Farewell to Airfield Lake

This trip didn’t get off to the best start. Before I’d even wet a line, one of the back wheels on my barrow had a puncture. Then, as I started unloading, I realised my bank sticks were still at home in the fishing cupboard — the very cupboard I’m meant to empty completely before every trip to avoid this exact situation. Clearly, a bit of fine-tuning is still needed in my system.

Thankfully, things soon took a turn for the better. Ian, ever the legend, brought down his pike pod to save the day, and to my relief, the swim I’d been baiting up all month was free. You guessed it — the same one as last week. History tells me this swim produces well at this time of year, and I’d have been daft not to fish it again.

The recent clock change threw me off slightly, though. Arriving an hour later than usual meant I’d missed my preferred baiting window — something I’ve found to be crucial in autumn when those early evening bites are often the difference between a quiet night and a memorable one. So, I wasted no time getting some bait in.

By the time darkness fell, rods were positioned perfectly, and I finally began to relax, music playing quietly as I lay back on the bedchair. Then, at 21:40, a single bleep from the left-hand rod turned into an absolute screamer. After a lively scrap, another beautiful common rolled into the net — my first fish of the trip. A cracking 22lb 14oz fish, and fittingly, it came to the Boilie Bites rod.

Just before midnight, at 23:31, the same rod tore off again. This one fought hard under the tip before slipping over the cord — a lovely 14lb 9oz common.

Then, in the early hours, 01:58, that rod was away yet again. This fish was far stronger, determined to bury itself in the snags to my left. I had to sink the tip and really lean into it, convinced a few times it had nicked a branch, but eventually I turned it and guided it over the net cord. Another solid 23lb 8oz common — a proper battle.

By 03:43, the left-hand rod was away again — another common, 18lb 1oz, safely landed after yet another tussle. Then, at 05:10, I was in again! Sleep was looking unlikely at this point, but I wasn’t complaining. Another muscular 21lb 14oz common made it five carp for the night.

By sunrise, I’d managed maybe two hours’ sleep between takes. I even had a small 12lb common around 07:40 before deciding to bait up early. I was shattered, but I wanted to see whether feeding at dawn would make a difference to the daytime activity. Ian arrived around nine, just as drizzle turned into a steady downpour. He pitched his brolly next to mine, and when the wind swung northerly, we were both grateful for the extra cover — it was bitterly cold. The carp had clearly moved off to the back of the wind, showing occasionally out in the calmer water.

It wasn’t until 15:31 that the right-hand rod finally burst into life, producing a lively 15lb 15oz common. After Ian headed home and darkness settled in, I crawled into the sleeping bag, thinking I might actually get some rest. No such luck — at 19:35, the right-hand rod screamed off. Another 21lb 14oz common, swiftly followed at 20:39 by a 19lb 1oz fish from the same spot. The carp were clearly on the feed again, despite the clear skies and dropping temperatures. Between bites, I took a moment to look up — the stars were dazzling, satellites sliding silently overhead, and I couldn’t help but smile.

At first light, around 06:30, a few bleeps turned out to be a small tench. As the sky glowed pink and gold over the tower and forest, I started to think about whether to stay another night or call it a trip. The barrow tyre needed fixing before next week, and with heavy rain and 40mph winds forecast, the idea of another sleepless, stormy night wasn’t exactly tempting.

Then, at 07:50, the left-hand rod was away again, only for the hook to pull in the margins — frustratingly close to double figures for the trip. Still, I stayed optimistic, and sure enough, at 08:53, another run began. This time I landed a solid 22lb 4oz common — my ninth carp and the perfect fish for a final water shot on Airfield Lake.

The results spoke for themselves. Across the session, I’d compared Boilie Bites to pellets in my solid PVA bags — the final tally was eleven takes (including the tench and lost fish), with nine of them coming to the Boilie Bites. A clear edge for the colder months ahead.

By mid-morning, I’d decided to call it a day. Time to say farewell to Airfield Lake until next March. The barrow issue meant a few extra trips to the car, but at 11:48, just as I was halfway through packing up, the left-hand rod tore off once more. After a strong fight in the calm water behind the wind, another pristine 23lb 10oz common slipped into the net — the perfect ending to an unforgettable session.

A fitting farewell indeed.

Until next time,
Richard

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