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Rik started fishing at the age of four on his local tiny tidal river, catching eels and small wild trout on worm.
Not having had any angling family members, all his early fishing was solitary and this seems to have carried through to the present.
Like most anglers nowadays, he has a full time job and a family, so his fishing time is limited, although he does, he tells us, have a very understanding wife.He currently lives in the depths of Hampshire, and so is within easy reach of some excellent venues.
He has in the past, and still does, fish for most species, although his greatest love is for carp fishing, which is how the majority of his time is spent.
He now finds himself more thrilled with overcoming the intricacies and problems associated with catching carp, rather than the actual weight of the fish he catches and the so-called glory that goes with it.
24 Hours In The Life Of…….
It’s not often that I fish matches and I have previously only everfished one carp match, but after some cajoling, a friend convinced methat I should attend this one. It’s not that I loathe or detest matchfishing, it’s just that it goes against the grain of my style of carpfishing, which is to locate the carp first and then try to catchthem.
The match was a 24 hour one, fishing from Saturday at 9am toSunday 9am, with only carp counting. The winner would have thebiggest total amassed weight, with a prize also on offer for thelargest individual fish.
The venue was a 25-acre gravel pit where I had previously enjoyedsome reasonable success, but is one that I hadn’t fished for about 10or 12 years, although I still kept tabs on the place.
Everybody met in the car park at 7am for the draw and it was goodto chat to some people who I hadn’t seen for a few years.
My turn came to draw for my peg and I pulled out No.12, my heartsank, it was the paper bag swim in the New Bay. Let meexplain…..
The New Bay was dug about 15 years ago and was completely barrenof features, both underwater and bankside. The swim got its namebecause it was reckoned that anyone fishing it would wear a paper bagover their head so no-one would recognise them.
Although it was fished reasonably regularly, it took five yearsfor the first carp to be caught from there.
Over the intervening years, the bankside cover had grownconsiderably and upon closer inspection the swim showed some promise,with deep, clean margins adjacent to some large overhangingbushes.
My right hand rod was fished to the marginal bushes, withcritically balanced tigers over a light scattering of the same. Myleft hand rod I cast about 30 yards out to some bubblers thatoccasionally betrayed their presence.
Being uncertain of the bottom make-up, and not wishing to castaround a lead too much, this rod was fished with a PVA bag containingseveral different types of pellet and some crumbled boilies.
I didn’t have to wait long for some action, as after about anhour, the tip pulled round on my margin rod and I pulled into a fishthat wanted to get a closer inspection of the tree roots. A shortspirited fight soon had the fish wallowing on the surface and intothe net.
The only problem here is that it was a tench. It was a lovely fishof about 7lb, but unfortunately the wrong species. Tench on tigernuts? Have they not read the scripts?
So I repositioned the rod and gave the area another lightscattering of tigers and sat back to await any further action.
Unfortunately, due to a prior commitment, I had to be elsewherefrom 3pm to 6pm, so just before I left I spodded out a healthy bed ofmixed particles and liquidised boilies to where I had seen thebubblers during the day. This would hopefully encourage any maraudingfish to get their heads down and the swim should be nice and primedwhen I returned at 6pm.
I eventually got back at about 6:30 and after checking with theorganiser, I found out that nothing had been landed whilst I wasaway, although one angler had lost one.
By 7pm I had both rods repositioned and I sat back with a coffeewatching the bubblers doing their thing all around the bay. By thistime I was beginning to think that the bubblers were possibly roachor skimmers, although I would have expected some form of indicationas the roach in this pit regularly come out to the carpers in the 2to 3lb bracket.
By dark, news had filtered round of two carp being landed bydifferent anglers, one at 5lb and one at 8lb; part of the stockingthat had taken place that spring.
As darkness descended, the rain that had been threatening all daydecided to make an appearance. Since the floods of last winter wehaven’t really had any proper rain down in the south.
Mother nature decided it was time to redress the balance and boydid it come down.
Side-stepping the river that now was beginning to form through themiddle of my swim, I retired under my shelter to see if the cover ofdarkness would provide me with any opportunities.
The bay was now alive with small silver fish and the large perchstriking through them as darkness descended were noted for a possiblefuture venture.
The night slipped away without incident and just prior to dawn Irefreshed my hookbaits in the vain hope of a last gasp fish. Theorganiser walked around about an hour before the end and things werelooking bleak everywhere.
There are four fliers on the lake. The point swim to the end ofthe lakes only island. A swim on the end of another point whichnormally has a night fishing ban and the two swims at either end ofthe out of bounds bank.
Of these four swims, two had produced fish during the night, a 15and a 16-pounder, where they would normally produce three or fourfish a night each.
Any lake that under normal circumstances has about eight or tenanglers around it, to suddenly have thirty-six hyperactive,enthusiastic carpers descend on it, is bound to turn off.
Alas no result for me, but it was enjoyable and I got to meet somefriends who I haven’t seen for some time.
Will I be back next year?
Probably, at the end of the day it was good fun and one year Imight even get a decent peg….
