Summer at Green Pool...

On the way to Green Pool I noticed a heron fly overhead, that expert fisher I have utmost respect for, for he, along with the kingfisher, are the greatest fish catchers you could ever hope to meet. Throughout the rest of the journey I hoped that I'd spot a the heron's little blue friend at the pool, now that would be nice!

The day was about crucian carp. For once I'd left the carp stuff behind, opting for finer tackle, tackle with more finesse, delicate enough to trick those timid, shy biters. The rod of choice was an Allcocks Wizard, the reel a small Aerial and the plan was to fish with tiny floats, light line and small hooks with sweetcorn as bait. An ash Crabtree style net and my basket completed the outfit.

I arrived at the pool early, it was only a little past six and there was nobody else there. This was a good thing in many ways, but mostly because there is only one fishable swim at Green pool, the overgrown, forgotten nature of the place means that it doesn't take long for the paths to become impenetrable, which suits me fine. There were carp nudging the weed in the centre of the pool, their broad shoulders pushing through as they fed. I pictured in my mind a crust flying through the air attached to my hook, Landing with the faintest plop, being teased gently back into position and then to be snaffled by something big, dark and scaly. But those thoughts were for another time.

The pitch (not much more than an open section of bank) has a overgrowing bush to the left, the Canadian pond weed starts a couple of rod lengths out in front and there is a channel to the right, so I had three different spots to bait and to fish in a rotation approach. Straight away I started catching roach, not big roach but very pretty ones, sparkling in the morning sun, which was already quite hot. Then the float was surrounded with tiny bubbles, I though that perhaps the crucians had moved in, but upon striking whatever I hooked charged off through the weed and broke me quite easily.



Just as I was tying on a new hook I heard the sound I dearly wanted to hear, a kingfisher. That oh so familiar piercing shrill was echoing around the pool, it was delightful, then I saw her. She was perched on a branch opposite me, flew off, hovered above the water and made her dive returning back to the same branch to polish off her meal. I've seen them perform this hummingbird like action before. For the next ten minutes I watched in awe as she fished and prayed that one day I could fish with the same splendour, so precise yet so elegant. Once she was gone I resumed tying the new hook, but with a smile on my face, the lost fish really didn't matter any-more.

For the next hour I watched damselflies, and large green dragonflies as they visited the bush to my right, I don't know what particular bush it was, but it certainly attracted some very pretty flying insects. I was broken a further three times by either larger carp or tench and landed half a dozen small silvery common carp and a handful of sparkly roach. At lunch time I ate my sandwiches and contemplated a move, a change of scenery.



The walk did me good, it was getting very hot by now and the pool next door (also reputed to hold good crucians) had a number of shady pitches, shrowded by tall ash and birch trees that looked very welcome indeed. The pitch I chose was situated beside a great lily bed. One pad was deepest red, so I chose that one to fish next to. Just as soon as the float cocked I had company. A shoal of small perch had emerged from under the pads and surrounded my float. I then remembered that the float body had a flash of red, which I guess could look like a red maggot. For the next few minutes I watched on in delight as the perch, one by one, attacked my float. All thoughts of angling were pushed to the back of my mind, I was more than happy watching the little army in front of me defending their patch. The perch did eventually get bored pecking the float, and I went on to catch another handful of roach and some skimmer bream, but Green pool was calling me back, I could hear it in the breeze, perhaps the spiny regiment was trying to tell me something.

I arrived back, slightly worried that somebody might have stolen my pitch in my absence, but they hadn't. There were, however, dozens of pond skaters swirling round and round on the surface. Just as soon as I began fishing they started using my float tip as a traffic cone, circling it time and time again. A damselfly landed on the delicate little float tip causing it to sink, he flew off and up came the tip like Excalibur. The scaled down tackle was proving to be troublesome, I knew that if I beefed things up I'd have stood no chance whatsoever of catching a crucian, but with the tackle I was using I was broken twice more before calling it a day. Before I left I did manage to land a few more roach and small common carp.

On the way back to the pool I stopped to watch a group of big carp sheltering from the sun under a big canopy of overhanging trees. I could have easily bounced a crust along the surface to their position and felt sure one of them would have taken it, but that was for another time, perhaps next time.

Update Time....

Just thought I’d write up a quick update of what’s been happening here at SK Towers.

A couple of weekends back I was fortunate enough to embark upon a proper journey, a journey into wales and into the past, for Fennel and I set forth to the mountains around Builth Wells in search of wild carp, proper wild carp. Camping with our friend Matt we had the perfect base camp nestled nicely between the two venues, Pant-Y-Llyn and Llyngwyn.

Both of these venues are spellbinding, remote and beautiful, and still contain the original strain of wildies that were stocked by the Cistercian monks hundreds of years ago. These streamlined torpedoes were great fun, but it was so much more than merely fun, it was like coming into contact from an ancient time, remnants of a time long forgotten.

It was 4 days in wonderland. The weather and the fishing were kind to us, and you’ll probably be wondering why I haven’t written a blog piece about the event. Well I am, almost half way through it, but there is a reason I’m not posting it for a while, and I have no doubt it’ll come out soon. Just keep an eye on Fennel’s website for more info.

 

http://www.fennelspriory.com/

 

 

Other things happening have been the successful stalking trip last Friday where two good commons were caught, and then there was the great news that my first book is now available to order, due for release in August, can’t wait to see it in the flesh. I am currently working on two further books, one fictional and the other a second series of diary events, hence the holding back of the wildie words.

This weekend I am visiting a very special local water where I have a great chance of meeting a 3lb crucian carp, and that’s a very big deal when you consider that only a couple of months ago I managed to catch my very first 2lber. So, with the reports I’ve had, that magical 3 could well be on the cards. It just remains to be seen how much of an effect these hot conditions have on the fishing.

It’s been hot; you don’t need me to state the obvious, but don’t let it put you off angling, and in particular surface fishing for carp. Early morning and late evening are the best times, but even during the hottest parts of the day, find the shady, sheltered spot, perhaps an overhanging tree, and those basking carp can be tempted into snaffling a single surface bait. Don’t attempt to get them going with freebies, just of crust or mixer can be taken even if they aren’t hungry, it’s the inquisitiveness that is the carp’s major downfall.

That’s all for now. Thanks for following and thanks to those who have ordered a copy of the book. With a limited first run it’s probably best you get in quick as rumours say they could sell out before the publication date…

http://www.littleegretpress.com/index.php?action=viewbook&id=88

 

 

from Carbon to Cane

From Carbon To Cane

by Stuart Harris

From Carbon to Cane

This collection of diary events piece together one man’s journey to a better place. The year detailed was a very important one for Stuart Harris, for it was the realisation that there is so much more to angling than merely capturing fish.
The journey starts with a successful trip to one of Stuart's favourite places, Redmire Pool. On this particular session he arrived with the tools of a modern day carp fisher: carbon rods, the latest technology and an attitude that meant the rods would fish constantly throughout the five days. The final diary event is a return to the same pool almost one year later, but with an entirely different outlook.
This time he was armed with rods of built cane, fifty year old reels and a Kelly Kettle.
In between these two poigniant trips, Stuart tackles the challenge of fishing the Moat, a water local to him that is reputedly the home of monsters. He also fishes the Thames, Waggoners Wells and River Farm, discovering along the way a more traditional approach to this wonderful sport. Stuart shows us how a walk along the waterside can be just as thrilling as the same walk with a rod in your hand, sometimes better.
from Carbon to Cane does not seek to educate, but rather to demonstrate the enjoyment can be achieved by simplifying things. Lose the complication so often involved with angling and open up a world of relaxation and wonderment.


This delightful book shows a further side of Stuart Harris; that of a budding wordsmith and I think you will find his infectious enthusiasm and sheer determination in pitting his wits against the wily carp is put in such a competent and readable way.
There are discourses with other species and venues but the underlying theme remains the Moat and the problems incurred trying to extract its occupants. Overall From Carbon to Cane gives an good insight into how some anglers are successful while others just dream of success.

From the Foreword by Chris Ball

From Carbon To Cane is 210 x 148mm in dimension, and is 135 pages long. The book is richly illustrated throughout with photography and artwork.

Limited Cloth Edition:
400 copies only, all signed and numbered by the illustrator, Tom O'Reilly M.A. £26.95

Leather Bound Edition:
25 copies only, all signed, numbered and hand-bound by Stuart Harris and Tom O’Reilly. This edition is fully leather bound, comprising edge-gilded pages, oasis goatskin leather, spine bands, marker ribbon and headbands. This edition is finished with gold-tooling detail, and presented in a marble paper covered slipcase. £185.00

Publication date: Aug, 2013
Pages: 135

From Carbon To Cane by Stuart Harris
cloth bound
£26.95

From Carbon To Cane by Stuart Harris
Full leather
£185.00

http://www.littleegretpress.com/index.php?action=viewbook&id=88

A Short Stalking Trip....

I don't call myself indecisive for nothing!! Originally I'd planned to fish the moat, but when I visited to bait up yesterday it was wall to wall and top to bottom with weed. Not only could I not find any fish, but if I had hooked one, I doubt I’d have landed it.

I woke this morning with a weird feeling in my mouth, and upon inspection I found that an old filling in my front tooth had come loose. An emergency appointment meant I couldn't fish directly after work as planned and it was almost 1pm when I finally left the dentist with my smile back again.

I headed for Baffin’s pond, reports of some good carp cruising around the margins was just the challenge I needed and fitted perfectly into the few hours I had spare. When I got there I was horrified at the amount of bird-life present. So many different species all congregating on this tiny pond of just over an acre, and a quick tour of the margins revealed that there was nothing cruising anyway.

So, Tithe Barn was the next bright idea of mine, the previous two trips had been fruitless, but with this prolonged warm spell, they had to start moving sooner or later. I was surprised to find nobody on the whole complex, so three pools all to myself. The top pond is the first you come to from the car park, and the weedy top half of the pond showed signs of having fish present, they were on the move after all.

I fished various swims, cast at various fish but it was down in the left hand corner where the first take came, a powerful surging plod that really tested the old Mark IV. The reel I was using was a Mitchell 300 loaded with 12lb line, mainly due to the weed situation. Well finally, after a lot of persuasion, the fish flopped over the net and I hoisted her ashore. A lovely long, lean common of mid to upper doubles was photographed and released back into the warm water.



Happy with my achievement I wandered down to the other two ponds, and had half a chance with a fully scaled mirror on the middle. But I managed to spook the fish before it could snaffle the bait, so once again I was back on my travels.

Back on the top pond I found a fish I'd been looking for, a linear mirror of over twenty pounds. It was nestled among weed with its back showing and I caught a glimpse of one of its flanks revealing that row of apple slice scales. I gently flicked the crust past her, drew it back level with the fish and as the lips opened and the crust sucked in everything went into slow motion. I should have struck right away, but instead I waited for the fish to close its mouth and turn away. It didn't, just spat the crust back off and bimbled away through the weed.

Soon after Danny arrived for some stalking. We chatted a while and he told me of a lovely common he'd caught recently at 26lb 2oz. I told him I'd seen a big common which looked all of that, and maybe more. After our brief chat I left Danny and fished a gap in the trees opposite him. I spotted a few carp channelling between two weed beds, flicked out a crust and within minutes I had a powerful carp surging its way down towards the dam end.

Danny rushed around to help with the netting. As the fish drew closer and the runs became shorter he caught glimpse of it and said that it could be the big common. A few more seconds and it was revealed that it was indeed the big girl. She didn't much feel like swimming into the awaiting net but on the third attempt Danny scooped her up and she was mine. As I don't carry scales Danny fetched his, just to see if she was up or down in weight. In fact she was exactly the same weight as when he had her, 26lb 2oz. Danny took some photos for me and we released her into the deep margin.



I fished on for another hour or so, had one more take but lost whatever I'd hooked in the thick weed. At 7pm I bid farewell and good luck to Danny and headed for the car, very happy indeed.

A Perfect Common...

Sunday, a day of rest, a day to spend with the family, that’s what Sunday means to me these days, so when Corrinna asked if I wanted to go fishing this Sunday afternoon I was shocked, but pleasantly shocked. Of course I had a good look through the TV guide first just in case I was missing anything important, but as nothing caught my eye I reached for the rod and left the house around midday.

I headed for the moat, it was a warm sunny day and throughout the journey I pictured those carp cruising amid shoals of bream looking for a crust to shlurp down. The beauty of the moat is the quietness of the place, there were only one or two anglers there going about their business, which left 99% of the place available for me to roam, wander and stalk.

The surface was black with bream in places, I swear you could walk across them, the birds were singing, jays flew from one side to another, woodpeckers hammered away at loose bark and, although I didn’t spot one, I could hear the distinct shrill of a kingfisher on more than one occasion. I was a beautiful day to be beside a beautiful place. The fishing was just something to do whilst visiting, to help while away the hours and, if I got lucky, well that would just be a bonus.

I noticed in the corner near peg 28 that there were a few carp swimming parallel with the drop off into the pads and back out again, a patrol route. The rest of the moat was fairly quiet where the carp were concerned, I half expected them to be cruising but for whatever reason they were concentrated in this corner, so I looked no further.

A few pieces of crust were thrown as near to the pads as I could get them and I tucked into my pork pie whilst waiting for them to be eaten. A few carp approached but somehow seemed reluctant to feed from the top. I did spot, however, one piece I squeezed too tightly that drifted to the bottom, and as it was fairly shallow and clear, I could see where it sat. The next carp to cruise through upended straight away and chomped the bread.

With two rods set up, a Sharpe’s split cane stalking rod and a Mark IV, I free-lined two crusts a metre apart and sat back some more to enjoy the fabulous afternoon and see if anything else fancied a stopping by. Over the course of the next hour I watched three groups of carp come through, mainly commons but with a sprinkling of stocky mirrors. It was the commons I was really after, weathered, dark warriors, not massive but very beautiful. As luck had it, it was a group of four commons and one mirror that took interest in my bait and the mirror that actually picked slipped up.

I picked up the Mark IV and set the hook, the fish charged off to my left and under a marginal tree causing a few uneasy moments, but within a few seconds it swung out into open water away from danger and did the rest of its fighting away from obstacles. Once in the net I peered in to find a plump mirror of around fifteen pounds, carried her up the bank onto the mat and took a quick self-take before returning her a little further down the bank. Not the common I was hoping for but still a nice fish to meet and share such a nice afternoon with.



Once returned the area went quiet so I upped sticks and began wandering again. A little further down, between two large sets of pads, I spotted three commons enjoying the sunshine. They were cruising from one set of pads to the other snapping at leaves on the surface. With the dangers either side of me I opted for the stiffer Scottie rod with a Mitchell 300 spooled with 12lb line. I attached a crust, flicked it out to the edge of the pads and crouched down out of sight.

The first fish to show an interest was another chunky mirror, but I managed to pull the hook from its mouth without setting the hook. A few minutes later and what looked like a milk chocolate carp sucked in the crust, but this time I did make contact, a huge spray of foam and water erupted as the fish turned and headed for the sanctuary of the pads but with the stout tackle I was using I managed to avoid peril. Slowly, with the fish circling around in front of me I slip the net under and lifted. I peered into the net and fell in love right away.

It was the most beautiful common I’ve caught in a long while. Far from the biggest, but it had everything, the dark tones, the long lean shape, everything about it just oozed class. I laid her on the mat, told her how beautiful she was and after a self-take or two reluctantly slipped her into the crystal clear water.



It was the fish I came for, it was the fish I always hope to cradle, I was happy and didn’t really need to fish on. It was approaching 6pm anyway and Corrinna would be made up if I returned in time to help putting Jessica to bed, so off I went with a smile from ear to ear with everyone happy.

A Delightful Evening...

Last evening I set off for Tithe Barn after work with the sun shining and thoughts of surface cruising dark shapes etched firmly to the inside of my eyelids. I arrived at the lay-by and could get the kit out of the car quick enough; the lay-by was empty too which is always a good sign. Through the archway of trees I marched, out into the field (where the sun’s intensity on my head had me reaching for the flat cap) and onto the head of the top pond. There was nobody fishing, but also a distinct lack of carpy activity. This end of the lake is weedy so I expected, as many times previous, to find carp sunning themselves among the think Canadian pond weed. I stood for a few minutes, realised that nothing was around (at least not high up in the water anyway) and headed off to the clearer, deeper end for a looksy.

I call this my ‘Celestial Garden of Piscatorial Freedom’…


Peering into the margins all the way (as we do) I got to the end of the lake and still hadn’t spotted anything remotely fishy, apart from the odd shoal of miniature rudd. The corner is always a good bet but upon inspection I only spotted three or four small commons, and these were deep among the snags just lying motionless. A quick scan of the water’s surface and it was off to the middle pond for a brief look, this pond is smaller, more enclosed, has an island and as much weed as pads. Three bivvies were nicely spaced out meaning they commanded all the best water, I looked around the other areas anyway but the only fish I saw were where they had their rods pointed to.

The bottom and final pond is the one that really has me excited and, in a way, I was quite pleased that the other ponds had drawn a blank. I soon remembered just how overgrown this pond is, the smallest and weediest of the three, and the most little fished. After fighting my way through brambles and other thorn ridden beasts, all with the sole intention of causing me harm, I entered the clearing at the head of the pool where I caught the scaly mirror a few weeks back.

Through the Willows…


I spotted one carp nudge the underside of the weed whilst I was setting the rod up. I felt like a Hit Man setting up the travel sniper rod he has just taken from a little black suitcase. When the crust was attached to the hook, I looked up but the carp was gone. Over the space of the next hour I saw three separate carp rise through the weed and nudge the weed, but each time my cast was too accurate and landed too closely, spooking the fish. Then, just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, a guy started throwing a ball into the pond, which his two dogs jumped in to retrieve. This went on for half an hour or so and after that I saw no more fish.

A quick peek into the middle and top ponds on the way back to the car and the decision was made to visit Carron Row for a peek to see if the opportunities were any better there. The ponds were fairly quiet, but it was apparent that here also there was very little action on the surface, and this was a very hot summer’s evening. It was 6pm so I had a few hours still at my disposal. I wandered the ponds looking for something to cast to and found it on pond 4 among the reeds where there was some disturbance. I set up the Mark IV, attached a small crust to the hook and cast a foot or so from the reeds that were twitching all the while.

Light beginning to fade…


Something made me jump; it was a rudd leaping clear of the water. I’m not aware of any predators in this particular pond so thought maybe he was trying out for the “Rudd Arrows”. I snapped out of silly thoughts when I heard a cloop, looked down and saw my crust disappear. I struck and felt an almighty lunge as whatever I’d hooked decided it was going to be landed and shot off through the reeds at an alarming pace. The line broke and so did my heart for a moment. Then the rudd jumped again and I managed a little smile. Off I went, new hook tied on hoping for another chance but more than happy enjoying the evening.

After an hour or so and with the light fading I spotted a few carp, albeit small ones, I felt sure they’d be great fin on my relatively light tackle. I threw out a few crusts, sat back among the long grass and watched as the small wildie looking carp circled, observed and finally decided to begin feasting. I waited until they started to compete for the bread until casting among them, it landed, two carp headed straight for it and within seconds a feisty little scamp of a common was doing a great impression of a 20lber. I unhooked the pretty little fish in the net and released her back to her buddies. Before home time I caught two more similar sized fish, spotted two jays and a kingfisher and left for home at around 8:30 with a lovely big smile on my face.

Great fun…

The Halcyon Pool

I arrived at Halcyon full of optimism on Friday afternoon; I had been invited by Brian to fish for a few days with him and our mutual friend, Shaun Harrison, was due to meet up with us on the following day and with him was something very special indeed. He mentioned that he’d seen the net owned by John Carver, the very same net that he used to scoop up the Bishop for Chris Yates on that historic day in June of 1980 when I was only 7 years old and had no thoughts of fishing at all. Shaun mentioned my interest to John and he kindly offered to lend it to him to bring on this trip so I could hold the Holy Grail myself.



Prior to the trip Brian had been telling me just how beautiful the pool was, how amazing the fish were and how the fishing would suit my style being the perfect stalking water. After parking the car near a series of well-built huts Brian showed me around. There was the old social hut, the newly constructed one with spellbinding views of the pool complete with dining table and cooker, there was also a new boathouse which harboured the punt, the old boathouse was still present at the other end of the pool. The punt was handy and was mostly used for ferrying one’s kit across the pool to your swim as the paths were overgrown, narrow and wonderfully unspoilt.





Before we set off for a view of the pool and its pitches, we spotted two nice carp moving through the weed and pads away from us just out from the new hut. We followed and ducked into the first pitch we came to on the south bank where we were given a wonderful view of two of Halcyon’s resident carp, one a mid-twenty and the other looked to be a mid-double. On we pressed along the path between the pool and the meadow, past two small, untouched islands and along a small channel known as The Harbour. At the end of this was the entrance to The Peninsula, a spit of land that stretched out to the islands with two swims along it and culminating in some very stalky looking gaps.



The parts of the pool we’d seen thus far were very weedy with thick pads; the weed was the bottom covering candy floss type that isn’t very nice to fish into. The pads here reached the far side of the north or road bank and kind of split the pool in two sections, a weedy half and a deeper, less weedy side. Back out past the Peninsula entrance we was the last feature of the south bank, the Old Boathouse in the corner. It had delightfully fallen into disrepair and was left to its own devices. On the west bank the first pitch Brian showed me just across the bridge was The Morning Swim, named due to the sun trap it becomes early in the day.



After this was The Hill, a pitch that was very central and commanded a large portion of water leading up to the pads. The wind was howling into this pitch. Next door was The Mangrove Swamp, a small swim that faced the road bank but looked an excellent little stalking swim with a few small sets of pads and deep margins. Around the corner and onto the road bank were two, small cut out day swims, the second of which was called The Sentence, the next and much larger swim was, quite obviously called, The Chapter. I liked the look of this pitch as it had the best of both worlds, deep margins, clear areas in front and pads to the left.

There were three more swims before we reached the east bank, we peered hopefully into each of them hoping to spot some more carp and were rewarded when we came to the second to last swim when we spotted, sunning themselves among the pads, around half a dozen good carp, one of which looked to be all of thirty pounds. I was quite positively chomping at the bit and couldn’t wait to try for them, but before I did we finished the tour and the two pitches on the east bank (East Bank Swim and Causeway) we decided to use as our base camp as they were near the huts and you could back your car right into them.



These two pitches had pads and lots of weed present but very deep, clear margins I felt sure would be visited during the dark hours. My pitch, The East Bank Swim, was backed into once the tour was over and it was time to get down to the business of unloading the boot and setting up the stalking gear, and I knew just the spot to try first.

With a stepped up split cane carp rod and a Mitchell 300, net, mat and a tin loaf, I made my way round to the last spot we’d seen carp in the pads. It was only a few yards from the bank so I opted for my favourite free-lining, but I had to flick the bait underarm due to the lowness of the branches above me. Various sections of the pathway were coated in gravel, so I avoided giving away my presence by crunching it as I walked as is always the way when sneaking up on carp close to the bank.

By the time I got into position the sun that had enabled me to see the carp before had moved round and there was now a big shadow making spotting individual fish impossible. I could still see they were there however by the movement of the pads; I just couldn’t single out the largest fish. For a couple of hours I followed the movements with chunks of crust and one fish looked to be mopping up the fallen pieces but I failed to coax it into snaffling the one on the hook.

By tea time it was time to get back to camp, build the house and to start to think about tackling the night rods up. I baited the areas I‘d be dropping the rods onto and once everything was ready I rested the swim and popped next door for a natter with Brian. He was tackling his pitch with a totally different approach with his rods fishing out into the weed and my rods both ticked close in along the margins. After a mini social I returned to my pitch to get the rods in and settle down for the night.



The evening was chilly; I climbed into the bag early due to all the excitement from the day, got myself warm and drifted off to the land of monsters before it had even got dark. The rods never moved and I woke at around four thirty am to a misty, cold morning. Thick fog made seeing across to the far bank difficult, but it felt so atmospheric and slightly haunting. I wound in the rods before breakfast, checked the spots and saw that the bait I’d introduced the night before was still there, which was slightly discouraging. However, I was looking forward to a day’s stalking, I just needed the mist to burn off and the sun to appear as it had done in previous days.





Shaun arrived and together with Brian and their lovely carp dogs, Brook and Bracken, we conducted another tour of the pool and its amenities, all the while peering into the water looking for something to cast at. Unfortunately the sky remained dark and the only signs of fish we saw were out in the centre of the pool among the thickest pads. Shaun opted to set up in The Hill and took full advantage of the punt to ferry his gear across to his home for the next couple of nights. Once he had set everything up, calibrated his spots and baited the areas he’d be fishing, he returned to the hut to make us all a splendid chicken jalfrezi, complete with naan bread, poppadums and more than enough red wine.



We had a brilliant social full of stories and banter and that night I was in the company of two fairly new but very good friends. Brook (Shaun’s Staffie) and Bracken (Brian’s Fluffhound) were so well behaved, and although I don’t usually care for dogs I was soon paying them lots of attention and thoroughly enjoyed them being with us. Before it got dark we left for our respective pitches and my first casts of the day were made along the margins. I didn’t feel any more confident but hoped Sunday would bring sunshine and finally some more stalking opportunities.



It proved to be another chilly night and, once again, as soon as I started to feel the warmth from the sleeping bag I was fast asleep. I woke, quite delirious, at somewhere around one am to the sound of Shaun phoning me asking if I fancied taking some photos of a thirty pound carp. I wound my rods in, made my way around to his swim, which was tricky what with the narrow winding paths and my being still half asleep. The fish Shaun had captured was immense; it had given him a right run around and weighed a whopping 31lb 8oz, the fish turned out to be the second largest in the lake.

I was made up for Shaun, it was a lovely old carp, that fish would have been a new PB for me and my first thirty pound mirror. But I still had time to capture one, and if I did it would be on split cane, something I’d dreamt of for a long time. I congratulated Shaun and once the great fish was photographed and slipped back we shared a cuppa before I headed back to my pitch with renewed confidence.

Shaun had told me of some activity along the margin to his left, a very good looking corner, and suggested I take a look early in the morning so as soon as I woke at five forty five I wound in and made my way quietly to the spot, flicked two rods out and sat back with my tatty old copy of Casting at the Sun to keep me company whilst I awaited events and watched the lake and its inhabitants greet the new day.



I’d only been there an hour when one of Shaun’s rods was away again. I wound the rods in and went round to help. I spirited battle ensued and a pretty, grey, scaly carp of 19lbs slipped into his net. The photos and congratulations were completed and the Kelly Kettle was brought into action once again. It was then I decided to move swims and to try the deeper, clearer end of the pool for my last night in the hope of getting in on the action. I noticed some activity in front of The Chapter on the road bank, some fizzing in various areas, and sat down to watch for a while and soon enough my mind was made up which pitch to drop into.



It took several trips to get my things in the new swim, I could have moved it with the punt, but didn’t want to disturb the water too much. Once everything was set up I worked out where the rods would go, one in either margin and one out in front around thirty yards just before a weed bed started. I baited each spot and left the swim alone whilst conducting yet another tour of the pool looking for signs. It was a much brighter day, still not sunny, but warmer, and a few fish moved but too quickly for me to have a chance to stalk them.



After some socialising and a splendid supper of fish and chips I returned to my swim, cast out the rods and settled in for the night. The night was still and quiet and I heard nothing move. The owls called out to each other and I remembered that during the day I’d seen the first kingfisher of the trip along with two oystercatchers. I woke close to six am and began to wonder why nobody had caught, it looked perfect and Brian had also moved onto The Peninsula opposite me so we were all now down this end of the pool.



The take came on my middle rod at around six fifteen, a slow, progressive run which slowly took line from the Mitchell spool. I picked up the Mark IV, tightened the clutch and struck into something quite heavy. It was then the fish must have woken as after that I found myself back-winding like mad in an effort to keep up whatever it was I was attached to. Over to the right it powered and before it reached the weeping willow that reached into the water I somehow managed to turn it forcing it to follow the margin towards another willow and Shaun’s rods!

I somehow managed once again to avoid danger by turning the fish, which now swan back towards me and in line with where I’d originally hooked it, and it was there that it found a weed bed and got itself stuck fast. With constant pressure and pulling from a variety of angles it seemed to be moving again and started to come towards me for the first time, albeit very reluctantly with frequent, powerful runs which took more line off the old reel. With a big long carp wallowing in front of me I reached around for the net and remembered which net I had with me, The Bishop net! I dipped it into the water and over the cord came my prize almost as if it felt privileged to do so. I lifted the mesh around it just as Shaun arrived and straight away he peered into the net and congratulated me on a possible new PB.



He went on to tell me that it was long, and old, but quite lean. It didn’t matter; I was just so pleased to have caught one. Shaun took charge, someone needed to, I was in bits. Brian helped him to zero the scales, set up the cameras and readied a pot of water by the side of the unhooking mat. Once everything was ready I lifted the mesh and hoisted her onto the mat, where Brian identified her as The Long Original. He patted me on the back for what was clearly now a new personal best and my first thirty on cane. She weighed 32lb 6oz and broke my old best by 2lbs. We measured her from nose to the fork of the tail, which was a massive 33 inches.

I was in dream land holding her up, she was heavy but I felt a sudden surge of energy and suddenly I felt I could hold her up all day. A dream come true it really was, not only to finally break my old, longstanding best, but to have done so with such wonderful company around me, folk who appreciated what it meant, true friends who felt every inch of elation with me. With the great old fish released back into the pool that pot of celebratory tea was prepared and enjoyed and countless times over the next hour or so we relived the battle again and again.



Brian went on to catch a tench and left for work around breakfast time. I fished on until ten and started to pack my things away for the long journeys both back to the car, and home. Before I left I filled in the log book in the hut, and after one last pot of tea with Shaun we bid our farewells and I left the pool with the biggest smile I think I’ve ever made.

The trip was nothing short of epic. New, great friends were made, paradise was found and in the bottom of a very special net was a very special fish, one I will remember fondly for the rest of my days.