A Blowout, a Buzzer, and a Battle – A Session to Remember

With the weather nudging into the high twenties—26, maybe even 28 degrees—it was too hot for my liking. I knew sleep at home would be a restless affair, so the lake felt like the best escape. I wrapped up my last gardening job by 11, shot home to load the car, and just had one last task—drop the eldest off at her boyfriend’s. From there, it was lake time.

By 12:30, I was finally on the road… and right into a dose of classic British road rage. According to the red-faced man in the Audi A4, I was somehow in the wrong for not letting him dive into my lane, after he’d undertaken me in a long queue of traffic without so much as an indicator. A bit of polite signalling might’ve helped rather than waving his fists at me through the window. Ah, well—onto better things.

I’ve been running a bit of a side plan lately: swing past Meadow Lake on the way to Airfield Lake, and if a decent swim is free, I drop in. This time, fortune looked to be smiling—my preferred shady spot was vacant. Perfect. Or so I thought.

As I drove back through the car park to get properly parked up, I clipped a concrete divider – joy! The jolt didn’t seem too dramatic—until I stepped out and saw a clean two-inch gash in the sidewall of the tyre. Brilliant! I limped the car to the lake entrance and phoned the AA, for the second month running. My membership fees are definitely going up this year. Credit to them, though: 30 minutes later, they were on the scene, and soon after that, a fantastic little garage in Downton had me back on the road. Top service.

By 2 p.m., I was finally set up back in the same swim—and honestly, I fancied my chances here more than I did on Airfield after last week’s blank.

I wasn’t going to overcomplicate things. I already had a rough idea of the spots from past sessions and the Fish Deeper app. With the wind hacking into my bank, the surface was broken just enough to allow a quick check with the marker rod. Once I was happy with the area, I clipped up and sent out 10 large Dot Spombs around the float. I’ve tried plenty over the years, but the Nash Dot Spomb still gets my vote for reliability. A nice spread of bait always seems to attract more carp than a tight patch.

For hookbaits, I went with my trusted white Blank Saver pop-up on one rod and a Trigga Pineapple N-Butyric Acid 12mm on the other—ideal for the slightly choddy bottom. I might switch to a snowman rig tomorrow, but for now, I just wanted something that would sit proud off the debris.

With the camp sorted and tea out of the way, I could finally relax and soak in the atmosphere. The first night passed quietly, no bites—but I slept better than I had in days, which is always a win in my book.

I wasn’t expecting much during daylight hours, but you never really know. This lake used to be a buzzing day-ticket water, and I’ve seen plenty of bites come in while the sun’s up.

By midday, I reeled in, tweaked the spots slightly, and topped up with another few Spombs. Around 1 p.m., the wind kicked up again—a welcome change, bringing some cool relief to my shady little corner.

Then came the moment.

Just after midnight—00:13 (to be exact), the left-hand bobbin slammed up to the buzzer. I was out of the bivvy in a flash. The fish immediately kited hard right, making a break for the bay and the overhanging trees. I managed to steer it clear of the first set of lily pads, but it buried itself in the next set. Thankfully, I coaxed it out gently.

Next, it stormed across the swim, trying to reach a cluster of underwater snags. It got its head buried deep into another patch of pads, but again, steady pressure freed it. After all that chaos, the carp finally surfaced and slid into the net. Relief.

21lb 11oz of pure fight.
One of those proper tussles that remind you why you do this.

Rod back out. Confidence restored.

By 7:30 a.m., I was up early, mulling over my options. It was going to be another scorcher, and with only night bites happening, I wasn’t sure I fancied sitting through another day of dry heat. But the forecast looked good—overcast skies, a healthy breeze, and spawning just around the corner. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to fish next week. That sealed it. I was staying.

I re-baited the swim with the last of the boilies and adjusted my right-hand rod slightly left, bringing it closer to the productive area. This time I switched over to a 15mm Big Fish Mix wafter, balanced with half a 12mm Plum pop-up—a nice change to keep the fish guessing.

I settled into the final night full of confidence.

23:11 – Another classic take. Bobbin slammed up to the buzzer just like the night before. But this time… nothing. I struck into thin air. Gutting. I could only hope that wasn’t my only chance of the night.

The geese were my alarm clock, honking away just before 7 a.m. A sign, if ever there was one, to get packing and beat the looming 30-degree heat home.

Until next time,
Richard

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