Goodbye Mr Carp...

This week I said goodbye to carp fishing for 2013 and hello to preparations for hunting other species. The trip to Waggoners Wells was like any other, apart from the fact I had a float rod in tow with a view to targeting the other fish that live in those magical waters. The thinking behind this was that the carp were all so special, so maybe there were other equally special fish living with them.

I woke ten minutes before the 5:45 alarm, did my best to get dressed in the dark whilst avoiding waking the wife and baby, tiptoed downstairs to make a flask of coffee and left the house somewhere around 6. The roads were deserted, the car isn’t in the best of shape with soot exiting the tailpipe at random moments (a sure sign it is soon to be visiting the scrap yard in the sky), but it got me there in one piece just before 7.

Walking past the middle pond I spotted one or two carp. I put out some broken bread and sat against a tree stump watching whilst I enjoyed the first coffee of the day, treating myself to half a dozen Malted Milk’s as breakfast. A kingfisher whizzed past, he was up early. The carp went about their business and failed to bother my crusts, so on I trudged with the bottom pond with the thought of that first WW carp on cane wedged firmly in my mind.

The carp seemed to be mostly at the shallow end, which to my delight meant I could fish for them from the end of the fallen oak. This swim is wonderful, people don’t walk past asking questions, dogs don’t tackle its slippery branch in case of falling in, so I would say it’s the most peaceful swim on the pool. Having said that, getting on and off can be a bit precarious, especially after rain, and once there it isn’t easy to play and land fish, but it is more than achievable if you're careful, so that was my first port of call.



Three commons sat on the silt with water barely covering their backs, I could see them sifting for food so I squeezed a flake onto the shank, made a gentle cast past them and drew it back into position inch by inch. One of the commons moved closer to inspect it but there was such a mass of gudgeon fighting over it, the common decided not to pursue the meal and carried on sifting with his buddies.

I turned around to look back towards the first proper swim and almost fell from my precipice when I spotted Sally, the biggun, looking awesome on the morning light. She had another old fish with her, possibly Madonna (I don’t know where these names came from, but these few original fish are the stuff of dreams). I attached a crust and flicked it past the pair. At this point I was half expecting a small common to come from nowhere and ruin the whole thing, but it didn’t, instead Madonna ambled up to the bait, sucked it half into her mouth, paused a while and spat it out. I watched as the pair looked at each other, nodded and gently swam off, all I could feel was utmost respect.

I had one more chance from the tree but pretty much the same thing happened. Soon after the shallows were devoid, word was out I had to find a new spot to angle from. I might point out here that conditions were perfect, the carp were as cunning as usual, nothing changes there, but a wonderful day in September, at one of the most special places I know, containing some of the most sought after fish in the country, and I never saw another angler all day.



At various places around the pond, and on the middle too, I had at least half a dozen chances, all taking an interest in the bait, some sucking it in but me being too slow on the strike, others just mouthing it, but no fish visited the bank. Just after lunch I thought I had made my breakthrough, a mirror was hooked just to the left of the pads on the bottom pond; at last I had made contact. The fish charged towards the pads so I tried to stop the charge as best I could with the little Penn reel and Mark IV stopping the fish just shy of the pads. As it swung back towards me on an arc I felt a grating on the line, it was as though there was an unseen underwater obstacle and the line was wrapped around it. The inevitable happened and all that came back to me was the line with the last few feet frayed.

It was then I decided to stop tormenting myself, many others have told me that when those WW carp don’t want to be caught, they won’t, and I believe them wholeheartedly. I looked at my newly refurbished Avon Perfection rod on its first outing with me and moodled round to the dam to see if I could spend the rest of the afternoon watching a float in the deep margins. I set the rod up, coupled it with a small aerial reel and began float fishing with sweetcorn right under the rod tip; it was around 4 feet deep.

As I struck at the first bite (which came around 5 minutes after starting) the rod came alive, little kicks transmitted down the rod and into my hands, it was wonderful. A lively little roach of around 6oz was swung in, admired and released. This process repeated time after time and for the next half hour I caught at least a dozen fish ranging between 6 and 8oz. Then, upon striking, I had to give line for the first time. It was obviously a much better fish that was hooked, this way and that way all the time hoping it would stay on. Stay on it did and a superb fin perfect roach of 1lb 4oz was brought to shore, It was so beautiful, all thoughts of carp were so far away.



I fished on for another half hour in the hope of meeting another pounder, or possibly one even bigger. Maybe a crucian or one of the giant gudgeon I’ve been told about, but it was just roach as before, although I loved each and every one of them, I had rediscovered proper fishing. At 3pm I started to pack my things away, dinner was being cooked and some of the family were visiting, the least I could to was turn up not smelling of roach.

I really can’t wait for next week to come around. I have Friday afternoon earmarked for some gudgeon fishing on the local stream, should be fun.

Waggoners - A Reunion

This weekend was always going to be a little changeable. The weather was just that, not knowing what it would do from one hour to the next. I had to be up early to take Mum and Dad to the airport, and by early I mean 4am, and Jessica was slightly under the weather so I could get a phone call at any moment to return home. But, having said all that, I still wanted to fish somewhere, I just didn’t know where.

I returned back from the airport at around 6am, sat on the couch and began to think about where to fish. It would mean carp fishing again as the float rods were still not ready to use. My sitting on the couch turned into lying as tiredness set in and soon enough I was fast asleep. I woke around 8am with Waggoners Wells on my mind, perhaps I’d dreamt about it, and with an omen like that I just had to get there.

I made a quick stop at Tesco on the way for fresh bread and some lunch and arrived at WW at a little before 9. I pulled into the little layby nobody else seems to use; this gives more direct access to the pools and cuts walking time down a tad. I peered into the first pool and it looked great, although this one is apparently devoid of fish, I could still sit here and quite happily watch a float for a morning. The light levels were perfect with a damp mist laying among the trees so I immediately set about capturing what I could with the camera before attempting to reach for a rod.



I approached the middle pond, the scene of my most recent WW captures, and spotted a few carp doing their thing out in the centre. I spent an hour or so pacing up and down, back and forth scanning the water and looking for that opportunity whilst being quite happy just to be back at the place I hadn’t fished for over a year. There seemed to be little in the way of walkers which surprised me somewhat, but I was to later find that they must have been waiting for me to get going before they came along and ruined things.

I never made a cast in that first hour, although I did set the rod up. It was time to visit the bottom pond, the pond that holds the magic for me, with carp from a forgotten time and an aura all of its own. It dawned on me that I'd not yet managed a carp from the bottom pond on vintage tackle, If only I could find a way to ban dog walkers from unleashing Lassie on top of feeding carp. The first thing I saw was an old linear mirror just to the right of the steps (around a metre or so from where I caught 'The One') rubbing its flanks on the silt but also feeding. I watched for a while until it moved off, baited the spot and continued my tour.

That’s the beauty I find at WW, it really doesn’t see much angling pressure, I think that most folk get put off by the carp’s cunning, perhaps it’s the dog walkers, perhaps it was far enough into the season that most have been and done their thing, but whatever the reason, I was more than happy to have the place to myself. I spotted two more carp looking distinctly like though they were feeding, waited for them to move off and baited these spots making three to visit and keep an eye on in rotation.

It was whilst watching these spots and looking for new ones that I met the first of the walkers, and two big Dulux dogs decided to wade into two of my spots and cool themselves off. Then a small rat looking dog jumped into the remaining one causing a huge bow wave as what was obviously a large carp spooked off. With all this happening all at once I decided to leave the bottom pond alone for a while and return to the middle pool, just for some peace of nothing else.



When I got there I spotted the opportunity I was waiting for, 8 carp in the centre of the pool seemingly mouthing at the surface. Whether they were feeding or not remained to be seen, but I find that a group of fish always gives a much better chance than a single, solitary one, so a free-lined crust was dipped and launched as far as I could get it which landed right amongst the carp without spooking them.

At first they circled under it and drifted off. After a time, I wound in the soggy lump and recast a fresh one whilst fish were in the immediate vicinity. I like to have as fresh a crust as possible out there as I’ve had them suck it clean off the hook without moving it in the past, whereas a fresher piece stays with the hook and will, ultimately, end up in their mouths. So with a new crust and renewed confidence I watched as the group of carp turned around and headed my way.

The first fish, a small common, raised in the water, nudged the bread and turned away. Just as thought it was going to be one of those days a mirror sidled up alongside the crust, thought about it for a second and then engulfed it without hesitation. I struck and the line cut at an angle though a calm pool with pace, the Mark IV arched over and the Delmatic sang. I was mindful of the obstacles the swim offered up, on either side were trees reaching into the water around three rod lengths out and the gap I was fishing through was around 12 feet across, so not ideal.

As the fish tore off to the right I ran left, lowered the rod and managed to turn it before the line became entangled. It was then I began foolishly celebrating as the fish charged the other way much quicker than I could get right and soon the line was pulled through a branch causing a horrible tangle. I tried to free the line from the branch whilst keeping the fish from going any further and causing me even more bother. Eventually the fish was just beyond the branch, I saw it roll and a dark flank and large scales made me even more determined to land this fish.

I was emptying my pockets and readying myself for going in when the inevitable happened, the fish became detached from the hook leaving me attached to the branch and nothing else. Just then a bike rider rode past behind me trying to circumvent the many twisting branches that adorn the floor; I heard a yelp and looked up as he, and his bike, rolled dangerously close to the water down the steep slope. He was fine, brushed himself off and carried on his way, but it made the loss feel a little easier knowing it wasn’t just me having a bad day.



I made one more cast as the fish still seemed to be acting in the same way, but after just one more nudge I decided to return to the bottom pool for another look. Before managing to check my earlier spots I saw a carp feeding just left of the pads a rod length from the bank. I crept into position and as it moved off I deposited some free bait on the spot. Before I could get a rod into position two more fish came through, the mirror moved away but the smaller common dipped to feed. Even my breathing was quiet, this fish was feeding inches away from my face, I could see everything, something you can put into words, some you just can’t.

When the common finally moved on I lowered the rig into position, size 4 hook, two AAA shot and a chink of luncheon meat. I sunk the line and made sure none of the rod tip projected over the water leaving nothing to chance. I sat there for an hour and not one more fish came through, how on earth they knew I was there I’ll never get to the bottom of, but they did, somehow. Whilst looking for another opportunity the phone rang, Corrinna informed me that Jessica’s temperature was high. I was back home within the hour and took her to A&E for a check over.

For the rest of the weekend we’ve been looking after Jessica and I’m pleased to say that today she is back to her old self and will restart Nursery tomorrow.

Waggoners Sleeps...

Today I visited Waggoners Wells. Not to fish, it is now closed for fishing for three months, but just to look and admire. There weren’t many fish moving, I didn’t expect there to be, and there weren’t many folk out a-walking either. What there was though was an abundance of wonderful scenes, at every corner, and after every tree. With this I decided to snap away in the hope of capturing some of the magic that goes on down there, see what you think.....

Waggoners Revisited

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.

In the edge

Today I visited Waggoners again, after the success of last week’s trip I could think of nothing else all week, well apart from my wife’s 13 week scan, so Friday was booked off work and the relevant plans were made. With the sun appearing over the trees late in the day the previous weekend, I didn’t plan to get there until after ten, this would also let the traffic die down a bit.

I got there, after being stuck in traffic due to an accident on the motorway, at around 10:15am and headed straight for the spot I caught from the almost a week prior. The mist was heavy and blocked out the sunlight but at half ten the sun shone through enough to make things feel quite warm, and with that, the fish started to show, not in numbers, but the odd one was visible. I watched a fish cruise in from the left which headed straight for the margin I was fishing, it hovered over the spot and dipped out of sight, my gaze transferred to the rod tip and the slack line hanging from it. In a flash it tightened and the tip arched round, I clambered down the bank, struck, missed and saw the fish swimming away. I cursed my bad luck that I’d missed an opportunity but was thankful that I’d attracted a fish early on. Looking at the rig I decided that it was probably down to the 1 ounce lead I was using and upped it immediately to a 2oz.

57 Year Old Leney Warrior

I woke to the sound of my favourite alarm clock, a sweet singing blackbird outside in the garden, it was seven am and I was going fishing. Unlike previous trips during the height of summer, I was in no rush to get to the pool; an eight am start was early enough. The recent warm weather had woken fish on one of my local waters from their winter slumber, but with clear skies the night before and a light ground frost I had little doubt that the carp wouldn’t show much before the sun had climbed way above the tree line and had begun to warm the surface layers. I was excited just to see the old place again, a premature visit in as much as I’d planned to return when the new season had started, this fleeting visit was just out of curiosity more than anything else. Throughout the whole journey I wondered if they would expose themselves, carp that are tricky enough in during the warmer months, so much went through my mind, I just couldn’t wait to arrive and assess the situation. The journey was a pleasant one, very little traffic, mist hung in the trees, although the closer I got to the venue, the whiter the fields became, near Petersfield the temp read zero degrees, not  ideal but anticipation and enthusiasm soon waved away any doubts.

When I arrived at the Wells it didn’t really look that unfamiliar, I was half expecting this baron land of bare trees and lifeless water, instead there were evergreens, holly and moss to more than enough green to make me feel at home. The one odd thing I did find was the lack of lilies on the top pond, but I soon adjusted to that. I chose the swim judging where I though the sun would shine first, it was apparent as soon as I got there that the carp were still, small fish rippled the surface but the carp were nowhere to be seen. I pitched up at the right hand side of the dam, deep sloping margin which would warm nicely if the sun rose high enough, as it was the surface was still in the shade and tackling up the rods was harsh on the finger tips. Two baited rigs were swung out a couple of rod lengths out and with the rods laid on the floor with the rear drags loosened I sat back against a big tree truck and awaited the first of the dog walkers.

I guess I must have been sat there for about an hour when I saw the first sign of carp, just about where the pads used to be a largish fish surfaced and went back down sending up a plume of bubbles. I wound in and climbed the bank behind the pads swims for a better look. I saw two small carp ghost through, not on the surface but somewhere around half way up. I retrieved my things from my original swim and gently placed myself onto the right hand pads swim. I sat and watched for a while before doing anything, then a group of three fish cruised through the same height around two rod lengths out. Once they were gone I set up 12 inch pop ups on each rod and swung them into the path I through the next crew would take. I clocked the fish coming back but a foot from the roigs they turned out and into the lake, they’d sussed me.

I sprinkled a few pellets on the marginal slope in the swim, the next swim to the left and again at the bottom of the steps. Back up the top of the bank, a high vantage point where visibility for fish spotting is excellent, I wandered up and down watching for something to materialise, looking for that chance, that opportunity, I didn’t want to fish blind, with the sun warming my bank only I felt sure that the fish would visit and an opportunity would present itself.

It was midday, the patch just out from the bottom of the steps had been visited by two or three small carp, the view wasn’t great but they were definitely carp and they looked to be showing an interest in the pellets. I changed the rods to bottom rigs, attached two pellets to each hook and lowered them into position when the fish turned away. I sat quietly waiting for it to happen but it didn’t. They did return but got a foot from the rigs and actually went around them. The water was clear and I was sure in my head that they could see the rigs and line. I didn’t know what to do next, 1pm was upon me and I was no closer to tricking one of these wary carp, but I wasn’t about to give in.

With the rods out of the water the fish began feeding on the spot again, only this time there was a much bigger fish with them, I couldn’t make out how big or which one but it was good enough for plan C to be brought into action. The plan was to fish 5lb line straight through ending in a size 4 hook and a chunk of good old spam. The rod was a 1.75tc barbell rod, I know the tackle was light but the pads were gone and I have had to scale right down here to get a take in the past. With the rod ready I slipped down the bank as gently as I could, lowered the spam off the rod tip and onto the spot and letting out a little slack I retreated to the cover of the ferns and holly. As before I laid the rod on the ground and watched where the line entered the surface. It was still moving, but I put that down to the line sinking, but it kept on moving and gathered in pace, I picked the rod up, tightened down and felt an almighty lunge and line poured from the reel, fish on.

With such light tackle I wasn’t about to start bullying this fish, I didn’t know which one it was, it didn’t matter, I’d hooked a winter Waggoners carp, I just had to land it. As you can imagine, the fish dictated things from the off, if it wanted line I had to give it, I tried to gain back what I could but I wasn’t achieving much.  The brute pulled me all over the place for a good fifteen minutes, with the line pinging off the dorsal a dozen times making my heart stop each time. Eventually it rolled a couple rod lengths out and I caught my first glimpse of it, an original, possibly the big girl, and then my knees really started shaking. Her head came up and she spat out a mouthful of water, ever so gradually I teased her over the cord and as soon as her nose hit the spreader block I lifted for all I was worth and engulfed my prize in mesh.

What a creature was my first thought, I more impressive fish I will struggle to find. The winter colours were amazing, its bulk was also impressive, I just couldn’t believe what was lying in my net. A couple walked past and I asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures for me, the gentleman kindly agreed and took some lovely shots, chopped my head off of a few but the fish was far more important than my ugly mug.

Not that it really mattered too much but the fish weighed 27lb 4oz. That cap was one of 100 stocked on 24th January 1956 by Donald Leney from the Surrey Trout Farm, so at 56 years old I think the old girl was looking good!!!!

I really didn’t want to let that one go, that capture meant more than me than any other. It wasn’t just the looks, but it was the history behind it, and with me being mad keen on all the history stuff, it made it all the more wonderful to actually touch a massive part of that history. I didn’t fish on after that, I remembered something Chris Yates told me in a letter he sent me, he said that in all his time fishing Waggoners, he only ever caught one fish, then left, never asked for a second as he thought the spirits of the lake wouldn’t take to kindly and may curse him somehow. So with that in mind I left the Wells on a high, buzzing, grinning from ear to ear and every other such superlatives you can think of.

A delightful common

Today’s trip to Waggoners was one of slight disappointment. Yes, I did catch one and, yes, it was an extremely pleasant day, but it was the losses that spoilt things. It is no secret that I prefer Mirrors to Commons, that’s not to say I don’t appreciate a nice dark Common, just given the choice, I’d have scaley Mirror every time.
The day started off in the usual manner, a quick stop for supplies on the way and I arrived at the Wells at around 9am, not a particularly early start. When I arrived I had the place to myself. I passed the first and second ponds looking into them as I went and came to the third pond where the instincts heighten and the fun begins. For the first hour or so I was stood at the top of the bank watching carp cruise through ignoring any bait I threw at them, be it bottom baits or floating baits, they just weren’t interested. For much of that first period I used the heavy natural cover as a shelter from the rain showers.

A carp from a tree

Yesterday I made the trek to Waggoners Wells, after the week at Redmire I felt I still had the urge to catch some Leney’s and Waggoners is the most accessible lake I have. I woke at 4am, loaded the car, had a light breakfast and headed for the motorway. I’d say it’s around 40 minutes for me so ideal for a nice long day session in the summer. I arrived shortly after 5am and found only one other angler there but he was on a different pond. I had a few walks around first to try to locate the fish but, as it was early, they weren’t showing, but they were bubbling in a few places.
I decided to start at the deeper end off the causeway and flicked two rigs in the edge with a handful of baits over each one. While I waited I saw a few fish start to cruise so I started to fire out a few mixers four at a time with my little match catty, I love the match catty, less noise and less disturbance, although she’s getting a little tired now so will soon need a newer model moved in. After a few minutes, one carp started to take a few of the mixers, not really having it, but certainly starting to show an interest. I wound in one of the margin rods and quickly set up the floater rod. I cast out a freelined mixer and sat to watch events unfold.

Quest for a Mirror

The alarm sounded very unpleasant, 3:30am is no time to be getting up….but I was going fishing, round two at the legendary Waggoners Wells. Through weary eyes I managed to make a flask of coffee without spilling any or scalding myself so I knew, there and then, that I was in good form…..On the way the wiper blades reminded me that they needed replacing, a horrible sound almost like that of nails being scraped along a blackboard, but I had no choice, the rain was persistent, I needed to get to where I was going and there was no chance Halfords would be open at that hour. Any other day the dim light and wet conditions would have made for a very drab journey but spirits were high. I arrived at the car park at 4:45am. Although I had only the bare essentials and carefully thought out what to take my equipment was still fairly heavy and the ten minute walk to the pond was one of aching shoulders and tree roots trying their best to trip me up. At the pond I was delighted to find nobody there, I fancied the swim next to the pads due to its deep nature, first impressions were that there were no fish cruising around just yet so they were more than likely in the deeper spots enjoying breakfast. With a rod just off the pads and one near the overhang I sat back, poured from my flask and settled back against a tree stump to daydream of big, heavily scaled, old Carp.

Success on fine tackle

I made the eagerly awaited visit to Waggoners Wells, history water stocked from the nearby Surrey Trout Farm 50 years ago by Mr Donald Leney. Waggoners is a wonderful place, steeped in tales of old, visited regularly and written about by Chris Yates. These days the old strain still live there, deep in the woods surrounded on all sides by tall trees, but the fishing is very difficult, wily old Carp who have seen it all before and the copious amount of dog walkers throwing balls and sticks into the water for their dogs to fetch don’t help in the slightest. I have a love affair with Waggoners as I do all the historic Carp waters and my goal is to fish as many as I can and catch from them, although I knew Waggoners would be a tall order after my last visit, one half chance and they stuck two great big fingers up at me as they tormented me for the rest of that day, impossible Carp but Carp I dearly wanted to catch.

I woke early, 3:30am, made a small breakfast and a flask of coffee and drove through empty roads to my destination full of enthusiasm and optimism. I arrived at around 4:45am and a quick tour of the lake confirmed that all was quiet. Nothing moved so I sat and waited for the Carp to begin stir, and at around 6am they started to move around clearly visible in the gin clear water. I chose a spot on the left hand bank opposite the pads, my idea was to fish two rods in close toward my own bank using the overgrown banks as shelter from spooking the fish, then, if I managed to get them going on the surface I planned to fish with 4lb line which is why I chose the swim as far away from the pads as possible. For the first few hours the Carp did their usual, looking good in the sunlight and teasing me by swimming under my rods giving me full views if their pristine Leney characteristics. Commons, Mirrors, they were swimming past without a care in the world and I felt the frustration start as my stomach started to get tied in knots.