November was busy for me with both some fishing and fishing related events going on.
The main event was an ‘Evening of Carp’ in Luton where the proceeds from a mega raffle were being donated to the Predation Action Group (PAG) fighting funds and we also had a small PAG stand by the bar area so that we could promote the PAG aims and activities.
A good turnout was guaranteed for the evening with both Terry Hearn and Frank Warwick doing slide shows and the big conference hall was packed with carp anglers during the presentations. I not only get satisfaction from doing my bit with the PAG to help preserve fish and fisheries, but this type of event is great for meeting up with friends both old and new and the Luton evening was no exception. A great time was had by all, loads of happy anglers went home after being well entertained and with some fantastic prizes, and well over £2,000 was raised for the PAG.
The next event along the same lines will be held up in Doncaster on 30 January, so look out on the Predation Action Group Facebook page for further details; I hope to see some of you there.
On to the fishing and October had drawn to a close with really mild weather so I still wasn’t really in a committed frame of mind for my winter campaigns as we got to November. However there were some changes in the weather conditions due for the early part of the month and this looked to coincide with the days that I could arrange to take my first fishing trip of the month.
Sometimes when I’m not really fishing to a fixed plan, I’m happy to let my instincts take over and let intuition guide me in terms of deciding where to go and what to fish for on a session to session basis. As I was suddenly due to be confronted by the first proper frosts of the winter gearing up for pike, or one of the other species more suited to the drop in temperature, would have seemed a more sensible plan if I was to be guided by the weather. However my instincts were for some reason prompting me to combine some carp fishing along with the outside possibility of a big bream by paying a visit to Mallard Lake on the Bluebell Complex. This pit has a good stock of carp, mostly doubles, but with good growth rates over the last few years plenty of 20s and the odd 30 were starting to come through. Mallard also has a handful of big bream and most years one or two tend to get caught by accident by the carp anglers.
Mallard is the largest water on the complex and the swim I opted for was situated towards the south-east corner of the pit in some of the deeper water, with a small wooded area of bank off to my right offering some shelter from the light easterly breeze. A bit of work with the marker rod revealed that there was still a few little clumps of weed about here and there, but also a couple of areas close to a change in depth that felt to have recently been picked really clean by the activity from feeding fish.
I eventually selected two of these lovely clean areas as target zones. One received about two pints of maggots with a sprinkling of hemp as feed, followed by a couple of maggot-based hook baits over the top. The other spot I fished with a couple of 10mm tiger nut boilie hook baits topped with artificial corn and was carefully fed in a concentrated area with a few spods of a mix of hemp, crumbed boilie, corn and small 3mm krill pellets. I was hoping that I’d have enough feed out there to stimulate and keep a handful of fish feeding for a short period, but not so much that it would fill them up before getting to a hook bait.
The day had been quiet, without any fish activity showing on the surface and as darkness settled over the pit and the temperatures continued to fall I made myself something to eat and got myself comfortable for the long night ahead.
On the journey over to Mallard I’d been thinking about the session and was already considering a switch of venue and making a move over to the big Cambridgeshire pit where I’ve been chasing the monster bream in the past. On the face of it, fishing the big gravel pit appeared to be a ludicrous idea, as it’s very, very hard place at the best of times and with the drop in temperatures it would make it seem an almost impossible task. However I was still allowing myself to be guided by instinct rather than logic, so I started making mental preparations for packing up in the morning and making the move.
The early part of the night was quiet, with no indications from the alarms to get excited about. However, sometime after 1am there was an indication on one of the 10mm boilie rods fished over the little bed of particle and crumb and I was quickly out of the sleeping bag and by the rods as the light bobbin was pulled up tight to the rod and hovered there as the line remained tight but with not enough force to pull line from the free-spool mechanism. Sweeping the rod back met with a firm resistance, which signalled the start of a steady, plodding fight. There was no drama but neither was the fish all that keen to join me on the bank and it only allowed itself to be begrudgingly drawn towards me. Eventually I was able to draw the fish close to the margins and after a few last minute swirls the carp, for a carp it was, was safely scooped into the landing net.
Almost from the start I had a feeling it was going to be one of the better ones and a quick look down confirmed a chunky looking common that on the scales went 30lb 3oz – my first 30lb plus carp from Mallard Lake – and, as I have an agreement with the owner to obtain some good photos and help catalogue some of some of the better fish from around the complex, the fish was retained so that I could get some nice shots in the early morning sunlight. I’m very glad I did as it has to be one of the best looking commons that I’ve ever caught, with bright orange detail around the head and around each dark scale and it looked absolutely stunning against the frosty background.
It may seem daft to have caught such a lovely fish, but then be packing up and switching venues the following morning, but intuition was still pulling me towards the big gravel pit and so a few hours later I was setting up the bivvy on Ferry Lagoon for the next two nights.
Even though the next two nights were a blank and there were no signs of any fish in the area, I felt that I’d done the right thing to move. I’d not have felt settled if I’d stayed on at Mallard while my instincts where telling me to be fishing elsewhere. I’m a great believer in both short and long-term planning for my fishing and I try to maximize opportunities and results by targeting species and particular venues according to the time of year and current weather conditions. However I also believe that experience and a more deep rooted awareness of the natural world, a kind of hunting instinct for want of a better way of describing it, can also help to guide me to the right venue and/or target fish. There have been times in the past when I’ve felt an almost irresistible compulsion to be fishing at a particular venue at a particular time… and at times a remarkable result has been achieved when I’ve followed my instincts in this way.
It’s a good few years back now, but the first of my two British record barbel was caught after allowing myself to be influenced by the pull of the type of intuitive, internal guidance that I’ve described above.
It was January 2001 and following a cold Christmas period it was the first bit of mild weather of the New Year. My mate Keith had arranged to take the day off and do some barbel fishing on the river before we were both due to attend a get-together of the Northampton Specimen Group later in the evening. We’d discussed the possibility that I might join him on the river for the afternoon if I could get the afternoon off work, before packing up and heading back to my place with some fish and chips before going over to the meeting together, but I’d got a pretty heavy schedule of meetings and the possibility of squeezing in a few hours fishing were very remote. However, throughout the day the feeling that I really should be on the river just got stronger and stronger. What started out as a nagging sensation at the back of my mind eventually developed into an almost irresistible screaming insistence, until eventually I could no longer concentrate on work and I quickly re-arranged my remaining meetings and headed home to change and grab some barbel fishing gear!
It had started raining around mid-morning and hadn’t stopped since. By the time I’d got to the river and had found Keith installed in a swim towards the downstream section the river was filling up rapidly with tons of dirty water and masses of debris was being swept along the current. I was still following my instincts and decided to leave my kit with Keith under the shelter of his umbrella as I trudged my way on the long trek upstream to look at the swims that my internal guide seemed to be pushing me towards. After a long walk through the rain I eventually found the swim that I was somehow being guided towards and I wandered off back through the steady downpour to collect my gear and to tell Keith where I was going to fish. I think that Keith could tell that I was now on a mission and that the idea of just a couple of hours fishing before packing up for the group meeting had turned into something more serious. We didn’t really need to say anything as we seemed to silently agree between us that the conditions were too good to waste and that we’d be sacrificing our fish and chip supper and the dry warmth of the meeting venue to fish on into darkness and through the late evening period.
Amazingly, just as I’d completed the long walk through the pouring rain yet again to get back to my selected swim, the overhead rain stopped and with the sun proving a colourful rainbow backdrop to the scene I was able to get set up and make the first exploratory cast into the now swirling current of the river that was threatening to burst its banks with all the extra water.
It was soon getting dark and as the light dimmed my feeling of excitement increased in intensity as I was sure something special was going to happen. It didn’t take too long. One minute I was sat there in the dark watching the isotope on the rod top gently nod and pull in time to the movement of the current, then suddenly the rod was wrenched round and I was attached to a powerful force trying desperately to make it further out into the river and the full force of the current!
I was determined to keep the fight to close quarters as I was worried that if I had to battle with the fish out in the savagery of the main flow there’d be danger of a hook pull. The fight was brutal, but fortunately over with quickly, and I was able to pull a huge barbel over the net cord.
I didn’t need the scales to tell me that I’d just landed a massive barbel and that I’d smashed my PB by a mile! I knew that this was a very special barbel indeed and wanted Keith to perform the initial weighing, so after safely securing the fish in some slack water I set off across the fields to fetch him. With Keith in charge of the operation we weighed the fish on two sets of scales and recorded a weight of 19lb 1oz on both sets, adding well over a pound to the UK record!
It would have been very easy to ignore my instincts on that day and to stay warm and dry rather than make the effort to rearrange work and drag myself out into the elements for a few hours’ fishing. However I’ll be forever grateful that I allowed myself to be guided by my hunter’s intuition that so strongly insisted on getting myself out barbel fishing on that particular evening and ever since then I’ve felt more comfortable following my instincts in this way. I’m not trying to say that it always pays off, but it appears to work often enough… and occasionally with spectacular results!
Due to circumstances I was only able to get myself out for one other trip towards the end of the month, but with the word count for this piece creeping up I’d better save the details of that particular trip until my next update, which won’t appear here until after the New Year.
So until then, happy fishing!
