My original plan had been to arrive on Monday morning and settle in for four uninterrupted nights. But with my wife due at the dentist on Wednesday afternoon — and knowing how much she dislikes these appointments — it felt only right to be there for support. Add in the need to squeeze a day’s work in, and with a settled spell of sunshine forecast all week, the decision became straightforward. I’d fish early in the week and reassess from there.

Atmospheric pressure had been fluctuating, nothing dramatic, but certainly unsettled enough to make you think. Still, four consecutive days of sunshine at this time of year should, in theory, stimulate a bit of movement. The wind, however, couldn’t make up its mind — swinging around from one quarter to another — which made the location less obvious.

After a slow and deliberate lap of the lake, I narrowed my choice down to three swims. In truth, I was waiting for something to reveal itself — a show, a subtle roll, even the faintest slick — but there was absolutely nothing. I paced the bank between those areas longer than I care to admit, willing the water to give something away. It didn’t. So in the end, it had to be instinct over evidence.

I committed to the swim that simply felt right.

This week, I was using the new test bait from Nutrabaits, paired with an Orange Blank Saver hookbait after last week’s success. Over the top went a mix of Jurassic Particles hemp and buckwheat — simple, digestible, and ideal for early-season fishing. During the winter months, I usually keep both rods in a single area to concentrate any feeding activity, but with warmer conditions creeping in, I decided to split things slightly. One rod was positioned at range on a clean area I’d found previously, the other much shorter — tighter in, almost probing for a reaction bite.

By 20:00 hrs, the left-hand rod produced a few tentative bleeps. The tip knocked twice, deliberately. I was out of the chair immediately, heart rate rising, but as quickly as it started, it was over. I’m fairly certain I felt either a carp or a bream bump the rig and dislodge it. Encouraging in one sense — at least something was present — but frustrating all the same.

The night itself was unseasonably warm. Sleep, however, was intermittent thanks to a mouse that decided my bivvy was part of its patrol route. Every rustle had me half-awake. Not quite the peaceful night I’d imagined.

Morning broke beautifully. Sunshine, a gentle southerly breeze, and that unmistakable sense that spring has finally arrived. It felt good simply to be there. My plan was to sit tight, keep faith in the areas I’d chosen, and introduce a little more bait later in the day to build the swim gradually rather than overdo it.

At midday, I refreshed both rods and topped up each spot with another measured helping of hemp and buckwheat. Nothing excessive — just enough to keep interest ticking over if fish drifted through.

The afternoon and evening were a pleasure. As the sun dipped, the temperature fell quickly, and a bright full moon climbed into a clear sky. A full moon, my experience has often taught me, it’s not always the carp angler’s friend; plenty will disagree with me, but it’s just my findings.

The night passed without interruption. I woke at 08:55 hrs — no bleeps, no liners, nothing. I had stepped out once in the early hours, as I often do, just to listen. It was deathly quiet. No rolling fish, no subtle signs, not even distant movement.

By mid-morning, I’d mulled it over carefully. The conclusion was hard to avoid: the carp simply weren’t on the feed in any meaningful way. Two nights in those conditions, with minimal signs and clear moonlit skies, felt more like stubbornness than strategy. With family commitments waiting and the chance to regroup later in March, packing up seemed the sensible call.

It felt slightly frustrating walking away early, but time is valuable. Fishing for the sake of it — without confidence — rarely ends well.

So that was my first blank of 2026 under the belt. It was always going to happen at some point.

Until next time,
Richard

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