It’s that time of year again when most of the members naturally gravitate towards Airfield Lake, with the river and Meadow Lake both shut. It can create a fair bit of pressure at times, and with it being a Bank Holiday weekend combined with the school holidays, I had a feeling it would be busy from Thursday onwards. My thinking was to arrive on Sunday, once the majority had packed up, hopefully giving me a quieter night ahead. The obvious downside, of course, would be the amount of pressure and bait that had gone in over the previous three nights.
My plan was simple and deliberate—fish small Godman Angling 25mm Mesh bags for the first twenty-four hours and assess things from there.
I arrived at around 1315 hrs and took my time, completing two full laps of the lake. To my surprise, there wasn’t another soul fishing. I knew one other angler was due in later that evening, but for now, I had the place to myself. Despite the effort, there were no real signs to go on—no shows, no movement—so the decision came down to experience, watercraft, and instinct. I settled into a swim that gave me plenty of options: two margins, a good area of open water, and access to an island feature.
The mix contained:
- EnerGize 15mm boilies
- Jurassic Particles
- Hemp and buckwheat
- Himalayan pink salt
The Frontier was soon up, the Fox bedchair deployed, and my Fox carry bag alongside the Wallop Tuff Boxx all neatly in place. The Summit stainless was set up perfectly in line—everything organised and ready. I tied up fresh rigs, and despite fishing relatively close in, I stuck with my trusted 4oz Scruff’s Leads in a flat distance style, paired with my ever-reliable Ronnie-style rig. The bags were attached using a Godman Angling PVA cable tie, with the hook point tucked neatly inside. It’s a system I trust—it keeps everything pinned down, prevents the hook bead from shifting, and maintains the curve of the shrink tubing exactly as intended.
The left- and right-hand rods were flicked quietly down each margin, while the middle rod was placed out in front of a neighbouring swim. That one was always going to be temporary, and I planned to move it at last light—no point causing issues if someone arrived in the morning.
Conditions were far from ideal. The wind couldn’t settle, swinging around constantly, while pressure fluctuated day to day. Warm sunshine followed by cool nights—it was all a bit unsettled. One of those “make the best of it” situations.
1630 hrs, and finally, a bit of life. Carp started showing, not on me, but not miles away either. Close enough to give me hope. If nothing developed overnight, I could already see a move on the cards by midday tomorrow.
1805 hrs, and the middle rod was away. I was on it instantly and into a hard-fighting carp, but just as things were building nicely—ping—the hook pulled. After waiting all afternoon for a bite, it was a bitter one to lose.
That was the signal to reposition that rod properly into my own water for the next 18 hours and focus on getting a result.
0226 hrs, a few subtle bleeps on the middle rod. The bobbin crept up, kissed the buzzer, then dropped back. I lifted into it, initially unsure what I’d connected with. It didn’t feel like a carp at first, but under the rod tip, it was clearly neither bream nor tench. After a spirited scrap, carefully steering it away from the left-hand rod, my first carp of the trip slipped over the net cord.
17lb 7oz Common
After losing one earlier, that felt well-earned. The rod was quickly reset and back on the spot.
0941 hrs, I woke later than expected. The truth is, I must have needed it. The carp had been active through the night, and I’d been on edge, half-expecting a margin rod to rip off at any moment.
0950 hrs, Ian turned up for a surprise day session, setting up behind me. We spent most of the day chatting, watching, and hoping—but the lake had gone quiet. The carp seemed completely switched off.
By 1715 hrs, it was time to make a few changes. I repositioned both margin rods slightly, but more importantly, moved them a bit further off the edge. Based on the previous night’s activity, I felt the fish were holding more in open water rather than tight to the margins.
0437 hrs, the right-hand rod absolutely belted off. The fish powered out into the pond at a pace, but I managed to gain control and bring it back. Under the rod tip, it turned into a proper scrap, taking nearly ten minutes before finally conceding.
22lb 13oz Common
A very welcome result. It had taken over 24 hours for the next bite, and it was becoming clear the fish were primarily feeding under the cover of darkness. The rod went straight back out on the spot—confidence restored.
0510 hrs, the middle rod was away again. This time, the fish kited hard to the right. I managed to turn it, but unfortunately, it buried itself in the pads and shed the hook. Not ideal. It didn’t feel massive, but you never quite know.
By 0525 hrs, the rod was back in position as the first light of dawn started to build—a proper spring morning, and a good moment despite the loss.
After speaking with the wife and Ian the previous day, and calling in a small favour, I made the decision to head home later that morning. The plan now is to return on Thursday for another session on Airfield Lake before the gardening work kicks in properly on Monday.
At some point, I drifted back off to sleep and was only woken by my wife calling on her way to work—probably a blessing, otherwise I might have slept half the day away. The plan was to let the sun dry the skull cap on the bivvy before packing down around 1000 hrs. On this lake, daytime fishing only really produces in those tight, intermediate swims with a single rod approach—otherwise, it can be a long wait.
All in all, not a bad session—four bites in tricky conditions, and a couple on the bank. You can’t grumble at that. Just a shame about the lost fish, as I suspect that might have been a decent one.
Until next time,
Richard
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