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Diary Of A Carp Addict
for the next day.
The sun was out the next morning
as I made my way back, and my spot
was totally coloured, so I got a rod out
sharpish and sat back. After a while I
noticed the water clearing around my
spot; the fish must have moved off.
40-odd yards to my left the bank’s
shape made a small bay, which was
the area where I had caught the little
renegade. The wind was blowing in
there, and the water was coloured. I
wound my rod in, grabbed the net,
and crept down. I flicked the rod out,
and as it hit the water two big bow
waves headed off out dam. I climbed
that same tree again, and as I looked
down I saw the couple of fish that had
left the area. They were two good fish,
at least 30lb’ers, and ones I did not
recognise. As I watched them they
were moving from my earlier spot to
this little bay. I watched them come
close to the bank, and then all of a
sudden kick their tails and bolt off as
if spooked, only to return and start
what looked like having a feed. As
they proceeded to do this, a few more
fish came and joined them, including
the big girl. I watched them for ages
and learnt a lot that day. When they
were spooking off they weren’t actually spooking; they were kicking up all
the naturals from within the weed
and coming back and feeding on it.
They were working in groups as if
communicating, and I had never seen
this before. All I could do was try to
get a bait in the areas they were stirring up. I thought I would spend the
rest of the day bobbing between my
spot I had cleared and the little bay.
Throughout the day, like on other
occasions, I had fish right on me with
their tails out of the water, and still no
pick-ups. All of this was going on,
knowing the big’un was amongst the
fish.
I was feeling that surely soon one
would make a mistake, and I was up
and down the tree like a yo-yo. All I
hoped was that no one would turn up,
but just as I thought it I saw an angler
walking round with his bucket. As he
walked past my little spot there were
obviously some fish on it, as he
dropped his bucket there. I was
trapped in my little corner now, with
fish still about, but with more lines
out my confidence had gone, and to
make things worse, a large heard of
cows came over and had a stroll up
and down the margins. It was time to
head back to the missus for a bottle of
wine… I just had to mention the
cows, as there was a good-sized gang
of them, of maybe 20-plus, and when
they appeared they did cause lots of
havoc; they would chew anything
and lick everything. I remember one
night they surrounded me when I was
under the brolly. They were sitting all
around me, pissing and farting, and I
couldn’t even see my rods. I ended up
talking to them for while, but then I
just had to get rid of them. It took a
while and I had to be a bit firm with
the leader, which was a big-horned
bull. We didn’t really see eye to eye,
him and me, but begrudgingly he led
them away.
I had it all planned on my next trip,
and I was going to get one. My
approach was to get back to the same
area; I was going to use Polaris floats,
thus keeping my lines out of the
water, and for bait I would use little
bunches of maggots and lobworms,
keeping to naturals, as that was definitely their preferred food source at
the time, so I couldn’t fail. I can’t
remember where I was at the time
when I got the text that young
Richard had bagged the big’un, and
although my heart sank, I was well
happy for him. He had already caught
the big common, and needed the big
girl, so very well done, mate. Incidentally she came from that area, so it’s
all about being there at the right time.
Rich caught her at 42lb-plus, her
summer weight, and that made my
mind up to move off for now and
return next spring. I had learnt lots
over at that lake, and I am really looking forward to returning, but my
(Top right) Rick’s party.
(Left) A morning brew.
FREE LINE 55

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