A Last-Minute Chance

Originally, the plan was simple. I was meant to meet up with my mate, who’d finally secured a place on my syndicate after being on the waiting list for what felt like forever. We’d been planning it for weeks, talking tactics, swim choices, and baiting strategies. You know how it is — the kind of excitement that builds up when two mates finally get the green light to fish together.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, depending on how you look at it, life threw him a curveball. He got the call he had been waiting for even longer than his syndicate ticket: a hospital appointment. It was due the next afternoon. No brainer, really. Health always comes first, well above fishing. We both knew that. Still, it left me sitting there, rods in the garage, bait prepped, weekend plans suddenly wide open.

After a quick cup of tea and a bit of pacing about, I decided to message the wife. I explained the situation — that I had a rare window opening up — and asked, as nicely as possible, if it was alright for me to slip out that afternoon and give myself a proper session. A couple of nights on the bank sounded like heaven, especially knowing that a couple of busy weeks in May would mean I wouldn’t get another chance for a while.

The reply came back quickly: “yes”
That was all the green light I needed. I was practically loading the car before I put the phone down.

The Journey and Swim Selection

I rang Ian on the drive down to the lake, asking him which swims were free and what the general vibe around the lake was. Ian’s a good bloke, always gives you the honest picture, no drama. After listening to his update, I mulled over my options for the rest of the drive.

The wind over the next 48 hours was forecasted to be all over the shop, swirling from different directions — not ideal, but not a deal-breaker either. There was a slim chance of rain, and pressure was building, predicted to peak at a chunky 1025 millibars by Sunday. Conditions that might make things tricky, but also… You never know.

By the time I pulled through the syndicate gates, my mind was made up. I was heading back into the same swim I had fished last week. It felt right. I’d put some bait out before leaving last time, only two nights ago. Not heavy baiting, just enough to hopefully keep them visiting the area if no one else had dropped in on it since. Sometimes that little bit of familiarity with a spot gives you the edge.

I parked up, unloaded the barrow, and made my way round to the swim. It felt good. It felt like home.

Quiet Setup, Thoughtful Start

My approach was simple: get the rods in first, then quietly set the rest of the kit up after. The less disturbance, the better. Especially here — these carp aren’t daft.

Rod one went out into the open water spot, a lovely silty area between two raised gravel bars that I’d found previously. Soft drop, nice thud — happy days. The second rod, I planned to move into my margin spot under the bush once everything was settled. First things first though: get the camp sorted without any unnecessary noise.

I wasn’t planning to put much bait out on the first night. Last session, I’d noticed a sudden dip in activity on the second night, and I couldn’t help but think back to other sessions where having too many lines in the water, too much disturbance, had killed a spot dead. I didn’t want a repeat of that.

Settling In — and the First Night

By the time everything was set, the sun was dipping, casting long shadows across the lake. The air smelled fresh, the trees rustled gently in the breeze, and a distant cuckoo called out across the fields. Pure bliss.

I was shattered after a hard couple of days restarting the gardening jobs after the winter break.  So, after a quick meal and a final check of the rods, I turned in early. I was out like a light around 9pm.

When I woke up naturally around 6am, I was genuinely surprised. Not a single bleep. Not even a liner. I sat up in the sleeping bag for a while, staring out through the bivvy door at the water, trying to read it. Carp were clearly mooching about, but they were moving lazily, almost aimlessly.

I dozed off again for a bit, waking properly just before 8 am. It was one of those moments where you feel like you’re missing something obvious. Surely, with conditions like this, something should have happened?

Still, the weather was due to be in my favour for a daytime bite. I stayed positive.

Tactical Adjustments

Around 11:30, it felt like time to top up the swim a little. I decided to introduce just a handful of Nash Dot Spombs worth of bait — about four casts’ worth — to keep a steady trickle of attraction going.

Annoyingly, two of the four spombs didn’t open. Honestly, can someone invent a spomb that opens every time? Probably not, I suppose. It’s just one of those inevitabilities in fishing.

I also decided it was time to make a rig change. The rod under the bush, a tight, underarm cast, was always at risk of tangling if I wasn’t careful. A solid PVA bag, short rig inside, would totally eliminate that worry. Plus, it adds some instant attraction around the hookbait.

While I was at it, I decided to tweak my bait approach too. I’d been mixing different Nutrabaits ranges together lately — a bit of a pick-and-mix of flavours — and it had been working reasonably well. But preparing the bait each week was getting fiddly. I made a mental note that it was time to work out which individual bait they preferred and maybe stick to it more rigidly.

One thing was clear: for hookbaits, the white Blank Savers were still king. They had outperformed anything else I’d used recently, and I wasn’t about to change what was working.

A Puzzling Blank

Fast forward to 6am after my second night, and there I was again. Sitting on my bedchair, staring at the rods in disbelief.

Another blank. Not even a tentative bite to show for two nights’ effort.

It was bizarre. This time of year, with these conditions, you’d expect at least a liner or a dropped take. But nothing.

I started running through the possibilities. The most obvious one? The spawn.
The carp here typically spawn around the 1st of May — just five days away. The weather had warmed up nicely a week or two earlier, encouraging them, but then temperatures had dropped sharply again over the past few days.

Combine that with the 10 millibar rise in air pressure — peaking now at a hefty 1026 millibars — and it all added up to unsettled, confused fish.

There was also a dawning realisation: maybe the margins weren’t the place to be yet. In summer, sure — margins were gold. But right now, with the carp in pre-spawn mood and pressure sky-high, maybe they were happier out in the deeper water.

Observations and Final Hopes

The most telling thing of all was what I could see with my own eyes.

Scanning across the lake through the binoculars, I could see at least twenty carp cruising about lazily on the surface. Probably more. Big, dark shapes just gliding about in the upper layers, completely uninterested in the bottom. None of them were in my swim, mind you. Typical.

That kind of behaviour would be expected on a hot summer’s day. But now? In late April? It was strange.

I could only hope that a few of them might drift my way over the next couple of hours. Maybe the faint threat of rain that was forecast could freshen things up and trigger them to get their heads down. But if the rain missed us completely, like it so often does when you’re relying on it, then the odds were slim.

Still, hope springs eternal in fishing, doesn’t it?

I wasn’t ready to reel in yet. I told myself I’d give it until lunchtime, keep the faith. All it takes is one chance, one take, and the entire session turns from a blank into a memorable victory.

For now, though, it was time to sit back with a coffee, watch the water, and stay tuned in. You never know when opportunity will knock.

Until next time

Richard

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