As the days grow shorter and the unmistakable bite of winter creeps into the air, I mentally prepare for my annual winter campaign on Meadow Lake. It’s that time of year again—when I swap the serenity of summer sessions for the challenge of cold-weather fishing. But unlike the past few winters, I had decided to shake things up a bit. This year, I would split my efforts between Meadow Lake, a private school lake I frequented once a month and a picturesque old estate lake that boasted a history of producing monster pike. With its secluded charm and monster predators, the latter would be my weekly destination once gardening duties were out of the way. But for now, Meadow Lake was calling me back.
It had been a couple of weeks since I’d last fished on Meadow Lake, and my mind was still haunted by the memory of losing a truly enormous carp on my last trip. The beast had come close to the bank, only for the hook to pull at the very last moment. The disappointment was palpable, but that’s the nature of fishing. You win some, you lose some. But losing that one… stung.
I stood at the water’s edge, scanning the lake and trying to figure out the best place to set up camp for the next few days. The lake looked different now, winter’s chill was setting in and the trees were bare of leaves. The weather was far from ideal. A high-pressure system had been hovering over the area for days and was causing all kinds of issues with the fish. The barometer was due to peak tomorrow at 1037 millibars, before dropping sharply by next Monday to around 1006. On top of that, a north wind was biting at my face, making the air feel colder than it should. It was unmistakably winter now.
I had originally thought about fishing one of the four main swims that dominated the lake. But after a quick glance at each of them, I quickly ruled them out. The conditions just weren’t right for those spots today. The carp were likely huddled up somewhere a little more sheltered from the elements. I spent some time scanning the snags in the bay, hoping to find a good hold-up area. No luck there either. The main body of the lake was wide open and exposed, not ideal with the wind howling across the surface. But as I walked toward the far end of a point that jutted into the lake, I felt a spark of optimism. It was more sheltered than the rest of the lake, tucked away from the harsh north winds. I had fished this swim before with success, and the thought of it calmed my nerves.
After setting up, I threw out the marker rod to check the spots. It was vital to get the positioning right, as carp could be finicky this time of year. As the marker rod landed with a satisfying thud, I reeled in and adjusted the line, making sure everything was perfect. Then, it was time to spomb out some bait. My second order from Nutrabaits had just arrived that morning, and I was eager to put it to the test. For years, I had used their ingredients when I made my own baits, back in the 80s and 90s. When Trigga Ice and Co-De were released, I jumped at the chance to revisit their products. This time, I ordered Trigga Ice and Co-De, hoping the flavours would perform well in the colder months. I had also brought along some freebies—Cream Cajouser, which I had ordered in my first batch. I soaked the freebies in a pot with a bit of Trigga Ice and Co-De to get them nice and juicy, then hooked a Trigga Ice wafter on one rod and a Cream Cajouser wafter on the other. The bait was in the water, now all I had to do was wait and see how things played out.
The morning had started with a sharp, cold bite to the air. I had been up a few times during the night to answer nature’s call, using the breaks to listen for any signs of carp activity. Unfortunately, it had been a quiet night. No splashing, no signs of feeding fish. But the conditions seemed favourable today. The barometer was stable, and I knew one fish had been caught the night before—always a good sign. I decided to give it until 10:30 am before I started messing with the zig rod. The higher air pressure had likely pushed the carp into the upper layers of the water, and a zig rig might just be the ticket.
By 10 am, the zig rod was out. I made sure to fish it at the right depth, targeting the mid-water layers where I suspected the carp were holding up. I’d decided to keep the zig rig out until around 3 PM, giving it plenty of time to attract the fish. As the hours passed, I kept a close eye on my rods. The left-hand rod had been adjusted and spombed with a little more bait. The right-hand rod, with its new Trigga Ice wafter, had been left undisturbed, quietly waiting for a bite.
As the sun began to dip, I found myself in good company. Ian, my usual fishing buddy, had arrived for the afternoon. Another member of the syndicate was also there, and we spent some time chatting about the lake’s history and the challenges of winter fishing. The afternoon was pleasantly warm for late autumn, it was nice to relax in the sunshine for a bit. As we talked, I spent a little extra time fine-tuning the left-hand rod. I had been watching the carp from the swim opposite me in previous sessions, and I was sure there was a sweet spot somewhere in the area. I just needed to find it.
By 4:30 pm, all rods were rebaited and back on their spots. The zig rod had been reeled in, and everything was in place for the night. The hope was that, with a little luck, the carp might show up overnight. I had a good feeling, especially with a few fish showing signs of activity nearby. The night was still young, and I went to bed with high hopes for the next 12 hours.
However, as the night wore on, the silence grew louder. The flurry of carp activity I had expected never materialized. At first, it seemed promising, but the carp stayed elusive, and the wind howled on, making it harder to sleep. I remained optimistic, knowing that winter fishing was never easy. It was a slow grind, a battle against the elements, but that’s part of the appeal. Every bite felt like a victory, and I knew I had to persevere if I wanted to land another fish.
Around 4:56 am, I was up again, answering nature’s call. I had barely returned to my sleeping bag when I heard a couple of carp slapping the surface nearby. Could it be? I grabbed my headlamp and scanned the lake, hoping for a sign that something was picking up my bait. Just before 5 am, the right-hand rod rattled off. I scrambled out of my sleeping bag, adrenaline pumping as I picked up the rod. A straightforward fight followed, but the reward was worth it. One of the lake’s legendary Ghosties—an old fish I had been hoping to catch for years—slipped into the net. My first carp on Nutrabaits’ Trigga Ice 15mm wafters. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like a win, a well-deserved victory after all the waiting.
With the rod back on the spot and the Ghosty safely returned, I settled back into my pit, warm and content. The sun was starting to rise, and the calm of the early morning settled over the lake. As I lay there, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The Trigga Ice had worked its magic, and the carp were still here, even with the high pressure hanging over the water.
Later that afternoon, Ian came by again, and we spent the rest of the day soaking in the sunshine and fine-tuning our rods. The zig rod had been in since 9 am, and I planned to bring it in around 4 pm for a fresh baiting before the final night. As the sun began to dip, I rebaited all the rods, hopeful that the coming night might bring more action. A few carp had been showing near the surface, and I was determined to make the most of the next 12 hours.
But as the night settled in once more, the lake fell eerily quiet. No flopping, no splashing. It was as if the carp had vanished into thin air. The wind picked up again, howling through the trees, but I kept my faith that the pressure would drop as predicted, and with it, the chances of a bite would rise.
As I packed up the next morning, the silence of the lake still weighing on me, I knew that the coming week would bring new challenges. I had a hospital appointment in Salisbury, which would take me away from the lake for a few days. But I was already planning my next session, hoping the weather would improve. Whatever the conditions, one thing was certain: I was ready to persevere. Winter fishing was always a test of patience and persistence, but the rewards were worth it.
Until next time.
Richard
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