As I make my return to the Estate Lake, my primary goal is to familiarize myself with the nuances of the environment and gather insights for future winter expeditions. The solitude of the lake, with only one other angler in attendance, adds to the allure of this venture. This exclusivity is a rare treat, particularly considering the bustling nature of club-run waters during the winter season.

The meticulous planning for this outing involves a keen eye on the weather conditions and a reflective glance at the previous week’s escapades. Recalling the areas where the carp had been active, my strategy revolves around securing a swim between pegs 6 and 11. This choice provides me access to a prime fishing area while leaving room for a variety of options. Timing is essential, and I arrive just before my booking slot, adhering to the club’s system that requires anglers to book their spots with a maximum 48-hour stay.

The club’s booking system proves to be a brilliant innovation, setting a maximum number of anglers for each lake. This ensures a harmonious and enjoyable experience for everyone. The ability to adjust booking times adds a layer of flexibility, allowing anglers to make informed decisions about when to fish and avoid overcrowding.

Aware of another angler sharing the same nights as me, I see this as an advantage. Coordinating with fellow anglers prevents a mass migration of carp to one end of the lake. I intentionally arrive after my counterpart, allowing them to select a swim, and I can strategically position myself around their chosen spot. It’s a delicate balance, considering the potential risks of arriving first and risking encroachment from others.

Upon arrival, a minor hiccup unfolds as I discover my first-choice swim occupied by my fellow angler. Unfazed, I adapt, setting up in the second choice. Without preconceived notions about specific swims, my focus remains on the general area that maximizes my chances of landing a carp.

Engaging in a friendly chat with the angler in my chosen area, I discover valuable insights. He generously shares information about his setup and the ideal casting locations. Normally, the lake’s lily pads offer natural divisions, but winter opens up casting possibilities across the water. Clear communication becomes crucial as we navigate the shared space, ensuring a harmonious fishing experience for all.

With guidance from my fellow angler, I explore the various swims around the lake, aiming to optimize my chances of a successful carp encounter. While all swims tempt me, Swim 6 stands out, offering a generous expanse of water, a scenic view, and the added benefit of potential shelter from an impending storm forecasted for Tuesday night.

The lake’s absence of gravel leads me to seek out hard, silty areas. Equipped with a gripper lead, I systematically explore the lake bed, marking successful locations with a clip and noting the horizon marker along with the number of wraps. This meticulous approach, combined with memories of lily pad locations from warmer months, informs my strategy. As dusk descends, small bags on all three rods accompany my baiting efforts, carefully planned to attract carp, without the prying eyes of the resident moorhens.

As darkness envelops the lake, the aroma of cooking noodles fills the air, setting the stage for a night of hopeful carp action. The following day promises a bit of social fishing, Ian, a fellow angler, plans to join me. Positioned in the adjacent swim, he will prepare to cast into the small bay, where carp activity is evident.

The first night, however, falls short of expectations. While I had witnessed and heard carp in the vicinity, the activity was noticeably diminished from the previous week. I ponder the possibility of spombing spooking the carp, a phenomenon not experienced on this lake before. Contemplating a switch to boilies and a throwing stick for future sessions, I hope for a more promising outcome on the horizon.

A glimmer of optimism arises as I spot a couple of carp showing in open water, suggesting they may be moving closer to my baited areas. Ian’s arrival further enlivens the atmosphere, and with carp sheeting up the water, anticipation builds. A departing angler, despite catching three carp, makes way for our extended fishing session.

By midday, I decided to reel in, refresh my baits, and redirect all three rods toward the active area. Contemplating a walk around to spomb some crumb mixture, I reconsider upon observing more carp in the vicinity. Something seems to be holding them there, possibly bait, and I opt not to disturb the delicate balance. The last carp show, although more distant, fuels my hopes of them drifting in my direction.

As the day unfolds, we weather the last of the wind, with intermittent rain adding to the ambiance. Carp are notorious for their indifference to rain, leaving me undeterred. Approaching 5:00 pm, I sit in the doorway of my bivvy, eyes peeled for any signs of carpy activity. The wind gains strength, causing occasional rattles in the bivvy. Around 8:00 pm, heavy rain descends, creating a melodic symphony on the lake. The drips from the trees prove more disruptive to my sleep than the rain itself.

To my dismay, not a single bleep registers on my buzzers throughout the night. The morning arrives, and I find myself still hopeful for an early bite despite the lackluster night. As the clock inches towards 9:30 am, reality sets in, and the prospect of packing up looms. A tinge of disappointment hangs in the air, prompting introspection on the factors contributing to this unexpected blank.

One possible culprit emerges – a wavering focus. Thoughts of an upcoming fishing expedition to West Stow with Rob weigh on my mind. The commitment required for success at West Stow demands unwavering dedication, a sentiment not fully resonating with my current feelings towards Meadow Lake. The allure of the Estate Lake, with its scarcity of anglers, contrasts sharply with the bustling nature of Meadow Lake.

Contemplating future fishing destinations, I eagerly anticipate The Airfield Lake. Yet, the challenges it presents at the start, combined with the influx of additional anglers during Meadow Lake’s closure, add layers of uncertainty to my decision-making process. The coming weeks will unfold their own tales, guiding me to my next angling destination.

As I conclude this chapter on the Estate Lake, a mix of reflections, optimism, and uncertainties fills the air. Until the next time I cast my line and immerse myself in the rhythmic dance between angler and carp, I bid adieu to the tranquility of Estate Lake.

Until next time,

Richard

Use my code Richard10

Get 10% off at the Deeper Sonar checkout