After a less-than-successful trip earlier in the week — largely due to factors beyond my control — I felt the need to get myself back down to the lake and reset things a bit. This time, though, I decided to avoid the syndicate water and head to the club lake instead.
The plan was simple. Arrive at 0700 hrs, the earliest time you’re allowed on the water, have a good look around, hopefully spot a carp or two, and get set up quickly. Ideally, I wanted to nick a bite before 1100 hrs, as that seems to be the window when the fish are most active. After that, they often appear to switch off until mid-afternoon, usually somewhere around 1430 hrs.
There’s a handy vantage point on arrival where you can stand and scan most of the lake before committing to pushing the barrow in either direction. I’d barely been there a minute when two carp crashed out in open water. That was enough confirmation for me — I grabbed the barrow and headed straight for a swim that had already produced on a couple of my recent day sessions.
The Fox Frontier went up first, mainly because space in that swim is a little tight, and it’s easier to get the shelter sorted before anything else. After that, it was the bedchair, the barrow bag, and my Wallop Tuff Boxx tucked neatly inside. Once the essentials were in place, the rods were sorted.
Fresh Nutrabaits hookbaits went on, paired with Castaway PVA mesh bags loaded with a mixture of pellets and boilie bites. Each rod was flicked out onto the spots, and with everything fishing nicely, I finally sat back, brewed up, and slowly organised the rest of the kit.
At 1204 hrs, the left-hand rod suddenly came to life — four sharp bleeps and the tip hooped round instantly. I was fishing, locked up, so I was on it straight away. What followed was an entertaining scrap which, at first, had me convinced it was a small mirror. But when the fish eventually slipped over the cord, it turned out to be a much better carp than expected — a 25lb mirror.
An absolutely superb result. My first carp of March, and a really lovely looking fish too.
Once the photos were done and the carp safely returned, the rod went straight back onto the spot with another small mesh bag. Before casting out, I’d already taken a walk round to the neighbouring swim. I catapulted a decent helping of Jurassic particles — hemp and buckwheat — just off the edge of the dead pads where I was fishing. The idea was simply to keep a little bit of activity in the area without overdoing it.
The afternoon passed quietly apart from a single interruption from a Tench. The warm sunshine from earlier in the day gradually disappeared, and there was a noticeable chill creeping into the air. It was forecast to drop to around 7°C overnight, which in early March isn’t terrible, but it did make me question whether staying the night was the right call. The following day was forecast to reach 11°C with drizzle, so I hoped the cloud cover might help keep the temperature up and perhaps keep the fish moving.
With that in mind, I prepared a few larger mesh bags for the night. They’re perfect for dropping out of the back of the bait boat — enough bait to create a tight little pile, but not so much that it disappears too deeply into the silt.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the middle rod was away. Unfortunately, the fish managed to find some old, dead lily pads and quickly snagged me up. After about five minutes of steady pressure and waiting things out, the line suddenly started pulling again, and I managed to regain contact. Slowly, I began gaining line back, but just as it felt like things were turning in my favour, the hook pulled. A bit of a shame, although I couldn’t really tell how big the fish was. In my experience, the bigger carp tend to shed the hook much quicker when they find something to kite through.
I was up again at 0700 hrs, repositioning the left-hand rod tight to the snags for the few hours I had left before packing up. I was hoping to dodge the incoming rain, although another carp would have been more than welcome — not wishing to get greedy, of course.
Morning, however, felt completely different. I could see my breath; the wind had swung round and was blowing straight into the bivvy, and it definitely didn’t feel like prime conditions anymore. All I could really do was sit it out and hope.
In the end, I stayed until 1200 hrs, when it was clearly time to reel in and call it a day. The morning bite I’d been hoping for never materialised, but it’s hard to complain.
Two bites, a cracking 25lb mirror on the bank, and another reminder that sometimes a quick change of venue is all it takes to get things moving again.
Until next time.
Richard
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