up again, so something was eating it. But the particle was going so well in the high water temperatures that I had decided to fish it on both rods for the time being. By mid August I had switched one of my week-day evenings and the pre-work session to the Park lake. It was here that I had lost a big carp on floater at the end of June. On the first evening I set up in the area I had lost this fish, fishing both baits into a fairly large hole in a weed-bed. Within half an hour there were one or two carp swirling near the surface, occasionally flapping their tails lazily in the air like bedraggled sails. I spent an absorbing ninety minutes attempting to catch one on a floater, but though they would take the free offerings, they would not take the hook-bait. A change from mixers to double munchie brought about a violent swirl near the bait and I looked for the cork controller to give me some idea of whether the fish had taken the bait or not. Suddenly I saw it whizzing along the side of a reed-bed like a miniature speed-boat. I struck immediately. There was nothing there – very odd! The carp then disappeared, and I went back to fishing two bottom baits. Only ten minutes had passed when the indicator jerked up on the left hand rod. I was immediately into a heavy fish, and had quite a tussle with it as it tried to bury itself in the weeds. But I kept its head up, line and hook held and I was soon putting the net under a very long mirror carp. It weighed 25lbs 4oz, and measured thirty-six inches from nose to tail fork. There was obviously potential for this to become a very big fish. (This proved to be so – I caught him again two years later at just over 32lbs, and he still wasn’t fat. Unfortunately, this fish has now “walked” elsewhere). What a fish! “Follow that!” it says in my diary. I couldn’t, and I went home at 9.15 p.m. I had also christened my other carbon properly (the one I’d caught the bream on!) and it didn’t escape my attention that each of these rods had been christened by carp of over twenty pounds. I thought it might be a good omen – how wrong can you be – within a few weeks both rods had broken! Better not say what make they were! Next week-end I decided to fish through the night on the Island lake, arriving early Friday morning, and fishing through to Saturday evening. Still fishing the particle on both rods, I had stopped messing about with rigs, and was using a highly effective triple bait bolt rig. I don’t know why I’d stopped using it really except that perhaps it’s because once I find a rig to be working well I get bored with it and can’t resist experimenting! The bolt rig was fished with a six inch dacron hook-length, a two ounce lead, and a backstop six inches up the line. At 7 a.m. I had a slow lift to the left hand rod. I picked the rod up and the movement stopped. I put the rod back in the rests, and went to put the bobbin back on the line when it was pulled from my hand. I struck – nothing. The bait was intact. Two hours later, there was a sharp jolt on the right hand rod, then the line fell slack. I was on the point of striking when the movement stopped. I continued to watch with interest. Nothing else happened, so I tightened the line and left it. A couple of minutes later the same thing happened again. I reeled in to check the bait, and found the rig tangled, with the hook upside down. I was not happy! I was still getting knocks and twitches on the left hand rod, so clipped it up tightly to try to induce a run. Just after 9 a.m., I landed a tench of about 3lbs on that rod, after it had spent some time trying, unsuccessfully, to pull the line from the clip. Well, if they were going to eat the bait, I was going to catch them! I clipped up the other rod tight as well. Within five minutes the line on the right hand rod pulled out of the clip and the bobbin smacked into the cane. I struck into thin air. Reeling in, I found the rig tangled up again. I was definitely not happy! Do you find that you can go weeks with hardly a tangle, then you get a day where every cast ends up in a mess, whatever you do? Many profanities graced the pages of the diary that day! From then on all was fairly quiet, with just the odd twitch, and yet another 3lb tench. I got my head down around midnight. At twenty past one I got it up again, to find a 1lb roach had impaled itself on the bolt rig. It seemed everything in the lake was on the particle – no wonder I was getting so many twitches. Still, with all this feeding activity the carp had to come. At 4.50 a.m. one did! After a very fast run, and a strangely silent battle in the dark, I landed what I thought to be a leather carp of around 14lbs. I sacked it up, to weigh and photograph in the morning. They are sometimes strange, these grim battles in the dark with unseen monsters. I remember another occasion when I hooked a big fish on opening night, and unable to wake my friends who were fishing close by I played and netted the fish alone in an eerie and unnatural silence, almost like playing a fish in a dream, as if the whole world had withdrawn leaving just you and the carp. All around was calm and quiet as the majority of people, unaffected by this strange urge to leave ones home and pursue fish through the night, slept. Yet for the carp battling grimly below the surface of the lake, all hell must have been breaking lose, and the under-water world must have been in great turmoil. That time the fish had been a twenty pounder. This one turned out to be a lightly scaled mirror, and weighed 17lbs 14oz. After all the frustrations I’d had with tangled rigs throughout the day, at last I was happy! Saturday went much the same as Friday, with much activity on the indicators. I landed two bream, and a tench, and packed up in the early evening. Perhaps it was time I switched one rod to the HNV. During the week I spent my evening and following morning pre-work session on the Park lake. This arrangement works quite well if you are limited for time. I would fish until dark, then return to fish for the first few hours of daylight the following morning. The evening session produced a 3lb 9oz tench, a broken carbon and an abortive run. The carbon broke as I was reeling in a 1oz lead, folding up six inches above the handle! There were carp about, so I felt I needed 2 rods out. Not having a spare, I splinted the broken rod with a pair of indicator needles and some adhesive tape. Of course, this was the rod I had the run on. I struck and the rod folded in half. I didn’t connect and hoped it was a tench! Not long after this, a swan swam (swan swam?!) through the line on the other rod, and I had to re-cast as the bait had been dragged into the weed. As the lead hit the water there was a tremendous swirl over the baits, quickly followed by two huge bow-waves as carp panicked from the swim. “Oh you naughty carps” I said to myself, “do take care not to frighten the nice swan!”. The following morning I was back in the same swim, using my trusty cane mark IV’s and armed with the swan bazooka! After an hour I was getting twitches on the right hand rod. Just as I was writing a note to this effect in the diary, away it went and the ‘h’ on the end of the word ‘twitch’ became rather elongated as I scored a big line down the page before striking into a very hard fighting fish. I caught a glimpse of it beneath the surface, and it looked for all the world like a massive tench. I remember worrying how I was going to make a record claim, and still get to work on time. I need not have worried – it turned out to be a leather carp. It weighed 12lbs 5oz and had fought harder than some of the twenties I’d had. Another one to the triple bait bolt rig. I left for work just after 8 a.m. and was late again. I do however highly recommend catching a carp before going to work. The day just passes you by after that! The next day was my last August session. I went back to the Island lake for the evening and was set up by 5.30 p.m. The weather was still fine, with a light north west breeze. I cast one rod tight to an adjacent margin, into the shade of an over-hanging tree. In all the time I had spent at the lake, I had never seen anyone put a bait there, neither had I ever seen any carp in that place. But it was a spot that had often made me look hard as I walked along the track and this time it would not let me pass. The other rod was cast further out, next to a lily bed. Half an hour had passed when I heard a loud splash at the far end of the lake. My view was blocked by a hawthorn bush that grew a few yards from where I sat so I got up and walked to the other side of the bush, trying to see where the fish had come out. Just at that moment, a low flying aeroplane passed overhead, one of those nice old fashioned ones with propellers. The whistling noise from the engines sounded just like one of my buzzers. In fact, it sounded so similar I thought I’d better have a look, just in case. Peering round the bush I saw the bobbin on the margin rod sitting at the top of the stick and line pouring from the spool. I struck into a big fish, which tried desperately to get into the lilies. But as Dick Walker once said – “it’s amazing what you can do with ten feet of split cane”. I stopped the fish short of the lilies, and it turned towards the adjacent margins, which ran at right angles to my bank. It hugged this margin, keeping under the over-hanging trees. Luckily, there were no roots in the water, so it was quite safe for me to bring it back along this bank. It had now gone in a complete circle, and returned to the place where it had picked up the bait. Funny how often big fish do that, almost as if their first try at escaping didn’t work, so they’ve gone back to square one to start again. As the carp continued towards my bank, I had to wade into the margins to get an angle on the fish, and so prevent my line becoming caught up in the marginal trees. This I achieved, and the fish came out from the margins, and swam past me, just a few feet away. I once had a salmon swim past me like this, which then went around the back of my legs as I stood waist deep in an Irish river. I landed him by walking up the bank, dragging the fish behind me! The carp though behaved in a more predictable manner and headed back towards the lilies. But he was now tiring, and I stopped him quite easily. Slowly he came back, and I picked up the net, which I was holding between my knees. As the fish came in, I reached out with the net, and quite forgetting I was standing in two feet of water, instinctively crouched down as the carp came nearer. I netted it first time, but got a very wet bum in the process! I didn’t mind though – it weighed 23lbs – a lovely fat mirror carp. I’ll always remember that evening not only for the carp, but also for the glorious sunset. The sun had turned a deep red and seemed to have doubled in size. As it dropped behind the trees on the far bank, holding them in silhouette, a heron perched on one of the branches. It looked just like one of those old Chinese paintings, and though I didn’t have the right equipment to capture it on film, the image is etched in my mind forever. That, and the carp. It is these things that make angling, and anglers.

So ended August. It had been far better than I had expected. And September and October were yet to come, months when I hoped the HNV would come into its own. It certainly did that! Read on!