So thatís the end of that spot

Summer was with us here in the south, not the summer that sun worshipers want but humid close weather. In my early days after carp it was these days we used to say we could smell carp, sounds quite disgusting now! On my first session of the week I arrived to find the lake deserted but the algae bloom still present, three quarters of the lake covered in water the colour and consistency of tea. To make things worse an old leaning willow tree had succumbed and fallen across the far bay; it was one of my reliable stalking spots and a place I had taken a brace from on opening day. The willow is so big that I doubt it will be removed before next close season. So thatís the end of that spot. I was more bothered about the algae though, in previous years it had cleared within a couple of weeks, this year it has been getting worse and hanging around for six weeks, it’s making stalking impossible.I had a scout around on a pleasant afternoon and found a few fish floating about, most up the clearer end of the lake, they were not doing much however. Halfway back down the lake I climbed the lakes main climbing tree and could see a few fish on the back of the bar that my obsession patrols. I did not see him but there were a few lumps out there, including the lakes big common. One of the guys had caught a trio of carp from there a week before so they were having it. At the weekend before a couple of fish had been lost, nothing remarkable in that except they were lost at night, the pattern was at last turning, night feeding was back on. Does this happen on all lakes? Not that I can remember, on this lake though they swap from dawn/dusk to nights and visa versa every four or five weeks, bizarre. Last year I did not care what they were doing, I was in stalking mode, this year the algae had done me in. After a while another member turned up and we walked round together, after a circuit or two he seemed more interested in sitting smoking and reflecting instead of fishing so I left him to it. Another phonenum had occurred on the lake this year, the appearance of carp in the one to five pound bracket, both mirrors and commons. They had not been stocked, as far as we know, so they apparently have spawned in the lake and kept away in the weed, only this year they are plainly there to see by all. My feeling is that some **** has put some in, but I have no proof. Let’s hope the originals donít go pear shaped, was the big leather’s demise last week just old age after all?In the end I settled for the swim that covered the bar, only this time I was lazy and fished the car park side. That meant fishing over the top of the large set of pads. In the evening the guy who had the trio last week turned up for a chat. I asked if he had trouble getting them in, his reply filled me with dread. Two he needed the boat for, they were never going to be landed from the bank and they were not huge fish either. I set up the bedchair inches from the rods for the night. I wanted to be on them in microseconds. Nothing occurred at night, not even a rolling carp. I lingered later than usual. 6:15 am the rod tip whacked down, I struck at the third bleep. I hooked the carp but it decided to turn and swim straight into the pads. I could feel it on for a while, then nothing. I went to get the boat and before long I was right over the point that the line was entering. As I heaved there was no swirling water, just the emergence of a lily stem with the hook imbedded in it, the carp was long gone. How do they do that? That was it for that session, it was far too late as it was and I was late for work big time. The next session I was very late arriving, nearly 8pm. I figured I would be the only one there but no chance, the lake was busy, four up for the night. The dusk was fast approaching so I wandered quickly round. One of my favourite swims was free on the far bank, this swim gave me access to some juicy spots. I peered through the murky water. There on the back of an island, deep down was my obsession mirror, no doubt he was there, not doing much, but that was him. I quickly flicked two baits out, no time for anything clever, just single bottom baits. Slack lines without indicators, to avoid liners.The rest of the evening passed chatting to the guy next door, it was one of those nights, cloud heavy, thundery showers were close. I hate brollys and bivvies. I wanted to put the bedchair close to the rods in the open but at dark more rain came. I reluctantly put up the Hutchie Oval Shelter. I felt I was now fishing inefficiently, a few yards from the rods. I had an impending feeling of disaster. Before long I was asleep, the muggy night meaning no need for much clothing. There was no more rain. About midnight I considered moving out to the open by the rods, I was too knackered to bother. The next thing I remember, at a quarter to three in the morning, was just two bleeps from one of the rods chucked up the channel, a buzzing noise followed. Precious moments were lost before I realised the buzzing noise was the baitrunner in overdrive. I was out of the traps like a greyhound, the rod swept back. There were heavy thuds on the end, this was a big boy no mistake. The cast the evening before had been perilously close to a small set of pads but it was a pukka, though dangerous, spot. The carp had obviously got through the pads and was the other side. Gaining line was no problem but I did not want it in the pads. I had no option though, the bend went out of the rod as the carp decided he would sulk in them anyway and all went solid. I tried all in the book, heaving and slackening to shift the beast. Suddenly a huge flank rolled by the pads, I could see it clearly even at night, it was just ten yards away. The rod gave a buck and all was solid again. I heaved again and suddenly I was gaining line though not, I could tell, with a carp on the end. Sure enough a mass of weed approached me, lifeless. I did not even bother to recast that rod, dawn was showing, my chance had gone. I know what I had just lost. I have no doubt, second season running I have lost that beast. All I can think now is that third times are sometimes lucky. A while later another buzzer screamed, I listened intently. A while later a carp flapping on the mat was heard, at least night feeding is on. I left absolutely gutted; four days later I still feel the same way.

Have fun!