It was a very early start, especially as the previous day was spent angling and stalking which takes a lot out of you, much more than just sitting. It was the long awaited return to Waggoners Wells, only this time I was hoping to capture one of those stunning carp on the traditional tackle I now possess. Apart from my very first trip to WW, I have kept a 100% record landing at least one fish on every trip, a record I was quite proud of, but without the modern wizardry at my disposal, I wondered if I’d be at a disadvantage and whether the fish would get the better of me. Whatever happened, it would be great to use the kind of tackle the likes of Chris Yates and Chris Ball used when they fished the venue, so I felt I was in good company.
The alarm sounded at 3:45am and I arrived at a chilly Waggoners Wells just before five. It was 12 degrees when I left home but as I got deeper and deeper in to the countryside the temperature dropped, it was down to nine degrees on arrival and I was thankful of my thick jumper. I left the car in the lay-by, passed the first two ponds and arrived at one of my favourite places all alone. I’ve written before about those first couple of hours, never the most productive but the atmosphere is second to none, chilling yes, but it’s as if I now have a bond with the place, and that morning it welcomed me back after my absence. It was still and quiet, the breeze was to come later but for now everything was at a motionless stand still.
A quick stroll around the pool brought me feelings of concern; confidence wasn’t high due to the colour of the water. It was coloured, visibility was poor, with visibility being my greatest ally when stalking the margins. Fishing blind means you are probably fishing an area with no fish, so many times before I’ve spotted fish, moved in quietly and caught them, without that vision it was to be a tough ride, whatever tackle I had in tow. I fished from the dam for the first hour or so, where the water runs out of the pool. I used the pin first off and float fished just off the ledge in around three feet of water, and area that has brought me success in the past early in the mornings due to the bubbling that occurs in this area. It’s as if they have their breakfast here before bobbing to the surface when the sun comes into view and cruising around the pool and margins throughout the day.
As soon as the sun shone on most of the pool I decided to investigate and see if anything looked like feeding off the top, with the poor visibility in the margins I thought this would be my best course of action. One or two fish were already showing, dark shapes gliding through at various spots just under the surface. I took up residence in the second swim down from the picket fence, this area has a good marginal slope and there are ferns growing from the front providing cover when fishing close in. It’s also a good area for floater fishing due to the large area of water it commands. Gradually a few other anglers arrived, followed by the usual army of dog walkers and families. I fed the swim with a few mixers and sat back with the float fishing the margins. Roach were the first to take an interest in the floaters, and they must have been decent roach too as eventually they all disappeared. Out went some more and again, they vanished, but the carp took no notice. Such is the way at WW, it’s nigh on impossible to get the carp really going on the mixers, a pod might cruise through, take one or two, but then move on leaving you wondering why they didn’t stop longer. Perhaps it’s how they’ve been fished for too many times, perhaps they have wised up and no longer feed with gusto from the surface, but most of the fish I’ve caught there have come to a single bait cast carefully into its path. So with this in mind, and more fish now swimming around in front of me, I swapped the pin for the Mitchell, rigged up with a Natural Wood Controller and cast out a piece of crust between the two sets of lilies most of the fish were cruising between.
I did have the one chance, a pod of around six carp swam through on exactly the right line and one rose in the water, opened its mouth and sucked. The bread went in but the hook stayed put, it was a cut loaf I had with me picked up from the service station on the way and it was obviously too soft once waterlogged. All the time I was peering into the margins in front of me, looking for any sign that something may have been feeding in the margins, but I saw nothing. It was then I decided to have a look at the middle pond, this pond also contains carp, but as fishing is only allowed from one bank, and the margins being very snaggy, it was far from ideal, but I’ve still caught a few nice fish from here and it has saved me a blank in the past when the top pond is being unwelcoming. There was one particular fish I spotted, an odd looking mirror, lovely chestnut in colour but with an odd bulged belly, it looked rather odd when it swam away from me but it was a character fish so I wanted to see it on the bank. I took up position behind a large tree and watched as Lumpy and a dark common swam out from the snaggy tree, with their heads facing the other way I cast my free-lined crust to the edge of said tree and watched from behind my cover. They did a little circuit but headed back towards the tree and my crust. The mirror looked the most interested snatching at a leaf two feet from the bait and heading in just the right direction, as it surfaced I stepped back to hide myself even more, stepped on a dry branch snapping it and watched Lumpy and his friend about turn and swim over to the no fishing bank. The crack wasn’t that loud, but was obviously loud enough. I looked around in a few other likely looking gaps in trees but there were no more carp to be seen. A heavy shower came from nowhere; I hid under the cover of some dense foliage and waited for it to subside whilst contemplating my next move.
After a brief chat with Poacher, the bailiff, I returned to the top pond with renewed optimism. Fish were still ghosting around and I really did think that the one crust tactic would eventually pay off. And it nearly did a couple of times, but for some reason they were just too spooky with all the chances I had failing at the final moment with a big swirl and no hooked fish. Time was getting on, I tried and tried for a few hours but by 3:30pm it looked as if my good run was finally coming to an end. I enjoyed the challenge though, I always do, but it was time for one last look at the middle pond before heading off home. The first few gaps were devoid of carp, but a few trees on I found Lumpy with a group of three others, all commons. The overhanging tree to the left was reaching deep into the water, so if I did manage to hook one I’d have to make sure I steered it clear of that one or a loss was certain. I watched for a while and they followed the same routine, off around the hanging tree and back out into open water. Once again I waited for them to turn their backs and out went the crust. They were back within minutes and it was Lumpy who was first to enquire. Up he came, looked at the crust and turned a full circle, came back and looked again and blew the crust making it swirl, very odd behaviour but he knew something was adrift. With that the group swam back off around the hanging tree but never returned.
It was then I admitted defeat, I didn’t put it down to the tackle I was using, that only made the experience more enjoyable and if the fish were in a more obliging mood it would have been so much different. I did have my bag of tricks with me, modern end tackle meaning I could have tied up a wonder rig and ledgered it in the margin, but it didn’t feel right, I’d come this far to be using the tackle I was, I didn’t want to spoil it by using a bolt rig, not this day anyway. With the rod and net packed down I headed for the car, but as I got level with the shallow end of the middle pond I spotted a fish moving through over the silt. I laid my things on the ground and went down for a closer look. A new spot I’d never visited before the swim was like a secret, tucked away out of sight you had to clamber through a small opening to find it, and once in it there wasn’t much room. But what there was plenty of was fish, I’d finally found that opportunity that could save the day. There were maybe half a dozen fish cruising over the shallows and another half a dozen under an overhang just to my left. The margin was horrible, very shallow, covered in twigs, branches and leaves and I imagined it to be black, deep smelly silt underneath. But this was too good to pass up, I was quickly back out through the gap, re-assembles the rod and retuned with net and a slice of mothers pride. On went a small piece of crust, a quick dip in the edge to give weight for casting and a gentle underarm flick sent the crust exactly where I wanted it close to the overhang. Two fish showed interest but turned away, I thought it was going to be the top pond all over again, but then a dark fish came from the other direction and made no hesitations at all engulfing the crust and turning away. I swung the rod high over my head and an almighty eruption sent silt, leaves and twigs flying everywhere. The Mitchell screamed and the rod hooped over, a battle curve to be proud of. Again, the same as the day previous, the battle was immense, the power of the fish coupled with the action of the rod made for a battle of epic proportions. I had to wade out to find water deep enough to actually net the fish, luckily the silt didn’t reach the top of my wellys and I soon had the fish wallowing around and ready for the net. In went the fish along with a good dose of twigs and black leaves. I waded back to shore exhausted but the victor, the adrenalin was pumping and the whole experience left me totally lost for words.
It was a beautiful fish, they all are at WW. Not the biggest but I could honestly catch those fish every day, regardless of size. I took a few snaps and waded back into deeper water to return the wonderful creature. Still smiling I sat for a while, to take it all in and to see if the others returned to the spot. I sat for twenty minutes or so, saw a few fish cruise through out near the opposite bank and even spotted a kingfisher, but no more opportunities came my way. More than happy with the day’s proceedings I packed down the rod and net and made my way back to the car. I really didn’t think it was going to happen but it only takes that one opportunity to turn a special day into the best day ever. I left for home well leased, and brimming with confidence for the next trip, wherever that may be.....
The alarm sounded at 3:45am and I arrived at a chilly Waggoners Wells just before five. It was 12 degrees when I left home but as I got deeper and deeper in to the countryside the temperature dropped, it was down to nine degrees on arrival and I was thankful of my thick jumper. I left the car in the lay-by, passed the first two ponds and arrived at one of my favourite places all alone. I’ve written before about those first couple of hours, never the most productive but the atmosphere is second to none, chilling yes, but it’s as if I now have a bond with the place, and that morning it welcomed me back after my absence. It was still and quiet, the breeze was to come later but for now everything was at a motionless stand still.
A quick stroll around the pool brought me feelings of concern; confidence wasn’t high due to the colour of the water. It was coloured, visibility was poor, with visibility being my greatest ally when stalking the margins. Fishing blind means you are probably fishing an area with no fish, so many times before I’ve spotted fish, moved in quietly and caught them, without that vision it was to be a tough ride, whatever tackle I had in tow. I fished from the dam for the first hour or so, where the water runs out of the pool. I used the pin first off and float fished just off the ledge in around three feet of water, and area that has brought me success in the past early in the mornings due to the bubbling that occurs in this area. It’s as if they have their breakfast here before bobbing to the surface when the sun comes into view and cruising around the pool and margins throughout the day.
As soon as the sun shone on most of the pool I decided to investigate and see if anything looked like feeding off the top, with the poor visibility in the margins I thought this would be my best course of action. One or two fish were already showing, dark shapes gliding through at various spots just under the surface. I took up residence in the second swim down from the picket fence, this area has a good marginal slope and there are ferns growing from the front providing cover when fishing close in. It’s also a good area for floater fishing due to the large area of water it commands. Gradually a few other anglers arrived, followed by the usual army of dog walkers and families. I fed the swim with a few mixers and sat back with the float fishing the margins. Roach were the first to take an interest in the floaters, and they must have been decent roach too as eventually they all disappeared. Out went some more and again, they vanished, but the carp took no notice. Such is the way at WW, it’s nigh on impossible to get the carp really going on the mixers, a pod might cruise through, take one or two, but then move on leaving you wondering why they didn’t stop longer. Perhaps it’s how they’ve been fished for too many times, perhaps they have wised up and no longer feed with gusto from the surface, but most of the fish I’ve caught there have come to a single bait cast carefully into its path. So with this in mind, and more fish now swimming around in front of me, I swapped the pin for the Mitchell, rigged up with a Natural Wood Controller and cast out a piece of crust between the two sets of lilies most of the fish were cruising between.
I did have the one chance, a pod of around six carp swam through on exactly the right line and one rose in the water, opened its mouth and sucked. The bread went in but the hook stayed put, it was a cut loaf I had with me picked up from the service station on the way and it was obviously too soft once waterlogged. All the time I was peering into the margins in front of me, looking for any sign that something may have been feeding in the margins, but I saw nothing. It was then I decided to have a look at the middle pond, this pond also contains carp, but as fishing is only allowed from one bank, and the margins being very snaggy, it was far from ideal, but I’ve still caught a few nice fish from here and it has saved me a blank in the past when the top pond is being unwelcoming. There was one particular fish I spotted, an odd looking mirror, lovely chestnut in colour but with an odd bulged belly, it looked rather odd when it swam away from me but it was a character fish so I wanted to see it on the bank. I took up position behind a large tree and watched as Lumpy and a dark common swam out from the snaggy tree, with their heads facing the other way I cast my free-lined crust to the edge of said tree and watched from behind my cover. They did a little circuit but headed back towards the tree and my crust. The mirror looked the most interested snatching at a leaf two feet from the bait and heading in just the right direction, as it surfaced I stepped back to hide myself even more, stepped on a dry branch snapping it and watched Lumpy and his friend about turn and swim over to the no fishing bank. The crack wasn’t that loud, but was obviously loud enough. I looked around in a few other likely looking gaps in trees but there were no more carp to be seen. A heavy shower came from nowhere; I hid under the cover of some dense foliage and waited for it to subside whilst contemplating my next move.
After a brief chat with Poacher, the bailiff, I returned to the top pond with renewed optimism. Fish were still ghosting around and I really did think that the one crust tactic would eventually pay off. And it nearly did a couple of times, but for some reason they were just too spooky with all the chances I had failing at the final moment with a big swirl and no hooked fish. Time was getting on, I tried and tried for a few hours but by 3:30pm it looked as if my good run was finally coming to an end. I enjoyed the challenge though, I always do, but it was time for one last look at the middle pond before heading off home. The first few gaps were devoid of carp, but a few trees on I found Lumpy with a group of three others, all commons. The overhanging tree to the left was reaching deep into the water, so if I did manage to hook one I’d have to make sure I steered it clear of that one or a loss was certain. I watched for a while and they followed the same routine, off around the hanging tree and back out into open water. Once again I waited for them to turn their backs and out went the crust. They were back within minutes and it was Lumpy who was first to enquire. Up he came, looked at the crust and turned a full circle, came back and looked again and blew the crust making it swirl, very odd behaviour but he knew something was adrift. With that the group swam back off around the hanging tree but never returned.
It was then I admitted defeat, I didn’t put it down to the tackle I was using, that only made the experience more enjoyable and if the fish were in a more obliging mood it would have been so much different. I did have my bag of tricks with me, modern end tackle meaning I could have tied up a wonder rig and ledgered it in the margin, but it didn’t feel right, I’d come this far to be using the tackle I was, I didn’t want to spoil it by using a bolt rig, not this day anyway. With the rod and net packed down I headed for the car, but as I got level with the shallow end of the middle pond I spotted a fish moving through over the silt. I laid my things on the ground and went down for a closer look. A new spot I’d never visited before the swim was like a secret, tucked away out of sight you had to clamber through a small opening to find it, and once in it there wasn’t much room. But what there was plenty of was fish, I’d finally found that opportunity that could save the day. There were maybe half a dozen fish cruising over the shallows and another half a dozen under an overhang just to my left. The margin was horrible, very shallow, covered in twigs, branches and leaves and I imagined it to be black, deep smelly silt underneath. But this was too good to pass up, I was quickly back out through the gap, re-assembles the rod and retuned with net and a slice of mothers pride. On went a small piece of crust, a quick dip in the edge to give weight for casting and a gentle underarm flick sent the crust exactly where I wanted it close to the overhang. Two fish showed interest but turned away, I thought it was going to be the top pond all over again, but then a dark fish came from the other direction and made no hesitations at all engulfing the crust and turning away. I swung the rod high over my head and an almighty eruption sent silt, leaves and twigs flying everywhere. The Mitchell screamed and the rod hooped over, a battle curve to be proud of. Again, the same as the day previous, the battle was immense, the power of the fish coupled with the action of the rod made for a battle of epic proportions. I had to wade out to find water deep enough to actually net the fish, luckily the silt didn’t reach the top of my wellys and I soon had the fish wallowing around and ready for the net. In went the fish along with a good dose of twigs and black leaves. I waded back to shore exhausted but the victor, the adrenalin was pumping and the whole experience left me totally lost for words.
It was a beautiful fish, they all are at WW. Not the biggest but I could honestly catch those fish every day, regardless of size. I took a few snaps and waded back into deeper water to return the wonderful creature. Still smiling I sat for a while, to take it all in and to see if the others returned to the spot. I sat for twenty minutes or so, saw a few fish cruise through out near the opposite bank and even spotted a kingfisher, but no more opportunities came my way. More than happy with the day’s proceedings I packed down the rod and net and made my way back to the car. I really didn’t think it was going to happen but it only takes that one opportunity to turn a special day into the best day ever. I left for home well leased, and brimming with confidence for the next trip, wherever that may be.....
First time visitor but I'll be back, lovely blog and a great tale :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks Dave
ReplyDeleteGlad you like the blog. Almost the weekend so hopefully a new tale to tell...
SK
Hello Mate,
ReplyDeleteGreat blog , spent a lot of time walking around WW , not fished it yet though. Could you email me robinreynolds@gmail.com
Cheers