FL02 PDF (212pp) - Page 203



Making The Most Of It
I
t was late September and I
was making my way across a
dew-drenched field to the
lake, with the barrow loaded
with enough provisions for a
two-night session. I had
already done a couple of sessions in
the previous weeks with some success and couldn’t wait to get back. I
had also sneakily kept my presence
there, and the results I’d had, totally
secret from the other members.
The ‘secret squirrel’ deal isn’t part
of my normal approach at all, but selfish or not, I knew I had only a short
window to exploit and the fact the
lake had been almost neglected for
several weeks due to the excessive
weed growth, had played into my
hands even more. I must admit to
quite enjoying this clandestine
approach and even dragged my wife
into the deception by briefing her
with my plan and instructing her asking nicely, obviously!) not to disclose
my location to anyone. I had taken it
to the extreme, too, in covering my
tracks while I was there, which added
to the whole carpy experience. The
other factor that was driving me at
this time was that, due to an impending new arrival in the Golder household, this was to be last session for a
while and I felt under considerable
pressure to make it all count.
To that end I vowed to try my hardest while fishing. We’re all supposed
to be doing that anyway, but I’ve
been as guilty as anyone in just settling into the going swim and waiting
for it all to unfold for me, rather than
actually making it happen. I had been
fortunate in having some success on
the venue by visiting a couple of days
prior to my sessions, armed with kilos
of boilies and particle and priming the
spots. This had worked well, especially so when there was no real
angler competition on the water and I
was all but assured of getting into the
primed spots. However, I now wanted
a change and going back to the best
advice of ‘first find the fish’ was the
way forward for me.
The main reason for this was one
particular fish. Early in the spring on
one of the first warm days of the year,
I was peering into one of the shel-
tered bays watching a number of the
lake’s residents enjoying the sun after
the long winter. They were all there,
too, and I could identify a number of
the main players, one of which was
the distinctive linear that I had
caught the previous September at a
top weight of 41lbs. This fish cruised
in and out beneath my position and
was accompanied by two other fish
that I also recognised. Soon after,
another fish joined the group and I
held my breath as it began to pick at
unseen food items on the marginal
shelf below me.
It was visibly larger than the linear
and almost seemed to waddle in the
water as it made its way off. I knew
this fish and a few years back it was
one of the more friendly ones that
would visit the bank a number of
times a season, although not to my
rods I hasten to add. It had last been
out some three years ago at a weight
of 39lbs-plus and had traditionally
been heavier than the linear. In fact, it
had been out three times that month
and then evaded capture since.
As I continued watching, almost in
Spring success ensured an autumn return.
FREE LINE 203

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