Must be mad!

I know it's a bit of a worn out old cliche, but how many times do those words, imagined or spoken, punctuate the life of an Angler? You must be mad, they must be mad, I must be mad. The permutations are many, and frequently applied, especially in the life of a Carp Angler.

Do you fancy day out? Was the general theme of the text message. Why not! It's been far too long, and given the very mild spring like weather we have been experiencing lately, it should me most pleasant. A reply to the affirmative and several text messages later plans were made and the date was set.

What a difference a few days make, it is now freezing cold! My tackle including winter clobber is cluttering up the kitchen, the car has a fresh white toupee from the flurries of snow and hail that have punctuated the night and its two forty five am and I can not sleep.

So considering the above, I am still awake and my alarm will sound in little over three hours I find myself experiencing a "we must be mad" moment.

The question is, are we?

It is tempting to write that I will let you know the answer in a little over fifteen hours time.

But that would not be the real answer, would it?

We are, totally barking mate!

Now that's more like it!

I did manage to eventually fall asleep only to be rudely awakened, five minutes later. Or at least that's what it felt like. Perhaps it was my sleep depraved, groggy state of mind, or the fact that it had been so long and I was out of practice, but it took me ages to get everything together and packed into the car. There was no way I was going to get to the lake for the arranged meeting at seven thirty. In fact the way things were going I doubted that I would get to the lake before they opened at eight.
As it turned out I need not have worried about either. A pile up on the M62 ensured that my mate was equally late. In fact by pure chance my mate turned out of a side road onto what is a fairly busy road, and ended up right behind me for the last 4 miles of the journey. Upon arriving at the lake, it turned out that we were the only anglers waiting and the owner had opted for a little lie-in, making our late arrival fairly inconsequential.

Tickets purchased and tackle barrowed to the swims we set about getting down to business. This did not take long as we were both convinced that we were still in winter fishing conditions. Ivan opted for single baits cast to likely looking spots while I went with a small bag of pellets on one rod, and a small 5 bait stringer saw itself flung to a nice snagy spot on the other. Like our baiting strategies swim choice was made on the assumption that the fish were still in winter mode.

We spent most of the day tucked behind a brolly sheltering from the snow and hail showers. Even during the dry spells the wind was so biting and the shelter so inviting, what with its banter and endless brews, that little time was spent exposed.

The short day flew by, but even with little time spent watching the water a couple of interesting observations were made. Fish showed late on in the day well out into open water. Clearly our assumption that the fish were still holed up in the winter areas was wrong. We should have really sussed this out earlier in the day, because we had made the mad observation that it was snowing, yet the margin was littered with debris from the bottom coming up. Clearly if the bottom had come up a day or so before, the water temp was, or at least had been, well above that needed to get the fish moving. Had we blown it? Hard to say really because the area we were fishing can and will produce all year round.

It was virtually dark and our departure from the swims was almost imminent with just the rods left to pack away, when my right hand rod signalled a pick up. It was a steady tightening rather than a run, it may have developed into a run, but I was far too quick for anything to develop. With the light almost gone, and three nasty snags in close proximity, it was all a bit scary getting the fish by feel alone out into open water, but out it came. Once I was happy that there were several yards between fish and snags I let out a relieved Yeeeeeeeeeeeees you beauty!

As punishment for my premature celebration, a second or two later all went solid, and in the bat of an eyelid the fish was gone. Upon retrieving my rig it was festooned in lost line, with a particularly nice clump around the hook. Post mortem results concluded that the line must have been attached to the snag and levered my barbless hook hold upon tightening.

Totally gutted with no time left to resurrect the situation I had fluffed our only chance of the day.

Or at least that's what we thought. A few minutes later, when the Baitrunner on Ivan's now alarm-less rod started to give of line, with that unmistakable zipping noise we had a re-think.

Bloody hell, the last minute kid strikes again!

After a short but spirited fight Ivan was smiling down at a pretty little near Leather of 14lb 6oz. Not a big fish, but a blank saver, and on a day when conditions were far from ideal.

Ivan's capture lessoned the gloom of my loss, and we went away convinced that we were in a much stronger position thanks to our observations.

Next trip would be a different story.

MAD?

No way. Fish don't get caught from in front of the tv. You either go out battling the weather, or you don't.
Nice to hear that you both enjoyed yourselves in the conditions.
Better luck and more of it next time.



Now, if you'd have gone out for a quick 3 or 4 hour session, like I often do, then that would have been mad.

great read,about time too,somebody else has mad as me,i call it character building really,then i normally see somebody in a suit,in a traffic jam for 2 hours going to work,then the same home.NOW!!! they are fecking mad .!!!

Nice one Andy .. looking forward to the next one.
Must get round to writing some scribble myself

A week on, and the mad rollercoaster that is British weather, means forecasts suggests a suntan is more likely than frost bite. With this in mind, and considering the observations of last week, my plan of attack was slightly different. I was also planning on using the dastardly trick of using the clocks going forward to my advantage. This is a "seen it all before, got the T shirt" day ticket water with fairly ridged opening hours. Not surprisingly the fish tend to feed like mad between the hours of dusk and 8am when they instinctively know it is safe to do so. Unless they have now honed their skills to such an extent they know all about BST, my baits would encroach upon that safe time to the tune of an hour.

Knocking off a little time by being more organised, and in practice, I arrived at the lake with 20 minutes to spare. Its amazing what a few miles difference makes. Back home it was a clear fresh morning, however, frost never entered into the equation. Upon descending into the valley I was more than a little surprised to see the frost covered fields glistening in the morning sunlight. My heart sank a little. As beautiful a spectacle it was, a fairly heavy frost can only be bad news for such a shallow lake. Never mind, I was once again the only angler present, so with choice of pegs at my disposal, frost or no frost, I should be able to make it happen. Taking advantage of being a little early I spent the time observing the water. Signs, or rather lack of them, didn’t look encouraging. Indeed on that frosty morning it looked every bit like a water slowly awakening from a long slumber. With a relatively warm day in prospect, I consoled myself with the fact that shallow water also warms fairly quickly.

Upon opening I shot round to my chosen peg like a rat up a drain pipe. Ok slight exaggeration I hauled my fat carcass round the lake as fast as my heavy legs would oblige. Plan A was quickly put into action. With rods already set up, a single had been lobbed about 90 yards and a tiny bag plopped next to a fallen tree within minutes of arriving. With that done, I set the alarm on my phone for 10 am (plan B) and set up the rest of my kit. Within no time at all, I was sat back, rods out, and enjoying the first brew of the morning. Talk about organised.

10 am came all too quickly with no fish falling to the extra hour trap. Bugger!

It was now time to introduce a little bait, with the hope of inducing a couple of fish into action. The fallen tree was given a little scatter of Mainline Fusion, a spot about 80 yards out into open water was baited with about a pound and a half of Active Eight and a couple of big spods of pellet for good measure. With the traps set, I sat back with yet another brew, enjoying the lovely morning sunshine.

About 11.45 a number of fish started to show slightly further out than my baited area. At the same time a fish cruised round the island passing the fallen tree by only a few feet. It was just like someone had thrown a switch. To say things were looking up was an understatement.

Ivan turned up about 12 pm and after telling him about the recent activity I confidently assured him that we were going to have em! As if to confirm this, a fish pushed itself clear of the water almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Unfortunately the fish were showing at range. I say unfortunate because neither Ivan nor myself are particularly experienced or very good at long range casting. My personal dilemma was, do I abandon my baited area and thrash out a single, or do I sit on the bait and hope that the fish drift over it? Ivan's dilemma was more about the limitations of his line rather than choices. Spooled up with serious jungle warfare, Lily busting line, his first few casts dropped short. As is the case sometimes, once he started to try and squeeze those extra few yards out of his casts, things started to go wrong. I won't embarrass Ivan or bore you with the details but he proceeded in having a proper mare.

A few rigs later, and after abandoning the long range options, Ivan was eventually fishing. Time for the kettle to earn its crust!

Another pleasant sociable day passed all too quickly. Unfortunately the day also proved uneventful. On reflection my swim choice seriously limited Ivan's chances and no doubt he blanked as a result. I had no such excuse, blanking from a favoured area that offered plenty of scope and access to showing fish.

Due to a reduction in competition because of the thinning of stocks by natural wastage, we knew that the water was a little more difficult than it had been previously. That said there was this nagging doubt that there was something not quite right. Relatively poor results in isolation mean nothing, but we instinctively knew that we were missing something vital.

By observation we had already pieced together many pieces of the puzzle. What we could not see at this point in time was how they slotted together and what sort of bigger picture they made. My mood as I pulled away from the car park was one of despondency. All the way home my mind raced with questions and ideas, were my rigs ok, had the bait been hammered, were the old productive spots now treated with caution, would something a little out of the ordinary bait wise fool them, how about trying the neglected water? Slowly it dawned on me, for the first time in a long time I was actually thinking! Without even realising it, the gauntlet had been thrown down and it had been accepted. By the time I got home blank or no blank, the smile was back on my face.

good read!

solution............zigs!

LOL these fish point and laugh at zigs from about 150 yards away.

They have seen it all before Mike. We may now call them zigs, but these fish learned the relevant lesson on anchored crusts.
Tried zigs/anchored baits previously and although they were not totally useless their life span was about two weeks. After that they remembered lessons learned, and started testing if they were tethered or not by blowing a vortex of water at the hookbait from about two foot away.

As you may have noticed my blog is not up to date, there is another trip to be written up yet. Things will make much more sense when I reveal what I have learned since.

lol nice one, look forward to reading it

Lovely

Knowing that something was not quite adding up, I decided that being cautious was probably the best approach. As such, the baiting strategy adopted for the last trip was abandoned, or at least put on ice for the time being. Singles and small PVA traps would be the order of the day, until I got my head round what was happening. Fish have been consistently showing in open water at range, so hopefully I would secure the peg that best offered access to that water.

Really getting into the swing of things now, I managed to shave another 10 minutes off the packing and travelling times, which saw me driving down the lane a good 30 minutes prior to opening. As with my previous trips there were no other cars present. Just as the smile was breaking out across my face, I spotted something out of place. (Ha ha, poet didn't know it ) A few more yards down the lane and it all became apparent. This week I was not the first in the queue, somebody on foot had beaten me to it. Turned out to be a young lad of about 14 years old, sporting gear of the transitional type. You know the sort, more specialised than general tackle, but not yet quite fully fledged Carp gear. Despite his tackle being totally inadequate for the peg, I knew exactly where he would be heading, but hopefully asked the question all the same. Slipped up there, totally forgot about the implications of the kids being off school.

First choice of peg already out of the running, I found myself with decisions to make even before the gates opened. Yes I know, in theory, that is bad angling, and I can hear you all tut tuting at your monitors as I type. Thing is, on this type of water if you spend an hour watching the water, weighing things up, all the best spots are already taken. In fact during the real busy times of the year opening time is almost farcical. Think of old black and white footage of a Le Mans start.

Because of the angle of the bank, one of my options was to set up in the next peg along, and cast to the exact spots I would have fishing in my first choice of peg. This was quite feasible as the extra yardage was not a real problem. There was however, something of a gambol associated with this. If it turned out that matey could cast more than 40-50 yards we would have a clash, and he would have right of way. My only other option was to go back into the peg I fished last week and go for the big chuck. Not really being set up for long range, I bottled it and went for the gambol. Before I had even got all my gear into the swim a new arrival jumped into last weeks peg. Oh dear, lets hope the kids rods are as inadequate as they look!

I had not even got my alarms in the dirt when the young lad was at my side "scuse me mate do you have one of those thingys for putting baits on hair rigs that I could borrow?" I informed him that the thingys were called baiting needles, and if he would be patient and give me 10 minutes, I was sure that I would be able to find a spare one that he could keep.

While I was sorting out my gear a mate of the lad turned up, obviously pre-arranged that they would be fishing the peg together. If it turns out that they can both cast, I would now be in serious trouble. Out comes a big bag, and they proceed in wrestling with what look like an oversized set of bagpipes, that turn out to be a bivvy. Or at least a shelter masquerading as a bivvy. Initially my reaction was scorn. This is after all a day ticket water, and the forecast was for the warmest day of the year so far. Recognising almost instantly what a grumpy old sod I was being, my attitude melted. To them this was not just another day out fishing. It's the school holidays, and they are probably best mates out on a marathon angling adventure. A wave of nostalgia swept over me, leaving me with an involuntary smile. Happy days! They probably have not the slightest concept of how lucky they are, or how precious their current experiences will become in retrospect. Carp fishing is great, make no mistake about it, but, you just can not beat the mystery, thrill and excitement that goes hand in glove with being a young novice. How sad that knowledge robs us of some of the excitement and mystery. The term, ignorance is bliss could have been coined for carp angling.

Deciding that I needed all the help I could get, I opted to fish three rods this trip. My first rod, baited with a 6 bait stringer was cast to a fairly reliable spot on the edge of an overhanging bush. Like the first rod, my second was also cast to a spot that I knew had produced a fish this year. This is a spot some twenty yards out into the lake from the overhanging bush. This again is a known producing spot, but it has a bit of a strange and interesting history. It used to be an area that had an obvious feature in the shape of a fairly large weed bed. In fact "the spot" was right on the edge of the weed. What is interesting, is that the weed bed is long gone, to the tune of many years, yet this now apparently featureless spot continues to produce. Needing to make a fairly long cast with my third rod it was baited a tiny hand rolled hook bait in conjunction with a little stick of crumb. This was lobbed about 80 yards to the area in open water where the fish have been showing.

Time to sit back in the morning sunshine, with a nice cup of tea and a roll up. No, not that kind of roll up, just Golden Virginia, no extras to spice it up. Sitting there all content soaking up the atmosphere, I happened to glance round at my young neighbours. Good grief, all that time, and neither of them had yet cast out a single rod. I wonder what is taking them so long? Ten minutes later, and they had still not cast in. What was even stranger was their inactivity. They were not busy, like anglers preparing to fish, they were sort of, just sat there. A few minutes later the penny dropped. Poor kids had been patiently waiting for the promised baiting needle.

Besides a couple of knocks on the rod cast to the overhanging bush the next hour passed without event. One of the kids came over and politely asked if I had a hair rig that he could use. He only had one pre tied rig per rod, and had managed to snap one of them. Out came the tackle box, and I quickly tied him up a new rig. Not wanting him to lose another rig, my rig, by it being secured by a couple of overhand knots I decided to walk over to his peg and tie it on myself. What a good job I did. If by some miracle they actually hooked a fish the rigs they were using were totally lethal. Their weights were threaded up the line and then tied in place some eight inches from the hook length swivel. Cue a sermon on death rigs, and why leads should be free to drop off in the event of a breakage. I also mentioned that they would be banned from this and many other waters if caught fishing in such a way. Out came the tackle box again, and after tying a few rigs, we were all fishing safely. Just out of interest using soft rods and casting out small PVA bags he had managed to snap two pre tied hook links commercially sold as carp rigs. Somebody out there should be bloody ashamed of themselves.

My good deed for the day done, I retired to my own swim and pumped up the Coleman for another cuppa. A little while later, the guy who had dropped into the peg I fished last week, walked round for a chat. During the conversation he admitted that he had only caught three fish since the start of 2006. I dismissed this as an irrelevance and took it more as a sign of his ability. There was however, a nagging doubt, and if I listened carefully, an alarm bell could be heard faintly ringing, in the far distance of my mind. After he departed I started to think a little more about the implications of what he had told me. True he did not look like a particularly experienced angler, but he certainly looked and sounded better than three fish a year. This is a water where in the past, a real noddy could have a red letter day, and fluke three fish in an afternoon.

Clearly things had changed. For a start you can not miss the massive and frequent fly hatches. Not such a big deal face value. Turn the clocks back a few years though, and this would have been unthinkable. Other than the massive head of fish it contained, this was virtually a barren water. Anything even resembling food would have been gobbled up within a split second. Throw a handful of maggots at the water, and it would prompt a response not out of place in a Piranha film. Seriously, that is not an exaggeration. The other strange thing is, even the Bream are conspicuous in their absence. Not that I am complaining, because they are a constant pain in the backside. Surely the balance could not have tilted so much, that even the Bream can now take or leave anglers bait? Yet this would appear to be the most obvious answer.

Facts were stacking up:
1, despite quite a bit of pressure, the first fish of the year did not come out until the second week of March.
2, Only an handful of fish have been out since.
3, Two of those fish were over 25lb the biggest going 29lb. Massive fish for the water!
4, To my knowledge not a single Bream has been caught
5, Knowing for a fact that I have been on fish, yet blanked.
6, Obvious and large amounts of natural food.
7, Reports of people struggling to an extent previously unheard of.

Yet it still does not quite add up, I can not accept that the balance has swung so dramatically in the space of a couple of years.

Back to the fishing, and the pattern of the fish showing for half an hour shortly before midday, was once again repeated. Again despite the activity this period proved to be bite less. I am seriously beginning to wonder, if the area that they are showing in, may not be a feeding area. Perhaps I would be better concentrating on likely looking areas close by, but not directly on the showing fish? With this in mind, I wound in my distance rod and belted out a single towards the far margin behind where the fish were showing.

A little while later another angler on his way round the lake stopped his barrow in my peg for a chat. Now this guy both looked and talked the part. Amazingly he also had a tale of woe to tell. Despite being the angler who had recently caught the 25lb'er he had fished hard last year, for a tally of six fish. This was starting to blow my mind. Relating my own sob story about lost fish and blanks, I happened to comment that I can't even catch one of the Bream. "You wont mate, they have all been taken out" came the innocent reply. BINGO! "And"......
What there's an and?

"Five of the old originals passed away over the last year" I instantly knew he was telling the truth, everything fitted like a glove. What a revelation, I am mighty pleased that he chose to stop and talk, not just hurry past to his choice of peg. True, I would have found out sooner or later, but at least I now know what I am up against.

The rest of the day passed by uneventful. Even seriously overstaying my welcome, virtually having to be thrown off, could not produce a last minute reprieve.

So that's the story so far, as I type my blog is now up to date. I will not be venturing out doing battle with the crowds Easter week, so my next trip will be after the kids go back to school.

I have now resigned myself to the fact that on this particular water, I have it all to learn again. Talk about goal posts being moved, they are positively out of site. While I find my feet, there will be a fair bit of blanking to be done, and I hope I will not bore you too much along the way. On the bright side the water is now a proper Carp water, with a realistic stock density, natural food as well as the Carp having decades of experience to fall back on. How much the Carp will grow, over the next few years is any ones guess. But one thing is for certain, they will grow, and I expect great things for the future of this water.

Lets hope I have great things to report next week.