FL02 PDF (212pp) - Page 207

Making The Most Of It
passing the rod over my head as the
boat pirouetted like a drunken skater.
Each time the fish began to rise I was
frantically pulling off huge strands of
weed from the main line, to get direct
contact and as much control as I
could. It must have been comical to
watch but it was getting more and
more frustrating, and if I’d lost that
fish I could only have blamed myself.
At any point I felt it could come free
and several times I had to put the rod
down in the boat so as to use both
hands to winch in the line. As I had
hold of the line, trying to haul the carp
and its smothering weed-ball to the
surface, the weed fell free and the fish
powered off, tearing the line from my
fingers and nearly pulling the rod
from the boat.
After what felt like hours, it finally
became exhausted before I did and I
bundled it into the net. The fish was
mine at last and I’d grafted for every
ounce of it. I paddled back to the bank
with no idea what I had in the net,
and, as my trembling fingers switched
on the torch, a stunning, mahoganycoloured carp lay beached and beaten
(Right) B5 bonanza.
(Below) The trees were telling
autumn was on the way.
in the cradle. It weighed 30lbs 5oz
and it was a fish that I had never
before seen. I soon had the fish safely
sacked-up and I didn’t bother to
recast. I didn’t bother to sleep, either,
checking on the fish every half an
hour or so.
At first light I looked into the bay.
What a difference my battles with
those fish had made! The spots were
covered in weed ripped up during my
rucks with the carp and the whole
bay looked devoid of any life. I had
previous experience of this and knew
that one fish from here usually killed
it, so to have two ensured I was packing up. Half an hour later I was sitting
watching the water, cuppa in hand
viewing the main part of the lake as
the steam from my tea misted-up my
Polaroids with every sip. Hmmm…
what to do next, that was the question.
Again, it was a still, almost eerie
morning, totally flat-calm and seem-
ingly lifeless. I’d seen the lake like this
before, though, and I knew that I
didn’t dare take my eyes from the
water because a sign would come, I
was certain of that. Sure enough, the
still of that morning was fractured by
a big black shape erupting through
the lake’s mirror-like surface. As the
ripples reached my bank, I was
already on the way to intercept the
carp. This was the swim in which I
had cleared the pathway through the
weed bed and an area I knew well.
Once I got round there it was evident the fish hadn’t shown exactly on
the main clear area, but it was close
enough. I cast out the rods but held
back on any baiting until I was sure
my chance of a quick pick-up had
gone. Frustratingly, nothing else
showed but by now the sun was up
and, to the accompaniment of a light
breeze, it held real promise for this
part of the lake. I risked a quick baiting sortie from the boat and, as I
peered into the blue-green depths, a
yellow strip shone back at me. Now
this was something I could work
Such was my confidence, I went for
it with the bait as six kilos of my new
B5 boilies and five jars of the CC
Moore’s particles were deposited
right on it. Subtle approach, or what?
I then marked my line and cast my
hook bait onto the slightly softer silt


Powered by

Full screen Click to read
Paperturn flip book system
Download as PDF
Shopping cart
Full screen
Exit full screen