Six Weeks On Horseshoe

Three of us had made this intrepid journey, Mad Jimbo, number one son and myself. Mad Jimbo had left his Merc in a storage car park at Portsmouth, in order to meet up with his wife who was on holiday down in darkest Cornwall, while we had to drive the van back up to Manchester. Another quick celebratory drink in a local den of iniquity and we said our farewells (lots of tears, etc). Jimbo raced Westbound down the mighty M27 to save his marriage, while moi, not having a marriage to save, took a leisurely drive Northbound up the good old A34.

By the time we had reached the M4 at Abingdon I was becoming a little hungry and tired, so we dug into the back of the old van to try to find something to eat. Lurking in the bottom of my rucksack I came across two Horseshoe tickets (as you do). We’d had these tickets for quite a while but had never gotten round to actually visiting the place, so we decided to pay our first visit and stop overnight, to drive back up country the following day.

A dubious bunch of lads

We eventually found the village of Lechlade in Gloucestershire, a lovely place set amidst some beautiful countryside. As darkness approached we arrived at the gate leading to Horseshoe Lake and drove round to Brian Sefton’s caravan to park up for the night. The lights were burning inside the caravan so I approached the door with trepidation and gave it a knock. Almost immediately the door swung open and I was greeted by a rather dubious bunch of lads who looked like they were having a Vietnam reunion bash. I was dragged inside and filled with beer, being introduced to everyone by Brian Sefton and John Claydon, an absolutely fantastic bunch of guys who told me everything you ever needed to know about fishing in the lake.

It must have been around two in the morning when I reluctantly fell out of the caravan on remembering young Lee was still in the van. Crawling across the front seats I retired for the night while Lee was somewhere in the back of the van at the bottom of a heap of wet carp sacks, sweaty socks and Hutchy’s Giant Crab boilies (thank god Lee’s mother couldn’t see him).

Next morning, falling out of the van, John Hobbs and his brother were packing up opposite from where we had parked; this saved us trying to find the brewing gear in the back of the van. We spent most of the day on a reconnaissance around the water and we were indeed most impressed by the place; in fact it was turned midnight on the Sunday Evening when we eventually arrived back in Manchester.

Back home though, we soon made plans to fish the lake, although I had some things to take care of at the University and Lee still had a term left at school.

A few month later and June had finally arrived; we locked up the house for a couple of months and made our way back down to Lechlade. I had fitted the roof rack to the car complete with bungies and netted straps, while Lee had brought along his mate, young Mike Dibden of Junior Specialist Angler fame. Fortunately the Ministry didn’t pull us on any weighbridges on our trip down and we arrived at the water in the early hours of Saturday morning. Good luck was in still as the boat house point was unoccupied, so within the hour we had set the bivvies up and were soon in the land of nod, unfortunately our sleep was soon to be broken by the sound of jet planes flying overhead as apparently an air show was taking place not far away.

Horseshoe Lake

Horseshoe Lake is owned and run by the Carp Society and although we had purchased tickets shortly after the original sale, we still managed to pay £ 250 each for the privilege of fishing this fine water for the next ten years, which is incredible value for any water, let alone a water of this calibre. The Carp Society do an absolutely fantastic job of running this lake; very few rules exist and the staff and bailiffs are indeed very friendly and helpful. One rule however, which is necessary, is that if you wish to fish certain swims you must book them in advance while you are on the water, and you may then occupy them for only seven days. This is to prevent swim-hogging from horrible long stay anglers (like us) and it gives everyone a fair crack at the whip.

So immediately as we arrived I booked the Summer point swim, which from prior knowledge had been producing the fish. Three days on the boathouse point and then we moved to the Summer Point for the next glorious seven days. Sport was very good at times and it wasn’t long before we started catching a few good doubles. We met some lovely people and even old Tim Marks called in for a brew. By about the third week we had fished most of the best swims, including the infamous Winter Point, and we had probably taken around forty fish, with a good sprinkling of twenties. Young Mike was also quite pleased with himself, in that prior to going down to Horseshoe, he had never taken a double. He finished up with a nice fish of seventeen pounds to his credit.

It was towards the end of the third week that we took the weekend off Horseshoe, for good behaviour, to travel even further South to fish a session on Yateley. Alan Stone and friends, who had organised a fish-in on behalf the Macmillan cancer support Trust, had invited us down to Yateley.

Yateley

Our first port of call when arriving at the village was the Yateley Angling Centre, where we met none other than Alan Stone himself, who soon had a brew organised for us (cheers mate). Yateley is again a really beautiful venue which comprises a number of lakes, including the Car Park lake, the Pads, the Split, the North lake, The Match, the Corpse and a few more, all of them noted for big carp: Basil in the North lake, Jumbo in the Pads and quite a few whackers in the Car Park Lake, including Heather the Leather and Small Orange, two fish which apparently I saw over the weekend.

On the first night at Yateley we bivvied up on the Pads, which at the time the Pads lake contained only three fish, so naturally I said my prayers to the Almighty prior to making my first cast. Young Lee was quick off the mark and, being well read on Maylinism, soon had his bivvy set up in Pole position. Me. being a little slower, took the next peg along, while Mike opted for a swim lower down on the Car Park lake.

Shortly after setting up I was greeted by some of the locals, ‘Kevin the Tree Climber’ and mates, fantastic lads and very helpful. Kevin had taken most of the biggies while being a resident on the water and he soon had me casting to the precise spot in which he had cornered Jumbo (at 44lbs) – “cast over the ledge and pull back until you feel the drop”. this was duly done immediately after I had snagged up with my fifth set of terminal tackle. It was then simply a case of getting the beers out and having the crack with the lads. Kevin had been up to his usual observation reccies, climbing trees to spot fish and it wasn’t long after setting up that Kevin insisted that I followed him down to the Car Park lake to view Heather the Leather and Small Orange who were basking near Trumptons. This involved climbing up one tree to about ten feet, transferring over to the next tree for another five foot and then climbing back to the original tree for a further six feet! I took Kevin’s word for it.

Rob Maylin’s swim on the Car Park

Around midnight or just after I was roused by the sound of a screaming buzzer, bleary eyed and looking through the bivvy door I realised it was one of mine. The rod was diving about all over the place, so I scrambled out of the bivvy and hit the run with some force. Praise be to the Lord, Jumbo here you come? Unfortunately it was a bream, and before anyone goes slagging me off, it was a really nice bream (honest). Lee and Mike also blanked and the next day was party time, barbies and beer and a visit to all the other guys around the lakes. The second night I had a lake change, everyone was chasing Basil on the North Lake so I opted for Rob Maylin’s swim on the Car Park. The place was like a wild flower meadow with weed that you could almost walk on, but true to form Kevin soon gave me advice on how to fish the swim, PVA bag, third gravel bar at thirty yards, at ten o clock of the second willow, easy cast. Ten terminal tackles later and I’m perfectly positioned (now for the second rod?).

Lee stayed on the Pads at Pole Position and he wasn’t moving for anyone and Mike sort of wondered around all night like a member of the lost tribe of Israel. No action through the night again (apart from the beer) but the following morning I had my second screaming run (and this time I was amazingly awake). Come on Heather you beauty! No, failed again it was a bloody pike on boilie (a very nice pike though).

Over the weekend we managed to raise quite a few thousand for the Macmillan cause, a very worthy event and a big well done to the organisers Stoney and Friends. I try to get involved with all these Macmillan events, one reason is because I lost my wife to cancer a few years ago, the other reason is that they don’t half get some tasty women involved with these events.

Sunday evening was quickly approaching, so we loaded the car, said our farewells (even more tears) and travelled back up North to return to Horseshoe for our final three weeks campaign.

More soon!