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Understanding Why And How You Are Catching
when I arrived would be going home
later that morning, so I left the barrow
at the entrance to the swim and went
for a wander just to kill time. I had
noticed a lot of fish showing in front
of a swim called Goose Shit, and I was
tempted to move onto there, but as I
didn’t know the spots I decided to fish
Boathouse, as I knew the marks and
baiting up was easy. The angler finally
vacated the Boathouse, and I was
able to set up. I launched three rods
out to the long spot, and deposited
several kilos of the ever-trusted tiger
nut boilie onto the area, and sat back
and waited. By the end of the afternoon there were only, two anglers on
– me, and another opposite me. The
night passed uneventfully; it was
another bright night due to the full
moon, and I sat up for hours watching
the swans and making sure they
didn’t pick my lines up as they had
decided to take up residence in front
of me. It was quite a chilly night, and
I had a more than gentle breeze blowing into me, which was quite fresh. I
bet the angler opposite wasn’t suffering as the wind was going over the
top of him. I eventually fell asleep and
woke up just after first light really
feeling the cold. I had blanked during
PB common – get in there!
the night, but wasn’t too worried, as
we hadn’t got to proper bite time yet.
I made the first cuppa of the day,
which led to another, and then I had a
look in the small bay behind me
through the trees just to see if anything had crept into the margins
overnight. It’s customary; I do it every
morning when fishing Boathouse, and
it had managed to put a couple of
extra bonus fish on the bank over the
seasons, as I have baited an area and
left a rod there for the following morning.
It must have been light for a couple
of hours, and I was just sat on the
bedchair looking out from under the
brolly when I had a couple of beeps.
The nearest rod had the bobbin
pulled up tight to the rod, and the tip
was beginning to pull up and round
as I had finally got a pick-up. Before
the line was out of the clip, I had the
rod bent over and into full test curve
so as to stop the fish kiting around the
back of the island. Once the fish was
under control and back on my side of
the island, it was chesties on and out
in the shallows with a landing net.
The fight was pretty normal for Welly;
I knew it was another lump, and it just
plodded around slowly and used its
weight. I could see it was a common,
and knew it was a good 30, but I hadn’t planned on netting this particular
fish, as I think it had only been out
once since I had been on the syndicate. I eventually landed her, and on
the scales she went 38lb 8oz. She was
called the Small Tailed Common.
There was one other fish out that
night to the angler opposite; he
caught a fish called the Chinese Common at over 37lb. Only two fish
caught, both big commons, and from
a water that holds more big mirrors
than anything. Out of possibly 300
fish there might be only four commons over 35lb at that particular time
when we were fishing, and we caught
two of them. Different baits, different
rigs, different areas. The only common
thing was the full moon.
The next few months were
absolutely amazing fishing, and I was
catching numbers of large fish with
several mirrors into the low 40’s and
loads more over 35lb. They were the
sorts of catches that you would read
about from some of the famous
French venues, but this was here in
the UK – mad. I had caught quite a
few commons, but mainly 20’s with
only the odd scraper-30. It wasn’t
until we were coming out of the summer, and I had fished an overnighter
in Bramble Bay that I caught my next
big common. There was a lot of weed
in the bay this year, and it was
becoming a bit of a nightmare as
large rafts of it were floating all over
the place, wiping your lines out and
dragging your rigs all over the place.
The lake was very busy, and the one
area that I could see fish that wasn’t
being fished was an area I had fished
to from a different swim earlier in the
season. However, due to the amount
of weed in that swim it was now
unfishable. I looked at the area with
the fish, and reasoned that if I could
clear some weed that was securing
the large raft of floating weed, then
the breeze that was blowing out of
the bay would eventually move the
floating weed, making the swim fishable. With my chesties on and a spod
and marker rod, I went about trying to
clear some weed to make the swim
fishable. It took me about two hours
before I was able to get a rod in the
water, but by evening I was actually
fishing with two rods. It was a proper
balmy summer evening, flat calm and
very warm, and carp could be seen
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