Sometimes, the best sessions happen when you least expect them. As luck would have it, I managed to squeeze in a couple of unexpected nights on the bank this week. After finishing my gardening jobs for the day — plenty of lawns cut and borders trimmed — I packed up the tools, swapped the mower for the rods, and made my way down to the lake.

I nearly drove to Meadow Lake out of interest, but deep down I knew I had to stick to my October plan: make the most of Airfield Lake before it closes for the winter. By 1:30 p.m., I was pulling into The Tower car park, which, to my delight, was completely empty. That sense of peace and opportunity you get when a lake lies still before you never gets old. I’d been on the same swim for my last few sessions, but I fancied a change of scenery — something to refresh my perspective before the gates shut until March.

Spotting Something Special

I made my way around to the second island, which had recently been strimmed — path and swims looking tidy. While scanning the water, a couple of weeks back, I noticed something special: a carp launched itself clear out of the lake not once, but twice. Even from over 300 yards away, it looked big. The sheer distance made me realise just how much presence that fish had. That was enough for me — I knew exactly where I wanted to be for the next couple of nights.

The middle swim looked perfect, though I was slightly concerned about the shallow gravel bar just a few yards out. A quick check with the marker rod showed around 1.5 feet of depth on top — shallow, but workable. Hopefully, it wouldn’t cause any problems… though, as always, time would tell.

After watching the water for a while longer, I picked out where the carp were showing most frequently. The fish here are notoriously cagey about giving themselves away, but I felt confident I’d read it right. I decided to keep the baiting light since I hadn’t fished this side for some time. No point in piling it in and spooking them before I’d even settled in.

Setting the Trap

My mix for this trip was my current favourite: Nutrabaits boilies and solubles, a good helping of Jurassic particles, hemp and buckwheat, and plenty of pellets. I also added the mix into my solid PVA bags, sticking with what had worked well on my recent sessions. The white Blank Saver wafters completed the setup.

At 17:42, while quietly watching the water, I noticed a twitch on the line. My buzzer was off — good thing I was paying attention! After a straightforward fight, I slipped the net under my first carp of the session.

23lb 12oz Common.
A perfect start — and a lovely sunset to match.

As darkness began to fall, the kettle went on, and dinner was cooking. By 20:08, Netflix was playing quietly in the bivvy when the left-hand rod tore off. The fish came in fairly easily at first, but then started charging around the margins. I couldn’t get its head up, and by the time I landed it, the kettle had boiled itself dry — oops.

22lb 8oz Common.
Two carp before dinner. That’ll do nicely. Time to reheat the tea and relax.

Then, at 21:51, just as I’d tidied up after eating, the left-hand rod screamed off again. This fish gave me a proper battle, twisting and turning in the shallows. Another one in the net — a stunning 26lb 4oz Common. I was buzzing now. The bait was clearly doing its job, though I started to wonder how long it would last; I’d only put out about eight big Spombs.

The Nightly Chaos

At 23:35, I was just dozing off when the rod was away again. It came in easily, and I thought it was just a small one, but under the rod tip, it suddenly powered off — three strong runs later, it finally went in the net.
21lb 14oz Common.

Then, just after midnight (00:15), the other rod finally joined in. The fish bolted left and tried to kite under my second line, but I managed to steer it clear and safely net a lively 10lb Common. What a start to the night — four takes before 1 a.m.

At 05:15, another take. This one felt heavier and made a determined run straight out into the pond, then kited left toward danger. Unfortunately, my fears were confirmed when the hook pinged free. Always frustrating, but that’s part of the game here.

By 07:10, it happened again — another hook pull, same area. In daylight, I could finally see what was going on. I’ve learned to stand on the highest part of the swim and hold my rod high to get the line up over any obstacles, but the lake’s low water level this autumn means less clearance. It’s possible the carp are reaching submerged boulders and using them to shake the hook.

Another thought crossed my mind — perhaps these were smaller fish or a different strain with softer mouths, making the hooks less secure. Either way, losing two on the bounce never feels good.

Adjusting the Plan

By 08:00, with my second brew of the morning in hand, I started rethinking my approach. The fish had fed hard through the night — surely there couldn’t be much bait left out there. I debated whether to bait one wrap shorter to avoid the snag zone or even move entirely, but given the success so far, I decided to stay put for now. I’d get the marker rod out later to check for another smooth area close by — just in case.

At 09:15, I remembered a weird take on the left-hand rod earlier and realised the right-hand rod had fallen short on the recast in the night. Definitely time to refresh everything and get more bait out. Light drizzle began to fall, but my bivvy was warm and cosy. By 10:30, it was the perfect time for a quick nap — I had a feeling the lunchtime bite might be worth being rested for.

Sure enough, at 10:42, while listening to the Korda Uncut Podcast (which I really enjoy, by the way), I drifted off slightly… only to be jolted awake by the sound of the alarm. After the frustration of the earlier hook pulls, I was relieved when this one went straight into the net — a 16lb Common. Not a monster, but a very welcome fish that lifted my confidence again.

Afternoon Reflections

As the day rolled on, I kept tweaking small details. The rig was working well, though I adjusted the hook length slightly and sharpened up the points. The last two fish had been nailed perfectly in the bottom lip — a good sign the tweaks were paying off.

By 17:31, just as the kettle started whistling again, the left-hand rod rattled off once more. This time, another 10lb Common — not the biggest of the trip, but proof the spot was still producing. As the sun set across the water, painting the sky in gold and orange, I couldn’t help but smile. The Airfield carp were on the move, and I’d made the most of it.

The Final Morning

The night passed quietly. I woke at 08:25 to bright sunshine and completely flat calm water — not a ripple, not a bleep. After such an active session, the stillness felt strange, almost too quiet. My gut told me the carp had drifted off somewhere else. They’re nomadic here, constantly moving with the conditions, and I reckon I’d simply been in the right place at the right time for that feeding window.

By 09:30, I began a slow, steady pack-up. The sun had warmed everything nicely, so it was a good opportunity to dry out the gear before heading home. I took a final look over the lake — the mirror-like surface, the distant trees reflected perfectly — and felt that quiet contentment only fishing can bring.

Over two nights, I’d landed seven carp to 26lb 4oz, lost two, and had one of those sessions that reminds you why you keep coming back. The mixture of unexpected opportunity, quick thinking, and just a touch of luck had come together beautifully.

October might be winding down, but Airfield Lake still has a few surprises left, and I’ll be making the most of them before the winter gates close.

Until next time,
Richard

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