UK Carp & Coarse Fishing

I woke up much earlier than I planned on Wednesday morning, ready for a fishing trip that had been delayed due to Tuesday’s stormy forecast. My original plan was to arrive later in the day, but a combination of pre-dawn restlessness and the knowledge that the weather was shifting in my favor spurred me out of bed at 4 a.m. I loaded the car quietly and slowly, before setting off for the lake, aiming to get there before dawn.

When I finally arrived at around 6:30 a.m., the skies were still veiled in darkness, but as the first rays of light crept over the horizon, I knew exactly where to head. The carp were stirring—no, they were everywhere. As I stood there in the dim morning light, my eyes scanned the water. The area around the double gravel patch was alive with activity. Carp were breaching the surface, confirming what I already suspected: this was the spot. With excitement building, I grabbed my Titan T2 from the car and set up my bivvy on the left-hand side of the swim, giving me some protection from the cold, biting northwesterly winds.

The air pressure was below 987 mb but was forecast to rise to 1013 mb by the weekend. It was October, and autumn was well and truly upon us—everywhere I looked, leaves were turning fiery reds and oranges, some already carpeting the ground. I could sense a crispness in the air that warned of frosty mornings ahead.

Once my bivvy was up and secure, I wasted no time getting my rods out. I opted for single hook baits, hopeful that something would latch on before 10:30 a.m., the time I planned to introduce some bait. Patience was key, as always in fishing, but there was also that thrill—the anticipation of something biting.

At exactly 2:35 p.m., my patience was rewarded. The bobbin on my right-hand rod jerked upwards, setting the buzzer off. I sprinted towards the rod, heart pounding, and saw the carp boil on the surface. I was on. The fish put up a decent fight, kiting right as they often do, but luckily not far enough to cause trouble. I managed to gain control, slowly reeling it in until I could net it. Somehow, in the chaos, I ended up with a boot full of water, but it was worth it. A 26 lb 10 oz common carp—an excellent start to the session.

Feeling buoyed by my success, I decided it was time for a switch. Ian, had been having great success using running rigs. I was tired of losing leads on aggressive takes and figured I’d give Ian’s method a try—it might save me some money in the long run.

Later, around 5:15 p.m., just as I was recording some deer up by the old tower, the rod I had positioned in the 20-spot sprang to life. The take was strong, and the fish gave me a tougher battle than the first one, reminding me of that cardinal rule of fishing: you can never predict the size of the fish based on the fight alone. After a few tense moments, I had it in the net—a beautiful 22 lb 11 oz common. Two twenties in one day. I couldn’t have asked for a better start.

As the skies began to clear, I had a sneaking suspicion that this might be the last action of the day. A frost was forecast for the night, and though the water temperature still felt warm, I knew the carp might slow down as the cold set in.

But just before midnight, at 11:54 p.m., the left-hand rod produced a fierce bite. The fish fought hard, heading straight for the snags and hugging the bottom, determined to escape. It wasn’t as big as it felt—it turned out to be 20 lb on the dot—but it fought with the strength of a much larger fish. It had a classic large tail, which explained the power behind its struggle.

In the middle of a rainstorm at 2:22 a.m., I found myself fighting yet another carp. Funny how the weather does what it wants despite the forecast—it wasn’t supposed to rain tonight, but there I was, soaked through. The fish came in with yards and yards of braid tangled around it, turning the whole thing into a nightmare of untangling, but I managed. This one weighed in at 18 lb 13 oz, a respectable size for such an unexpected take.

By 9:15 the next morning, I was groggy from the rain and the action-packed night but ready to get the rods back in the water. I had a feeling the carp would start feeding again around lunchtime, so I topped up the swim with more bait, anticipating another wave of activity.

At 11:38 a.m., I had just finished spombing over the left-hand rod when I wandered up to Ian’s swim for a chat. By the time I came back, the right-hand rod was away. It was a close call—I had nearly made a racket spombing over that spot, which could have spooked the fish. I was glad I hadn’t. This time, it was a rare mirror carp, weighing 21 lb 5 oz. I was thrilled—mirrors are hard to come by at Airfield Lake, and this one was a real beauty.

In the afternoon, around 2:10 p.m., my left-hand rod bent under the weight of a very determined carp. This one put up a fight like no other, trying repeatedly to get into the snags. I had to clamp down hard to stop it, but in the process, the hook pulled. It was a tough loss, but I had no choice—losing it in the snags would have been worse.

Luckily, just an hour later at 3:14 p.m., the left-hand rod was away again. This one weighed in at 19 lb 13 oz and was a hard-fighting beauty. I had a feeling there might be another one before dark, and I wasn’t wrong.

At 5:44 p.m., as I was cooking tea, the left-hand rod sprang into action once more. This one fought strangely, but I soon had it in the net. Another common, this one tipping the scales at 19 lb 11 oz. It had that classic torpedo shape that Airfield Lake carp are known for, complete with a large, powerful tail.

I had a quiet night after that but was woken at 3:22 a.m. by yet another take. After a short fight, I slipped another 22 lb common into the net. As I released the carp, I noticed the Aurora Borealis shimmering faintly on the horizon. I quickly changed the settings on my phone, trying to capture it. The question lingered—did I really see the aurora, or was it just my phone’s clever camera?

By 9:04 a.m., I was starting to think the action was slowing down. I had just stepped out of the bivvy when my right-hand rod tore off again. This one was a stubborn fighter, kiting hard to the right and nearly tangling with Ian’s lines. Thankfully, it turned left at the last minute, and after a tense 10-minute fight, I landed it. A 24 lb 10 oz common—my biggest of the session.

Ian joined me for a cup of coffee afterward, but before we could even enjoy it, his buzzer screamed into life. He darted down the bank and returned with a lovely 24 lb 2 oz common of his own.

The day wore on, with a few more takes and some great fish landed, including a 19 lb 11 oz for Ian and an 18 lb 14 oz common for me. By the time I packed up, I had landed 10 carp in total—an unbelievable haul, especially given the conditions.

As I drove home, exhausted but content, I couldn’t help but smile. This was one of those fishing trips where everything seemed to come together, despite the weather and the challenges.

Until next time.

Richard

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