FREE LINE 03 - Page 91

The Magic of Redmire
t’s getting close now. In fact
there’s just two weeks, two
days and fourteen hours to
go. That is all the time that
stands between me and the
start of my session on the
most hallowed and most famous of
carp waters, Redmire Pool. It is perhaps unusual to start writing about a
session a little more than two weeks
before it even begins, but there is a
reason. You see for me, today, tomorrow, and every second of the next two
weeks is all part of the experience
that is going to Redmire for the first
In theory, Redmire Pool is a carp
lake the same as any other, so then
why is it that I have felt the need to
re-spool all of my reels, check and recheck all of my tackle, and read and
re-read Redmire Pool by Kevin Clifford and Len Arbery? Is it because of
the countless books and articles that
I’ve read about the place? Is it
because of the stories of mythical
monsters, past and present? Is it the
dozens of famous, in fact legendary
anglers who have graced the banks of
the tiny pool? Maybe it’s a little bit of
all of those things, along with the fact
that it is such a major part of making
carp fishing as it is today. I can’t quite
put my finger on it, but there is definitely still a magical feeling surrounding the place that is often described
as ‘the carp angler’s Wembley’.
Will it feel that magical when I first
set my eyes upon the dam wall? I
don’t know, but I really can’t wait to
find out. If I catch a fish or two then
great, but I can honestly say that it
really doesn’t seem that important. I
am hoping that just being there will
be enough…
The journey to the pool took some
three hours, and for the last twenty
minutes of it, I turned the radio off so
that I could fully appreciate my surroundings. When the little screen on
the dashboard was telling me that
there was just five minutes to go, I
decided to find somewhere to pull
over to give Galvin and Carl (my companions for the next few days) a
chance to catch up. I came to a farm
entrance that looked perfect, and, as
luck would have it, the sign on the
fence read ‘Bernithan Court Farm.’ I
had arrived! It was excitement like I
hadn’t felt for years; in fact the last
time I’d felt anything like it was as a
child on Christmas morning.
The guys were close behind me
and soon arrived. I noticed that they
were wearing ridiculous grins just as I
was, even though the rain was relentless, and the air incredibly cold. The
first port of call was Les Bamford’s
cottage where we received a warm
welcome from both him and his crazy
dog ‘Rosie’. We each drank a much
needed mug of tea as we chatted
away about all things Redmire. It was
almost excruciating to be so close
without actually being there, and I
could tell that the other guys were
feeling the same as I was.
Eventually though we all got what
we had been waiting for as Les
offered to show us around the lake.
That ridiculous grin was returning!
The icy rain continued to fall as we
drove down the hill, and it was there
that I got my first glimpse of the most
famous lake in carp fishing. It was
only a glimpse, but it was a great
teaser. We pulled into the car park as
hundreds had done before us, and
there in front of us lay Redmire Pool.
Even on a cold, windy and rainy day
in the middle of November, the lake
looked wonderful. The first swim that
we came to was The Evening Pitch
where we all stood without speaking
for a while, taking it all in. I had a
(Top) I had arrived.
(Right) My first view of the dam wall.


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