I planned to fish the Estate Lake sometime between the weekend before Christmas and the first full weekend in January, whenever I was free and only when no more than four anglers were booked.

On December 22nd, I found myself free, and, as luck would have it, no one else was fishing that night either. Conditions were decent—not ideal, but workable. The pressure was rising, and the tail end of a storm brought 45 mph winds from the northwest. The wind chill was bone-chilling. This was the same weather front that had dissuaded me last Thursday.

I booked myself for a maximum of two nights, deciding to see how the first night went and whether the weather improved.

I arrived at the lake at 1:30 PM to find it completely empty, just as I’d hoped. My first choice would have been to fish in the same area as before, but the wind was blasting directly onto that bank. A quick walk around confirmed how harshly cold it was in the wind. The dam wall looked tempting but was too exposed. Instead, I ventured to the far end of the lake, which was bathed in sunlight. Carp were visibly active in open water, roughly where I had seen them during my last trip. I had earmarked this as a potential future spot, so it was satisfying to see it paying off. I also noticed how much the lily pads had receded, leaving more open water than I had anticipated.

This sunny area offered more shelter from the biting wind and promised a more comfortable setup. While the temperature was forecast to drop to 4 degrees Celsius overnight, the sun was keeping the day relatively warm. I crossed my fingers that the carp were still actively feeding, as they had been during my previous visit. They certainly appeared to be.

I ultimately chose a swim in the open water, positioned in the sunshine but still close to the windier end of the lake where the carp were enjoying the conditions.

Once I settled on my spot, I deployed my bait boat to the range where the carp had been showing. Two rods were equipped with Co-De Solubles and small PVA mesh bags on the hooks, baited with pop-ups. The third rod carried a wafter. The plan was to send the bait boat out at dusk, once I was confident about where to fish for the next 24 hours. My second boat run would include a mix of Trigga Solubles and boilies, provided there were no swans to interfere. I had chosen the Solubles partly as the swans wouldn’t be able to pick them up easily—unless they were quick enough to snatch them before the bait began to break down.

The wind gradually died down as the evening progressed. The skies cleared, the moon shone bright, and… the carp disappeared. Not a single bleep from the alarms, nor a sign of activity all night. It was eerily quiet, and I doubted even a bait near the dead lily pads would have tempted a bite.

The next day promised better prospects. However, the swans had returned, and I had to be meticulous with bait placement. These birds had learned to follow the ducks when they dived for bait. My mistake the previous night had been to include a few boilies among the Solubles. This time, I planned to avoid that error. While I’d rather not deal with catching another swan, I was prepared if it happened, with long forceps and a new set of wire cutters in my kit.

By the afternoon, after seeing just one carp, I decided to move both outside rods on my pod to a different spot. These wouldn’t remain there overnight due to the shallow depth, which made the bait vulnerable to swans. As the sun warmed the lake, I planned to reposition the rods back over the baited area later in the day.

At 4:00 PM, with no action near the dead lily pads or the small island, I felt at a loss. The rod positioned by the island couldn’t stay there overnight, so I planned to move it closer to a nearby set of pads.

Then, at 4:30 PM, just as I was packing away my bait boat and other gear, the middle rod screamed to life. The fish kited away from the pads, gliding past another set. After a short but thrilling battle under the rod tip, I netted a stunning 26lb 12oz common carp.

26lb 12oz common

Ecstatic, I now needed to decide where to place the bait. Unfortunately, I hadn’t marked the line with power gum, which left me at a disadvantage. I opted to send the bait in the direction of the lilies again, believing that proximity to them would increase my chances of another bite during the night.

The second night was tranquil, with perfect conditions: overcast skies, drizzle, and mild temperatures that didn’t necessitate zipping up my sleeping bag. At 7:30 AM, I moved all three rods to the area near the dead lily pads, locking up the reels and setting the bobbins with just a couple of inches of slack. My hope was that as the carp began to move, they’d drift toward the pads for a bite, giving me another opportunity before packing up around 10:00 AM. I aimed to be home by 11:30 AM to tidy my kit and pick up a few essentials from the local shops.

Despite my efforts, no more bites came. Still, I was more than content with the one fish I’d caught. The pristine common was a satisfying reward for braving the cold and strategizing carefully.

Until next time.

Richard

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