Airfield Lake October Social – The Final Session

It’s now the first of October, and the countdown to the Airfield Lake closure has begun. With the end in sight, Ian and I had agreed this would be our last social of the year. Once November rolls around, Ian switches over to day sessions when the weather suits him. I must admit, every winter I get that little bit closer to following suit, but I’ve yet to decide if I’d actually be happier sticking to daylight hours. There’s something about a night on the bank — the stillness, the waiting — that’s hard to give up.

As usual, our late-Tuesday chat stretched into Wednesday afternoon. We went over the forecast, our swim options, and broke it all down into first, second, and third choices, just as we always do. After last week’s session, where the sudden weather change completely knocked the carp off feeding until Ian’s final night, we both felt the same swim made the most sense. Without even discussing it at first, we’d both come to the same conclusion — Tower Point, fishing back into the big lake again.

By mid-morning Wednesday, I arrived at the lake to find it still and quiet. A cool northeasterly breeze brushed across the surface, pushing the early autumn leaves against the margins. The swim was free — perfect. Ian rolled in shortly after, and we both set about getting camp sorted.

After collecting my Jurassic Particle order the week before, I was keen as mustard to get going. My mix for this trip was a blend of hemp, buckwheat, Nutrabaits boilies and solubles, and pellets. I’ve always liked to keep it natural but rich — something the carp can pick through confidently. Hookbait-wise, I stuck to my faithful white Blank Saver pop-ups. I had thought about giving the hardened hookbaits a go, but after Ian’s lack of success with them last week, I decided to get a couple under my belt before changing anything. The plan was simple — solid PVA bags on both rods, one tight to the baited area, the other slightly off it.

Once the bivvy was up and the kettle on, the afternoon settled into an easy rhythm. Ian and I sat in the fading sunshine, glass of red in hand, chatting and laughing about old sessions — the good, the bad, and the downright ridiculous. It’s these moments that make the social sessions special. The fishing’s always important, but the company and the atmosphere make it something more.

By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, that warmth vanished, replaced by a sharp chill that crept straight through your clothes. Autumn was properly here. We got the stoves going, rustled up some dinner, and soon the lake fell silent apart from the odd coot and the soft hum of the wind in the reeds.

23:15 hrs – The right-hand rod suddenly screamed off, breaking the calm of the evening. I struck and immediately felt a steady resistance — not a heavy fish, but certainly something moving with intent. It kited left, forcing me to walk up to the side where I’d been pitched last week. I kept the pressure on, guiding it clear of the snags, and just as it neared the bank, I felt that familiar thump… and then nothing. The hook pinged free. I just stood there for a second, rod bowed, line slack. Lost one. But it was a bite — a good early sign.

02:47 hrs – The same rod was away again. This time, the take was more decisive, the fish moving purposefully into open water. I brought it over the cord without drama, and when I turned the head torch on, I was surprised at the size — a thickset 23lb 5oz common. A proper, solid Airfield fish. I got the rod back out quickly, another solid bag punching through the darkness into the zone.

04:08 hrs – Just as I’d nodded off again, the alarm let out another burst. This one tore left, clearly heading for that dreaded fallen tree. I jumped up, boots half-on, rod bent double. I moved along the bank and managed to turn it before it got there, keeping the tip low and pressure constant. After a tense few minutes under the rod tip, the fish finally gave in — a 20lb 15oz common, another perfect bar of gold.

By 07:00 hrs, the fog had rolled in thick. I brewed up, remade the three solid bags I’d used overnight, and watched the mist hover over the surface. The forecast promised sunshine and wind later, so I knew it wouldn’t last long.

09:39 hrs – A Tench broke the run of carp, weighing 3lb 13oz — not big, but still a nice sign of lake health. Ten minutes later, the same rod screamed off again. At first, I thought it was another small fish, but as it neared the margin it woke up properly. The fight was long and heavy, with several determined runs, before I finally slipped the net under a stunning 27lb 13oz common. That one really got the blood pumping. It just goes to show — you can never tell from the take. It also made me wonder what I’d lost earlier in the night.

The day warmed up nicely. By early afternoon, the fog had long gone and the water had that flat, heavy look that often comes before another spell of feeding.

14:00 hrs – Ian and I were mid-chat between swims, glass of red in hand, when his remote gave a couple of sharp bleeps. He was in instantly, rod bent, the tip pulsing with a steady thump. A few minutes later, he was grinning over a 20lb common, immaculate and full-bodied.

16:54 hrs – My turn. I was dozing in the chair when the left-hand rod tore off, the alarm cutting straight through the peace. The fish stayed deep, slugging it out under the tip before finally sliding over the net — 27lb 15oz, another beauty. The carp were clearly loving the solid bag and hemp-buckwheat combo.

That evening, the wind swung behind me, perfect for getting a big solid bag well out there. I put one bang on the money just before dark.

20:03 hrs – Settled in the bivvy, watching something on Netflix, when the left-hand rod went again. The fish found something in the margin and locked solid. I had no choice but to slacken the line and wait. Twice I let it hang before it finally pulled free. My heart was going, convinced I’d lose it to a hook pull, but it held and soon slid safely into the net — 19lb 7oz common. A good way to start the night.

22:06 hrs – Another take, this one slow and powerful. In the water, it felt every bit a thirty, holding deep and plodding with that weighty confidence big fish have. But once it hit the net and the scales settled at 23lb 6oz, I had to laugh — the fight had fooled me. Still, a cracking fish.

By now, though, I had an issue. Line twist. Bad. I’d stripped the line off three times already. Something about the setup wasn’t right. I swapped over to small mesh PVA bags and slightly longer rigs — not ideal, but I wasn’t about to risk losing more fish.

07:10 hrs – Up early, recast with a fresh bag, and almost instantly into another Tench. Small, but still a sign the spot was alive.

07:59 hrs – While making coffee, the left-hand rod ripped off — the very one I’d been thinking of moving. After a stubborn surface battle, I netted another 23lb 6oz common. Barely ten minutes later, the other rod went — 22lb 2oz common. Two fish in twenty minutes — a great morning flurry.

By 09:30 hrs, I finally got that much-needed brew. The bivvy was tidied, rods redone, and everything felt calm again.

10:15 hrs – Ian had a daytime take, a 16lb common, which gave him a great scrap. The timing was encouraging — maybe the day bites were starting to come back.

11:15 hrs – A brief gap in the drizzle gave me the perfect chance to top the swim up. I mixed fresh hemp, buckwheat, and crushed boilies into a thick, oily cloud and baited lightly but accurately. With the solid bags now on both rods, I was ready for the next phase.

12:53 hrs – Just as I sat down to lunch, the right-hand rod screamed off. Typical. After a solid fight, another pristine 25lb 2oz common lay in the mesh. The rain came shortly after, so I was lucky to get photos done before it poured.

The afternoon drifted by in that strange, sleepy rhythm that long sessions have — rain on and off, quick chats, a bit of tidying, the odd tweak to rigs.

08:30 hrs (Saturday) – I blamed the storm overnight for the late start. The westerly wind was now fresh across the lake, bringing a mildness with it. The pressure had been extremely low but was now rising slowly. I hadn’t had a bleep since lunchtime the previous day, and though I wasn’t being greedy, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want one more before heading home. Ten carp would be the perfect round number.

10:30 hrs – Time for fresh bags again, though casting into that crosswind was tricky. Still, both landed well enough in the zone.

11:32 hrs – The right-hand rod ripped off after I’d spotted a carp show not far from the spot. A lively scrap followed, and another 20lb 12oz common was safely in the net. Straight back out went another solid bag, this time hitting the clip perfectly.

15:45 hrs – With a few light showers passing, we had Led Zeppelin playing on Spotify. When When the Levee Breaks came on, Ian’s left-hand rod gave a sudden drop-back. He hit it quickly, and the rod hooped over under the weight of something heavy. The carp made several determined lunges toward the tree line, boiling on the surface between two overhanging branches. Ian handled it brilliantly, steady pressure, side strain, sinking the tip. Inch by inch, he gained line until it rolled clear, and I scooped it up.

On the mat lay a beast — 32lb 11oz, a new personal best for Ian on Airfield Lake. The grin says it all! What a fish.

The rest of the day passed in typical autumn fashion — quick bursts of sun, showers, and wind changing direction. The lake had that moody, alive feeling, but the fish seemed to have quietened.

Sunday, 06:15 hrs – Up before dawn, calm and quiet again after a still night. No bites, not even a liner, but I recast both rods with fresh bags anyway. Sometimes that early morning move brings the magic.

09:00 hrs – Pack-up time had come around far too fast. I started slowly breaking things down, leaving the rods until last — always hopeful.

10:12 hrs – Just as I was mid-pack, the buzzer screamed. I was on it instantly, striking into a solid weight that just hung there. For a moment, it didn’t move. Then it plodded, deep and slow — a sure sign of something special. I didn’t want to be greedy, but I couldn’t help hoping it was another big one. When it finally rolled into the net and I lifted it onto the mat, I knew straight away it was a proper fish. The scales confirmed it — 30lb 1oz common.

What a finish. After four nights of steady action, to end on a thirty was the perfect send-off.

10:48 hrs – Just as I was about to put the rod down to pack the buzzers away, the other one tore off. A smaller 14lb 8oz common this time, but it felt right to end with a brace.

By the time everything was finally packed away, I sat for a moment on the barrow, looking out across the water. The wind had dropped, and the lake looked calm, almost reflective.

It had been one of those trips where everything came together — the weather, the bait, the company, and the timing.

Final tally:

• 2 doubles

• 9 twenties

• 1 thirty

Twelve fish in total.

As I pushed the barrow back toward the car, rods still damp from the morning air, I couldn’t help but smile. The Airfield Lake had been good to us again.

Until next time,
Richard

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