freeline-29 - Page 161



Magical Captures
Single Scale at 44lb 9oz.
cles, and then I slipped into the margins of the End Works. Once a few
returners were taken, I lowered him
back amongst the tiny lilies and
watched my long-awaited and most
hard-earned capture of my life waddle back to its rock hard home. I’d
finally caught my Car Park mirror, but
now I’d caught one, maybe, just
maybe I could catch another one!
The lake had cast its spell on me,
and little did I know that it would be
many years before I could break that
spell, as the Car Park Lake and its
inhabitants would possess my mind.
At the start of July and having
clocked up 15 or 16 nights already
that season, I arrived about 7pm after
finishing work, and with bucket in
hand, went hurriedly in search of a
plot. I stopped at the Islands and after
a chat with Steve Pagulatos; it
appeared the fish were active in the
big weedbed in front of Trumpton’s.
Both Waiting Man’s and Trumpton’s
were free, but it appeared that Chilly
had given up trying to find any clear
areas and had set up in the Dugout
instead. With Des’ and the Curly both
taken, I’d have to find something in
Trumpton’s if I was to be on the fish.
I did a quick U-turn and moving the
car up behind the Gate swim, quickly
loaded the barrow and headed
Trumpton’s bound, whizzing it round
the short distance. My plan was to
fish one on a spot I knew of in Waiting
Man’s, but cast to it, if possible, from
Trumpton’s, leaving me to fish the
other rod straight out to the pylon
area, hopefully getting two bites of
the cherry.
With the marker rod in hand, I went
into Waiting Man’s and after a couple
of casts found the clear area and
popped the float up. Walking back
into the Trumpton’s boards I eyed it
up from there. With the trees to the
right of the swim, it would be an awkward cast, but the thing that bothered
me most was the lump of surface
weed directly in line immediately
before the spot. The line lay would be
awful, and with the line at such a
steep angle, I’d be sussed in double
quick time. I therefore wound the float
in, as that spot wasn’t a goer from
Trumpton’s.
For the next hour and a half I stood
on that board thrashing that water to
a foam in the vain hope of finding a
clear hole. With sweat pouring from
my brow and thoroughly hacked off, I
threw the rod in the rushes and
stormed off round the lake to cool
down and cool off. I went back round
to see Steve and Rick where one of
them, I can’t remember which one,
offered me a beer. Normally I wouldn’t
until the rods were sorted, but I was
so wound up, I gratefully cracked one
open, and swigging it down, headed
up to see Odd in the Curly. After a
good whinging session to all of them,
I had to decide what to do, as the light
would soon be gone. I could move
round to the Bars, which had a few
clear spots, but with the fish not in
that vicinity it seemed pointless to
move. As I pondered my next move I
called in to see Chilly as I made my
way back to Trumpton’s. He was on
the phone to Lynn but after a couple
of minutes said his goodbyes, and
after having a quick chat with the old
fella it appeared from what he’d seen
earlier that the back of Des’ area was
the place to be.
With literally quarter of an hour
before it was dark, I decided I could
get one rod on the Waiting Man’s spot
but fish it from Waiting Man’s; this
way the line would fall down the side
of the floating stuff as opposed to over
it. At least I’d have a rig in the right
area of the lake!
With the raft of weed still just visible in the fast fading light I could use
this as my marker, and as long as I
went just left and a few feet past it, I
should land on the spot. I quickly part
drilled out a Brazil and with a cork
insert, tied to it onto the ring on a Drigged Big T with a mono hooklink.
Hopefully a tangle wouldn’t be an
issue. The first couple of casts the
lead caught the weed on the way
down so whizzing it back in, I recast.
This time it went too far and landed in
the weed at the back of the spot. I
needed to land about five feet past
the floating stuff, but with it now
semi-dark it was getting hard to
judge. I skipped the lead in again and
checking the bait, noticed the floss
had cut the soft nut, so cursing my
luck, ran back to Trumpton’s where all
my gear still was, and with a new
hookbait back on, legged it back to
Waiting Man’s, took a deep breath,
used the force and smoothly let the
lead sail out, feathering it down
behind the ever so slightly visible
weed. It looked good and with a
smooth, clean drop, I was so relieved
to feel it hit bottom. Not only did it hit
the lakebed, it went down with a tipvibrating crack. I let out a “Hallelujah”
shout, which was answered with
clapping from the far bank. Now
happy I had a rig in the water, I
thought I’d better put some bait
around it.
With tigers being so successful and
enjoyed by the CP carp I had a few in
my spod mix, and although they are
well-liked, I felt they might now be
FREE LINE 79





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