tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21427782745454670702024-03-13T15:31:44.511+00:00Blogs from the bank: Carp and Coarse fishingReflections in the water.Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-32484005459485095532022-09-22T06:51:00.006+01:002022-09-22T20:47:49.209+01:00Every day's a school day...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBqK6uYGF0WgsPAbCcUaVh5xgRFyj58ffgIxuVZGBdN-wO_SQSaGvYJG5b_7YKyCIm6vTstUyx7UcLdIWHr7moRILH3taXvvG7IWrxzkz6Y7S2bDmSgKxIZt7vBiwk46_8Mi_s6AfK7oQ16ZB5SyA55wk-QyiEjkHkGpBS7e6sJqsxY4liDrcos7wQw/s2046/44787620-5D12-46A8-A071-65F7F83DE2E9.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2046" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBqK6uYGF0WgsPAbCcUaVh5xgRFyj58ffgIxuVZGBdN-wO_SQSaGvYJG5b_7YKyCIm6vTstUyx7UcLdIWHr7moRILH3taXvvG7IWrxzkz6Y7S2bDmSgKxIZt7vBiwk46_8Mi_s6AfK7oQ16ZB5SyA55wk-QyiEjkHkGpBS7e6sJqsxY4liDrcos7wQw/w640-h428/44787620-5D12-46A8-A071-65F7F83DE2E9.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mist rising beneath a captivating sunrise at Chantry lake.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">By coincidence more than design, my fishing this year has taken me on a path of discovery. At any given moment I might not have seen the wood for the trees but sometimes, taking a step back to reflect allows the bigger picture to be seen...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTrU7AYLeXYjtOfJzUmbeFbVWDP4SEUgqY8V8qUJXSzWWe59FqNpl-fuA9f5YOoYFNMKAF-7pef4vp2ndk8Wh5055P59X1k5s7WWqG4dyuy_lwp5pWSgnHa4RjnSaoUiFNn4hAo1c5tu8Pmi8D59ReYtLJmnA5JLbe0zJGveps7VccJg92ORikKbKFg/s1367/4F7479C6-9E62-4ADE-8CE6-C387F91F5583.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="913" data-original-width="1367" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTrU7AYLeXYjtOfJzUmbeFbVWDP4SEUgqY8V8qUJXSzWWe59FqNpl-fuA9f5YOoYFNMKAF-7pef4vp2ndk8Wh5055P59X1k5s7WWqG4dyuy_lwp5pWSgnHa4RjnSaoUiFNn4hAo1c5tu8Pmi8D59ReYtLJmnA5JLbe0zJGveps7VccJg92ORikKbKFg/w640-h428/4F7479C6-9E62-4ADE-8CE6-C387F91F5583.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on 'Fiveways', Ashmead.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In March I received an invitation to join a friend on the banks of Ashmead and fulfil a long held ambition to fish there. The reading I had done to prepare for my 3 day stint sent the mind boggling, but nothing could prepare me for the intimidating labyrinth of channels and pools of the wetland's carp fishing Mecca. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My intention was to be invisible; for the carp to be completely unaware of my presence. To this end, casting was largely replaced with commotion-less delivery from my homemade baiting spoon constructed from an old Silstar match pole specially for the occasion. Where it could not be avoided, a single, accurate cast with the lightest possible lead would have to suffice and not be moved, unless by a fish. In spite of my best efforts to merge with my surroundings and fish effectively, my time at this formidable venue came to an end with my net still dry. I was fortunate however to witness one of Ashmead's finest carp, Moonscale, caught by Chris Shute. </div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOX0O7A-Rj3RWUhQOmtSDgjWsuEdG56C8tONzq2JTvoR__UU6aekiVPIPGPTmHLaMtBAzJAk7tfxHEY3NOzFcebwMCFeKRggMIVDpNePT5RJMySXgUZWJcG65IgQf5RHRCddOIBR5qpZw41LTC1rKBJQKNiqajUUlNuZ52kGLkqxxKUk0YsCVZPgPNkg/s1600/b0ce1d81-5061-425e-b935-60798bcbab0a.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOX0O7A-Rj3RWUhQOmtSDgjWsuEdG56C8tONzq2JTvoR__UU6aekiVPIPGPTmHLaMtBAzJAk7tfxHEY3NOzFcebwMCFeKRggMIVDpNePT5RJMySXgUZWJcG65IgQf5RHRCddOIBR5qpZw41LTC1rKBJQKNiqajUUlNuZ52kGLkqxxKUk0YsCVZPgPNkg/w640-h428/b0ce1d81-5061-425e-b935-60798bcbab0a.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris Shute with 'Moonscale'.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>By the time the rivers opened for the new season, I was champing at the bit to wet a line in running water once more. My local stretch of the Bristol Avon has high banks and is largely overgrown by the time June comes around and so one can access long runs of water that most anglers cannot reach, simply by donning a pair of waders and getting in to trot a float. My first few trips of the summer were spent this way and I took great pleasure in catching a good many chub on light vintage tackle. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPfedil_2GsqPkSsRkXgsfcfwv6wmCQitYxSYUApqdRNZlsE77fDDB5-2L4MypTxewmHAdAAoJ49yBZ4yQsRqk0UEuv5KOZ5Err1hPxb49fOQK4rg50Oglo_wNiqlYo9Ro-UL-PbLFC9yyP6v3irik7EHfx6fFvn80QuVjoLpzJUl7PA3ekbyc-ilNw/s3002/IMG_7071.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2251" data-original-width="3002" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPfedil_2GsqPkSsRkXgsfcfwv6wmCQitYxSYUApqdRNZlsE77fDDB5-2L4MypTxewmHAdAAoJ49yBZ4yQsRqk0UEuv5KOZ5Err1hPxb49fOQK4rg50Oglo_wNiqlYo9Ro-UL-PbLFC9yyP6v3irik7EHfx6fFvn80QuVjoLpzJUl7PA3ekbyc-ilNw/w640-h480/IMG_7071.HEIC" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Bristol Avon chub.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>On a few occasions I used more stout, modern gear to present static baits, intended to attract a better stamp of chub - or even one of the Bristol Avon's elusive barbel, and stayed out into the night in the hope that the cover of darkness might induce more confident feeding. The plan came together in the shape of this 6lb 2oz chub - a new PB for me and a new club record. Over the next few trips the bites dried up in this spot and so I explored in search of deeper water (I did not fish during the extreme heat of the summer but even when it passed, I suspected the fish would have sought cooler climes). The Bristol Avon certainly appears to be in fine fettle, but the effect of the resident otters, whom I have witnessed on multiple occasions, is apparent and so a degree of despondence sets in after a while and my attention veers to other venues. I do have a growing affection for this river though and will surely return soon, perhaps next time in the hope of a large roach...</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMS17b63e8FN1h7p4KntwbxpVBiG5Ajfz47Bjxd55a_aKzAvYgh8mk_pYf70PwYxYR_xR3YiCFYzWWtCQEhh-Wy1OuUn7YdbBsz6IE3F1PbUCRWFGyux8l90BFqZGAF4zH5vw__YDHcZKElyqKs4fVkY9zXc5_uzoJ-21UE7yIVSHSnu7XWk-tlpRMQ/s2048/IMG_7173.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMS17b63e8FN1h7p4KntwbxpVBiG5Ajfz47Bjxd55a_aKzAvYgh8mk_pYf70PwYxYR_xR3YiCFYzWWtCQEhh-Wy1OuUn7YdbBsz6IE3F1PbUCRWFGyux8l90BFqZGAF4zH5vw__YDHcZKElyqKs4fVkY9zXc5_uzoJ-21UE7yIVSHSnu7XWk-tlpRMQ/w640-h428/IMG_7173.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My PB chub at 6lb 2oz.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Having not been able to access the moat for almost all of 2021, and the summer of 2020 culminating in a session of a lifetime, catching a beautiful net of specimen crucians all beneath a homemade quill on the lift-method, I was desperate to pick up where I had left off. I've written in more poetic detail about this experience, and about the moat in general, in my contribution to <a href="https://thelittleegretpress.co.uk/product/willow-pitch-vi-crucian-renaissance-limited-edition-hardback/" target="_blank">Crucian Renaissance</a>.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYN8xYphSHoDK4UhV68iQ-3jFk-sze5LpJoXVuN8iXK6jHDs65cMd5jLYKWENKrK1zO1-NKP_yKF7Fg4Id6naP-XLMWWpkN2jcqByZShj3WucpQLlT51iwNAEox_s50eNGzuYZgW0X_o6LAV95yzko1qojmJTOG--UjFetdQBZ4rSmYM_X62UyPmEQ9w/s2048/'Brace%20shot'.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYN8xYphSHoDK4UhV68iQ-3jFk-sze5LpJoXVuN8iXK6jHDs65cMd5jLYKWENKrK1zO1-NKP_yKF7Fg4Id6naP-XLMWWpkN2jcqByZShj3WucpQLlT51iwNAEox_s50eNGzuYZgW0X_o6LAV95yzko1qojmJTOG--UjFetdQBZ4rSmYM_X62UyPmEQ9w/w640-h426/'Brace%20shot'.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An unforgettable day's fishing!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Try as I did however, the crucians this season were not forthcoming. Perhaps a year of dependance on naturals in the absence of anglers had created a tough situation for anyone trying to persuade them to deviate from this food source. Regrettably, having managed to coax one to take a single maggot on my first visit of the summer, it successfully shed the hook just as I attempted to draw it across the net. There is seldom time to grieve such losses at the moat however, as distractions are always forthcoming. On this occasion a brace of fine male tench provided consolation in the last few casts of the session.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirJV_5cP0k-f5cJTnznRacMPw4LXXkFU8yyY0H01p7_VqWpb160Vdl9TkfIrfCGt56m3LHIi0mmrBx9u1MY1daIFpsxI5REiDigSVuquGNnmlFFPATRRuGux9Cj4xHxqKKvnp5_JE9l_gcMtbyDR9UBxkShxqYscTwZ890AH6NMOUNHEkWUmBbSqfng/s4032/13A9EA06-DF73-44F3-AC3C-58C11D159A5B.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirJV_5cP0k-f5cJTnznRacMPw4LXXkFU8yyY0H01p7_VqWpb160Vdl9TkfIrfCGt56m3LHIi0mmrBx9u1MY1daIFpsxI5REiDigSVuquGNnmlFFPATRRuGux9Cj4xHxqKKvnp5_JE9l_gcMtbyDR9UBxkShxqYscTwZ890AH6NMOUNHEkWUmBbSqfng/w640-h480/13A9EA06-DF73-44F3-AC3C-58C11D159A5B.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two tincas!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSuAOyneAeRnUV5q-JVUcKFvynSwkbYCltvu1_j_oTqG0xj9XG_ifAd_AsdrWFJRN3bX8GX_CUN-p6-0eCk8Wug-A4u3Q7gzecsj6zqr-hLAuQsCV0vsdpayi6e2-Rw7WSiZB3YLinstv6gGO4BOcQ5X7SthFJ5UoqFjvtLIVbw_8hSyEelJ18ACsLg/s2048/DSC_7650.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSuAOyneAeRnUV5q-JVUcKFvynSwkbYCltvu1_j_oTqG0xj9XG_ifAd_AsdrWFJRN3bX8GX_CUN-p6-0eCk8Wug-A4u3Q7gzecsj6zqr-hLAuQsCV0vsdpayi6e2-Rw7WSiZB3YLinstv6gGO4BOcQ5X7SthFJ5UoqFjvtLIVbw_8hSyEelJ18ACsLg/w640-h428/DSC_7650.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIq2AQ70uXG2euujYgkJxwKgMwZXTg9MN2v9GYFR-N9VjeT-ff2_VG85eEMYxmW3kEnMm8i9Bmn4HRkl-HrEjm2q5a0-P075tvBj9sSuTbR5fQKAui1uRT5BSO9ffF6ROTVmujY9vpkUfcv7ftdetvP4fuaqPfOsFS8dmOvV5fHUxyYhXl3aWBjjKsjQ/s2048/DSC_7689.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIq2AQ70uXG2euujYgkJxwKgMwZXTg9MN2v9GYFR-N9VjeT-ff2_VG85eEMYxmW3kEnMm8i9Bmn4HRkl-HrEjm2q5a0-P075tvBj9sSuTbR5fQKAui1uRT5BSO9ffF6ROTVmujY9vpkUfcv7ftdetvP4fuaqPfOsFS8dmOvV5fHUxyYhXl3aWBjjKsjQ/w640-h428/DSC_7689.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For the next couple of trips, I focused more on carp and, under the watchful eye of one of the resident foxes, managed to winkle out a few gems. The moat is the ideal place to make effective use of the baiting pole that I had fashioned initially for my time on Ashmead: it allows you to place bait accurately beneath overhanging branches, close to lilies or in gaps in the weed - all of which are abundant here. Furthermore, I don't usually leave the house until the kids are tucked up in bed, and so by the time I've driven down to Hampshire, it's quite late at night. The last thing I want to do is alert the fish to my presence and so gentle, accurate placement of my rig and free offerings is a tangible edge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPE7ZUZyzuMUd5-S28mPUbVa1u6RssSu0Q2oXOMQLCUyHZxA-ZTPv8RgpnJJLIoxrODYbrR1PEDvCA5OGFwAQNN9032JKHfI1y8-ztNh0PzfIxGxWpCHFoVbe92PcYt5UTGb3eCrwNQC9ZYBb8V5hG1PhnXrK0vahw1p68cxY2Ws3QL1V5O3hE9SsvTA/s1370/CF6309D5-EBDC-40F0-BDC6-26065334231E.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="1370" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPE7ZUZyzuMUd5-S28mPUbVa1u6RssSu0Q2oXOMQLCUyHZxA-ZTPv8RgpnJJLIoxrODYbrR1PEDvCA5OGFwAQNN9032JKHfI1y8-ztNh0PzfIxGxWpCHFoVbe92PcYt5UTGb3eCrwNQC9ZYBb8V5hG1PhnXrK0vahw1p68cxY2Ws3QL1V5O3hE9SsvTA/w640-h429/CF6309D5-EBDC-40F0-BDC6-26065334231E.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My biggest carp from the moat: 23lb 4oz.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>With the summer quickly fading into the realms of distant memory, it occurred to me that I had renewed my ticket on a beautiful little syndicate water just across the border in Somerset and had barely fished it. So a spontaneous decision to go into the back garden lamping for worms one night and an early alarm the next morning facilitated a joyful few hours catching perch after perch beneath a charming bobber made by my good friend Graeme Pinkerton. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibaWc8wqH8OTLg6AJx9TyTdY_m1n8i_XAOsdlzX3i81Nc_iiieu44vktsVz4Mh2lv4AfodpJCwheGKfsaEHEce-cV1ryXgoWpF6Qwky2EA3DMQWZR0BnG8Wkko9HWdSj3m3Ge0YTff1RYUIoN63WTD7KKrL61nYR1rOHOcqWTVrqw-0uqxlqAIeKgX6g/s3570/IMG_7876.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2677" data-original-width="3570" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibaWc8wqH8OTLg6AJx9TyTdY_m1n8i_XAOsdlzX3i81Nc_iiieu44vktsVz4Mh2lv4AfodpJCwheGKfsaEHEce-cV1ryXgoWpF6Qwky2EA3DMQWZR0BnG8Wkko9HWdSj3m3Ge0YTff1RYUIoN63WTD7KKrL61nYR1rOHOcqWTVrqw-0uqxlqAIeKgX6g/w640-h480/IMG_7876.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Though completely transfixed on the float and temporarily transubstantiated into my childhood self, it was still impossible not to be distracted by the activity of the carp all around me. A large white mirror encircled my float whilst others crashed beneath branches overhanging the bank opposite. In spite of my previous lack of success with the carp here, which could be explained by my lack of effort, I had now acknowledged a new imperative. I thought back to my approach at Ashmead and remembered my aim to be invisible to the carp. The spot on which I wanted to place my bait was out of reach for my baiting pole and so a cast was unavoidable. This pool has quite a silty bottom so my concern was that my whole rig might bury itself too deep to be easily found if my lead was too heavy. Since attending a talk with Frank Warwick a few years ago, I have tended towards very heavy leads; not for their casting ability but for their hooking potential and since I've started using the baiting spoon I have been able to minimise the splash they cause completely. On this occasion however, 1oz leads were the perfect compromise - just enough to reach the spot first time, little enough I believed to lay atop the silt. My only question was whether I would get a good hook hold but faith had to be placed in the sharpness of the hook and the mechanics of the rig itself. I remembered also Trevor Sturgess, whom I met at Ashmead, describing the carp using the weight of heavier leads to shake off the hook and so a little more confidence in my strategy was warranted. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI9jiv-P6NFNgWaQPJ4WUg8-6rkwsfcONnYWjBjZNQI2u7uAoBGMwm7FHHzY8p_IVW15lLAznii6kgF4e66uwE4P79xlTKMa4a66M996kFIPGZ3GVgsOourfi62tpi2gBT8gV2se0nPgq5mB_AF0_LgYCVX3ijn_YATbuHmYO-WkyXy3o1zEeFPU1wg/s1346/_RNP4637.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="1346" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI9jiv-P6NFNgWaQPJ4WUg8-6rkwsfcONnYWjBjZNQI2u7uAoBGMwm7FHHzY8p_IVW15lLAznii6kgF4e66uwE4P79xlTKMa4a66M996kFIPGZ3GVgsOourfi62tpi2gBT8gV2se0nPgq5mB_AF0_LgYCVX3ijn_YATbuHmYO-WkyXy3o1zEeFPU1wg/w640-h426/_RNP4637.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I need not have had any doubts! On the stroke of midnight, my reel screamed to life, announcing a connection with a very angry, zealous carp. I had heard from other members of the syndicate that the carp here are 'unstoppable' - I can see why they have that reputation as the initial run had incredible power. I had to steer the fish, encouraging it to kite wide, rather than stopping it but even when in open water, surge followed determined surge. I was surprised then, when such a small fish eventually came to the net. I dread to think how I might have fared if I had hooked one of its bigger siblings! Nonetheless, I was absolutely made-up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whilst I have managed to continue to fish intermittently over the last few years since my children were born, my experiences on the bank have, until recently, been shorter and more fragmented. As a result I have found it hard to connect the dots or consider a story of any meaning to recount in this diary. However, since my trip to Ashmead this year, I feel that each trip has unlocked another piece of a puzzle, teaching me something of value that I have been able to apply in successive trips. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are still pieces missing of course; inconsistencies in my approach and by extension in the rewards that I reap. And then there are the pea-soupers; times when everything seemed spot on and yet the plan did not come together. Surely though, this is what fuels the fires of obsession, and keeps many of us coming back again and again to figure it out!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tC0Ln-D-rw7SG7MWKgQOIdqP5AA_4CyQmxXejrRQlfJYWkEOKZ2YMBeXT8CkzY-2JA0q33JkuAt56IO7uTTO224zkXofR7mGX-LCDAFqERXw5Uaq2OWF4tuSuy098Mp9NMepGRrDpn3n9lMfZc6LeYNHTptZV5Yv4BIlAAIqfamDoRBm_tXHmxrZnA/s1499/_RNP4608-2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1499" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tC0Ln-D-rw7SG7MWKgQOIdqP5AA_4CyQmxXejrRQlfJYWkEOKZ2YMBeXT8CkzY-2JA0q33JkuAt56IO7uTTO224zkXofR7mGX-LCDAFqERXw5Uaq2OWF4tuSuy098Mp9NMepGRrDpn3n9lMfZc6LeYNHTptZV5Yv4BIlAAIqfamDoRBm_tXHmxrZnA/w640-h426/_RNP4608-2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Milky Way above Chantry Lake.</td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p></div></div>Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-60242604215184915702018-12-23T17:03:00.000+00:002019-01-05T23:33:07.078+00:00Looking back at 2018<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_F4VIfLjbaoRb1r2brG5GUorH4EZBZHQeHBAZqvp6fKOf6Q0MXlemS8ttI7BJtgvkPSzfCXwlyjCPvT0mxgChzNYTrk4FwyKivmMFuRredG7J77hfGktdfKygALiC2C588-Of5S8BnlIC/s1600/DSC_8295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_F4VIfLjbaoRb1r2brG5GUorH4EZBZHQeHBAZqvp6fKOf6Q0MXlemS8ttI7BJtgvkPSzfCXwlyjCPvT0mxgChzNYTrk4FwyKivmMFuRredG7J77hfGktdfKygALiC2C588-Of5S8BnlIC/s640/DSC_8295.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My syndicate lake in the autumn.</td></tr>
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Finding a balance between work and family life can be tricky enough at the best of times but throwing an obsession with angling in to the mix and a series of unfortunate events and circumstances to boot can make for an even harder task. I will spare you the details of my complaints but suffice to say 2018 has been a difficult time but the solitude and serenity provided by even the shortest tarry on the bank has been greatly appreciated and served a valuable therapeutic purpose.<br />
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My first winter since returning to the West Country was cold and at times, hostile. The River Frome provided some respite from the working week where hours spent driving in dismal darkness topped and tailed days of relentless challenges. The Frome, even in the bleakest days of winter, seemed to be teaming with life and from this I took solace. Time has not been my friend for some years now but as I have found in recent years, by cheating myself of sleep I could be set up on the bank, ready to trot a float or watch a quiver-tip just as the first semblance of sunlight scouted ahead of the horizon. The simplicity of fishing here itself was good for me, a perfect antidote to the complexity of problems faced elsewhere. Over the months that followed, I enjoyed a consistently satisfying stamp of roach, dace and some fair chub to boot - even when a carpet of snow adorned the patchwork fields that surrounded the stretch. This snow did not prevent the fish from biting but when it caused me to turn my car over on my way to work with my rods still in the boot, my river fishing was put on hold for a couple of weeks until they could be retrieved and consequently the last knockings of the season were missed.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikr6SBe2at7Wv4GOuEHAS21x6iv5RyXpPt_CFlRgIuydSRDQ4l-K0yRL3YUYNhnNjMjReVD7kEtxydOyZfJN2j4TyZEy3nTpa1r-7ppCZxunNRa7IH2gXwP8LDbIb85vTanCzyMg5dF-WA/s1600/6158E4F4-F97A-4C69-8A77-289D6C8275C0.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikr6SBe2at7Wv4GOuEHAS21x6iv5RyXpPt_CFlRgIuydSRDQ4l-K0yRL3YUYNhnNjMjReVD7kEtxydOyZfJN2j4TyZEy3nTpa1r-7ppCZxunNRa7IH2gXwP8LDbIb85vTanCzyMg5dF-WA/s640/6158E4F4-F97A-4C69-8A77-289D6C8275C0.JPEG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chub and Roach caught on the River Frome and my mondeo shortly after I rolled it on the ice.</td></tr>
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Whilst the rivers were still closed, my friend Jake took me for a <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/04/overnight-success.html" target="_blank">short session on his syndicate</a> lake on a quest for a carp. It was quite an interesting venue with very little in the way of visible features. Thankfully, a carp gave its whereabouts away by topping out of the water while we were setting up and so this mid-water location became one of our baited areas. It transpired the topography of the lakebed was akin to the inside of an egg box with belligerent boulders towering up from the silt, making for a heart rendering battle when early in the evening a powerful fish took off with my maple nut popup. I could feel the line rubbing against the rocks and pinging free one by one, each time causing me to think the fish was lost until the slack was taken up once more with another valiant bid for freedom. I have only targeted carp twice in earnest this year, both were successful and coincidently, Jake was fishing in the adjacent swim both times causing me to see him as something of a lucky charm!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCHCgU0Ogbzub-AFAB2XpjDD0cPud41NxWtwVZFGkaCxqtN_0u206OtmGIL-9RvHvLy7DmE1Z71uEiQI3-2SFPZIPzfZ5s6Ni_UOsMKxKEEzAQVCtkiAwO2omH5WXMaBrlG9BjMxi_B9G/s1600/DSC_3604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCHCgU0Ogbzub-AFAB2XpjDD0cPud41NxWtwVZFGkaCxqtN_0u206OtmGIL-9RvHvLy7DmE1Z71uEiQI3-2SFPZIPzfZ5s6Ni_UOsMKxKEEzAQVCtkiAwO2omH5WXMaBrlG9BjMxi_B9G/s640/DSC_3604.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My biggest carp of 2018.</td></tr>
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A few weeks later the seasons had changed dramatically. It was only the beginning of May but felt like the height of Summer. It was an honour to have been invited on a <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/05/the-social.html" target="_blank">very special social</a> trip to Charlie's Lake near Ashford, for my friend Shaun's stag do. The camaraderie and banter was top-notch throughout the whole weekend, as was the fishing. Thankfully, everyone managed to catch at least one wels catfish which was our intended quarry. My own catches started small and progressively increased in weight resulting in this 30lber taken from tight to snags on the far bank. In all honesty, I don't think I have ever had my string pulled so hard! However, once away from the submerged branches of the tree I had cast to, the open water in front of me was free from hazards, meaning it was just a case of holding on and hoping the fish would tire to the point of submission before I did! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2UJ7vbhaF8kls2wy86qgX6AsKnULqTGSLWui1AdTzq0kx6aaG8oPscKzi21jQB8OdUzzrBdA3WZsUeMeZ-QKQnODonMU9BJEcRLCoRFgAcVYe9SPZ2aLkUJAbytsjxk6KjVf5hx7Vd9-/s1600/IMG_5413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2UJ7vbhaF8kls2wy86qgX6AsKnULqTGSLWui1AdTzq0kx6aaG8oPscKzi21jQB8OdUzzrBdA3WZsUeMeZ-QKQnODonMU9BJEcRLCoRFgAcVYe9SPZ2aLkUJAbytsjxk6KjVf5hx7Vd9-/s640/IMG_5413.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New PB catfish at 30lbs caught at Charlie's Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgIhbnmiZ8950DSrG9ucG57giSRmK9jNUlatu-1ydtIv24DTADo7nUGQJrfrPJwGh-Slmp8OBiblGzVVsevhluqvpc-3N6b5xLRR1zx1UiSS8TyAy77whpFrVwgIVD5n6xRc5A2s4n8gJ/s1600/DSC_5214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgIhbnmiZ8950DSrG9ucG57giSRmK9jNUlatu-1ydtIv24DTADo7nUGQJrfrPJwGh-Slmp8OBiblGzVVsevhluqvpc-3N6b5xLRR1zx1UiSS8TyAy77whpFrVwgIVD5n6xRc5A2s4n8gJ/s640/DSC_5214.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise on the syndicate.</td></tr>
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I had joined a <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/07/the-enchanted-lake.html" target="_blank">small syndicate</a> myself, not far from home with the hopes of catching a few of their newly stocked crucians, or even one of the fabled original stock if I should be so lucky. It turns out I was not lucky at all. Over the whole summer, I did not catch even one here, though had one on the end of my line a couple of times before embarrassing blunders betrayed my success. This lake was a tranquil haven, devoid of other anglers almost every time I visited however I was kept company by a carnival of animals; badgers, tawny owls, kingfishers, swallows, deer... all popping past to pay their respects! Eventually, I put my ambition for a crucian from this water aside and targeted the perch. I caught a number of good fish, both with a worm beneath a traditional bobber and also on a more modern approach with rubber lures fished on a very light drop shot rod - the latter of these two methods producing the best fish of the summer for me.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4G8r08dAITPIXnRdKDMIn9fKtUUT0BzS8Rnv4BHDp-DmPWmtQJPi8-srDp_NZ8UjYO1WM4j_c654S9ouOWjewSc2wOVpTQ91mVsoD-sEY4F4Lm7TirRfoky_pV-xityiTTcSSRJhuFrkO/s1600/DSC_5749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4G8r08dAITPIXnRdKDMIn9fKtUUT0BzS8Rnv4BHDp-DmPWmtQJPi8-srDp_NZ8UjYO1WM4j_c654S9ouOWjewSc2wOVpTQ91mVsoD-sEY4F4Lm7TirRfoky_pV-xityiTTcSSRJhuFrkO/s640/DSC_5749.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A chunky drop-shot caught perch.</td></tr>
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I was fortunate in the summer to be invited back to <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/08/black-and-gold.html" target="_blank">The Moat</a> to fish for a few days. This venue is special for numerous reasons but the quality of the crucians here is right up there. So much so perhaps that the characterful, dark carp that inhabit the same waters are often overshadowed. However, I am equally keen to target both whenever I am fortunate enough to visit.</div>
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My previous trip had seen me catch some tenacious tench and a very credible crucian but all in all was a tough session with each bite being hard earned. This time though was quite the contrary. Several carp were taken each night and at first light and a couple of crucians each over 2lbs made my mornings along with others lost and a variety of non-target species for good measure.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBu-EtjPHMWhnoaV5A8s4QVCC7iX3YjIvqr1l32gRUqgmnpyWMlpsHVVHIkDLQ9nKXC6BQNlIojkoDQiLC5ZYTZJyYec_KXgE5jxZCW1IERAAR5Jr5BnDJjgiCbjEzEJnm2KANfy_BHVX/s1600/DSC_5977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBu-EtjPHMWhnoaV5A8s4QVCC7iX3YjIvqr1l32gRUqgmnpyWMlpsHVVHIkDLQ9nKXC6BQNlIojkoDQiLC5ZYTZJyYec_KXgE5jxZCW1IERAAR5Jr5BnDJjgiCbjEzEJnm2KANfy_BHVX/s640/DSC_5977.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dark mirror caught at night at the moat.</td></tr>
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One of the things I am enjoying in my fishing these days is the fluidity I have acquired between traditional and modern methods. In fact, I no longer see them as separate entities: it's all just fishing! I will happily fish with cane or carbon, depending on my chosen tactics and often will combine the two. The moat lends itself especially well to this in my opinion.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BkhkiQ7nF9fCTpcH0u-fUTl26J7CbiA3w5svA9sIIfRrLP0VbqUUeiaeabSa1680f-KEHgGymRolzGu1YcgsrRh5l8yAetPYXaJPvUj2NV3I5mCsmfpO7FhF5yv76YE1fCRv1JzLf3SB/s1600/DSC_6002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BkhkiQ7nF9fCTpcH0u-fUTl26J7CbiA3w5svA9sIIfRrLP0VbqUUeiaeabSa1680f-KEHgGymRolzGu1YcgsrRh5l8yAetPYXaJPvUj2NV3I5mCsmfpO7FhF5yv76YE1fCRv1JzLf3SB/s640/DSC_6002.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cane caught cru'.</td></tr>
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My last trip of the summer was with my dad who was keen for us to do some sea fishing from Chesil Beach. In a way this brings me full circle, as this is exactly how I got started. These days, I don't really own a lot of sea tackle and so had to improvise - a carp fishing rod pod combined with storm poles from my brolly became my tripod and my spod and marker setup became rudimentary beach casters. It all held up well, in spite of my doubts and the fact that it was put through its paces by a vast variety of species including gurnard, whiting, dogfish, mackerel and others which could certainly pull hard such as conger eels and thornback rays, was testament to its adequacy. A couple of fish were taken for the table, all the rest were returned. It was great to get out with my dad again - we always seem to leave it too long but have a great time whenever we do get our act together. </div>
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Once I returned to work after the summer break, my fishing resumed its previous form of short early morning sessions at the weekends. The object not being so much to a catch fish as to catch up with myself in a moment of quiet.</div>
I have certainly managed to get on the bank more frequently than last year, when being a new father brought my angling to a standstill for a time, but aside from a few overnighters, I have only fished during the day on two occasions - all the others being no more than a few hours at dawn each time and so with this in mind, I am quite pleased with the fish I have caught and the experiences I have had. I am already very excited about some piscatorial plans for 2019 and can't wait to be able to share them with you as they transpire. Until then, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!<br />
Tight lines,<br />
Richard.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beach casting with my spod and marker rods at Chesil Beach!</td></tr>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-29403995766875998182018-08-24T10:35:00.002+01:002018-08-24T23:43:05.157+01:00Black and Gold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrT17iHDaYYxScQMFQJfz9ZnWWfRt9OFGrQWXxr8-hrM9af55WJ3dFk2wSZAIfH6ympGACaK4ojWZRgHyKPULuv6JZEfRpB2ZFIzh2xfjkgjDCLGkxvcdj2eCdP3rNlgxP-FByyNS-QSMm/s1600/DSC_5920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrT17iHDaYYxScQMFQJfz9ZnWWfRt9OFGrQWXxr8-hrM9af55WJ3dFk2wSZAIfH6ympGACaK4ojWZRgHyKPULuv6JZEfRpB2ZFIzh2xfjkgjDCLGkxvcdj2eCdP3rNlgxP-FByyNS-QSMm/s640/DSC_5920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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There is a place which is truly wild whilst being contained within man-made walls; a place where common creatures dwell and yet are like no others of their kind; a place where one can find solitude and society simultaneously; a place which is amplified in magnificence within the imagination and yet exceeds expectations when experienced in reality. To be invited to spend time here, beside <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-moat.html" target="_blank">The Moat</a> is a true privilege and certainly not something I will ever take for granted. However, the idyllic nature of the venue does not imply the fishing is easy. In fact, at times it can be infuriatingly difficult! The rewards of perseverance however, can be plentiful.</div>
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As per previous visits, in order to make the most of my allotted time here, I employed traditional float fishing tactics by day to target crucians and then fish with modern methods by night for carp. This seems to allow me to maximise the opportunities available to encounter the unique specimens that inhabit the moat.<br />
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Fishing commenced mid-afternoon on a humid and overcast Friday. I decided not to feed any freebies or groundbait at all at first - an approach I often take at the beginning of a session as I don't know what has gone in before my arrival and if there are already hungry fish present, then I want them to take my bait first before they become preoccupied with anything else. </div>
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Sure enough, no sooner had I cast in a carefully formed bread flake, the float lifted and then glided off stage-left towards the curtain of nearby lilies. I bent into a very strong-willed male tench, quite adamant not to be netted, making several lunges into weedbeds and generally wreaking havoc! To me this tench is something of an archetype. Dark and decedent on the dorsal line blending through British racing green down to its mango undercarriage. It glistened in the light as though it had been painted with 6 coats of yacht varnish and looked on patiently through its beady red eyes. Two other slightly smaller tench followed, decimating the swim in a similar fashion and then the bites dried up.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauh0tW_nj3O0qz7T6xf6SzdCXvqmmlB4JQPFU1hSD_opO7jbl7dBP-UgjON87oj6XaV-CuUuXrlfncj7483iKwaYFZ6ROgV8YcyogQBhvCXJ88gSt2jfN_JZt_OUFIQn18-Iu8jePQOGQ/s1600/IMG-6133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauh0tW_nj3O0qz7T6xf6SzdCXvqmmlB4JQPFU1hSD_opO7jbl7dBP-UgjON87oj6XaV-CuUuXrlfncj7483iKwaYFZ6ROgV8YcyogQBhvCXJ88gSt2jfN_JZt_OUFIQn18-Iu8jePQOGQ/s640/IMG-6133.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect tinca!</td></tr>
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I fished until I could barely see my motionless float. Just before I decided to call it a day and set up camp for the night the smallest, barely distinguishable movements came from the silhouetted swan-quill. I had been introducing small amounts of groundbait - as per the rule, very little, very often, in the hope it would generate some interest in my hook bait. Before long the activity snowballed into a confident lift which I did not hesitate to hit. The connection was made, this time clearly not a tench- I caught a glimpse: it was a crucian, albeit one that thought it was a tench! Rather than spiralling aimlessly it darted purposefully towards a weedbed to my right. I managed to kite it round and carefully positioned the net in its path but it dived down deep and found more weed cover just out of my reach. I gently raised my rod tip and the fish came to the surface, bringing with it wreaths of Canadian pondweed about a foot from my outstretch landing net. As I slowly brought it closer I could see a beautiful, deep fish, clearly of adequate proportions to fulfil all my crucian dreams! It came within an inch of the rim when suddenly the hook pinged free. I lurched forward to try and scoop the fish up but my efforts were in vain and my prize swam gleefully away. I am not sure I managed to internalise my frustration on this occasion but fishing between good friends <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/04/overnight-success.html" target="_blank">Jake</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/TheGapinkerton" target="_blank">Graeme</a> provided empathic consolation in abundance. I placed the hook on the bottom eye of my rod, tightened up with the ratchet on and went to prepare my swim for the night.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvuQIgo6z4Wb5NiAN3yJ7r9W02aaRkjlUCsSWmZy2MqL3EFxq6xds6DA6ezwohU1pA2iiY6tFJD3TlJqldA3pe-HwDIoznCYO5eKNXRC9WPu2W-UG4bPKJDbKnMGKBZ9PQClmYPrp6048/s1600/DSC_1398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvuQIgo6z4Wb5NiAN3yJ7r9W02aaRkjlUCsSWmZy2MqL3EFxq6xds6DA6ezwohU1pA2iiY6tFJD3TlJqldA3pe-HwDIoznCYO5eKNXRC9WPu2W-UG4bPKJDbKnMGKBZ9PQClmYPrp6048/s640/DSC_1398.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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On arrival at the moat I had started trickling bait into a margin spot beneath an overhanging tree on my right and into a channel between two beds of lilies on my left and had popped back to this spot mid afternoon to keep this going with a couple of handfuls of boilies scattered around each area. As I arrived back at the swim following my crushing crucian defeat, a huge wave emanated from the margin spot. Perhaps whatever it was had been spooked by me walking up the bank but it was a promising sign. A little more bait went out along with my rigs to each spot. I made use of small PVA bags, partly to protect the hook from the silk-weed that lay on the bottom and from the Canadian pondweed and other flora that were floating in rafts around the swims.<br />
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Jake was also carping through the night in a nearby swim and he called in to see me before settling down for the night. We discussed the moat's 'no braided hook links' rule - one which made sense when considering the potential for tethering in such a hazardous environment but one which put us both outside our comfort zones in terms of bait presentation and rig-mechanics. My left rod was fishing a hinged stiff rig which I have done well with in the past but on the right hand rod I presented a snowman on a fluro blowback D-rig. I know this works well for others but it is not usually part of my repertoire and so my confidence in it was not especially high. We wished each other luck and parted company. After a generous portion of tortellini and a phone call home, I tucked up into my bed chair and started to snooze.<br />
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I am glad I gained a head start on sleep because it didn't last long. Single blips and 'false runs' plagued me throughout the night. I blamed my rig for the lack of hook-ups. Eventually I reeled in, sharpened the hook and put on a heavier lead but the irritating bites continued, eventually culminating in one I was able to hit at 3 am, leading me to land a fairly decent sized bream. Whilst it did not give me the typical limp-handshake of a fight that typifies a breams usual efforts when hooked and I certainly don't mind catching them on lighter tackle intentionally, tonight this is not what I was hoping for! I contemplated not re-casting so I could get some sleep but decided to chuck the rig back out as it was with an underarmed handful of boilies to accompany it. I instantly regretted this as the line bites and false runs resumed - and sleep did not. So I decided to embrace the day, made a cafetière of very strong coffee and eventually a full English breakfast followed.<br />
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At about 6am, just as the sausages began to sizzle, my carelessly cast right rod ripped off rapidly. I picked up and bent into a very powerful and determined fish which made an easy arc of my stout carbon carp rod. Thankfully I was adequately gunned to turn this fish from nearside snags and far side lilies but as it tore around the swim from one weed-raft to the next, a huge weight accumulated on my line until eventually it was near solid and exceptionally heavy. Remembering the scaled down but similar situation the day before, I was especially careful as I tried to coax this dead-weight to the net. I managed to get it over the cord and tried to lift the net but as I did the water erupted and the collective mass of fish and weed sped away from me once more. This scenario repeated several times until eventually, as my arm felt like it was about to fall off, I managed to lift the net, securing an incredible carp that still seemed not to have tired. However, due to the time of year and the exertion this fish had made, I rested it for some time in the net before lifting onto the mat for the usual post-capture drill. Photographing this fish gave me a great opportunity to admire its dark, chocolatey tones. What a magnificent creature!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQkXb8PTW-BjTj0OdnBPRQ_4vG-rErqVzZ4RLYlR6xC8VjQ4PjMGWpdOJZvv5dzGWctRus5wJq1z42ocJ-rMT-4fqapRggoFr54HP9Qm6qpNxmTQEggA2aBbxzB_F98QRQFtOOikTpPUNO/s1600/DSC_5889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQkXb8PTW-BjTj0OdnBPRQ_4vG-rErqVzZ4RLYlR6xC8VjQ4PjMGWpdOJZvv5dzGWctRus5wJq1z42ocJ-rMT-4fqapRggoFr54HP9Qm6qpNxmTQEggA2aBbxzB_F98QRQFtOOikTpPUNO/s640/DSC_5889.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnxVZDuqcinb0iBtyXtgbavhouw1ObAlSxzRoHrFbB7orW3DgGReFB0XIYk-bueKRW-777Y4I9qzb3yMHUaCCUc5cHy_v6dk6F1rd661sjQiNpfRM4v-bHS5zctAGrrA70l9a7LdiXLKLM/s1600/DSC_5896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnxVZDuqcinb0iBtyXtgbavhouw1ObAlSxzRoHrFbB7orW3DgGReFB0XIYk-bueKRW-777Y4I9qzb3yMHUaCCUc5cHy_v6dk6F1rd661sjQiNpfRM4v-bHS5zctAGrrA70l9a7LdiXLKLM/s640/DSC_5896.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dark, chocolatey moat mirror!</td></tr>
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I recast and tucked into breakfast - the ecstasy of my recent capture masking the taste of my slightly singed sausages! Before the fry-up was finished the left rod followed suit as line started fizzing from the spool. By comparison the battle was tame but I rested the fish in the net nonetheless. Whilst doing so, head-bailiff Mark popped in to see me and was able to identify my capture by its many quirky features as Ivan - a real character-fish if ever there was one! Mark obliged with a quick photograph and then I slipped Ivan back without too much fuss. We joked about how often Ivan trips up and that it would not be a surprise if I saw him again!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXUrm8QPejsPSmC_CB1gaNVoyTqoLb3AI9dLrqwCKxVQhLcF2EyOVwWpPZviYcfICk5NwcaWCcF3dtI5uIveBBb_qlWVO1Fosa_LF7W-95zpFfNv7UOu9JyCRfRLhK0XR5nETyVvL8bgW/s1600/DSC_5906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXUrm8QPejsPSmC_CB1gaNVoyTqoLb3AI9dLrqwCKxVQhLcF2EyOVwWpPZviYcfICk5NwcaWCcF3dtI5uIveBBb_qlWVO1Fosa_LF7W-95zpFfNv7UOu9JyCRfRLhK0XR5nETyVvL8bgW/s640/DSC_5906.jpg" width="594" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was delighted to capture the characterful Ivan!</td></tr>
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After this I reeled in the carp rods, topped up the free offerings in the swim and went over to the stretch I had fished the day before which was more conducive to float fishing and where I knew a few friends would also be fishing. While others were swim raking and building their swims with bait, I continued with my conservative baiting strategy and initially cast my bread flake hook bait with no freebies at all, tight to some lilies extending out from the bank. My float must have sat there for about half an hour without even a twitch and then, with no warning at all, lifted straight up followed shortly by my rod tip. Having made the connection, the fish charged off assertively, depriving me of the gentle bout I was hoping for and had I not caught a golden glimpse, once again doubt would have been cast on the identity of this small cyprinidae. This time with the benefit of hindsight I took extra care to steer this fish around the various obstacles and breathed a sigh of relief when eventually I had it in the net.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_pdZaKUeeVLlO5o4xmuhDH_tEJu4HuLQr6RyRBmnxQLVPb0LtIaHelWDGvQCOUcyN3hrSox8oTFSjUPHO5ragxKgF56jn07O7Zbo70wOd5xT4pLxPXloir1gAu1A37_8o7fkTtqaeZpD/s1600/IMG-6158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_pdZaKUeeVLlO5o4xmuhDH_tEJu4HuLQr6RyRBmnxQLVPb0LtIaHelWDGvQCOUcyN3hrSox8oTFSjUPHO5ragxKgF56jn07O7Zbo70wOd5xT4pLxPXloir1gAu1A37_8o7fkTtqaeZpD/s640/IMG-6158.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crucian from the moat - caught on my own handmade swan quill slider float.</td></tr>
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Aside from regular rendezvous with small roach, the rest of the day was relatively quiet. As time moved on, I felt increasing pressure to make things happen. By mid afternoon my swim was raked and an accumulating layer of groundbait was keeping the crucians quite occupied, leaving them with no desire to do any more than nudge my hook bait tauntingly. It might not have happened anyway but by now I had definitely wrecked it! I packed up but lingered for a while to see how my friends had fared before returning to my night time swim.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm1rqO9pcninMWuhgDnPnALSeggFv9-SqbIqCavqdrtJoX6fBMCjIOifQFLiEc0D_jY6EXC9CfOBY-Lq1-xMtBvsJsomdvWiROlDGQYIjOe3wWUKL-TXBH1s56rIv8YBnJ89P4bogaGPQ/s1600/IMG-6167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm1rqO9pcninMWuhgDnPnALSeggFv9-SqbIqCavqdrtJoX6fBMCjIOifQFLiEc0D_jY6EXC9CfOBY-Lq1-xMtBvsJsomdvWiROlDGQYIjOe3wWUKL-TXBH1s56rIv8YBnJ89P4bogaGPQ/s640/IMG-6167.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfection in miniature.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAQFOMayTGYtOsMJfhOoBqqBpEyCDbkgol_wDkfnEqxiREDWN1aBUcckcM7_gD9GsiQNiZAWlFnNxj7uTsFGh0ozebeANYw4P4iUGxCcpxvMj7tqrTGVZHdLFgA8CayVDQlWxQKmchKGh/s1600/DSC_5910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAQFOMayTGYtOsMJfhOoBqqBpEyCDbkgol_wDkfnEqxiREDWN1aBUcckcM7_gD9GsiQNiZAWlFnNxj7uTsFGh0ozebeANYw4P4iUGxCcpxvMj7tqrTGVZHdLFgA8CayVDQlWxQKmchKGh/s640/DSC_5910.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake also had success with the crucians!</td></tr>
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I approached the night in the same way as before but with new-found confidence thanks to the morning's fish. I mentally prepared for another sleepless night filled with poorly-timed blips and bobbins yo-yoing aimlessly which, much to my horror, resumed just after 11pm. When finally a sustained drop-back occurred I struck in frustration thinking perhaps I would land this bream then keep the rod in until first light. However, as I struck, it was not a bream I hooked! An explosive altercation ensued, not dissimilar to the first fish of the morning but with increased power and the added complication of having to conduct this close-quarter confrontation in near complete darkness.</div>
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Once this monster of the moat was resting in my net, a message came through on my phone from Jake, who had heard the commotion and was asking if I wanted a hand with photos. I hesitated because I knew he would have to reel in and I didn't want to disrupt his fishing, but as I looked at this incredible fish I realised that I had to accept his offer to ensure the memory was preserved and the fish was well looked after in the process. In no time Jake was round at my swim. He was invaluable in getting this process right and I am extremely grateful!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguivkBKuaI8Qg35rwvMpKQK6sX1CULJUA3YB40N1DnfwBAuIMCx175BkoZ-w1tjWDDPoa9jhtr3ag8qb-8G9VW_d1IcQAX7k8wT2KuF3p728CYEfMs0es2WLaduOQPCPnCikbIyEwcCCu5/s1600/DSC_5982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguivkBKuaI8Qg35rwvMpKQK6sX1CULJUA3YB40N1DnfwBAuIMCx175BkoZ-w1tjWDDPoa9jhtr3ag8qb-8G9VW_d1IcQAX7k8wT2KuF3p728CYEfMs0es2WLaduOQPCPnCikbIyEwcCCu5/s640/DSC_5982.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHpkz3QTV89SebehQd7-YpK8Z0W9bLMxHok9S9V1wnYVHYt_Mbd3Qj1tisj86nNvBsU9dYI6niPoa31l9SCGZg-Q6EnXpNvA6d_35toYLSdj6kewCodUUaGeGD8_PPEghg48boYEgYWok/s1600/DSC_5977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHpkz3QTV89SebehQd7-YpK8Z0W9bLMxHok9S9V1wnYVHYt_Mbd3Qj1tisj86nNvBsU9dYI6niPoa31l9SCGZg-Q6EnXpNvA6d_35toYLSdj6kewCodUUaGeGD8_PPEghg48boYEgYWok/s640/DSC_5977.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My biggest Moat Mirror!</td></tr>
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After returning this magnificent mirror to the moat I topped up the swim with bait and nestled back down in the hope of some sleep. Three angry double-figure commons had other ideas though...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GSUTC0nTQJ9vF5r6TwCG12WDuUIGrFfBMSnabPVhVrsidRCCXvVMyjpJlsNeIhyLMgXrLxxreXX_-n2iGbHapUrFs4TJW1a_0au7u5nCTRPnHWQVj_E7A32Lmf3bgaoHSMz-688OwOdu/s1600/DSC_5986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GSUTC0nTQJ9vF5r6TwCG12WDuUIGrFfBMSnabPVhVrsidRCCXvVMyjpJlsNeIhyLMgXrLxxreXX_-n2iGbHapUrFs4TJW1a_0au7u5nCTRPnHWQVj_E7A32Lmf3bgaoHSMz-688OwOdu/s640/DSC_5986.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first of 3 angry mid-double commons that kept me awake!</td></tr>
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... and even Ivan decided to pop by to say 'hi'!!!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nJy6TPkBFMbiXAYMqIvR3hxzenDeryzOfLEv70KIXPyFKI4tDnRxQUy1cSk52N3ZWLJAlwhHcweUqzGqkKp8WyoAUV92r8Z-hbbQX6L-Zva7biPDaBkuK0j6oVrf4Ue8FhcGOl96yNhH/s1600/DSC_5987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nJy6TPkBFMbiXAYMqIvR3hxzenDeryzOfLEv70KIXPyFKI4tDnRxQUy1cSk52N3ZWLJAlwhHcweUqzGqkKp8WyoAUV92r8Z-hbbQX6L-Zva7biPDaBkuK0j6oVrf4Ue8FhcGOl96yNhH/s640/DSC_5987.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The infamous Ivan (again)!</td></tr>
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As the sun just started to peek over the horizon, a family of swans decided to have breakfast in my productive margin spot. I couldn't risk hooking one so reeled in and started breakfast. It was now my last my last morning at the moat and so I packed away all but my float rod and made my way back round to try for one last crucian.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFtQZWO5m0CQjU3ELuxhV2b94V_7GSJiIL9XJ1FP8l5MtyODKkjMyI0iefb8AmZnLNJXHLfmx1cLiV_BBRQRgcruOwXaguy7v6oDDonr6B49F112VM0NyB8lKWkQO7TBCpbYb21URm6Nl/s1600/DSC_5993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFtQZWO5m0CQjU3ELuxhV2b94V_7GSJiIL9XJ1FP8l5MtyODKkjMyI0iefb8AmZnLNJXHLfmx1cLiV_BBRQRgcruOwXaguy7v6oDDonr6B49F112VM0NyB8lKWkQO7TBCpbYb21URm6Nl/s640/DSC_5993.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swans and their signets decimating the swim.</td></tr>
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My first cast gave me a gift of a lift which I failed to hit as did my second. The third time was indeed lucky - I held my breath as I silently played the fish to my net dedicating all the concentration I could muster to the task. The tension was tangible. Thankfully there were no complications this time and soon enough I was looking at a beautiful bar of gold on my unhooking mat. Jake, being the good-egg that he is, popped over again and did some photos. I couldn't believe how fortunate I had been. I could have tried my luck for another but decided to quit while I was ahead and get home early to see my wife and daughter, both of whom I was sorely missing.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQN740ObDAjpNb_bkeQHGRaNjlp9cgrNrtePlFSWjHhvtdcnSbhA44VuxHt7nCfUlZ9LilOWet6Wj86lUzqLbUCFPRtTHK0PVXKMMH36YyGnDjYJUYCI3lYNBODkx0DOA0hTce4-beH5Uv/s1600/DSC_6002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQN740ObDAjpNb_bkeQHGRaNjlp9cgrNrtePlFSWjHhvtdcnSbhA44VuxHt7nCfUlZ9LilOWet6Wj86lUzqLbUCFPRtTHK0PVXKMMH36YyGnDjYJUYCI3lYNBODkx0DOA0hTce4-beH5Uv/s640/DSC_6002.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My biggest crucian of the session caught on one of Graeme Pinkerton's delicate slider floats.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5crZV_F1Erk3ZfsFeFvhy3QvxbcJd4aea5-diiNAGexxQJEPJ3sIhwOa6zu2U6m85WE51BJPoClpZy4BSjabwHezFn0BZwHR5Bw2ZLqqfnZYBs8REUl6VbNDc_Ht3mvSlMr9b58K9B81B/s1600/DSC_6003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5crZV_F1Erk3ZfsFeFvhy3QvxbcJd4aea5-diiNAGexxQJEPJ3sIhwOa6zu2U6m85WE51BJPoClpZy4BSjabwHezFn0BZwHR5Bw2ZLqqfnZYBs8REUl6VbNDc_Ht3mvSlMr9b58K9B81B/s640/DSC_6003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphh5Tj9U2rUCWRnm-bdXQUsHZ3rK71AWhf8ATZlTwksZMs1jOCTWhQMUhgT4oZRNskIBv2eTBjOV_WjkTfwgH1iyRJ5ksjiVfhhZaXfVVBrvA8ghX4Sgn-1z8etMy3vWmj4aKV-poT8fJ/s1600/DSC_6012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphh5Tj9U2rUCWRnm-bdXQUsHZ3rK71AWhf8ATZlTwksZMs1jOCTWhQMUhgT4oZRNskIBv2eTBjOV_WjkTfwgH1iyRJ5ksjiVfhhZaXfVVBrvA8ghX4Sgn-1z8etMy3vWmj4aKV-poT8fJ/s640/DSC_6012.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Just as I was saying my goodbyes I heard a commotion down the bank. Jake had caught another crucian which gave me the opportunity to repay the favour from the night before with some photos.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksQVkigxphZCfhFuL9OhHECvscZVnmX0nHBiB74kwFRHdmBZrP_V0ywhr8fyx23iwoI0PfrMCqjqCzaxkEmaDPsALSIPuRRBphQ7mRpMtQGaMwt9uqHGhps5n3LXQqjxjNdcGJgRayGNq/s1600/DSC_6016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksQVkigxphZCfhFuL9OhHECvscZVnmX0nHBiB74kwFRHdmBZrP_V0ywhr8fyx23iwoI0PfrMCqjqCzaxkEmaDPsALSIPuRRBphQ7mRpMtQGaMwt9uqHGhps5n3LXQqjxjNdcGJgRayGNq/s640/DSC_6016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It had been an absolutely incredible session - 7 carp landed (well, 6 different carp!), 3 tench, 2 crucians, 1 bream and several silvers! Jake had also caught two crucians, several sizeable carp as well as a number of tench and bream. My other friends all caught plenty - some also did well with the crucians, others enjoyed a steady flow of roach and rudd and the odd carp was caught off the surface. I observed how my success with the carp came partly, I believe, from keeping a steady flow of bait going in to the swim, allowing them to gain confidence in feeding and as far as crucians are concerned, I had the most success where I was restrained in the amount of free food I offered. I had anticipated the weed, which appears thick in places, to be a problem but with a little consideration for bait presentation and by using adequately stout tackle, there was no need for any concern.</div>
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Should I be fortunate enough to return here once more, whilst I would hope to continue to enjoy the carp and crucians, I would like to target the various predators to which the moat provides a home. For now however, I am content and elated having had such a memorable experience. </div>
<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-59934758122531819632018-07-17T18:38:00.000+01:002018-09-11T20:10:24.880+01:00The Enchanted Lake<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-nbGV_yXAo1m-c8c4GEIz5KuJmUNzWrkWlK8Z7aqxWcE7vz2GhsqkqY9pGeD3raoIf_wHy1YHFwvMiWrT82H6SydqPPtn7sL1CF2rHfk91OYOM25rTWdSktx5KO6vbz7HZCxrQxmt0sK/s1600/DSC_5214+%25281%2529-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-nbGV_yXAo1m-c8c4GEIz5KuJmUNzWrkWlK8Z7aqxWcE7vz2GhsqkqY9pGeD3raoIf_wHy1YHFwvMiWrT82H6SydqPPtn7sL1CF2rHfk91OYOM25rTWdSktx5KO6vbz7HZCxrQxmt0sK/s640/DSC_5214+%25281%2529-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Enchanted Lake.</td></tr>
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"There's a lot of water to cover so we best just walk and leave the rods behind" said my new friend Ian, offering to acquaint me with some of my new angling club's lakes and their stretch of the River Frome. "Of course, we'll have to park at the pub... and I could even show you my <i>secret</i> syndicate lake". Well, what's the point in having a secret if you can't tell anyone?! I appreciated the gesture enormously. I am not new to the area but have returned here to the West Country after just shy of twenty years away and am determined not to spend the next twenty reliving my childhood and so, whilst I am a sucker for a bit of nostalgia from time to time, I concede that treading new ground is the only way forward.</div>
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It wasn't until late spring that we finally managed to make it to the lake. It was as if all the obstacles to us visiting earlier in the year were placed in our path intentionally to delay my debut until the full glory of the season was upon us. As we emerged through the treelined track, scattered light from the low morning sun rendered an impressionistic picture of a microcosm of paradise, mist-draped water, laden in lilies and enshrouded in dense woodland.</div>
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We really were in the middle of nowhere. There was no noise from traffic or trains, just the antiphonal menagerie of birds and the distant gurgling of falling water from beyond the dam wall. Then Ian spoke the magic words "I've never seen another angler on the bank here", which constituted an even greater incentive than the prospect of giant uncaught crucians and wily scaly carp, the latter of which could be seen milling around in the upper layers, some frolicking in the weed.</div>
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So I set about joining the small syndicate which only has a handful of members, most of whom live far away and seldom visit. Fortunately my application was accepted and apparently assisted by my leaning towards a traditional approach which is favoured by the owners.</div>
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I came home from work one evening to find an envelope on the door mat, containing a key which formally represented my right of access to the lake. That night sleep was hard-earned. I awoke from one parallel piscatorial Utopia, thanks to the cursed cackling of crows, as the sun was little more than a suggestion of dawn on the horizon and decided there was time before work to begin making these dreams a reality.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Lz1_bkXV6ihVlWM_XhUmw3a1c3bIVpY5u6_DJAcOp89N3GNtIPoIXq_5wzWHmpoqvP51IZ3usAu4dxKQb3QZqtNwPUPstOaY9RscfeYlzpO6vA15Anv7ch_eml6cuJbV0ZznSMA1Wicl/s1600/DSC_4890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Lz1_bkXV6ihVlWM_XhUmw3a1c3bIVpY5u6_DJAcOp89N3GNtIPoIXq_5wzWHmpoqvP51IZ3usAu4dxKQb3QZqtNwPUPstOaY9RscfeYlzpO6vA15Anv7ch_eml6cuJbV0ZznSMA1Wicl/s640/DSC_4890.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swallow feeding on insects over the water.</td></tr>
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I arrived at the lake suited and booted, aesthetically and mentally braced for another day dealing with the stresses of teaching in a challenging Bristol school. Though it felt therapeutic to be in a natural setting at a time when I would normally be beginning the tedious commute, my walk around the lake's surrounding woodland was disappointingly purposeful - a task to achieve within a deadline to avoid facing certain consequences. However, with this attitude I did the circuit in good time and when I came to a fishing platform on the final stretch of my mission I realised I had a full thirty minutes just to sit, be still, breath and watch the swallows and house martins swooping over the water. Finally the therapy commenced.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3cWCLZTGS972N94Tyn8uhZleZkX7-HXXVwJ12JzZxU_4eQoiB-kLma1vOkkOuiDFyY-dVLaiKYIb29ptqEKHAQACbl4iZgxhyPN6Cf-WHlN_1yHt_eJdv3AjFyGr4ELc_wTlVmDUAz_R/s1600/IMG-5944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3cWCLZTGS972N94Tyn8uhZleZkX7-HXXVwJ12JzZxU_4eQoiB-kLma1vOkkOuiDFyY-dVLaiKYIb29ptqEKHAQACbl4iZgxhyPN6Cf-WHlN_1yHt_eJdv3AjFyGr4ELc_wTlVmDUAz_R/s640/IMG-5944.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An array of traditional tackle</td></tr>
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I returned again as the sun rose on Saturday. Earlier in the week in an online conversation, another member had spoke of the unstoppable power of the carp and how they were almost impossible to land. Having caught a fair number of sizeable carp in my time I arrogantly dismissed this quandary and proceeded to cast a free-lined crust into one of the larger clearings between sets of lilies. The carp were mostly said to be doubles with the potential for some upper twenties but I was sure I could tame a fish of this size on my fairly sturdy fibreglass Bruce and Walker rod and ever-reliable Mitchell reel sporting a full spool of 10lb fluorocarbon line. It wasn't long before a broad-shouldered mirror sucked in my hook bait and unleashed all hell. For a fish which appeared merely to be an upper double at best, its power was imperceivable. I could not turn it, stop it or even encourage it to kite around. It tore line from the spool in spite of the clutch being set quite tight and my thumb pressing against it hard. There was no stopping it from reaching the sanctuary of the lilies where when reached, the line pinged and the fish got away.</div>
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It was some time before I stopped shaking. Perhaps I had been too quick to disregard the warning I had been given. Perhaps too there would be a place for my stout carbon carp rods here after all. On my next visit I packed a stronger rod just in case carp caught my attention again but decided to focus for the time being on trying to catch a crucian. To this end in the past, my best results have fallen to bread flake as a hook bait, however here this brought me roach after roach with the occasional Rudd catching it on the drop. A change of tact was in order if a change of species was to occur. I put a little krill paste around the hook and cast to the same spot. Almost immediately, tiny pin-prick bubbles materialised around the tip of my homemade crow-quill lifter float. The following thirty seconds played out according to the text book and as I struck on the lift I connected unequivocally with a crucian. As it spiralled towards the surface, a deep golden brown high-backed beauty revealed itself, possibly pushing towards a pound at a generous guess. As I gleefully reached for the net one last bid for freedom was made resulting in another sudden ping, the cause of which remains a mystery as the line was checked for blemishes before fishing commenced. I watched helplessly as my fish and float disappeared into the depths.</div>
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Hurriedly I put on a prized float made by my good friend Graeme Pinkerton. This slider float, designed by another friend, Colin, specifically for crucian fishing in weedy waters was given to me by Graeme when we first met at the magical moat in Hampshire. After checking the line once more and repeating the rigmarole of plumbing perfectly, I cast out again to the same spot. More fizzing appeared and a confident bite ensued. Without further thought I lifted the rod tip and expected a commendable yet inadequate scrap typical of my gentle quarry. Imagine my horror then as an enormous carp rose to the surface and sent my centre-pin spinning. My 4lb line stood no chance and needless to say I have not seen that float since.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXPsFEuNa4L1JQb5yFgFCplUIZ0O-AKSHVeFdj13eET1yicOZXu7ZBMe0_u8J84iu54x9O69VRFhj5XnQa1T5AvRL8CDl3Op1VRLdZc6XLhtuZFgJgdyAvdEylZV_l69imR3F1qBB_ue9/s1600/DSC_5685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXPsFEuNa4L1JQb5yFgFCplUIZ0O-AKSHVeFdj13eET1yicOZXu7ZBMe0_u8J84iu54x9O69VRFhj5XnQa1T5AvRL8CDl3Op1VRLdZc6XLhtuZFgJgdyAvdEylZV_l69imR3F1qBB_ue9/s640/DSC_5685.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my bed-chair! </td></tr>
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I decided to fish through the night in the hope that carp and crucians would face less competition from the roach and rudd once darkness fell. As I would not be able to watch a float throughout the whole night, even with a glow stick attached due to the need to sleep, I decided to put my purist ideals aside and fish one rod on 'the method' for the crucians and the other with a 'wafter rig' on a helicopter setup to overcome the problem of silt, targeting the carp.</div>
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By 10pm all remnants of the sun's memory were fading from the horizon and a serene stillness descended upon the water. I settled in my bed chair, which I had set up beneath the stars with no canvas masking my view, and started to submit to inescapable slumber until incongruous shrieking followed by a tawny owl's distinctive hooting alerted me to its silhouette swooping over the lake and up to the branches above where I lay.</div>
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Each valiant attempt to return to the land of nod was thwarted by some quite reasonable sized roach with very unreasonable manners! At 1:30am when I was reluctantly recasting the feeder rod in the vain hope that my devotion to the crucian cause would come good, I heard a hellish chattering coming from the other side of the lake. The ungodly cacophony continued, edging ever closer through the undergrowth and as it approached I realised there were two creatures coming towards me at great speed and they sounded angry! Petrified, I hid in my bed as a crescendo of thudding hooves and malicious snarls reached its climax, charging straight past where I lay and diminuendoed into the distance. Relieved it had past I sat up only to find the second creature careering straight for me, stopping less than 2 yards from my face. A magnificent badger stared straight at me, not breaking eye contact though clearly holding the same expression of surprise to see me as I undoubtedly reflected back to him. After an uncomfortable Mexican stand-off my opponent relented, turned about and caught up with his mate by an alternate route. My heart proceeded to palpitate.</div>
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By sunrise several more roach had graced my net and a sporadic series of single bleeps on my carp road had been and gone. I reeled in to find the whole hair on my knotless knot had been munched off by some clawed culprit.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINQKGCWZJXvuRF78CLnGgmjOQkha_oBgndL6WfX_mO0tgQTXaz5DZiXG6KJ0LGbzh3ezSCkO9MLXboFqhZhuubxsf3n3zUSSBfjeNhU7gVX7PyFk1Er_CAISbM2vcQnT4F1hYgtHXe15a/s1600/DSC_5179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINQKGCWZJXvuRF78CLnGgmjOQkha_oBgndL6WfX_mO0tgQTXaz5DZiXG6KJ0LGbzh3ezSCkO9MLXboFqhZhuubxsf3n3zUSSBfjeNhU7gVX7PyFk1Er_CAISbM2vcQnT4F1hYgtHXe15a/s640/DSC_5179.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A more modern approach.</td></tr>
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My next night at the lake followed a similar pattern in terms of the fishing and lack of sleep, though this time due to not to nature but nightmares! As I started to drift off, I am sure I heard an etherial voice singing some kind of atonal operatic aria which was joined by a chorus of the undead formed from the mists which rose from the water. My recollection of the rest is hazy to say the least but needless to say the little rest I received between roach was troubled and tormented. As I wound in my bait-less rigs at first light, I decided to try something a little different as clearly my quarry was not playing ball. I walked to the car and returned with a dropshot rod and made a few speculative casts in hope of an early season sergeant. My first few efforts returned without a touch but before despondence had a chance to set in an unexpected hit came and juddered my rod tip into an impressive arc. I caught sight of a large flash of fish and suspected, at that size and with this amount of force, I might have hooked one of the resident wild trout but as the fish began to tire and approached the net, I realised I had caught quite an impressive perch!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNAQxEX4rFzHpRu_-vrDtRwdZSmYUq2OJn7ypGhJMjg5w_-91UhhiWimdVWC0J-nUjM3YcB5x0gXgTiBg_TCfUMak_NrWHJzrdt9a6QwoMTb5tK4rd3vtHSeoStVJJD2aCy7m_EjiLZCn/s1600/DSC_5749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNAQxEX4rFzHpRu_-vrDtRwdZSmYUq2OJn7ypGhJMjg5w_-91UhhiWimdVWC0J-nUjM3YcB5x0gXgTiBg_TCfUMak_NrWHJzrdt9a6QwoMTb5tK4rd3vtHSeoStVJJD2aCy7m_EjiLZCn/s640/DSC_5749.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stripy sergeant!</td></tr>
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My next opportunity to fish came the following week. It is worth a mention at this point that, due to being a teacher on summer break, the frequency of my trips is greater than I could ever usually hope for. However, being a committed husband and father with my wife and daughter at home, my trips are considerably shorter than more care-free days gone by, as I desire more greatly than catching all the fish in my dreams, to spend quality time with my family. Therefore, all the tales I tell take place whilst they are sleeping or at times they will miss me the least i.e. overnight or very, very early in the morning so that I can be back in time to spend the best part of each day with them. I hope this serves to demonstrate though, how one can make it work and seize the day if a little sleep can be sacrificed.</div>
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I had given considerable thought to the issues I had been facing - namely the presence of unwanted crayfish and the absence of desired crucians. Crayfish, I understand like cover and so I decided, when fishing for carp by night to cast into open water and scatter bait across the general area to encourage them to search and compete for food. With regards the crayfish, this plan worked perfectly as I slept through the night without a single bleep, unfortunately not even from a hungry carp.</div>
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Crucians also like cover and although I had been fishing tight to lilies I had had very few indications of their presence. The swims I had favoured had been on the side of the lake that gets the first of the morning sun's rays whilst the other side is enshrouded in shadows until well into the afternoon due to a wooded hill that adjoins its banks. Could it be, I thought, that the crucians feel exposed in the light and that the shaded stretch on the other side provides some additional security? There was only one way to find out! Just before reeling in my carp rods at dawn I sat quietly for a moment and, whilst enjoying my habitual seven strength ground coffee a kingfisher came and perched on my left rod as it sat dormant in its rest. She, I think it was a 'she', just stared at me, occasionally bobbing her head and I stared back enjoying the moment not wanting to ruin it by reaching for my camera. After some time had passed I felt the bird was sufficiently confident in my presence for me to risk it but alas, as I did she inevitably flew away. I took the last sips of my coffee then went over to the dark side! </div>
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The seance commenced as my planchette, a swan quill slider float I fashioned as a replica replacement for the float of Graeme's I lost, cocked slowly into position. Motionless at first, as the world beyond ignored my offering but then, sure enough, faint ripples came to manifest on the surface. Contact had been established. Several times the float lifted slightly and I attempted to connect prematurely. In my zeal I put a larger piece of paste upon the hook and reached out to the hidden world once more. My call was answered but not by my intended recipient. Another roach came to hand, then another and then another. My float danced a merry dance and the koi, cautious bites synonymous with my quarry seemed to have disappeared. I noted the cause and prepared a tiny ball of paste, barely enough to cover the size 14 hook and the careful crucians crept back onto the scene. Unfortunately this meant more missed bites and frustration as the clock ticked past home-time, past 'I can make it if I rush' and into 'go now if you value your life'!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLK-Tb31TdH03zDnqYHtkUV_ykmbsKQbGrci0xVTybwH8jaxspDW_wGfMCLEYjfc2RFwt1Z1AiM8nwCSHhVQUIvPuSqaPuHJ1qFD7lEGZzHTpnv7jZImAMXnzIfovhGhxavWkVnsfmAek/s1600/IMG-6070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLK-Tb31TdH03zDnqYHtkUV_ykmbsKQbGrci0xVTybwH8jaxspDW_wGfMCLEYjfc2RFwt1Z1AiM8nwCSHhVQUIvPuSqaPuHJ1qFD7lEGZzHTpnv7jZImAMXnzIfovhGhxavWkVnsfmAek/s640/IMG-6070.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet another roach!</td></tr>
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Later that week I decided to exchange a nights fishing for a night of photography at Stonehenge. The climax of the perseid meteor shower was a non-starter due to a completely overcast sky but the following night was perfectly clear and, once on Salisbury Plain, so dark that I could see the entire arc of the Milky Way with my naked eyes. I parked up on the A303 in front of a gate to a farmer's field that I anticipated would not need to be accessed circa midnight and walked up the permissive path which used to be the A344 towards the stones. I was met by a couple of other photographers who were already in position. They greeted me warmly and exchanged tips and anecdotes whilst I busied myself with test shots and fussing with settings. Once I finally began shooting, after taking a few collections of images to be pieced together into panoramas, I was so delighted with the results on the review screen that I didn't dally but rushed home to edit them. I tinkered until two with my cat, Muesli, at my feet enjoying occasional strokes in exchange for top-up trips to his food-bowl. In an attempt to squeeze as much out of life as possible, fully aware that I was burning the candle at both ends of the stick, I set an early alarm and napped until I came to regret my <i>carpe diem</i> moment as it rung out at five then tinkered some more whilst drinking my wake-up coffee. Muesli joined me for a while and then took up his usual spot on the windowsill in our front room from which he 'waved me off' as I then headed back out to fish, arriving at the lake just after six. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7mvnWN-zeptgZR1IDkeiHmNSS0wDu8xCyU-M_obY-VWKln1TqlH5RhWAKyT8ZdUATD_m6nNwxjlUpoWHuvdTd_wR5ZPNj3PDgKCt2ThwCQVZxSsWTnGHQvG0os3BacpUY2njlQFcolcb/s1600/SH1-2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1209" data-original-width="1600" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7mvnWN-zeptgZR1IDkeiHmNSS0wDu8xCyU-M_obY-VWKln1TqlH5RhWAKyT8ZdUATD_m6nNwxjlUpoWHuvdTd_wR5ZPNj3PDgKCt2ThwCQVZxSsWTnGHQvG0os3BacpUY2njlQFcolcb/s640/SH1-2-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Milky Way, Mars and Saturn over Stone Henge.</td></tr>
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The next few hours were filled once more with continuous catches of roach. I decided not to string it out and headed home with time to spare. I arrived home to be told by my wife that our cat Muesli had suddenly died, just after 8am for no apparent reason. He was only 5 years old and seemingly in good health. The impact of the grief that came over our family at that moment cannot be reduced to words and is still resonating now.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4to7pvttdp9p0OLXGNz-L7yKpqssz7fCHc8OUma6zYdmdwr0srewSer42PzKhjRVlaufiU0rAs5VRMfN0cN467tF_a7ceqzSnYS1YMnu9FuS5oRiv67gVxG9F6oIB75C3fItUZQtvXHx/s1600/14188253_10157332111060632_8405577820002799840_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4to7pvttdp9p0OLXGNz-L7yKpqssz7fCHc8OUma6zYdmdwr0srewSer42PzKhjRVlaufiU0rAs5VRMfN0cN467tF_a7ceqzSnYS1YMnu9FuS5oRiv67gVxG9F6oIB75C3fItUZQtvXHx/s640/14188253_10157332111060632_8405577820002799840_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our cat, Muesli - R.I.P</td></tr>
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I didn't go back to the lake for some time after that. I felt an enormous guilt for not being contactable when my wife had needed me and needed some space just to be sad. I did however venture out for a couple of days to another magical venue - <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.com/2018/08/black-and-gold.html" target="_blank">the moat</a>, which restored my confidence in my ability to successfully target crucians!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEv1D2nZo-jejQkwrt76LweFcPTj3sChVqBy2A3jvqyVKIYZkWbqttNoSe9SvfWtA-E8nZowCm-E6tRrmAnjBELyKig0CjZpRyyRdGticm-2zq5uZVRQYgybOV5uwPD6TOe_OVvQJ3GZB/s1600/DSC_6002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEv1D2nZo-jejQkwrt76LweFcPTj3sChVqBy2A3jvqyVKIYZkWbqttNoSe9SvfWtA-E8nZowCm-E6tRrmAnjBELyKig0CjZpRyyRdGticm-2zq5uZVRQYgybOV5uwPD6TOe_OVvQJ3GZB/s640/DSC_6002.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crucian from the moat.</td></tr>
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I have since returned to the enchanted lake though, as the seasons begin to change, so too do my piscatorial attentions. This place has captured my imagination and, though I have remained spellbound, driven me through obsession and quite close to insanity! Whether it be large, old-stock crucians, brilliant bristling perch, wily carp with the strength of behemoths or even those pesky and persistent yet fin-perfect roach, I'm certain these waters will throw up a number of surprises as I spiral deeper into its depths. </div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-5511694681910540752018-05-13T13:44:00.003+01:002018-05-13T13:44:54.801+01:00The Social<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT97UySCwjAGuNSeewxlDluBRGvd4pMmw_l-ws_Ts8HqqDwCEhWtb9YN4Z5KXdDx7mQB0o8IQfH4IvDzauK48tXoz0KQEeZHTlwvGjjul3c8Jn3auuisUS-zD5TjpWWGbJZc25EvtUUrwL/s1600/IMG_5397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="1600" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT97UySCwjAGuNSeewxlDluBRGvd4pMmw_l-ws_Ts8HqqDwCEhWtb9YN4Z5KXdDx7mQB0o8IQfH4IvDzauK48tXoz0KQEeZHTlwvGjjul3c8Jn3auuisUS-zD5TjpWWGbJZc25EvtUUrwL/s640/IMG_5397.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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The 5th and 6th May had been occupied on my calendar for months and the excitement and anticipation in the advent of this weekend had become all consuming. My good friend Shaun, whom I met whilst pike fishing on Fordwich 7 years ago, is getting married this summer and decided to spend his stag-do indulging in his favourite past-time with a group of likeminded companions. The chosen venue was 'Charlie's Lake' - a small water in the garden of England, predominately home to catfish but also containing a good head of carp and silvers. We had fished here together before, firstly under the previous management then again with the now not-so-new owners, Steve and Karen, and the transformation was unrecognisable. The banks and swims are well maintained, reasonable fish-centred rules are enforced and facilities such as specialist catfish tackle hire (slings, mats and nets) and toilets and showers are available. Now, wild fishing in an untamed nowhere-land this is not but it was a comfortable venue for such an event and whilst some watercraft is still required, at this time of year regular runs are not uncommon.</div>
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And so seven of us convened at the gates to the fishery early on the Saturday morning. For me this marked the halfway point on a 424 mile round trip! Tickets were purchased, pitches were chosen, rods assembled, rigs checked and away we went. Owner, Steve, gave some good advice regarding rigs, spots and bait. Without wanting to seem arrogant I had my own ideas about how I wanted to fish on this occasion but decided to take heed to his suggestions on one rod and fish the other two my way and see what worked. Steve was suggesting relatively small baits on a shortish hair however, I had caught well there before on double 20mm halibut pellets and had had my PB on a 30mm bloodied eel pellet. Steve didn't object to me using these baits but seemed very doubtful that they would catch me any fish. So I tried all three and the double halibut pellets were the first to send the reels screaming. First blood was a tiny kitten but then a brace of low doubles followed in close succession and so I changed all three rods over to this approach and gave up on the small baits. The key to this success in my opinion, is that I drenched everything - loose feed and hook baits in glug. Catfish have tiny eyes which are not much use in the dark depths in which they feed. Instead, they detect their meals with their barbels which sense taste and smell from great distances. For this reason I ensure my baits leak as much attraction as possible so they are drawn to them easily.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5rtBzwrN_CtOocYe-YEWIGqQEQk22NCcRUk8oz8VWE71yCQ2XjtkVrBhlwrkYnpObNR3l5pAevyULuvcp9JiH-8c8lTHd4I1yKcpn6VcR9YTjpF2XA9bvTOzfXnqrVLMQOQJ3q0X7rBJ/s1600/DSC_3773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5rtBzwrN_CtOocYe-YEWIGqQEQk22NCcRUk8oz8VWE71yCQ2XjtkVrBhlwrkYnpObNR3l5pAevyULuvcp9JiH-8c8lTHd4I1yKcpn6VcR9YTjpF2XA9bvTOzfXnqrVLMQOQJ3q0X7rBJ/s640/DSC_3773.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shaun with a 24lb wels cat.</td></tr>
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Thankfully, as the day progressed most of us had caught at least one. The biggest of the first day went to Shaun at 24lb. Banter was ripe but all good fun. Most conversation was centred around the usual issue of 'carpiness' and taunts regarding the symmetry of our setups, or lack thereof. As the sun started to set a take-away materialised and we all sat together indulging in a veritable feast beneath the stars, affirming how good life can be and drinking to the happy couple.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3H49m1XmIiCMQHrJ27u-Fs8WDy2cxnJYy8ybNyfcBwn5-rs2Q60YnwtkIy9faFxo-vortRGkCHBDtJ_aaxPG01f64Qqg4XLphIMPPYn1o9ysOPg_AhsJYHHCj-6EOXl5b5sjQ1vaq4dTy/s1600/DSC_3806-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3H49m1XmIiCMQHrJ27u-Fs8WDy2cxnJYy8ybNyfcBwn5-rs2Q60YnwtkIy9faFxo-vortRGkCHBDtJ_aaxPG01f64Qqg4XLphIMPPYn1o9ysOPg_AhsJYHHCj-6EOXl5b5sjQ1vaq4dTy/s640/DSC_3806-3.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Everyone promised to jump out of bed if anyone caught a fish but as my delkim started to sing at half past midnight, the antiphonal sound of snoring continued, undisturbed! I landed the fish alone without too much trouble and was joined as I came to take photos by a few of the others who witnessed the scales turn just past twenty pounds.</div>
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I had trouble sleeping after this and so, as the sky was clear and the stars were shining bright, I took a moment to take a few long exposures and picked up a bit of Milky Way. The orange glow coming up on the horizon is in fact the moon in its waning gibbous phase rendered a deep red becoming progressively paler as it rose.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYQjfcdjm-ZS3GH_17LZxt6S-Gn_oIAg31eZoIMTIwCX-nC59jKQ6gSfCjkUP7WveFM98G6LVuj29v3-dHNg7yS59k9fIp50TRBHN3jOyZZKc3-BzIzypjMQ6onSzFZiY6wz2xbQSD882/s1600/DSC_3797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYQjfcdjm-ZS3GH_17LZxt6S-Gn_oIAg31eZoIMTIwCX-nC59jKQ6gSfCjkUP7WveFM98G6LVuj29v3-dHNg7yS59k9fIp50TRBHN3jOyZZKc3-BzIzypjMQ6onSzFZiY6wz2xbQSD882/s640/DSC_3797.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The next day brought everybody success. Shortly after the breakfast ritual was complete I lost a good fish. I had never felt anything like it attached to my line. It had ploughed straight for bank-side cover and could not be turned. On the spur or the moment I decided that I could not give any line and that it would be better for it to be left with a short hooklink sporting a barbless hook which hopefully could be expelled eventually, than to allow it to reach cover and potentially become tethered. The line broke at the knot leaving me in a sulk. It did not feel good at all.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBiTB2-vjSEibwjBaQajp6hCfJ0MYHtFEeZMDfLvwFFmHLOgraG6raNKeLRoYpJ39XMMZOBJpLC7HKT8Bad9NgYSZdDnXUg61GDWYrUUh_jBxCKk5n0PUxvZ0E6JljFQbl2VLABraZkog/s1600/DSC_3848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBiTB2-vjSEibwjBaQajp6hCfJ0MYHtFEeZMDfLvwFFmHLOgraG6raNKeLRoYpJ39XMMZOBJpLC7HKT8Bad9NgYSZdDnXUg61GDWYrUUh_jBxCKk5n0PUxvZ0E6JljFQbl2VLABraZkog/s640/DSC_3848.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jon weighing in a 23lb catfish under the watchful eye of Shaun.</td></tr>
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My swim went quiet for a while and eventually I reeled in for a while. I distracted myself taking photos for the others, some of whom had not fished for cats before and could not stop marvelling at their incredible strength.</div>
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I recast and before long I was into another good fish. This fish was hooked by an overhanging tree but I muscled it out into open water early on in the fight by kiting it round in the direction it was swimming - I think I confused it! Nonetheless, this fish tore up the swim and took a lot of line. Shaun, who was fishing in the swim to my right, kindly reeled in to give me more space. There was no way I was going to loose another in the same way so a slightly softer approach was employed. The fish held deep, kicking up clouds of silt from the lake bed as large ripples emanated from each unseen epicentre. By now I was surrounded by friends all sharing their support and delighting in the moment together. An overwhelming sense of relief was felt and joyful cheers were released as a large-headed cat begrudgingly slipped into the net.</div>
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As I lifted the scales aloft I realised the sling contained a new personal best catfish of 30lbs 1oz! It is not one of the biggest in the lake and pales into insignificance when compared to captures from the Ebro or the Po but to me it is a spectacular specimen and I am completely made up about it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rEinnxR4eqRO9U5_w6jqtc1C9H4_ByAt2TwZKz8H2QfW4_Yh5HHq6X9WYSXL93Sv9vuJqdFc4oyA_pT0wzk2lfm0tqiGMHoDfkMHPcSvH2LuSLS8UMjp5qeIijVvp0HpiY6Xp3iXR5j7/s1600/IMG_5411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rEinnxR4eqRO9U5_w6jqtc1C9H4_ByAt2TwZKz8H2QfW4_Yh5HHq6X9WYSXL93Sv9vuJqdFc4oyA_pT0wzk2lfm0tqiGMHoDfkMHPcSvH2LuSLS8UMjp5qeIijVvp0HpiY6Xp3iXR5j7/s640/IMG_5411.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new PB wels catfish at 30lb 1oz.</td></tr>
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What I have omitted to mention is that whilst I was battling my fish, Tom in the swim to my left also hooked into a good fish and so we took the opportunity to set the camera running and get everyone into frame for a quick group shot for posterity. Taking a still frame from the video resulted in a slightly lower picture quality but facilitated the shot with minimum fuss, allowing the fish to be returned quickly.</div>
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After this I was on a total high. The vibe amongst all the guys had been so positive throughout the weekend and between us, due to some not having caught cats before, there had been 5 new PBs! Aside from a little sunburn the weather had been kind to us and we said our goodbyes with sore necks and aching arms.</div>
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So all that remains is to thank Shaun for bringing us all together for a cracking social and to congratulate him and his future wife, Katy, and to wish them every happiness.</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-22339668678923547232018-04-06T21:39:00.000+01:002018-04-07T07:13:35.608+01:00Overnight success!<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">It's been a long time!</span><br />
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I feel completely out of touch and out of practice with regards the finer points of carp fishing, having not spent a night on the bank since August and before that, March last year. The usual causes of abstinence, such as the stressful demands of work, have diminished recently following my uprooting and relocation from Kent to Wiltshire. Now my lack of presence by the waterside is due to a change in priorities, where family - especially my now 1 year old daughter Jessica, is right at the centre and what a blessing she is! However, once the addiction has taken hold, I think it is impossible for a carp angler to be cured completely.</div>
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I met Jake on one of my first visits to the <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/the-moat.html" target="_blank">magical moat</a> where we both targeted crucians by day and carp by night. Green shoots of friendship began to grow, however geography hindered its fruition until I moved to his neck of the woods. Recognising my desperation for some fishing-therapy, Jake set up an inaugural outing- an overnighter on his syndicate lake.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My muddy set-up!</td></tr>
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A fair amount of rain had fallen during the week but temperatures were rising and, on arrival, a reasonable wind had began to push into the South East corner of the lake. We duly positioned ourselves on the receiving end of these gusts and began to look for signs of fish activity. Nosing around the margins with polaroids proved pointless given the choppiness of the water, clouding of its own volition. Just as we were exploring the far margin with a lead from our chosen swim, a fish crashed out in open water to my left. As it happened again it seemed obvious that I had to get a bait on that spot! Three cross-wind obscured casts later the trap was set and the scattering of boilies around the general area served as a welcome distraction from the embarrassment I was suffering owing to my rustiness.</div>
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I had opted to fish single pop-ups on what Martin Bowler has recently been calling a 'real Ronnie' but it is in essence the same as Lee Crampton's 'claw rig' which I have been using for years. I like this presentation as it affords the bait plenty of freedom to move and will turn and set perfectly when approached from any angle. I had however lost a number of fish due to poor hook-holds last summer when using an incarnation of this rig which featured a long-shank hook with a small gape. Whilst this was almost impossible to eject, it did not set deep enough and cost me fish. Therefore, to remedy this I went to the other extreme and tied the rigs up with size 4 wide-gapes. At home I wondered if this might be overkill but I had not forgotten the size of the mouths of the fish I was targeting and proceeded with my course of logic.</div>
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Once the rods were out and shelters assembled, gas stoves were lit, beverages poured and conversations commenced. It had been almost two years so we had a lot of catching up to do!</div>
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In hindsight the following sequence of events seems almost predictable but the sudden screaming of my left alarm interrupting the serenity of the moment could not have been more unexpected.</div>
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Line stripped rapidly from the spool as I clumsily tripped over my dormant right rod to get to the erupting left. As I applied my thumb as a break and the rod arced round the tempo slowed but I began to feel the power of the fish forcefully towing onwards. Erratic vibrations transmitted a warning of the lake's intermittent rocky areas down the line. Very little could be done to navigate a clear path through this treacherous topography. On one occasion all movement ceased and the line seemingly became fixed to a point in the water. A sudden ping and the line went slack. My heart dropped. </div>
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A turn of the handle and I connected once more with what I initially thought to be the snag- until it started making its way off into the distance.</div>
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I had attempted to steer the carp with side strain, keeping the rod tip low to encourage the fish to rise. I realised this was futile as it kited across into Jakes line causing his alarm to sound. He reassured me that my apologies were unnecessary but I felt bad. Had I bullied it a little more perhaps it could have been avoided but losing this fish was not a risk I was prepared to take.</div>
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As a rather plump looking mirror carp finally surfaced and came cruising over the net cord we both cheered in celebration.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A scaly mirror in the net!</td></tr>
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The carp had a considerable belly and a single scar on one side, otherwise it was in impeccable condition. The hook was set perfectly in the bottom lip and was reassuringly dwarfed by the cavernous mouth of my quarry. As I lifted the scales the needle pulled round to 26lb 10oz.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ribbit!</td></tr>
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The wind slowed and the sky cleared and as the light began to fade the temperature dropped. A tawny owl could be heard hooting and rather excitable frogs fascinated with my bobbins set my alarms off sporadically throughout the night along with occasional gusts. This and my lack of appropriate clothing for the conditions (in spite good advice from my better half) caused me not to sleep a wink. The night was long.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First signs of summer?!</td></tr>
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As the sun rose swallows appeared swooping over the waters surface in search of insects, a heron was seen busily nesting, buzzards soared in circles in the neighbouring field, an English breakfast sizzled enticingly and fresh coffee was consumed. Mist evaporating from the water obscured my view of the fish swirls and fizzing. My semi-slack line tightened up on my left rod once more and a single bleep sung out. I leapt to attention. The rod, though high in test curve, twitched like a quiver tip showing sensitive bites. As we debated whether or not this bite was worth hitting, the moment passed. Before long we agreed to pack up as we both had other commitments that day to get back to but who knows what might have been if we had stayed. It was great to be back on the bank, in great company, beautiful surroundings and thankfully, a tale to tell.</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-13694318982249947752017-12-14T20:29:00.002+00:002017-12-14T20:30:38.734+00:00Reflections on my angling 1999-2017 (or re-learning to fish and then unlearning to fish!)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Reflections on my Kentish Angling (1999 - 2017)</td></tr>
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I arrived by bicycle at Fordwich Lake shortly after 6am one misty July morning, now many moons ago. This was my maiden voyage to this formidable venue and, armed with the weapons of my youth; my trusty Silstar 10ft match rod, Mitchell 300c reel, Keenets pan landing net, 2 cans of luncheon meat and a loaf of bread, I was hopeful for a carp or two. Running ledger rigs, freelined crust and simple waggler tactics had served me well on the lakes of the Longleat Estate where I learned my craft and, with the aforementioned mishmash of tackle, had landed carp to near twenty pounds, which in the 90s in my locality was a noteworthy capture. In perfect innocence I faithfully fished until dusk, content just to be amidst such idyllic surroundings in spite of my lack of success, laughably unaware of the futility of my approach or the culture shock that awaited me...</div>
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Now over a decade since this memory was forged and 18 years after I first moved to Kent, I am now preparing to depart and return to the West Country from whence I came. It therefore seems apt at this juncture not only to reflect on the year gone by but also the evolution of my angling since I first cast a line into the Kentish Stour in 1999. Here I could fish in the way I was accustomed to fishing and caught chub and bream with sufficient regularity to convince myself that all was right with the world. My angling didn't truly start to develop until 2010 when I first joined the Canterbury and District Angling Association.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8kBajv18xOB6LdhZf8fRPwQgyA7owu-5dTziZZCWwMo0Kd2cw6gv81yh6tbKYcdhCArb-_9dzZZM9PmFxihPEmR7s0en32zzd1FrM15eXqDXq6GyKyRQVrV9NSqa8MIzFiFpWygorQMv/s1600/13880281_10157215353255632_3649033807212825245_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="711" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8kBajv18xOB6LdhZf8fRPwQgyA7owu-5dTziZZCWwMo0Kd2cw6gv81yh6tbKYcdhCArb-_9dzZZM9PmFxihPEmR7s0en32zzd1FrM15eXqDXq6GyKyRQVrV9NSqa8MIzFiFpWygorQMv/s1600/13880281_10157215353255632_3649033807212825245_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Me, aged 13, with my first margin stalked carp. I thought I <i>was</i> Chris Yates.</td></tr>
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I am grateful that my childhood experience of angling was a simple one. I began as a young boy throwing a jam jar on a string into the River Wylye at Henfords Marsh, catching minnows, three-spined sticklebacks and bullheads before eventually progressing to rod and line. Whole summer holidays were spent mastering the art of float fishing for tiny perch and roach which later became slightly bigger specimens and a wider array of species. A Passion for Angling aired on TV at the perfect time in my formative years to truly capture my imagination. This was also the catalyst for my obsession with carp. I learnt watercraft as a course of necessity and became adept at catching within my simplistic means. At that time, Wiltshire seemed to be something of a bubble, sheltered entirely from the rising movement of modern carp fishing that was developing elsewhere - perhaps most notably, at Fordwich!</div>
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There is perhaps some poetic justice in the water where HNV baits were pioneered being the place where I submitted to using them. I cannot pretend I did not buy the odd bag of Richworth Strawberry Jam (I will never forget that smell, evocative of so many memories) or Tutti Fruity boilies as a teen but I always much preferred to use natural or traditional baits and felt some sort of unsubstantiated superiority for abstaining from anything that did not conform to my purist ideals. However, there came a point in my campaign for a Fordwich carp where I had to conform. The rod was the first to change and eventually I succumbed also to boilies, alarms (which previously I thought laughable), spodding, bivvies and barrows. I may have sold out on my traditional Utopia but finally I was able to compete and stand a chance of catching. However, it was very humbling to suddenly switch from a position of competence to being an absolute novice with everything to learn. However, I made learning my business and therein I found a new satisfaction. Figuring out Fordwich became something of a jigsaw puzzle and putting together the pieces one by one derived much satisfaction.</div>
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Whilst I starting experiencing success at <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/summer-carping-on-fordwich-lake.html" target="_blank">Fordwich</a> prior to the summer of 2014, that is when the stars really aligned for me. I had by this point acquired lots of knowledge from seasons of trial and error and, particularly over the <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/more-fun-at-fordwich.html" target="_blank">summer</a>, I had plenty of time available to spend at the lake - not only fishing but sometimes just walking the lake, watching the water and talking to the regulars. It paid off with a good string of carp to 28lb 4oz and a sense of accomplishment and elation.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCP5Wo_UnE_aeOOeuLYQQfRolRuk6ukivF0pKfLRXgxizOj1FP4TkKUOWv9ZfYe7xswDGwn6qYeJ1g14FEU90dhQguCDw8JgtiryWOfe0m2MB0TN6bTTUhecQbudQZH3-NTL7BdHOLgXL/s1600/13958008_10157251338220632_3302000831935864016_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1092" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCP5Wo_UnE_aeOOeuLYQQfRolRuk6ukivF0pKfLRXgxizOj1FP4TkKUOWv9ZfYe7xswDGwn6qYeJ1g14FEU90dhQguCDw8JgtiryWOfe0m2MB0TN6bTTUhecQbudQZH3-NTL7BdHOLgXL/s640/13958008_10157251338220632_3302000831935864016_o.jpg" width="435" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">A chunky Fordwich Mirror.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViLaWWX_i7qP3tC6MJkfMiU-HAOyS_cxMgnUX0GuZ_IkBvY6_kteh6STEzTjVho4Rj6InBCgSTznwf1iZuNbGlG72QMSMYXmes0UHqIJAwkpIsfkf5QX1y3860MzVYiqE3YsLQdtrORjU/s1600/28lb+4oz+Mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1434" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViLaWWX_i7qP3tC6MJkfMiU-HAOyS_cxMgnUX0GuZ_IkBvY6_kteh6STEzTjVho4Rj6InBCgSTznwf1iZuNbGlG72QMSMYXmes0UHqIJAwkpIsfkf5QX1y3860MzVYiqE3YsLQdtrORjU/s640/28lb+4oz+Mirror.jpg" width="573" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">My best fish from Fordwich, 28lb 4oz.</td></tr>
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The following season felt strikingly different. The warmth and camaraderie seemed to be replaced with aggression and hostility. Perhaps I'm over-sensitive but the influx of new members, caused by another local club raising their prices, all seemed to have a sense of entitlement and I got tired very quickly of being forced to disclose when I intended to leave my swim only so that they would then sit, sometimes camp, behind me until I left. So it was time to move on. I took what I had learned at Fordwich to Mid Kent Fisheries' <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/too-hard-to-handle.html" target="_blank">Handle Lake</a> and their lesser-fished <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/just-what-doctor-fish-ordered.html" target="_blank">Chartham lake</a> and found the solitude that I was no longer experiencing at Fordwich.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTzGptToIgOIwJP4WFWSDQgSLEy_vA7JtVAzTKeDMr-eqf27g9o3r00anVLrehDkXVH2WlHNeeMZ-EV_Xl2CM_jA5jq2Lm3FowuGfU3Ty9njWsYMxVxp8cnGKEmvOPzYYt2hrzlW18E7v/s1600/12967290_10156729618110632_179216125348987685_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTzGptToIgOIwJP4WFWSDQgSLEy_vA7JtVAzTKeDMr-eqf27g9o3r00anVLrehDkXVH2WlHNeeMZ-EV_Xl2CM_jA5jq2Lm3FowuGfU3Ty9njWsYMxVxp8cnGKEmvOPzYYt2hrzlW18E7v/s640/12967290_10156729618110632_179216125348987685_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">22lb Chartham Common caught on the mag' feeder!</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvto-cVkHAd-h6YEGKTbX-opq7fFPVYPZZQ9V15Cw8XCGV9gOI_Z9Ty_uh5ftfuZoMg5cT6kKgUSxvoe8FuTmEH1kcsufCUwhyphenhyphenZOfg4biX6NZ440puShZ3Tw-i04j0T5tGE8ObRKy57bVc/s1600/DSC_0167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1299" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvto-cVkHAd-h6YEGKTbX-opq7fFPVYPZZQ9V15Cw8XCGV9gOI_Z9Ty_uh5ftfuZoMg5cT6kKgUSxvoe8FuTmEH1kcsufCUwhyphenhyphenZOfg4biX6NZ440puShZ3Tw-i04j0T5tGE8ObRKy57bVc/s640/DSC_0167.jpg" width="518" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">7lb male tench, the best of last season's tinca campaign.</td></tr>
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Something else I will take with me from my time in Kent is friendship. I've learned so much from the other anglers I have met along the way. Iain, the barbel master and incredible all-round specimen angler, has been quite an inspiration over the years and one of the most helpful people I have ever met on the bank. </div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvuoQP9N11nNggMVlro3-b1t1HI6tcXbcxjDWQh-UY0jUMVv9X4_qkkhN8s11_k0KySkG_RAH_gwF0z_g_4snM6G-rjN1zGHG7J63CDSOATUsKeW7zZXbOl5iqG5IaxDSVpEfVi1r3agn/s1600/891634_10152621416140632_1193443904_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="1136" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvuoQP9N11nNggMVlro3-b1t1HI6tcXbcxjDWQh-UY0jUMVv9X4_qkkhN8s11_k0KySkG_RAH_gwF0z_g_4snM6G-rjN1zGHG7J63CDSOATUsKeW7zZXbOl5iqG5IaxDSVpEfVi1r3agn/s640/891634_10152621416140632_1193443904_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">A good barbel, nudging double figures, that I would not have caught without a point in the right direction from Iain.</td></tr>
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Social trips with Shaun, Richard and Goo will always stay with me - you can't take yourself too seriously with these guys and they remind me that we engage in this pastime for fun! </div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MdZX9Zd31jJbttWqBqJ9cQfRwtLuSEIGunypYEnrStjACNx1trZmp1hHoVNIB636dziYm7LiTjey6L3MnVIRSwyfxgKohCkSFXiHBxoq2wyfDu_b8gLgvFruhx5_77i4ZuBa8arKDGT2/s1600/cat+fishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="1600" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MdZX9Zd31jJbttWqBqJ9cQfRwtLuSEIGunypYEnrStjACNx1trZmp1hHoVNIB636dziYm7LiTjey6L3MnVIRSwyfxgKohCkSFXiHBxoq2wyfDu_b8gLgvFruhx5_77i4ZuBa8arKDGT2/s640/cat+fishing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><b>Left to right: </b>Richard, Shaun and Goo all with 20lb something wels cats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSt6fv_PLVnpVyHXQgvGO4N52diIDLUGAnZmcZfGGORLPdsPv3I8DWni8uI4c8roVt5XHREM-oeWBTvgTpfHj6OvBUwSPmKSq_3lAOz2djnO7ho9EdoTQOrAhcHtlktbQQtACLoLgWiF0/s1600/14022078_10157274320570632_6603181668555889170_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSt6fv_PLVnpVyHXQgvGO4N52diIDLUGAnZmcZfGGORLPdsPv3I8DWni8uI4c8roVt5XHREM-oeWBTvgTpfHj6OvBUwSPmKSq_3lAOz2djnO7ho9EdoTQOrAhcHtlktbQQtACLoLgWiF0/s640/14022078_10157274320570632_6603181668555889170_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Kent and I at Bury Hill last summer.</td></tr>
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Kent has become a dear friend over the last few years and a great companion for road trips up to Bury Hill. Gareth is quite a character. Endearingly eccentric. We trained to be teachers together almost 12 years ago and formed a friendship based on our shared love of angling. We both enjoy writing about our experiences in the great outdoors. I always enjoy reading Gareth's <a href="https://postcardsfromtheenglishoutback.com/blog/" target="_blank">Postcards from the English Outback</a> which truly capture the romance of the garden of England.</div>
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Matthew not only befriended me but has had a significant influence on my angling and greater still, my enjoyment of angling. My first trip to the <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/ive-been-itchen-for-grayling.html" target="_blank">River Itchen</a> with Matthew, when he was adamant I should experience the sensation of catching a lady of the river on a cane rod, made quite an impression. This was the catalyst for change. From thenceforth I gradually learned to focus less on catching fish and more on enjoying the experience of fishing. After all, work had over the years become increasingly stressful and with the birth of my daughter this March, time to angle was severely limited. My approach became more gentle, stealthy and traditional. It is almost as if, in order to receive the therapy I required, I had to unlearn everything I had learned in my time at Fordwich.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFCDLbpIw4ju0vNNCZmtMW6S4qVArp8d8RQR9T5FApCe7h5SToZ8nFwDcjpj4OzzYzPXXrHOFaxZ3U62_15iGcQZ_oQ4EZYQ6XhIc8g12moV-gYk0RMVGHnIPQEd6RY9XzWuD9SaNfeRk/s1600/IMG-2130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFCDLbpIw4ju0vNNCZmtMW6S4qVArp8d8RQR9T5FApCe7h5SToZ8nFwDcjpj4OzzYzPXXrHOFaxZ3U62_15iGcQZ_oQ4EZYQ6XhIc8g12moV-gYk0RMVGHnIPQEd6RY9XzWuD9SaNfeRk/s640/IMG-2130.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">My new muse, the lady of the river.</td></tr>
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In spite of my limited time on the bank this year, 2017 has still furnished me with some significant captures. The highlight of which has to be the crucian carp I caught when I was invited back to fish at <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/remoat.html" target="_blank">The Moat</a>. Most of my sessions have been spent trotting on the river stour for silvers and in the autumn, dangling a lobworm beneath a bobber float. These sessions have been highly therapeutic - quite productive too and whilst nothing large was ever brought to the net, this was neither a bother or my objective.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZf1yGAkzPdJjU2PH4hbi8xgPtBniiXuUiTJQiGTc64UCa7lLzR6VctdVm7eZ6ENXuiagi1JcrrM1AlhgT-S56o2u0ybnytN2F0IDamPSNmsydQJo19IjkidDM84DAHRIcWmUA4Bnx1SZ/s1600/cru.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1359" height="497" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZf1yGAkzPdJjU2PH4hbi8xgPtBniiXuUiTJQiGTc64UCa7lLzR6VctdVm7eZ6ENXuiagi1JcrrM1AlhgT-S56o2u0ybnytN2F0IDamPSNmsydQJo19IjkidDM84DAHRIcWmUA4Bnx1SZ/s640/cru.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">A crucian from the Moat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGVKyMeuEZFJ0QxEbmlvN62FeQcfR_YOLoGyb-xN4JjwowSsp-qod7DhLwVFaPJjijrnzOwREXLbZPgXOh6AOx_M6APk7l1fotqZZaBoRdNtoFXS670S7TSoM-45LQGmqjptGAy4Nbpdk/s1600/2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGVKyMeuEZFJ0QxEbmlvN62FeQcfR_YOLoGyb-xN4JjwowSsp-qod7DhLwVFaPJjijrnzOwREXLbZPgXOh6AOx_M6APk7l1fotqZZaBoRdNtoFXS670S7TSoM-45LQGmqjptGAy4Nbpdk/s640/2012.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">A 20lb 12oz Handle carp caught on my last 'proper' carp sesh before my daughter was born.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XHeSIq2AJlLUSMi6kSrYYtnkLwgGY0prI7_iIWrv2xOaLubLwkH3myNlMQuMWJaZAxzIt8MJmlSaNdMWtP_1UOAoiKh45nMX1fW4OgP50RszBrQNT9xobYmzaE9CxAZAKMuorUnkRC4b/s1600/pike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1409" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XHeSIq2AJlLUSMi6kSrYYtnkLwgGY0prI7_iIWrv2xOaLubLwkH3myNlMQuMWJaZAxzIt8MJmlSaNdMWtP_1UOAoiKh45nMX1fW4OgP50RszBrQNT9xobYmzaE9CxAZAKMuorUnkRC4b/s640/pike.jpg" width="561" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">A good double figure pike from Chartham lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYSXuv-3Pgfa_N9FXiwNd8WLso5lfYjz3euWDmCaOWe2P7oaJWPSMaEwTPrCnlL_eMnkm_jOOyUBOUMH4zzzUN5I-f9KIlWHZSmmW5zZEcubOuTziSorQRa1CeA1cLw8RW7Nt78fXDl4o/s1600/IMG-2161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYSXuv-3Pgfa_N9FXiwNd8WLso5lfYjz3euWDmCaOWe2P7oaJWPSMaEwTPrCnlL_eMnkm_jOOyUBOUMH4zzzUN5I-f9KIlWHZSmmW5zZEcubOuTziSorQRa1CeA1cLw8RW7Nt78fXDl4o/s640/IMG-2161.jpg" width="507" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">An Itchen Grayling from back in January. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">The staple of my weekend angling these days!</td></tr>
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So now for the recapitulation of this piscatorial sonata (sorry for the musical reference but it works quite well) as I return to the West Country to be closer to family and have the opportunity to visit some of my old haunts but now with the benefit of the experiences I have gained during my time away. I will greatly miss the Kentish waters and those I have whiled away the hours with there but every great story needs exciting new chapters and this will be no exception.</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-72020263238493257622017-09-04T17:00:00.000+01:002017-09-04T17:00:00.151+01:00RE:MOAT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WSUhyRFTRcd02nG1wSKJga3TKkiVYh2Dj5NRhCMikgFpaUzMc4XHMh5QP5XJvBrf8Jg50qABpWMWN-5bNb3tsLEjnYJU1Z59pA0r0UtGzmjOApNS1ebf2NBWfiM5xx1oJyk7SlfjOvy/s1600/DSC_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WSUhyRFTRcd02nG1wSKJga3TKkiVYh2Dj5NRhCMikgFpaUzMc4XHMh5QP5XJvBrf8Jg50qABpWMWN-5bNb3tsLEjnYJU1Z59pA0r0UtGzmjOApNS1ebf2NBWfiM5xx1oJyk7SlfjOvy/s640/DSC_0934.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The crow quill fell flat on the surface, laying snug between beds of lilies. Meanwhile, unseen, shot plummeted to absolute depth, taking with them an appetising bell-shaped bread-flake with clouds of white fluffiness around the gape and dough clenched tight to the shank of a small wire hook, causing the float to cock, standing slowly to attention; simultaneously gaining mine.</div>
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A year had passed since last I sat beside these waters, during which in my mind, fantasies played out frequently of my return. The revery had haunted me so often that now it was almost impossible to tell if this was dream or reality. Reflections of weathered red brick, softened further by the perpetually restless rippling of the water became further obscured by trademark bubbles betraying the secret presence of tench. I had watched the float disappear with my eyes firmly shut many times before and this was no different until the tangible response, as my cane connected with tinca tinca, told me that this was no longer a passive fiction but a reciprocal reality. I had indeed returned to <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/the-moat.html" target="_blank">The Moat</a>.</div>
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My thumb, pressed firmly against the rim of the pin, could not prevent its turning as this dark purveyor of power peeled line from spool and heart to mouth. The swims' serenity shattered as this tench tore through it in a fine display of masculinity. Any hope however of encountering a quiet crucian faded with the light whilst this gladiator from the depths submitted to my net at dusk.</div>
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Perhaps in an attempt to reenact triumphs of the past, I settled for the night in the place of my previous tarriance. This however, proved to be a foolish endeavour as the carp I tried to tempt thought best to let me sleep! I woke with the dawn, birdsong, strong coffee and Full-English nourishment, ready also to devour the day.</div>
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I set out from my place of slumber for a tree-lined stretch, thick with weed and waterlilies only sporting the occasional clearing through which to post a line. I had intentionally taken the long route here in order to invest some time and conversation into friendships old and new, as is my way and of at least equal importance to the pursuit of fish. Here however, I was sufficiently removed from the melee of anglers and felt a sense of solitude and serenity- a sensation to be savoured by a new father!</div>
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Stealth, watercraft, patience and good luck came together in something of a hurry as my first cast accompanied by a small ground bait appetiser remained undisturbed by me until the float began to twitch. At first, only subtle ring-shaped ripples emanating from my homemade float were distinguishable but as the surface fizzed with pinprick bubbles and the archetypal gentle lift ensued there was no mistaking this for the delicate bite of a crucian carp. Every hypothetical scenario that had paced in circles anxiously around my head regarding when to strike was rendered completely irrelevant as autopilot took over and before I knew exactly how I had done it, a weighty crucian carp caused my rod to arc over as it spiralled down in search of sanctuary. Noble though its bid for freedom was, it was also thankfully short-lived and before long the sense of elation every angler lives for consumed my being.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZFxfWlG8qM5LtWnBkJapd9WWRAZXiDjKAmiOuTdyc-MF2ProZ0zqEZjSCLMJx-jlA_Fzjz06buchTFR068b_tYEiG1n3bFLwPlv0zf3zBUMgWepVxBTxOpPt4jEBlqgheq1pYPiP7hXp/s1600/IMG_4036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZFxfWlG8qM5LtWnBkJapd9WWRAZXiDjKAmiOuTdyc-MF2ProZ0zqEZjSCLMJx-jlA_Fzjz06buchTFR068b_tYEiG1n3bFLwPlv0zf3zBUMgWepVxBTxOpPt4jEBlqgheq1pYPiP7hXp/s640/IMG_4036.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Two further fish flirted with my float, each giving themselves up with relative ease at the thought of free food but neither were so uncanny that they would succumb to my net. Late morning swiftly slid into an afternoon lull and though not negating the enchantment of this Crabtree paradise, I had to create a little magic of my own. While persevering with cane and quill, an additional ledgered offering of worms watched over by my ever faithful optonic quickly conjured a plump tench to break the silence by triggering the alarms' distinctive tone. With demonic drive the doctor fish charged, relentlessly wreaking havoc and testing my tackle beyond comfort. Without fail each near submission was followed by yet another 'last' bid for freedom. The fitness of these moat fish is in my view unparalleled.</div>
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Nightfall denoted the final hours of my stay. I watched the stars circle slowly in the sky as the hours passed waiting hopefully for a final fish. As it became too dark to see without the assistance of a torch, line tore hurriedly off the spool of my left rod and I lifted into a hefty specimen. I anticipated the danger of nearby snags and held on for dear life, attempting to kite the carp to open water with side-strain. The line suddenly went slack and my heart sunk. I sulked back to bed and so began the dreams of my return to settle this unfinished business...</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-20509654296427630622017-03-12T18:53:00.001+00:002017-04-06T23:09:32.344+01:00Nostradamus 2012/ A very carpy winter...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Z3JGnswrJD8rJAE19-l3ExadvctphKL78HArRe8C4f5JLNywy99cuiEs67AAM1f-KPfHLmj-dhd0dYZ2_3SOG6yTgEG0P3kbaP_X6Lbar2cv6J4y8rlEKjULBnUE8y1u1G8Hf0LACVEv/s1600/DSC_5749_00005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Z3JGnswrJD8rJAE19-l3ExadvctphKL78HArRe8C4f5JLNywy99cuiEs67AAM1f-KPfHLmj-dhd0dYZ2_3SOG6yTgEG0P3kbaP_X6Lbar2cv6J4y8rlEKjULBnUE8y1u1G8Hf0LACVEv/s640/DSC_5749_00005.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The end of life as I know it has been foretold and whilst the true believer does not fear death, any mere mortal inevitably clings to the life they have known with a sense of desperation. I am now counting the days to the very opposite scenario, a new life - my own daughter whom I cannot wait to meet and yet since Christmas have felt the necessity to fulfil something of an angling 'bucket list'.</div>
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Winter is seldom as I remember it as a child: Toboggan rides, snowball fights, those blue Parka jackets with orange lining and faux-fur hoods that every school boy wore in the 1980s and the disappointment of another weekend I could not fish at Lake Shearwater because it had a thick lid of ice on it. I never thought I would crave the cold but warm winters are not conducive to pike fishing and so as soon as the frosts first came I was out looking for esox lucius.</div>
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My first few excursions conformed to the cliche of the modest jack that was '<i>this big</i>' by the time I spoke of it and of course tales of the behemoth 'that got away'. Minutes past home time frequently accumulated, spent with frost bitten fingers, mentally conflicted between the perceived shame of an unproductive trip and the trouble I would be in when I arrived home late. I have a habit of giving a 'final countdown' from 1 - 60 after which I am obliged to pack up but during which, if I have a bite - or any indication that could <i>possibly</i> be perceived as a bite, then the countdown <u>must</u> start again. On this occasion I had completed this ceremony faithfully without even the most tenuous excuse for a nibble on my float-fished sardine and so dutifully picked up my rod to reel in, which in doing so agitated the bait slightly and suddenly the float slid away... </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-P7-mjTAUynJoK9TUnoiMy3EYbRqHDMlzqep3Bv6QkCCBJFRJ5tS5JhDQBHq-DyveyJiJTWQYWFAeJkzM6nT96hQ77UsvZ2jFAhf0d_AKTZlKwMyTFWWYMChCoCPPVvrlRWbcg5ru10f/s1600/DSC_5651_00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-P7-mjTAUynJoK9TUnoiMy3EYbRqHDMlzqep3Bv6QkCCBJFRJ5tS5JhDQBHq-DyveyJiJTWQYWFAeJkzM6nT96hQ77UsvZ2jFAhf0d_AKTZlKwMyTFWWYMChCoCPPVvrlRWbcg5ru10f/s640/DSC_5651_00001.jpg" width="562" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 15lb Pike from a stour valley stillwater.</td></tr>
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Grayling are synonymous with winter and regarded perhaps comically as a commendable quarry for carp anglers during the colder months. Last February I made my first pilgrimage with Matthew to the River Itchen where I was baptised into the cult of cane. Such fun was had with the 'ladies of the river' that we seem to have made it an annual fixture. Once at the waterside we went our separate ways until our mid-morning donut was due. "How many?" he asked - "Three" I said proudly "you?" - "Thirty!". Thankfully I didn't hold on to the embarrassment but continued to enjoy the day losing lethiathans and landing littler ladies, untangling birds-nests and admiring a hunting marsh-harrier. </div>
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My mornings most weekends begin with a couple of hours at dawn, trotting a worm beneath a bobber along the jetties and between moored boats on the River Stour watched over by hungry and highly-opportunistic robins, redwings, blackbirds, song thrush and this not so koi kingfisher.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUM0ix_HoEyqpfFXsChA8ofD-VORRPglKHr94xwFYdAJGVRiA7wIiqCXb5QIclH1QdJQmJZglak5ARQnHKXZQCYoc_X5ZLFZdXuoZ2umiCp7YK7drZ-MFdIabh2v5ghEmC8k_a0qpUg2xm/s1600/DSC_5715_00003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUM0ix_HoEyqpfFXsChA8ofD-VORRPglKHr94xwFYdAJGVRiA7wIiqCXb5QIclH1QdJQmJZglak5ARQnHKXZQCYoc_X5ZLFZdXuoZ2umiCp7YK7drZ-MFdIabh2v5ghEmC8k_a0qpUg2xm/s640/DSC_5715_00003.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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This has spot has been a tranquil haven for me, providing necessary escape and solitude until recently as it has become overrun with pike anglers clutching at the last straws of the season. By no means is this a criticism but in order to maintain my enjoyment, ever mindful of the sands of fishing-time slipping through my fingers, I opt not to compete.</div>
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As the season draws to a close, my tickets approach expiry and the wriggles and kicks visible on the surface of my wife's incredible baby-bulge become evermore violent, I know that each trip may be my last. For a while at least. I assign myself one last mission to catch a carp from one of the gravel pits abundant in this part of Kent.</div>
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I spent Saturday morning swimming with my wife, which is the only form of exercise she can really do at this stage of pregnancy, then on to mothercare and boots to buy the remaining miscellaneous necessities in preparation for our daughter's debut. By the time we were done and my gear was loaded into the car there was an hour left of light. Once at the lake my eyes strained to make out far bank features and after tentatively casting a lead towards intended spots only to find a multitude of overhanging branches I decided I had time for 1 cast per rod before dark- at a push and so put the rigs on and confidently pinged each rig precisely into position. That was a first for me!</div>
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Making use of landmarks on the distinctive treelined horizon I fired free offerings out in the dark with my catapult, a wild shot in the dark if ever there was one!</div>
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As I nestled down for the night beneath an almost full moon, the onset of sleep was intermittently interrupted by line-bites - encouraging to know that carp were chasing around after their widely scattered supper. The witching hour was announced by the tone of my alarms, a bite which dropped back rapidly as the fish took the bait away from the reed bed it had been kissing since sunset.</div>
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As I lifted this glorious common carp out of the water I realised it was bigger than I had first thought in spite of its feistiness. As I held the scales aloft the dial turned to 20lb 12oz. </div>
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"20, 12" I said aloud. The implications of this ominous number began to dawn on me as I recollected Nostradamus had predicted that the world would end in the year 2012. Could it be that my angling might also end with this 20-12 in accordance with the prophecies of the many wise sages coupled with anecdotes of their own parental experiences? </div>
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Thankfully, Nostradamus was wrong!</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-75528201366599310052016-12-09T19:24:00.000+00:002016-12-10T07:38:46.499+00:00Looking back at 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Carpe Diem; a good motto to live by and certainly one that has seemed all-the-more relevant to me of late, especially where my angling is concerned. 2016 has been a year of impossible demands, soaring highs and crushing lows but that is life and it must be acknowledged that without the challenges there would be little ecstasy in achievement. </div>
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The challenges I have faced have led me to be more proactive in my leisurely pursuits, including my fishing and as a consequence the shape of my angling has changed, resulting in more opportunities and more varied experiences than I could ever have hoped for.</div>
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The first moment of significance was a day on the <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/ive-been-itchen-for-grayling.html" target="_blank">River Itchen</a> with good friends Matthew and Colin. They were keen for me to experience the joy of a grayling on a cane rod and whilst this meant little to me prior to this excursion, the sensation of the connection through this medium simply cannot be put into words and has since become a focus of fanaticism. With some sterling guidance in a stunning setting, several 'ladies of the river' were seen.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnxfwyWsvNXModvgz1cdFTFmxHn9G0sJ5g1VirWxgD_gIU4k1Qop0E60MpgrfV-JTuYNU6iCIFnR690yAvinfWmX3-wU8VYsOaAmQCJS-Ij7mANeC56gEtFzZFZOqYO8KMpvD68B7Pj1h/s1600/12823418_10156611210985632_710711714514376590_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnxfwyWsvNXModvgz1cdFTFmxHn9G0sJ5g1VirWxgD_gIU4k1Qop0E60MpgrfV-JTuYNU6iCIFnR690yAvinfWmX3-wU8VYsOaAmQCJS-Ij7mANeC56gEtFzZFZOqYO8KMpvD68B7Pj1h/s320/12823418_10156611210985632_710711714514376590_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>Whilst I do enjoy long session carp fishing with all the associated trimmings, aside perhaps from the blinkered outlook and laddish antics, I have found it much easier snatch short sessions early in the morning or late at night on the Kentish Stour. The stretch I used to frequent in pursuit of barbel is in a sorry state owing, at least in part, to gross mismanagement and sadly also, the other anglers who fish there. For this reason I have spent most of my time elsewhere on the river and have enjoyed some good chub, roach, gudgeon, bream, perch and pike, very often without seeing a single soul.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRw3W_jd4_Z0YG7wD-rLgJUE6sPOWGqTVCNadREI6FaKo-fjalfm6DIzq38tQtyT0yIXwJntG6g5FRU37-cEHjwDQOLLftmkbGscoU-MfbdHD6bhg_vNOKO6AtYdo9E_YUr6R-xNAbEVyv/s1600/10364076_10156637436355632_193582138170855974_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRw3W_jd4_Z0YG7wD-rLgJUE6sPOWGqTVCNadREI6FaKo-fjalfm6DIzq38tQtyT0yIXwJntG6g5FRU37-cEHjwDQOLLftmkbGscoU-MfbdHD6bhg_vNOKO6AtYdo9E_YUr6R-xNAbEVyv/s400/10364076_10156637436355632_193582138170855974_n.jpg" width="300" /></a>I have to thank my dad for my love of angling. He introduced me to sea fishing, his preferred denomination of our sport, when I was young and we have relished every opportunity to get out together since, messing about in boats or blanking on the beach - it matters not. These moments together are important bonding time and angling the perfect medium. These days, sadly, they are few and far between. This year however, for his 60th birthday, we made a concerted effort and arranged a string of angling adventures; punting in the jungle at Bury Hill, beach casting from Herne Bay, carping on Broadlands Lake and the highlight, coincidentally also the most epic haul, fishing for thornback rays off the coast of Dover in March. I can't claim it was difficult fishing, though timing the strike was critical to hooking the fish successfully but these hard fighting creatures really were fun to catch. Now we are back in the habit of booking in 'bank time' or even 'boat time', it would be a crime to let it slide once more.</div>
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Come spring all I could think about was <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/04/just-what-doctor-fish-ordered.html" target="_blank">tench fishing</a>. I was blessed with a couple of days on the banks of a new water at Easter when I made sure this was my sole focus. I fished two rods with black-cap maggot feeders and a maggot clip on a simple hair rig and took 20 tench over the session. They started around 4lb and progressed to 5, 6 and eventually a 7lber before the end of the session. Most fish came at night meaning I had hardly any sleep!In spite of this being a highly successful tench session, the real highlight had to be the surprise capture of this 22lb common carp which picked up the big ball of maggots intended for a tinca! Incredible fun, if not a little hair-raising at times, on light tackle... I have only returned to this venue once since this session to try and track down some more big scaleys but missed the one chance I was given. I'm sure this lake has incredible potential - it is certainly not fished very much so who knows what is in there. However, over the summer months I had other venues to focus on.</div>
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It was my absolute pleasure and privilege to be granted to opportunity to fish on two occasions this year at a very special venue known simply as <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/the-moat.html" target="_blank">'The Moat'</a>. The first visit was for a day in July and was somewhat sweet and sour - the venue cast something of a spell on me, I was totally in awe but the fishing was more challenging than I had anticipated. I was targeting crucian carp and had forgotten just how finicky their bites can be. I was over-gunned and complacent. On my second visit, this time in August, I had more time to play with and was able to relax into the experience and, with the benefit of learning from my previous experiences, make the necessary adjustments to be successful. I targeted carp by night resulting in two stunning mid-doubles on simple ledger tactics. During daylight hours I fished for crucians again this time slightly scaled down, fed less but more frequently and was less hasty on the strike and, though the first day passed without a bite, on the second I was rewarded with a commendable crucian taken on a small piece of bread flake fished beneath a quill float I made. </div>
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The moment was absolute magic, compounded further by the fantastic friends who shared it with me. On my return I was compelled to write about my experience and am proud to say an abridged version of my blog about this trip has been included as a 'Reader's Story' in issue 8 of Fallon's Angler - a super quarterly publication with the subheading 'a medley of piscatorial prose'. To see my story in print alongside angling writers such as Chris Yates and Kevin Parr, truly is an honour.</div>
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The rest of the <a href="https://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/too-hard-to-handle.html" target="_blank">summer was spent chasing carp</a> on a venue I had not fished before this year. I took a trip or two to figure out how to catch here but once off the mark had a reasonable string of catches until the end of the summer when they seemed to dry up a little, though I was not alone in this. I had signed up to club that hosts this venue in addition to the ticket I have held for the past 7 years or so as I had become frustrated with rammed lakes and the agro I had experienced on the bank last season and needed to have a break from all that. During the summer I was able to get out mid-week which on this new lake often meant I was the only person fishing down there! Whilst it is not a patch on the beauty of Fordwich and the fish I caught, not as big and brag-worthy, it was a pleasure to find some solitude and still be having fun catching carp. I am still debating whether or not to keep this ticket on but it certainly did me good this year!</div>
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Most of the autumn I have spent fishing for perch either with float fished worms or using light drop-shot or jig tactics. I have been fortunate enough to find some prolific spots on the river. The longest I have fished in one sitting is 3 hours and have always caught a few but sometimes in excess of 40 perch in a session with most fish averaging an estimated 1/2lb - 1lb with no discernable distinction being apparent between methods. A friend has had some whopping-great perch from a still-water venue and commended live-baiting tactics as a way of singling out the bigger fish. I am yet to try this approach but can't help feeling that this might not pay off on my stretch as the fish caught on lures, which are effectively impersonating a live-bait, have not attracted bigger fish than the float fished lobs. I can only conclude that either the larger fish are not present or I have not been lucky yet. It is however, no hardship to keep trying!</div>
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Occasionally, when they have been showing, I have put a larger jig on and targeted pike. I have had a few decent jacks like this one but am yet to have the opportunity to go out with deadbaits on a frosty morning to try for anything bigger this season.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit96hvLEs-dFJLhLSK_KBVpZ1SMG0fjbaeXd1ug8ZCVL5vrv_0VgMY8E5vbgP-R4bmIfMuzSdthMrMjknVrOn5GXDWEl-FeQZZoKw9oWMIqWZirZjkBJo6EZv2ThQmUio7nqICzhpYLFgt/s1600/15242029_10157740163810632_3342955681007214905_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit96hvLEs-dFJLhLSK_KBVpZ1SMG0fjbaeXd1ug8ZCVL5vrv_0VgMY8E5vbgP-R4bmIfMuzSdthMrMjknVrOn5GXDWEl-FeQZZoKw9oWMIqWZirZjkBJo6EZv2ThQmUio7nqICzhpYLFgt/s320/15242029_10157740163810632_3342955681007214905_n.jpg" width="274" /></a>In late November, I travelled up to Hereford to fish the River Wye for barbel for a weekend. On the Saturday I fished alone and met up with Tony - a friend first met at the moat, on the Sunday.</div>
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It was fortuitous to have been without company on the first day as I fell victim to the steep, slippery banks on more than one occasion, as did my camera! It was bad enough taking an involuntary swim so I was grateful to have been spared the embarrassment of doing it before company. I did however catch 2 fighting fit, fin perfect barbel - the first weighed in at 5lb and the second returned without a fuss. I also had several decent trout on both days though no barbel showed on day two, probably owing to the frost the night before. Tony winkled out a lovely chub and we enjoyed some mince pies and a natter!</div>
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I don't think I have ever before caught such a range of species within a year - certainly not by design and so this feels like something of an achievement. I have enjoyed my fishing so much more also by focusing on the experience above the end result. </div>
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I am going to be a dad next spring which I know is going to completely change my life. It is already giving me so much to look forward to! Who knows how much fishing I will be able to do once my baby girl arrives but where there is a will, there is a way and I believe my proactivity this year has formed healthy habits which will certainly give me a good chance of wetting a line whenever possible.</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-16020472463680291932016-09-10T12:05:00.000+01:002016-09-10T22:10:58.090+01:00Too hard to Handle...<div style="text-align: justify;">
The summer stretched out before me as a smorgasbord of opportunity and I intended to feast! Work-life balance is something to strive for and it seems I can only do so with polar opposites. Now but a fading memory, I console myself with this pale reflection of what was ultimately a wonderful and therapeutic experience.</div>
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Time is precious; a maxim I am acutely aware of, yet the sense of pressure and imperative achievement ingrained in me, perhaps conditioned by my working environment, nearly led me to miss the moment altogether. </div>
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It is easy to mistake the objective of angling for catching fish. Whilst this is ones occupation on the bank and a helpful focus for those who have high ambitions for their fishing which for me seems not to be possible, it is merely the tip of the iceberg. However, at the beginning of my summer I saw a short window of opportunity in which to meet a target and dutifully became increasingly stressed about the notion of failure. The thing about stress is it impedes performance and for the first two days of fishing it clearly impacted every aspect of mine. Such a commotion was made by errors owing to hasty actions. I felt despondent as I understood the consequences but of course this only added to the snowball effect causing something of an avalanche.</div>
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Phone calls with my wife helped me to put things in perspective as did some sentiments from Kevin Parr's book 'Rivers Run' which I read whilst fishing, helping me to realise that 'the moments between bites meant more than the bites themselves'.</div>
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Eventually I entered a state of peace, began to appreciate my surroundings and accepted things at face value. Not only did this enrich my experience tenfold but facilitated better angling and, with some patience employed, the fish started to show.</div>
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Taking some knowledge from those who were willing to share it and trusting my eyes and instincts to fill the gaps my catches started small and eventually increased in size, though none gave me so much joy as the smallest of all enveloped in my net as it was the first to break the silence.</div>
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One conversation on my last trip with an angler well acquainted with this water really opened my eyes. He seemed to think outside the box and I found it inspiring. It reminded me of the way I fished as a child whilst still learning and oblivious to convention. It awoke something in me just at the time when the rods were due to be hung back up for another extended period of abstainence. I have realised however that these periods of solitude accompanied only by nature are essential for the soul. To be absent for long would be too hard to handle.</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-81782517193186421472016-09-02T11:56:00.000+01:002016-09-02T12:12:24.216+01:00A Moment on Milton...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The grounds of the Bury Hill estate were landscaped at about the same time that <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/the-moat.html" target="_blank">the Fort</a>, which was the location of my last excursion, was built. However, in spite of this and the fact that both venues host good shoals of my latest love, crucian carp, in many ways they could not be more contrasting. Compared to the Fort's moat which boasts a wild, unkempt beauty, Bury Hill is stately, serene and manicured to perfection! </div>
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I travelled up here on this occasion with my good friend Kent who was also keen to catch a cru' and after a trip last year where we fished the main lake - 'Old Bury Hill', but caught little other than bream and perch, this year we opted for Milton Lake; a smaller pond lined with lilies and reed beds and reportedly well stocked with our quarry.</div>
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The day started slowly but both of our floats plunged beneath the surface before long baring up only a small bream each. Humourous grumbles were exchanged before Kent suddenly exclaimed "I've got one!" and started walking over towards me with a crucian in the net, hoping for a photograph. As I glanced over my shoulder I saw movement in my peripheral vision. "So have I!" I answered as I lurched to prevent my feeder rod from being pulled off the rest - a rod I had not expected or for that matter hoped to receive a bite on as I favour the float for this species. That said, whereas my experience of a crucian on the float at the moat was a relatively gentle affair, on the feeder here at Milton both the bite and the fight that followed were comparatively savage!</div>
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Neither fish were massive but we were delighted nonetheless!</div>
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Fishing for the rest of the day was fairly pedestrian but given that the gent in the shop where we purchased our tickets said it had been a little slow of late, we were grateful to be catching. It seemed all I could manage on the float, no matter what bait I tried, were small perch and bream but the feeder rod, sporting a bright fruity banded pellet, produced a few nice tench and two crucians for me. Kent however, had all his fish on the float including four crucians to 1lb 9oz which was a new PB for him!</div>
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In spite of the very controlled conditions, this was a lovely day of pleasure-fishing. By no means was a catch guaranteed and we certainly had to work for each bite but they were definitely there to be had. Whilst waiting for bites I could not help but notice an enormous wealth of birdlife - Kingfishers busy gliding back and forth, coots nesting, grey herons stalking the margins, tufted ducks diving, swallows swooping and buzzards high in the sky. On my previous visit with my father in February pike fishing on a punt on the old lake, we also spotted a red kite as well as all the aforementioned birds. </div>
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While I regularly target carp on still waters, mostly with modern methods, it is really fun to break the monotony with other styles of angling at a range of contrasting locations. Variety, as they say, adds the spice...</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-81220223390204763812016-08-23T14:24:00.001+01:002016-11-02T22:28:25.893+00:00The Moat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A Palmerston Fort on the south coast of England, built to guard against French invasion at the height of the Romantic era seems an unlikely fantasy even for the most intrepid angler but now derelict, overtaken by nature and forgotten by many, a new allurement has emerged. The focal point of fascination for the piscatorial practitioner is the mystery of the moat, as beneath its watery veil, magical creatures seen elsewhere only in dreams, live out their cloistered existence.</div>
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The aforementioned dreams began for me as a small child when visiting my grandparents who lived nearby, we would often pass the Fort in the car. With my nose pressed against the window and my eyes popping out of their sockets, I would stare intently to catch as much of a glimpse as I could, my imagination filling in gaps and then left to wonder…</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkgmg6vSR8sY02z57XBMDzUW-4Ul5ZMwvAhNZsl51MXEAWBBiXXzONLJrU_xAGIatvqzzl5_TmCs9fmn3EBZaJIDINM_RGxaD1cK0zmF9a8vwXuEOLgcCRA0QDQ37-462ASR2qIIQFKx5/s1600/A+long+way+down%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkgmg6vSR8sY02z57XBMDzUW-4Ul5ZMwvAhNZsl51MXEAWBBiXXzONLJrU_xAGIatvqzzl5_TmCs9fmn3EBZaJIDINM_RGxaD1cK0zmF9a8vwXuEOLgcCRA0QDQ37-462ASR2qIIQFKx5/s400/A+long+way+down%2521.jpg" width="265" /></a>The excitement was uncontainable when earlier this year, some 30 years after this reverie began, by some improbable alignment of the stars, I found out I would have the privilege of fishing there. What I had not accounted for was that, aside from the fulfilling of childhood dreams, I would forge new friendships with others who share my passion for angling.</div>
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Having been granted a whole weekend to explore and to fish, I was intent on making the most of every available moment. Many months before the sacrifice of an early alarm to herald the pilgrimage was even considered, plans were meticulously constructed. Whilst it was dark I would fish for carp using modern methods allowing me to sleep and fish simultaneously. However, every available hour whilst the sun was shining would be spent with a cane rod in hand, eyes fixated on a quill float, waiting for a crucian carp to lift my bait from the bottom and grace me with its presence for a moment on the bank... or at least, that was my hope!</div>
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Firm handshakes and anecdotes of anticipation were exchanged between strangers, soon to be comrades, in the pub before setting out in convoy, guided by Mark who manages the water, to the military base which encompasses the Fort. Once passed the armed guards and intimidating naval air craft which adorn the grounds we were given a guided tour of the fishery. Over the weekend I made it my business to listen intently to everything Mark said, and later Dean who is also integral to the Moat's team, to glean any information which may assist me in my quest. </div>
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Having chosen my swim and prepared a bed of bait in two likely spots in a deep channel, I nestled down for the night in front of the keep.</div>
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I awoke with the sun and birdsong. A mild disappointment began to take hold as what I thought may have been my prime opportunity to meet with Cyprinus Carpio had passed. As if intentionally to remind me that perpetual optimism is an angler's best friend, my rod tip pulled downwards and my buzzer sounded, causing me to leap up from my sulk, suddenly energised and engaged. Although I was utilising modern methods, by no means does that imply my tackle was excessively stout. On the contrary, my rod played well and cushioned each of the many violent lunges made by the angry carp with which I had connected though perhaps a little more persuading power would have made my job a bit easier...</div>
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Having moved to the stretch between the left and central caponiers to fish with my new-found friends and some more long-standing who joined us for the day, I settled in a spot which to my mind looked like it could hold my quarry. Rain came and went alternating with strong sunshine, all the while my float remained stationary giving me time to reflect on the joys of the morning's capture and making of me a prisoner of hope.</div>
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Jake was one of the fortunate few who managed to tempt a crucian from its lily-shrouded lair. He has his own story to tell about his grandfather's rod which this catch completes. It was clear that for Jake this was a monumental and magical moment which I felt honoured to share with him as I took care to provide him with photographs with which to remember the occasion. Crucian Carp are commonly described as 'bars of gold' but these moat fish have a quality which is truly unique, dressed in a hue more akin to caramelised butter and an archaic, yet pristine coat of armour. What's more, considering its type, this was a huge token. Jake could have weighed it and earned enormous bragging rights but this was clearly not important to him. The experience was enough and although I could not at that moment comprehend how he might truly be feeling, I know that this is one he will never forget.</div>
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Many of us however, returned to our beds for the night without such success. It was a pleasure hearing tales of copius quantities of whiskey consumed beneath the arches of the gun casements, now commandeered as a club house for those fortunate enough to fish here often but for me the night meant another opportunity to entice a carp to my net, though not before storm-proofing my temporary abode!</div>
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I lay awake, listening to the rain as it lashed against my canvas shelter, conflicted in my now contrasting endeavours of catching fish and staying dry. However, a large, hungry, dark mirror carp made the decision for me in the early hours of the morning forcing me to face the last push of precipitation. This was bigger than the common and far chunkier and although not quite as zealous in the water, this was made up for in spades on the bank! Unfortunately I appreciate the effect of a wide aperture, which controls depth of field, in a fishing photo but as a result of pursuing my intended visual effect whilst in a sleepy haze I did not execute it correctly and returning the fish quickly was more important to me than having a good photograph. As ever, the experience itself counts for far more than the preservation of its memory.</div>
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Trying to sleep after this was no mean feat! So far I had accomplished one of my goals and was over-the-moon about it but pressure was mounting to find the holy grail and capture a crucian...</div>
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My last day had arrived, the clouds cleared and strong coffee was consumed. I walked over to the stretch we had fished the day before and found Lee, Graeme and Tony were already there. I had lovely chats with them each in turn as developing friendships is at least equally commendable an objective as catching a prize fish so did not hurry to get my bait in the water. I say with a degree of sarcasm that unfortunately Jake had had to leave early to attend a Christening, not that I didn't miss his company but I was able now to occupy his swim of the previous days success!</div>
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I pinched a small piece of bread around the hook, carefully forming it into the perfect bell shape with nice fluffy bits disguising the point. Every aspect of my fishing was executed in an uncharacteristically calm fashion allowing a perfect cast placing my bait between a bed of lilies and surface weed. Anyone who has ever watched me fishing knows I don't do many perfect casts, not least first time! I sat back in my chair an intently gazed at my homemade porcupine quill float, a little heavy for the job and even though Graeme who is a master float-maker had very kindly given me two of his creations, I persisted to use my own as I knew exactly how to set it without experimentation and craved that sense of satisfaction should I be successful with it attached.</div>
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My eyes glazed over and I began to dream of the bright orange tip lifting, pulling the surface film of the water up slightly before revealing the cotton whipping below. The float kept rising and rising and then started to cock to one side before I realised this was not dream but reality! Time slowed and I recalled Mark's advice to lift into the bite at this moment gently and acted accordingly. The rod tip pulled down and a warm rush of blood swept up from my feet to my head causing me to shake with excitement laced with anxiety. I am a recent cane convert thanks to Matthew and Colin who had fished with us the day before and whilst I don't believe it is appropriate for all situations and unashamedly use carbon for the majority of my fishing, I appreciated the sensation, more than ever at this moment, of being able to feel the fish so sensitively through this organic extension of an angler's arm. I am therefore delighted that this encounter, hair raising at times thanks to the many adjacent hazards, was the result of using traditional methods and tackle.</div>
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It would seem I must have let out some sort of primal scream to express my utter joy as the most beautiful fish I had ever laid eyes on (yes it does sound like love doesn't it?!) swam into my net, as suddenly I was surrounded by friends. Tony and Graeme rejoiced genuinely in my joy and compounded the feeling enormously. There are no words to describe the emotion. Although so much smaller than the fish I had caught over the previous two nights, this was a rather large example of its species and having tried so hard on previous occasions to no avail, now reaping the rewards of my efforts seemed all the sweeter. </div>
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I did weigh it and was highly satisfied with where the needle came to rest on the dial of my scales but I don't want to reduce this fish to a number. Much like Jake's fish I'm sure, this capture was the completion of my story about the magical moat.</div>
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Lee joined the assembly bringing us homemade rock cakes, Tony brought many amusing tales and we shared one last moment together, confirming that our shared experiences had brought us together and deepened our friendships. My solitary drive home was conducted in silence as my head noisy enough with flashbacks of the last few days. As I approached my village I stopped the car to admire two buzzards hunting together. I had missed my wife and my cats whilst I had been away but now I would be reunited with them, until my next adventure at least. Sometimes, life is very very good.</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-40703128569461562952016-04-07T12:52:00.001+01:002016-04-07T18:01:37.311+01:00Just what the doctor-fish ordered!<br />
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After a distinctly average '15-'16 season with far too many potentially magic moments marred by factors beyond my control, negating the very object of peaceful retreat, I was desperate for a fresh start. </div>
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Spring is a time for new beginnings. It is also time for tench and so, with a newly acquired pair of 'modern-vintage' Abu Carbon Specimen rods and a few new waters to explore, I headed out to try and tempt a tinca or two.</div>
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Following some sage advice from one who is in-the-know, I opted for the shallowest of the lakes available to me which was most likely to have 'woken-up'. As I was setting up on the first evening carp were frequently topping yards from the bank and whilst they were not my focus for this trip I counted it as a good omen and given that I had brought a cheeky third rod to angle for a wild-card carp, this was all the encouragement I needed.</div>
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I used a float rod set up for the 'lift method' to explore the contours in front of me. As it happened, it barely got used for anything else but this was far more forgiving for this purpose in close proximity than a carp-style marker setup would have been and confirmed the presence of a lovely wide band of gravel only 15 yards in front of me which raises from 5ft troughs to highs of 3 1/2 - 4ft. I duly cast 2 maggot feeders and a bright popup to 3 points on the bar and started setting up home for the next 2 days. It may be worth noting that I consistently cast to and fed the same same spots throughout the session and did not spread the feed widely by casting around. </div>
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I didn't have to wait long before the first tench of the season graced my net just after dark, falling for a big bundle of maggots on a hair-rigged clip. This first fish also affirmed my confidence in my choice of rod which had the perfect balance between sensitivity and power. The joy of the scrap would have been completely lost with this fish of about 4lbs on a typical carp rod.</div>
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By the time this fish had been freed and dinner had been downed I decided to get some kip. I managed an hour before fish number two rudely woke me from my slumber but being a slightly larger specimen of 5lb, I was not complaining - yet! After this, it got cold - colder than I had anticipated when dressing for the occasion and these conditions were not conducive to sleep!</div>
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At first light I had a fantastic run on my right-hand rod and I connected with a powerful fish. It did not feel like a tench so I presumed it was a carp but even that did not quite fit the bill. Within feet from the bank, near an over-hanging tree, everything suddenly went slack and reeled in with no tackle remaining and a clean cut in the line. Could I have been sliced by a snag? I thought so at the time but this happened twice more in the session but subsequently in open water which led me to believe that the culprits were pike, attracted by silvers feeding on my free offerings and then picking up the feeder itself. It would explain it. Before anyone asks, I always check my mainline for abrasion damage and my rigs are 'safe'.</div>
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The tench however just kept coming albeit after a bit of a slow spell in the morning before the sun worked its magic. By the end of the first day I had had 7 tench. If that had been my lot I would have returned home a very happy angler. I had no idea then that </div>
what was yet to come would make this a very special session indeed.<br />
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Owing to my lack of sleep on the first night, I decided to get an early night and nestled down at about 9:30pm. This was a wise move as the next two hours sleep transpired to be my last, this time not due to cold but constant fish activity! 11:30pm saw a very confident take and what was at that moment, the hardest fighting tench I had ever caught, though this accolade was shattered twice more in this session! This fish weighed 6lbs 12oz; very close to my previous PB of 7lb! It was followed in the night with another of 6lb and several others around the 4-5lb mark which were returned without a fuss.</div>
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The first fish after sunrise however was equal to my personal best - 7lbs of hard-fighting male tinca!</div>
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Aside from the aforementioned pike activity, the second morning was as slow as the first. Being tired from sleep deprivation I found it hard to motivate myself to cook breakfast until near lunch time. I sat on the ground as the sun baked down. Jumper off. Sausages sizzling. Unsuspecting.</div>
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Beeeeeeep!!! The rod bent 90 degrees right. Line is peeling. Spools are turning. Leaping up. Bang. Connected! Clutch is giving. Sausages burning! Unstoppable! </div>
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Carefully I played the fish away from my other lines, having learnt from an embarrassing demonstration of knitting a visiting friend had witnessed the day before! This beast laid low until near the end of the epic battle. This was certainly not going to be a tench, not even by the spartan-esque standard of scrap I had come to expect. Whilst I was targeting tench, how could I fail to be ecstatic when engaged with such a creature. All the while the rod intended for carp and most capable of handling them, lay dormant.</div>
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My eyes popped out when I caught sight of this stunning common. I let it rest, sulking in the net while I got myself organised on the bank. When I lifted it onto the mat I realised for the first time how big it was and sure-enough, when it turned the scales to 22lb I realised this was the biggest common carp I have ever caught.</div>
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Pure delight.</div>
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As the afternoon rolled on the tench kept coming but the bait was running out. My mate popped down again and brought some supplies before going to fish a nearby lake. What a good egg! This kept me going to the last cast.</div>
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As it was time to leave the tench tally was twenty! It occurred to me that this was only my first session on this lake and I had had two PBs. I have never known anything like this before. I suspect that targeting the carp intentionally may prove hard but I think given my previous efforts on Fordwich, no one could contest that I am up for a challenge.</div>
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In the mean-time, I think I am onto something here with regards the tench and also in terms of enjoyment of the sport. This was just what the doctor ordered!</div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-46219511619411490862016-02-18T20:41:00.000+00:002016-02-18T20:41:10.155+00:00I've been Itchen for a Grayling!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Under ordinary circumstances, my morning alarm is not a welcome sound. Its terrifying timbre signifying the beginning of another working day and, whilst I enjoy my job, I commit to involuntary avoidance behaviour, akin to Pavlov's dog's salivation, and hitting snooze at the first ringing of the bell. </div>
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But not today. In spite of an excitement induced lack of sleep I was up like a shot when first it chimed at 4am because today was the day I had been looking forward to: my first outing to the River Itchen in pursuit of grayling.</div>
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My friend Matthew was soon at the door, helping me load my tackle in his car and after I had woke the whole neighbourhood by setting off his vehicles burglar alarm by trying to open the door before it was unlocked, we commenced the long drive from Kent to Hampshire. </div>
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Good conversation and good coffee helped the journey pass quickly and before long I was following my guide for the day down the path of this idilic rivers beautiful banks.</div>
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Today was all about new experiences. Whilst I grew up fishing in a relatively traditional style on the Longleat Estate lakes and River Wylye, these skills have been superseded, not necessarily for the better, by modern carp fishing and specimen angling. So Matthew, and later Colin who came to join us, had brought lovely cane float rods for me to test drive. I'm not sure if there was an evangelical agenda going on but I was happy to let them try and convert me! I had however brought my own carbon avon rod as a comfort blanket having fished with cane as a teen and not got on particularly well with it. Today I learned that this childhood disagreement may have been the result of the limitations of my pocket-money! Both rods I tried were a pleasure to fish with and following a little coaching on the finer points of trotting I experienced my first 'lady of the river' on traditional tackle. Double maggots seemed at first to be the winning combination, fished slightly over depth however following the capture of several small salmon parr and a few wild brownies a change to worm and slight change of depth secured grayling number two.</div>
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Meanwhile, Colin had arrived and setup a little way upstream with a 'cunning plan' for catching a bigger specimen! Whilst to the purist it might not be cricket or produce as many fish as the float, ledgering for grayling increases chances of a larger one. Colin touch-ledgered with a small maggot feeder and had a several good fish of which this was the first. </div>
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Once Matthew commenced fishing he was quickly amongst the grayling and caught consistently throughout the day. He tells me that today was slow but I lost count of how many fish we caught so goodness only knows what this river is like when they are feeding hard! </div>
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Unfortunately, with so much going right something <i>had</i> to go wrong... I must confess to having a funny five minutes when I allowed the centrepin to overspin and created a terrible tangle. It wasn't too much trouble to resolve this but I feared that in doing so I may have damaged the line in places and didn't want to risk continuing to fish and losing one as a consequence of a break. This is where my contingency plan came into play and whilst my carbon comfort zone now seemed to lack soul by comparison, I did feel more at home with it and certainly had more control with my own centrepin with which I was better acquainted.</div>
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After wading through several more salmonidae I finally caught my third and final grayling of the day.</div>
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Soon after, it was time to leave. A swift beverage in the pub at the foot of the stretch marked the end of a fantastic day and a chance to recollect some of the highlights of the session. The early start and 300 mile round trip was no bother in light of the majesty of this mile of river we had the privilege of fishing. I must thank Matthew and Colin for looking after me and giving me this experience which is quite far removed from my day to day angling. Now I look forward to the coming weekend where I shall be celebrating my dad's 60th with him on a charter boat from Dover on Saturday and then he will join me on the water again on Sunday to celebrate my 35th as we take a punt to the 'jungle' in search of predators at Old Bury Hill. Perhaps if we are successful I may be writing to you again very soon...</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-66261764174520525682015-12-23T19:14:00.000+00:002015-12-24T11:34:25.816+00:00Post Script<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4p1FDase2d4n6VoA0hPgAu1QV9BmGH4oB-yl4IzrgbN-Lu5pBXBpwMEkXKXQpCraUHZfpVJGwsuYcFYJEhM0NxRITY8k-tEaPNyiLPN1KMSBjwEklmqw5ZGjCL-tlsBPA4qkTJC7PKi6V/s1600/IMG_1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4p1FDase2d4n6VoA0hPgAu1QV9BmGH4oB-yl4IzrgbN-Lu5pBXBpwMEkXKXQpCraUHZfpVJGwsuYcFYJEhM0NxRITY8k-tEaPNyiLPN1KMSBjwEklmqw5ZGjCL-tlsBPA4qkTJC7PKi6V/s640/IMG_1149.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the sun sets on fishing opportunities in 2015 I decided to squeeze in a couple more short sessions...</td></tr>
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I've got to admit, after publishing my review of the year, in spite of acknowledging 3 new PBs and plenty of good times on the bank, I still felt a little down about my angling this year. So I decided to get out and do a little bit more before the year is out...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCb-kohty9gcFR2u8wZxQx9r7Xyj19CKMBO4l4EWXFQ3Z2ys53cLAGj5ZIk4zEsH1Q8Z8cWLEJndJrvzMSvk4fXl2iMge7__ZM3AGfxYyOk7sh-tfoGkz5KXNmiMBGg_x0jreSRUd6GXB/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCb-kohty9gcFR2u8wZxQx9r7Xyj19CKMBO4l4EWXFQ3Z2ys53cLAGj5ZIk4zEsH1Q8Z8cWLEJndJrvzMSvk4fXl2iMge7__ZM3AGfxYyOk7sh-tfoGkz5KXNmiMBGg_x0jreSRUd6GXB/s400/DSC_0326.JPG" width="400" /></a>Yesterday I headed down to Birch Lake, Littlebourne armed with a pint of maggots hoping for a tench or two. I figured this small pool would be the most likely candidate to have benefited from this warm spell and even if the carp were a little docile, a ball of wriggly red maggots are sure to wake up a tinca! Perhaps a stealthy approach on the float may have fared better but with a forecast of rain all day, I decided to present my offerings on a light ledger with a pva mesh stick of gentles.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaIxckpK69xdAcGgk45evfPMp57ezlznrFV0FzLSvPthAJmZIHhzbeMv44Pc-SwT48JB7ek6Z-5J9nxd-4M9Bdfu8KIv7LH8BilL2MpZsfqMm362JDp9kggSEHqYFY6Ta6mgjMsWNWDR5T/s1600/DSC_0385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaIxckpK69xdAcGgk45evfPMp57ezlznrFV0FzLSvPthAJmZIHhzbeMv44Pc-SwT48JB7ek6Z-5J9nxd-4M9Bdfu8KIv7LH8BilL2MpZsfqMm362JDp9kggSEHqYFY6Ta6mgjMsWNWDR5T/s400/DSC_0385.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
It was a fairly slow day but a successful one as two beautiful tench graced my net. The first run of the day came an hour after setting up to the rod I had cast to a set of lilies near the middle of the lake. Unfortunately, as I picked up the rod there was no resistance. A moment later, the other rod, also positioned near lilies but in slightly shallower water, screamed off with a face-melting run!<br />
This time I hit it no problem and retrieved the culprit - this feisty, dark 3lb 8oz tench!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few blips at the end of the day were worth hitting!</td></tr>
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The next run came soon after on the same rod but whilst a pound heavier, gave no where near as disproportionate an account of itself as its little buddy!<br />
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Although I accomplished my goal to catch some tench, I was a little disappointed that a carp didn't try to crash the party. So I began thinking about where I might fish tomorrow. There seemed little point going to Fordwich so decided to head over to Stonar for one last short day session for the year.<br />
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Stonar could not be more of a contrast from the tree lined pool of serenity I had fished the day before. A huge expanse of open water allowed the strong Westerly winds to kick up quite a choppy sea! I positioned myself in the wind nonetheless, in the hope it had brought some fish across with it, after I spoke to a friend tucked away out of the wind on the opposite bank who reported the fishing to be fairly slow.<br />
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Once again I missed my first run and the second brought me a bream. At this point I decided to switch all three rods over to a boilie approach and to quit trying to dutifully use up the remaining maggots from yesterday. Throughout the day I had several short takes, each soon after casting with a long pva stringer of VF boilies. Had I brought a spod rod with me I could perhaps have kept these bites coming but regrettably I had thought this unnecessary whilst taking my gear to the car.<br />
However, one run was a good'n! A tackle tart would have hated my set up - I was fishing with three different rods in three different test curves, two with cork handles, two bait runners and one big pit. It was one of the lighter rods, a 1.75lb TC barbel rod which received this blistering take and I'm glad about it! What transpired to be a very angry common carp made many violent lunges which would have been somewhat lost on the 3lb TC carp rod which was adjacent on the pod.<br />
Whilst this was to be the last fish of the session, I am very pleased with this little 15lb chunk and very glad to have again fulfilled my ambition for the day.<br />
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I have no further plans to fish in 2015 as I set off on Christmas Eve to visit family. That said, a lure rod will be packed as some great stretches of the Avon flow past relatives in both Gloucestershire and Somerset, so you never know...</div>
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Until next time my string is pulled, thanks for reading and have a very Merry Christmas!</div>
Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-89911516948741109992015-12-13T18:42:00.000+00:002015-12-13T18:42:52.799+00:00Looking back at 2015<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25eMZRuGSUZrF1eF-yBpwBRvoP9RIw6yhWVZmsBzIdoiMRCEKH9KQpjBpzvHgB0L11dHnJNoQJ_akpKctRCM2MB1Aob0PNGWx9bS9FdrXxPKIJpwFw1xWp3FUWIY8XwH0Z3Q-wCTbw-vn/s1600/12032975_10156142788565632_7903585340083777122_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25eMZRuGSUZrF1eF-yBpwBRvoP9RIw6yhWVZmsBzIdoiMRCEKH9KQpjBpzvHgB0L11dHnJNoQJ_akpKctRCM2MB1Aob0PNGWx9bS9FdrXxPKIJpwFw1xWp3FUWIY8XwH0Z3Q-wCTbw-vn/s640/12032975_10156142788565632_7903585340083777122_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marking Year 7 Music books whilst blanking at Fordwich... The only way I could justify a number of trips this year!</td></tr>
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2015 has in many ways been a difficult year as far as my fishing is concerned. Trips have been much less frequent due to mounting work pressures but also time spent on the bank has not exactly been easy fishing. That said, as ever, much has been learnt, good times had and a few PBs bettered.<br />
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<b>Fordwich</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpqXOP8Jyu6Mx-fcni70XVeWtGMiLXBMBvq23VpreVMMiE2tRpVmNnNs7sl89rTrFUnSII73Cm1j6sP5Azn4x2hRAQeyga9NXMD-qZrBy12urGqewfl_Rzfcl5W0XkXt-TVgN3NqdAcXz/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpqXOP8Jyu6Mx-fcni70XVeWtGMiLXBMBvq23VpreVMMiE2tRpVmNnNs7sl89rTrFUnSII73Cm1j6sP5Azn4x2hRAQeyga9NXMD-qZrBy12urGqewfl_Rzfcl5W0XkXt-TVgN3NqdAcXz/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="157" /></a>In <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/fordwich-frustration.html" target="_blank">Fordwich Frustration</a> I wrote about how I struggled on this lake when I first joined the Canterbury and District Angling Association. However, as I got to know the lake better and played to my strengths as an angler I began to have some success which you can read about in <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/summer-carping-on-fordwich-lake.html" target="_blank">Summer Carping on Fordwich Lake</a> and <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/more-fun-at-fordwich.html" target="_blank">More Fun at Fordwich</a>. Part of this success was due to quietly targeting intimate and neglected swims. My first session this year with a good mate forced us to pick a big double swim facing out into open water. I had no prior knowledge of this swim and so was forced to explore with the marker rod. Features were found, rigs cast and bait spombed out pretty accurately but nothing more than a single bream graced my net with its presence. And slime.<br />
On this session I spoke to another angler who is very successful on Fordwich. He advised me not to limit myself to the close range swims as I'd be missing out on so much good fishing elsewhere. I took this advice but alas it has not yet paid off. Every session bar one this year has been on an unfamiliar swim and whilst I have learnt a lot and might be more confident fishing these spots in future, I can't help but feel that with so little time available to me, it might have been better spent in familiar territory.<br />
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<b>Personal Bests</b><br />
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What seems to be becoming an <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/charlies-transformation.html" target="_blank">annual social trip to Charlie's Lake</a>, Ashford in April produced several decent cats for me on a mixture of 30mm Bloodied Eel pellets by Dynamite baits and double 20mm Krustacean boilies by ID Bait Developments. My mates did equally well on big chunks of luncheon meat and halibut pellets. I had several bites which did not 'take off' in spite of fishing a very light lead on a running rig with a big plastic ring. Since then it has been suggested that freelancing baits will produce a greater frequency of confident takes and so I will be sure to try this next time. Nonetheless, I had a couple of cats above 20lb including this new PB of 22lb.<br />
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My first <a href="http://blogsfromthebank.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/if-at-first-you-dont-succeed.html" target="_blank">fishing trip in France at Le Val Dore</a> proved more of a challenge than I anticipated. The problem was not getting bites as it was for others but converting the bites to carp on the bank. A combination of stepping up the tackle, heavier leads, sharper, bigger hooks and a little more muscle on the strike finally resulted in success. I know this is not a British fish but being the biggest fish I've caught and certainly not with greater ease due to my being abroad so I have no qualms about claiming this as a <i><u>personal</u> best</i> carp at 31lb 6oz.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gssrKHaDJiSS4GZrA3ZEMihtWRP9f1rkv0iCBqOES6laVaxUK6GHvcQT8HGESIVuze5gMGBNLVbm0uYnnnHOuOXA9OdBBSZ5Y_REJOc34DYiLKnXySTIhYfVdaerhII7wMTCNXY4iTBP/s1600/15+-+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gssrKHaDJiSS4GZrA3ZEMihtWRP9f1rkv0iCBqOES6laVaxUK6GHvcQT8HGESIVuze5gMGBNLVbm0uYnnnHOuOXA9OdBBSZ5Y_REJOc34DYiLKnXySTIhYfVdaerhII7wMTCNXY4iTBP/s320/15+-+1.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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On my first trip to the river since the opening of the pike season I managed a few fish on mackerel presented on a float/ ledger paternoster and as luck would have it the first of which was a new PB at 17lb 4oz followed by a few [estimated to be] low doubles.<br />
My pike fishing at Fordwich has thrown up a few reasonable fish this year but mostly very small jacks. For some reason the river always treats me well when it comes to pike. Perhaps one day I will achieve my ambition of a 20lb plus river pike.<br />
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<b>Photography</b><br />
This year I acquired a second hand DSLR from a good friend and have been putting my blank sessions to good use learning how to use it properly. I now have a decent comprehension of manual mode and can take a good shot however, my response time is still too slow to make this a consistently useful skill for catch portraits. Here are some pictures which have I feel have turned out well...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0sQvhY-Se-25kfpfG5AR8L2NMQSaFRbkRYSEuafClwJpVuKOZGbgTFnHF48iASZsttEIY4NXjrsxVb9o6ajTk4h1jyZ9-Cu4LCOzbbsa43FOlFRYTw_mvmTLmd3Qha7Eum_XTYoLUGmo/s1600/DSC_0285.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0sQvhY-Se-25kfpfG5AR8L2NMQSaFRbkRYSEuafClwJpVuKOZGbgTFnHF48iASZsttEIY4NXjrsxVb9o6ajTk4h1jyZ9-Cu4LCOzbbsa43FOlFRYTw_mvmTLmd3Qha7Eum_XTYoLUGmo/s320/DSC_0285.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrCOOew-HI42J1gnkKnnfbZQoebPL-RihRSZ6Zc3VlCaqK5J9lJDaH-IVc91moTDPXTBvlJ63etGPrvexwb9oX_b2ytvPyy8cYn-Ptvw3ikKkQlWB91QXXcd58mCTpbHd9UvcKT725-IK/s1600/DSC_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrCOOew-HI42J1gnkKnnfbZQoebPL-RihRSZ6Zc3VlCaqK5J9lJDaH-IVc91moTDPXTBvlJ63etGPrvexwb9oX_b2ytvPyy8cYn-Ptvw3ikKkQlWB91QXXcd58mCTpbHd9UvcKT725-IK/s320/DSC_0311.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8trE3atysVf34spSuNDzMs_AvH-yrrvyaWn38nwqmHJ87SOCzZxhf36oIBPUf_RvExlScOPE4Htq4DYxMsmFxIVfSdGfJMHXjEC7diyd_aCKifpScFc16w4txs6_02HSApmhCPtodpbJW/s1600/CSC_0397.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8trE3atysVf34spSuNDzMs_AvH-yrrvyaWn38nwqmHJ87SOCzZxhf36oIBPUf_RvExlScOPE4Htq4DYxMsmFxIVfSdGfJMHXjEC7diyd_aCKifpScFc16w4txs6_02HSApmhCPtodpbJW/s320/CSC_0397.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5rSrSrW5d3Gz768sK5_czM6-KaZvUsiX1TzEueeoP-tN430pNJs2sQJqLjlMHddahyha8fAFtAf47JPWtGcgk-RaoPIC5fZ-p4AVrLGgRUMA2Q2nz5h8IlS0pZjcsPkcliPYoIClG0fn/s1600/11807279_10155860564810632_4933658321715860044_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5rSrSrW5d3Gz768sK5_czM6-KaZvUsiX1TzEueeoP-tN430pNJs2sQJqLjlMHddahyha8fAFtAf47JPWtGcgk-RaoPIC5fZ-p4AVrLGgRUMA2Q2nz5h8IlS0pZjcsPkcliPYoIClG0fn/s320/11807279_10155860564810632_4933658321715860044_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhBtxJyQUnemHvycfQer4kWLRp13fHZnJHUGhYPrrfkSblrVWJFmVJ3e3VduQIR3pbvnp1NQhKLw6tA_cqoL6_COJ0AhwLbCQMIkwbidePN30JTHonj65q2GYPFfeKu1ERFUnqCiHBl1L/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhBtxJyQUnemHvycfQer4kWLRp13fHZnJHUGhYPrrfkSblrVWJFmVJ3e3VduQIR3pbvnp1NQhKLw6tA_cqoL6_COJ0AhwLbCQMIkwbidePN30JTHonj65q2GYPFfeKu1ERFUnqCiHBl1L/s320/DSC_0012.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJi5hr4zNbZpaqnGA-fertxZ0v-G7nVrDLwWZCzQCVB_v-pPSGTpFaaRV09jf3tW2o28Tzk1EZ9PSB3ydkJTfArPWoN2eRVLYnjhCzwrwpk3IWGNx6cNN5etyYTASHl_FiUZdI57ZeqWui/s1600/11875195_10155924611305632_5687180481564806588_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJi5hr4zNbZpaqnGA-fertxZ0v-G7nVrDLwWZCzQCVB_v-pPSGTpFaaRV09jf3tW2o28Tzk1EZ9PSB3ydkJTfArPWoN2eRVLYnjhCzwrwpk3IWGNx6cNN5etyYTASHl_FiUZdI57ZeqWui/s320/11875195_10155924611305632_5687180481564806588_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<b>My Wife!</b><br />
I have been very lucky that this year my wife signed up as a member of the CDAA and has come along with me on a number of trips. She is now pretty competent at float and feeder fishing and has caught some cracking roach, rudd, gudgeon and carp - the biggest of which at 9lbs was printed in the Anglers Mail back in June! I know that next season she is unlikely to renew her membership but this year we have shared some quality time together by the waterside and created memories which will stay with me forever.<br />
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<b>Looking ahead...</b><br />
As far as carp fishing goes I believe I need a change of scenery, not that I am discontent with the beauty of Fordwich but before I go out of my brain I need to take a break and go somewhere where I can get onto the fish within the confines of short-session angling, which is the bulk of my fishing these days. I am prepared to do a bit of work and don't want an easy runs water but a relatively low-stock big pit is probably not the most ideal location for someone with time constraints! I have my eye on a few lakes so hopefully a sabbatical will do me some good and perhaps allow me to return to Fordwich refreshed and ready to embrace its challenges once more.<br />
Every year I regret not spending more time pursuing perch and I really haven't done much in the way of barbel fishing for a while and so these two quarries will inform next seasons targets.<br />
In the mean time, thanks for reading and I look forward another year of blogging in 2016.<br />
Merry Christmas!<br />
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-3725460718896862162015-09-20T21:15:00.000+01:002015-09-21T18:25:10.173+01:00A mixed bag!Since writing last, I have ventured out onto the bank for a few sessions, some hoping to break my silence on Fordwich, a quick overnighter at Stonar Lake and a few quick trips at Minster and Trenley to practice for the Maggotdrowner's Southern Champions Match at Tricklebrook which I fished today.<br />
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In spite of being fortunate enough to have the summer off work, I only made it down to Fordwich for three sessions and as far as carp are concerned, they were all blanks. On the third trip I decided to take some maggots with me to instigate some entertainment. The result was a nice net of roach - I only started retaining these in the last hour of the trip so I am quite pleased with this net.</div>
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I will return to Fordwich in pursuit of carp again this autumn, work permitting, before my attention turns to the pike and perch.</div>
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At the beginning of September, after a bit of encouragement from a friend, I went to Stonar for a quick overnight session. I was fortunate to get on the swim known as 'Sheds' which is something of a hotspot partly due to it being the last peg before a large section of the lake which is closed to fishing.</div>
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No fish came my way through the night but I had three in the space of an hour in the morning of which these two were the best.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQqAS0Rop2Qz1_q_qOXqMQQiGur9G60ExphZ8Jj_t7ylmmsx3Y8Pt2k8TK-QvRR1axQjLxi7l1FfuRf6z-rt811Y7sgC92T91nS3fdj1nQ6GW15j_I9Hx16OSQl6kgLWil9ptGXo_L9E-/s1600/IMG_0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQqAS0Rop2Qz1_q_qOXqMQQiGur9G60ExphZ8Jj_t7ylmmsx3Y8Pt2k8TK-QvRR1axQjLxi7l1FfuRf6z-rt811Y7sgC92T91nS3fdj1nQ6GW15j_I9Hx16OSQl6kgLWil9ptGXo_L9E-/s320/IMG_0787.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A good stamp of fish at Minster</td></tr>
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<div>
I went to Trenley with my wife a couple of weeks back, hoping to get into some good bream. She struggled for bites for a long time whilst I struggled to hit any that I got for most of the afternoon. I realised that I was a little rusty on the quiver tip so took myself off to Minster the following week as I knew bites would be plentiful there giving me the opportunity to hone my skills. I had 10 small carp and several roach in just 2 hours fishing. They were a good stamp of fish too...</div>
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<div>
Todays match at Tricklebrook will be, I'm sure, my final trip in September but it was a great day! As chance would have it, I drew the same peg I fished last year. That was my first ever match and I came 4th, so drawing a familiar swim gave me a bit of confidence.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoqHTG7AqvK-HCLYQdHr34D8umA-m_yFcM7mienvhAni1LMb90ZE50bB5geeWMFn2fAodlDwlseRBSGW3b9EstAcuvyKfUloa42dez9Q8HDvsYW0_YLBUyB29wpWuxfivWnlwu8lk3fsV/s1600/DSC_0288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoqHTG7AqvK-HCLYQdHr34D8umA-m_yFcM7mienvhAni1LMb90ZE50bB5geeWMFn2fAodlDwlseRBSGW3b9EstAcuvyKfUloa42dez9Q8HDvsYW0_YLBUyB29wpWuxfivWnlwu8lk3fsV/s320/DSC_0288.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo really was the best of a very bad bunch...</td></tr>
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<div>
I got off to an excellent start, landing 8 fish in the first hour on the pellet feeder. There was then a bit of a lull which I overcame by changing my hook bait to a trio of red maggots. However, as the clock turned 12, the bites turned off. </div>
<div>
For the next two hours I hardly had a twitch. The bites that were strike-able resulted in short-lived battles ending in hook-pulls. I decided to change my hook every time I caught a fish because I feared the losses had been due to the fine wire hooks blunting easily. This paid off! Thereafter, every bite resulted in carp in the sack.</div>
<div>
At the weigh-in my net turned the scales to 35lb 12oz meaning I won the carp section! The person who came second for carp had also produced a decent enough bag of roach to bring his total weight to 36lb meaning he won overall - a pleasure I missed out on by just 4oz!!!</div>
<div>
I am overjoyed with this result and had a great day with some top guys. My only disappointment is the photos really didn't turn out well at all.</div>
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So all in all, the end of the summer has provided a variety of experiences, all of which have been enjoyable, some educational and Fordwich, for now is just baffling!</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-65550146089868035112015-08-16T10:59:00.001+01:002015-08-16T15:02:48.457+01:00If at first you don't succeed...<div style="text-align: justify;">
On my birthday I like to go fishing with my wife. The only problem with this is that, my birthday being in February, she invariably ends up cold and wet and not enjoying the experience. This year she suggested instead of pike fishing on the Stour in February, why not do a few days carping in France in August. I had never fished in France as an adult, though remember catching some variety of small catfish on a float fished worm in the Sein on holiday as a nipper.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I set about finding the right venue - it had to provide the opportunity to catch something special without being a runs water. Equally, I didn't want to rock up at the French equivalent of Fordwich which following last years relative success, seems to be beating me once more. It was also important that the venue had some facilities to make the stay more comfortable for my wife who I knew was going above and beyond by volunteering to rough it for a few days on the bank.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Lake 2 at Le Val Dore was recommended by a mate and seemed to fulfil all of these criteria. The only potential downside was having to book swims in advance and not being able to decide where you are going to fish on arrival.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the weeks running up to the trip I kept a fearful eye on social media which consistently reported that the lake was not fishing well and that peg 9 where I was set to fish was not exactly a hotspot!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Furthermore, on arrival I read inscriptions previous anglers had left on the pegs wooded bin lid - some reporting catches but most were quite derogatory and used some very vibrant language to emphasise their sentiments! If I was going to catch here I was sure to face some challenges and have to learn the lake quickly as with only 4 days to fish, time was not on my side.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo41NuUqFJFBg0OoYYAfijvXMYipqgeEFfsgfiWSyNkkjZ4K4-PZ2QGGc0RlJJDfdjk5PeEkTJa4lQVuIdsKkB7rZKPnYb9ojv2U78unV8cMi-oZ3opZnuNbuxUed3LSCXtBe1egLze99/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo41NuUqFJFBg0OoYYAfijvXMYipqgeEFfsgfiWSyNkkjZ4K4-PZ2QGGc0RlJJDfdjk5PeEkTJa4lQVuIdsKkB7rZKPnYb9ojv2U78unV8cMi-oZ3opZnuNbuxUed3LSCXtBe1egLze99/s640/DSC_0009.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
DAY 1</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On arrival at the lake I set about feature finding with the marker rod. I had been told there was a gravel bar coming out from an opposite peg at about 75 yards. After a couple of chucks revealing only deep troughs of silt I reduced the radius and found a very thin strip of clear gravel at 60 yards at a depth of 6.5ft descending to lows of 8ft either side.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The recommendation of the lake's bailiff, as well as others who fish there regularly, was to use small hookbaits, preferably particals, and size 6 or 8 hooks. I had no doubt that I could catch on a boilie approach provided I didn't over feed them, so offered no whole boilies in my loose feed but presented my bait over a bed of boilie crumb and a handful of 4mm pellet and sweetcorn. I decided not to take the advice about small hook baits and tied up an 18mm snowman - my attitude being 'if they are hungry, they will eat it'. Given the potential size of the fish I could catch I used a size 6 hook, believing at the time that this would be adequate.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm prepared to take a bit of stick for confessing to using a boat to position my left and right hand rods under overhanging trees, but casting to the edge of the tree line would still result in being a couple of rod lengths from the margin, which drops off very quickly. If I were to fish these spots at all, delivering the rig by boat was the only option. I've never used a boat in my fishing before and would normally frown upon it but I considered this an exception. Not to mention that I was one of only a couple of anglers who cast a single line 'manually' the whole time I was there!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At 3am I had a run on my middle rod. I lifted into it and felt the fish as the line tightened up. I was expecting it to take line as the clutch was not tight but before I knew what was going on the fish had gone. I was far from discouraged however - it was my first night and I had already found a feeding spot though I was baffled about why the fish came off.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
DAY 2 </h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQuYGPQf-bIBEZjzRQ0h_Sm5Q1S50cqVlb7QKv5_HWYVV4qw119E30SSE7ZsKTB_hbyyzGUJ-G_laIFFMaybE_xa0FnSaGCDjFxg5E4YdKeSsH2kPeiBULrwOgxWWc2ELERVyESd9XZkA/s1600/IMG_0529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQuYGPQf-bIBEZjzRQ0h_Sm5Q1S50cqVlb7QKv5_HWYVV4qw119E30SSE7ZsKTB_hbyyzGUJ-G_laIFFMaybE_xa0FnSaGCDjFxg5E4YdKeSsH2kPeiBULrwOgxWWc2ELERVyESd9XZkA/s400/IMG_0529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It would've been easier to use a pod but worth going with <br />
single sticks when locked up to snags.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The next afternoon I decided to have another exploratory session with the marker rod. I found depths of 9ft at 80 yards out to the left with a silty bottom which I decided to fish a zig over with my left hand rod. I also found a continuation of the gravel strip at 50 yards which raised to 5 foot so I duly repositioned my middle rod to this spot and, now knowing that this was on a feeding patrol route, put a bit more of a spread of bait across the area with the spomb. Once again, at 3am came a bite, this time on the right hand rod which was still presenting a single bright pink popup over a bed of boilie crumb. I picked up the rod as the alarm was screaming but felt no response from the culprit on the other end. At 3:20am the middle alarm started jittering which suggested to me that the fish was using the weight of the lead to shake the hook. Sure enough, it was all over before I reacted. 3:35am and the left hand rod fishing the zig screamed off. Once more, I picked up but there was no connection. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It felt great to have had so much action in the swim - three different approaches on three far removed locations but why had they not resulted in a decent connection? I was now halfway through my trip and starting to worry I might be going home empty handed. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
DAY 3 </h3>
<span style="text-align: justify;">I was up early, watching the water whilst my head whirred trying to figure out what I was doing wrong when two lads who work at the club house came round to chat. They laughed when I told them I was using 3oz leads and 8" links and recommended I stepped up the weight and cut down the link to really nail the fish! </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">O</span><span style="text-align: justify;">n my way back from the tackle shop later that morning with a hefty supply of 4oz leads I had a chat with the guys on the opposite peg to me. They had had some success on particles but were using much bigger hooks. Although one of them had returned a 40lber to the water that morning, he was disappointed that he wasn't getting more bites and quizzed me about what I was doing to get so much action, having heard all three of my alarms going in such quick succession. Whilst flattered, I felt a bit out of place passing on advice and felt quite stupid admitting to having now let four opportunities to bank a carp slip through my fingers. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">At 1:20am</span><span style="text-align: justify;">, my right hand rod in the tree line with a single popup now above a size 4 hook gave me a very positive take. I picked up the rod and finally connected with what felt like a very angry fish determined to take me into the snags. It was a true 'hit and hold' situation. I managed to steer it away from danger fairly rapidly but whilst playing it in open water only a few yards in front of me it simply came off leaving me totally bewildered. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">The middle rod also experienced a several short-lived series of bite-alarm blips at regular enough intervals to make it impossible for me to get any sleep but each time not sustained enough for me to feel confident about striking. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">Having had no attention on the zig rig I decided that for the final night I would return a bottom bait to the left hand tree line where I had heard fish 'boshing' and most likely enjoying the freebies I had continued to trickle into this spot to build their confidence in feeding here. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">The rest of the night passed with no bites and no sleep. Questions and anxieties racing through my mind.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"></span>
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<h3>
DAY 4</h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwb1NOgUTbSsaIhWlA0a0z_e1SGcxBk_prDRsJbglFupC2Cjria_HIUrwMDbY2xDAYVrUgq8sD7s9asRGSKvRZ0IyKaLXH9h-BsQs4yhv0eiY4jpsee7YeVcf7Uz2YUl96o56K7f8rDTx_/s1600/DSC_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwb1NOgUTbSsaIhWlA0a0z_e1SGcxBk_prDRsJbglFupC2Cjria_HIUrwMDbY2xDAYVrUgq8sD7s9asRGSKvRZ0IyKaLXH9h-BsQs4yhv0eiY4jpsee7YeVcf7Uz2YUl96o56K7f8rDTx_/s320/DSC_0052.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'VF' - the bait that did the business</td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">It was clear that even with the stepped-up tackle I wasn't getting good hook holds. I didn't have time to fine-tune rigs through a process of trial and error - this was my last day and last night. I sharpened each of my hooks to an extreme point and decided that striking a little harder couldn't do any harm either! The day passed quick enough and at 11pm, the left hand rod in tree line received a proper take. I picked up and hit it hard. As per the right hand rod the night before, this fish powered into the trees. I heard branches snapping as I applied side-strain to steer the fish away from danger. After a hairy moment, I got the fish clear of the snags and back out in open water. The dorsal broke the surface just in front of me as I held my breath in anticipation of catching a first glimpse of my capture. Surely now a netting was inevitable? Of course not! Without any indication or additional struggle, the fish suddenly swam free and my line went slack. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I<span style="text-align: justify;">t is impossible to articulate my emotions at this stage. Distraught. Broken. There isn't a word which encapsulates the juxtaposition of being tantalisingly close to success and then so painfully denied. </span></div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Insomnia ensued in silence until 5am when that trusty strip of gravel where my middle rod </span><span style="text-align: justify;">was positioned came up with the goods once more. As the alarm sang I struck hard and stepped back. Holding the rod tip high I felt the fish pulling back so I loosened the clutch and let it take line whilst maintaining a gentle pressure, safe in the knowledge that, aside from the bar and oyster beds on the bottom, there were no major snags within at least 100 yards. It took line for some time before slowing and as soon as I reclaimed any, it took twice as much again! Knowing full-well that this was most probably my last chance of any success in this session I became aware of a mild tremble setting into my arms. I called to wake my wife and asked her to help net the fish as I could not afford to be complacent about anything. Eventually the fish tired and I brought it to the net where it obliged with the traditional last bid for freedom before finally submitting. After releasing a primal 'whoop' I lifted the fish from the water and was surprised by how heavy it felt given how it had appeared in the water. As I placed it on the mat I could see that this was bigger than anything I had caught before and whilst I know it is a mere baby compared to other fish in this lake, I was overjoyed to have my first fish over the magic 30 mark at </span><span style="text-align: center;">31lb 6oz!!!! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbn4lrd9vfAZQjKWCRb9JGUmDGVBF0tFFdhykCS37SDcV_x9vatZzuzGUuotWrPXDfgZjuw3LaVO0Q797D3BP2oAPtLwPB2k2OOG4EuHHeIIZ7PQVTb-XzXdvZnYgvUNrYWkb82oUYDyB/s1600/IMG_0539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbn4lrd9vfAZQjKWCRb9JGUmDGVBF0tFFdhykCS37SDcV_x9vatZzuzGUuotWrPXDfgZjuw3LaVO0Q797D3BP2oAPtLwPB2k2OOG4EuHHeIIZ7PQVTb-XzXdvZnYgvUNrYWkb82oUYDyB/s640/IMG_0539.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">I</span><span style="text-align: center;"> think th</span><span style="text-align: justify;">e things I got right from the outset were to find good spots and not overfeed them. 'Fishing for a bite' was certainly a winning tactic especially given I had no way of knowing how much bait had been put in by the previous occupant of the swim. I learnt that bigger, sharper hooks and a firm hand initially help acquire a better hook hold but perhaps some of my losses were due to bullying them too much, though I'm not sure what else I could have done so close to snags.</span><br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
If only I could start again with this experience behind me, perhaps I could capitalise on a few of those opportunities I missed. That said, I do feel proud that I persevered through one of the steepest learning curves I've faced so far and reaped some rewards.</div>
Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-89996932928985039902015-07-26T20:28:00.000+01:002015-07-26T20:28:23.307+01:00If you snooze you loo's!<div style="text-align: justify;">
The last couple of months have easily been the busiest and most stressful I have ever had to contend with at work and needless to say that has had a massive impact on the amount of time I have been able to spend fishing. However, the perk of the teaching profession is a generous amount of holiday in the summer and as always I intend to make the most of every moment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My wife, Doz, is giving fishing a go for a one year trial period. She came with me a few times in May and early June before things got hectic with work and experienced some success targeting both carp and silvers. I was delighted when she agreed to spending a couple of spare hours under a brolly carping with me at Stonar lake today on this rainy Sunday afternoon!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We positioned ourselves with the drizzle-laden northeasterly blowing straight at us and as the swim we chose was only really big enough for one angler, decided only to fish 3 rods between us.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I put two rods in the left margin and put Doz's rod out for her under an overhanging tree on the right. As we scattered a few boilies around the general area the sky erupted with sea birds looking for a free meal! We sat back and waited for about an hour before Doz walked round to the loo near the carpark, leaving me with the rods.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Moments later, her 1.75lb TC barbel rod wrapped right round, the bait runner screaming and I lifted into a hard fighting carp. Just as I had guided the lovely looking mirror into the net Doz returned and realised this fish could have been hers! After weighing and photographing the fish she was determined to do everything for herself and recast bang on the money. Unfortunately, with another engagement planned for the evening, time was not on our side forcing us to leave before her efforts could come to fruition. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyNdwRB_3ha7BV1tD3KMa_2h_ynMCUCQ0sYEQDrva-d_X0rCuqVadcLam8dELYTbrmKLq9M9bLdN4dQIZzyfziio9jPTCJhmKx7jNRUaeB3wk5XKhGpoW9sldk5-KZYqNkyOXNVpngxKa/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyNdwRB_3ha7BV1tD3KMa_2h_ynMCUCQ0sYEQDrva-d_X0rCuqVadcLam8dELYTbrmKLq9M9bLdN4dQIZzyfziio9jPTCJhmKx7jNRUaeB3wk5XKhGpoW9sldk5-KZYqNkyOXNVpngxKa/s640/DSC_0013.JPG" width="624" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Stonar mirror turned the scales to 13lb 13oz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I have plans to put in some serious time on Fordwich again this summer but am glad that today we made the most of only a couple of hours and still caught. It would have been all too easy to be apathetic and make excuses due to the rain or limited time available. Thankfully, Doz wants to go back soon to settle the score!</div>
Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-38305729721413828022015-05-27T07:19:00.000+01:002015-05-28T20:55:00.080+01:00The glass is half full! (24hrs at Stonar)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhcHlaD2nSFdEQaGg5et4kKVF2KaqJ22KC3NN15GTkI860DTidQsffhjQoK3LrbQ14_b2hOFkI_mr_xZbk-VLjaGBCaOyw1IwrV1UQnQpz0TqqUlRzP66dBGfDHDXewIuQ8hHQbRLDoyL/s1600/IMG_0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhcHlaD2nSFdEQaGg5et4kKVF2KaqJ22KC3NN15GTkI860DTidQsffhjQoK3LrbQ14_b2hOFkI_mr_xZbk-VLjaGBCaOyw1IwrV1UQnQpz0TqqUlRzP66dBGfDHDXewIuQ8hHQbRLDoyL/s640/IMG_0258.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was early evening on a grey bank holiday Monday when I arrived at Stonar Lake, Sandwich for 24hrs in pursuit of carp. The wind was blowing with some conviction towards the east bank and so I headed straight over there to locate a suitable, or least vacant, swim.<br />
The margins are almost always productive here. This is probably because the lake bed reaches extreme depths as it slopes towards the centre leaving the margins and a few isolated bars and plateaus as the only fishable water. With this in mind, my left and right rod were positioned accordingly in the shallows near the perimeter reeds. I put my middle rod on standby until I had located a gravel bar I had been told was about 90 yards directly ahead of the swim with my marker rod.<br />
Long casts [I still consider 90 yards to be a long cast!] are not my forte however and whilst I am frequently putting yards on to my cast each time I have the opportunity to practice, hurling the marker float against the oncoming wind was never going to work out well. What's more, above the surface of the water Stonar is pretty featureless and appears as an ongoing, sea-like expanse of water making it very hard to judge distance. I had the great idea of setting up marker sticks, wrapping and clipping up at 90 yards so I could tell if I was making that distance or not. This could well have been a good tactic had I not managed to get into a goofy tangle. At 8:30pm this tangle appeared salvageable. At 2:30am it was time to cut the braid and try to get some sleep.<br />
Sleep evaded me for some time and no sooner it seemed had I drifted off I was woken, as is the cliche, by the screaming tone of my left alarm at 4:30am. The result was one of Stonar's many small, yet hard fighting common carp weighing in at 10lb 8oz. Once returned to the water, I began to settle back down only to be torn from sleep once more, again by an aggressive little common of 11lb 4oz. By now it was almost 6am, so I resolved to have breakfast, say good morning to my wife and then kip back down. Whilst I was glad to have caught a couple of fish, I was seriously failing to cope with the lack of sleep!<br />
Breakfast was lovely, as was the phone call home but just as my head hit the pillow that blasted alarm went off again!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T0TXBZ7yc9EDk8bKdV11BjeeR4rSRIqFlbC4LfjD3XMbI93CRhm5Is6oOcBOnrUFFIw6whpbLIWFAbrG4suCM7oJYXGMBOUXTBiZwrIy8Ot7gXjzRDBllOrDsfCSs4OZroN2rEN3IqRt/s1600/IMG_0264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0T0TXBZ7yc9EDk8bKdV11BjeeR4rSRIqFlbC4LfjD3XMbI93CRhm5Is6oOcBOnrUFFIw6whpbLIWFAbrG4suCM7oJYXGMBOUXTBiZwrIy8Ot7gXjzRDBllOrDsfCSs4OZroN2rEN3IqRt/s640/IMG_0264.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This time however, the fight went on and on. The first two fish had been taken on popups in the margins but this fish took a snowman rig on the middle rod positioned another rods length away from the main baited area with a little pva stringer of chops - a decision I made after abandoning the idea of finding that gravel bar! Eventually, I caught sight of what appeared to be a good sized mirror before it careered down into the depths once more at a rate of knots. When, after many attempts to net this valiant warrior it was finally my captive, it turned the scales to a satisfying 21lb 6oz.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDikMdCeCordG6BUVj-d2NNsExLZ6-NRowGSIU-7nxf0ntlpJu5Rbih88h4Xh3aA61N5o6onvhxOOc9gLTaih_PCqo8Ic1vIDpe5XQx48qAgt5zVOcsYaIhC5itarbmCo-3ZYmXOi-ioTh/s1600/IMG_0216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDikMdCeCordG6BUVj-d2NNsExLZ6-NRowGSIU-7nxf0ntlpJu5Rbih88h4Xh3aA61N5o6onvhxOOc9gLTaih_PCqo8Ic1vIDpe5XQx48qAgt5zVOcsYaIhC5itarbmCo-3ZYmXOi-ioTh/s640/IMG_0216.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This same rig also produced a 14lb common and 13lb mirror (both below), albeit with a long quiet afternoon watching the clouds go by before the latter was in the sling.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaFvt-mp3_JhXn-TtfudndlWKwwV66uvEzzt5aRBT3n5uNaO1Nv7RLMG9nHINx1ovhy3zJribq9jmdlUlVH6tsKXibSIqnqODI85HxH2OZiGo-EouHKqEUBJXXftYSZEiJXWb6v-X1uZd/s1600/IMG_0255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaFvt-mp3_JhXn-TtfudndlWKwwV66uvEzzt5aRBT3n5uNaO1Nv7RLMG9nHINx1ovhy3zJribq9jmdlUlVH6tsKXibSIqnqODI85HxH2OZiGo-EouHKqEUBJXXftYSZEiJXWb6v-X1uZd/s640/IMG_0255.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgCzhHOtKw5DbWwiKmpbhsKpHRZZ3igOeE-fWiNq3FF1XTm1_WkhyphenhyphenHoP0sHYdsNez-SV2CfwcKmMZUlFp70Rau8W56tEVkI8tft110S5Eow4-GK5Q3_oZCRLOihC2RVfRO8SBc-yN_mdq/s1600/13lb+Mirror+Left.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgCzhHOtKw5DbWwiKmpbhsKpHRZZ3igOeE-fWiNq3FF1XTm1_WkhyphenhyphenHoP0sHYdsNez-SV2CfwcKmMZUlFp70Rau8W56tEVkI8tft110S5Eow4-GK5Q3_oZCRLOihC2RVfRO8SBc-yN_mdq/s640/13lb+Mirror+Left.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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All the pictures above were taken on my phone as, in spite of getting a lovely new Nikon DSLR, I could not get satisfying results on the self takes as I could with my old Sony bridge camera which I used to use for blogging purposes. The phone got the job done quickly and reliably which, when you have a fish on the mat, is exactly what is necessary. I hope, with a bit of practice, I can raise the standard of the photography I offer in these posts. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgSfPCS8mnkM0ij1sIqHA6TkiMIcGP3rl-9WqFS4PQDyR6tY8RBVLcrnlBlyV8X5EW_vyJScpGrWwV31ZdnJC4p3DMMYab3FRx_f43CGnlXmXkq__jAHuK3bQYrcfrWVN31QucKNugk_x/s1600/Scales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgSfPCS8mnkM0ij1sIqHA6TkiMIcGP3rl-9WqFS4PQDyR6tY8RBVLcrnlBlyV8X5EW_vyJScpGrWwV31ZdnJC4p3DMMYab3FRx_f43CGnlXmXkq__jAHuK3bQYrcfrWVN31QucKNugk_x/s640/Scales.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You might have to put up with me posting a few of these cliched studies will I'm getting to grips with the new DSLR!</td></tr>
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As the evening drew in and home time approached, a bream kindly attached itself to my middle rod to let me know that there's no point staying, I'd had my lot. This trip could be viewed as a glass half empty or a glass half full. The best part of the night was spent untangling newly purchased braid only to bin it after much stress and sleep deprivation. The following day however, gave me a steady run of fish, all doubles and my first Stonar twenty! I know which memory I would prefer to hold on to.<br />
<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-83180557173889560092015-04-25T11:09:00.001+01:002015-04-25T11:53:30.094+01:00Charlie's Transformation!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqx-fT5t-jsdW5vnAKeqKGBFY53vO0N9x_oRy7UQl8ePOZD61dotBpfIGuSe9GUVScVjuFySu9bd2ozInGU7v54hkmGvx4IQx4Q04EX9s8xN5jd7EJ8_Symn9KXjGrBQQTX_zOYFat_Loq/s1600/IMG_9967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqx-fT5t-jsdW5vnAKeqKGBFY53vO0N9x_oRy7UQl8ePOZD61dotBpfIGuSe9GUVScVjuFySu9bd2ozInGU7v54hkmGvx4IQx4Q04EX9s8xN5jd7EJ8_Symn9KXjGrBQQTX_zOYFat_Loq/s1600/IMG_9967.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new swims at Charlie's Lake are lovely. However, you <b>will</b> need a mallet for your bivvy pegs! </td></tr>
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It has been about a year since I visited Charlie's Lake, Ashford for the first time. My experience on that occasion was quite mixed - the quality of fishing was great but the strict rules did not seem to have been enforced and the facilities were not exactly comfortable.</div>
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How it has changed since then! New owners Karen and Steve, who are both very friendly, have done a remarkable job of tidying the lake up, building new swims, the toilet flushes now, rig checks are carried out and bookings are strictly enforced. My latest visit last weekend was a real pleasure, marred only a little by the cold north easterly wind. A warm spell a week prior to my session had served to raise water temperatures and switch the cats on to feeding and whilst by my arrival the frenzy had slowed a little, a steady stream of runs were enjoyed by my friends and I throughout our stay.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtPRr5qa8nIGxVFWjrbwKiAQhu_6uvkw7s0qegzU0ra6wt88XXRl9ARro2Un4kT_bm6kHk6wu8JH18CVR7K4qaBFqGzt7VrBQgthQ3yxIUrhrG0BM12ZRnr0JNDFcvomT2z6ld032MLO9/s1600/IMG_9969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtPRr5qa8nIGxVFWjrbwKiAQhu_6uvkw7s0qegzU0ra6wt88XXRl9ARro2Un4kT_bm6kHk6wu8JH18CVR7K4qaBFqGzt7VrBQgthQ3yxIUrhrG0BM12ZRnr0JNDFcvomT2z6ld032MLO9/s1600/IMG_9969.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angling buddies Richard and Shaun getting some action!</td></tr>
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If you are targeting cats at Charlie's you must have 18b mainline, use running rigs and barbless hooks. Last time I fished here I used ultra light ledgers in the belief that cats don't like to feel any resistance. I have since heard that it's a change in resistance they don't like and so used heavier leads which will stay put and allow line to run through the big plastic eye of my korum run-rig lead-clip. I experimented with slack and tight lines and to be totally honest neither seemed to have any advantage or disadvantage when it came to hook-ups under these conditions. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshgV7qTTRRjYldXXnLD3d5UkF0Ubhe9sqZ5UjMVPfmmcNKwCkna8CbKPn6sdj_dy2HK7qSPUbdN49drgVpLC5fctVtVb-g0WHxH-5LsOpnLKT4cxkVxQerD84tX247StRSmjGq-7FakZA/s1600/IMG_9959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshgV7qTTRRjYldXXnLD3d5UkF0Ubhe9sqZ5UjMVPfmmcNKwCkna8CbKPn6sdj_dy2HK7qSPUbdN49drgVpLC5fctVtVb-g0WHxH-5LsOpnLKT4cxkVxQerD84tX247StRSmjGq-7FakZA/s1600/IMG_9959.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>One tactic that did pay off, I believe was glugging all my hook baits heavily in Predator Liquid. Everyone knows that cats can sense food from some distance through their whiskers but when you see how small their eyes are you realise that they are clearly not sight-predators in the same way pike are for example and therefore any additional scent I can put in the water to help them find my bait has got to be an advantage. For hook baits I used 30mm Bloodied Eel pellets, double 20mm Halibut pellets, ID Bait's Krustacean boilies and large chunks of luncheon meat. The cats took all of these indiscriminately. </div>
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I had several double figure fish and beat my old Wels Catfish PB of 17lbs 3 times in this session resulting in a new PB of 22lb. Although bigger fish are regularly caught here I am very pleased with this fish as I don't go after cats often at all. Now that the new owners have transformed Charlie's Lake I am much more inclined to return to try for something even bigger!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7H03ma_Nd-Ium7mdlzqVNHTiEfIexdjqiFVopJoS9dG7h0z4yXGclaYlSZCm9XunlZ4HdnsZ8Qkm_qCV6dGDorOP2KgSAf0XFOXAFW5nODvTx9tUE-LOtssvyTYPKb-zS1B4DMFd3CII/s1600/21lb8oz+wels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7H03ma_Nd-Ium7mdlzqVNHTiEfIexdjqiFVopJoS9dG7h0z4yXGclaYlSZCm9XunlZ4HdnsZ8Qkm_qCV6dGDorOP2KgSAf0XFOXAFW5nODvTx9tUE-LOtssvyTYPKb-zS1B4DMFd3CII/s1600/21lb8oz+wels.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">21lb 8oz</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYjwwbP1m8wy0DXRpCs32xVQTTGb0cYXZDyAle2ijVvHdbOU4N5qKap4FKrnbK_m-SJ4c_OEyM9LrH3ZAVsCBMRmymSEPv0OYJTAK5CsvYG_TP6jVddn6hX5RMkFd-eJXVp8HSqrMM0EQ/s1600/22lb+wels.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYjwwbP1m8wy0DXRpCs32xVQTTGb0cYXZDyAle2ijVvHdbOU4N5qKap4FKrnbK_m-SJ4c_OEyM9LrH3ZAVsCBMRmymSEPv0OYJTAK5CsvYG_TP6jVddn6hX5RMkFd-eJXVp8HSqrMM0EQ/s1600/22lb+wels.JPG" height="601" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new Wels Catfish PB - 22lb</td></tr>
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Fishing at Charlie's is strictly for over 18s and costs £15 per 12hrs. Look <a href="http://charlieslakes.wix.com/charlies-lakes" target="_blank">here</a> for rules and further details. I'd recommend booking at busy times by calling Karen on <a href="tel:07857539785" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">07857539785</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://instagram.com/p/1pwUugCUu5/" target="_blank">Click here for a little treat...</a></div>
Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-50481227256375777722014-12-06T00:04:00.002+00:002014-12-06T00:08:34.106+00:00Looking back at 2014<div style="text-align: justify;">
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On reflection, this year has been a successful one for me in terms of my angling. Severing ties with a bait company I was field testing for lead me to try a new, local bait maker's products which I believe have made a big impact on my catch rate. Whilst I have become more busy with work and spent some of the longest spells in recent years away from the waterside, I have also managed to put the most consecutive hours into one lake on a campaign that I have ever achieved, which again has been very fruitful. My one regret is not spending more time on the river: A few sessions early in the season saw a few barbel lost due to silly mistakes and since then I have not pursued them with any sincerity or persistence. </div>
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So here are some of the highlights of the year...</div>
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<b>Fordwich Carp</b></div>
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One of the perks of being a teacher is a good block of time off in the summer and I put this to good use this year by virtually living at Fordwich lake. In previous years after my first blank I would be deterred and sheep off to fish easier waters. The key to my relative success at Fordwich this year was the fact that I stuck at it! Even when I was not fishing I was there talking to anglers, watching the water and soaking the place in. I am over the moon to say I caught a new PB of 28lb 4oz and 2 other fish that beat my previous PB and a couple of upper doubles. </div>
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<b>Wels Catfish</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eXdvXIAdQgAc9p7jJaEH7wEsS9tJPyTlWXHQEJxFMYQXLpPI6U8zAw4hciKvFod_bpRMIzT4tPm4bw-gYEDN0hkgEcC0B6Ike7V1w7vP_laVGUFXOUutkC0cn4HyPzWrpjmq3jg08C1-/s1600/DSC03255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eXdvXIAdQgAc9p7jJaEH7wEsS9tJPyTlWXHQEJxFMYQXLpPI6U8zAw4hciKvFod_bpRMIzT4tPm4bw-gYEDN0hkgEcC0B6Ike7V1w7vP_laVGUFXOUutkC0cn4HyPzWrpjmq3jg08C1-/s1600/DSC03255.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>This year also saw this blog's Facebook group's first social outing to Charlie's Lake in Ashford where we targeted wels catfish. I can't pretend to have found this particularly tricky fishing but the fight these creatures put up is something to behold. In the time I was there some big smelly pellets on very light running rigs caught me a few cats; the biggest being 17lb and this being my first time going for catfish this is indeed also a PB.</div>
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<b>Bury Hill </b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UI0sijEtKRB2eAm5tb5yVt3xvDc60DTudqRYNaYWfCz0kK1Rw58uQ4NzDbokIGKQgbGyzijGEwXS8zByco4Mk1fwn6a362nYegWAxl8e8Dg0M_F3MIOi-G2XaKia2DLbzQiEZ5bVX5m3/s1600/IMG_7953.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2UI0sijEtKRB2eAm5tb5yVt3xvDc60DTudqRYNaYWfCz0kK1Rw58uQ4NzDbokIGKQgbGyzijGEwXS8zByco4Mk1fwn6a362nYegWAxl8e8Dg0M_F3MIOi-G2XaKia2DLbzQiEZ5bVX5m3/s1600/IMG_7953.PNG" height="112" width="200" /></a>In April I took a day trip with my friend Kent to Bury Hill's 'Old Lake'. We had hoped to catch some tench but both got breamed-out! Kent caught almost double my numbers which he put down to smaller hooks and finer tackle. I had most success on the float although some bigger bream were had on feeder tactics. The fish that made my trip however was this tiny</div>
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Zander caught on double red maggots. Whilst it may seem hilarious, this is also a PB as it is my first Zed! Bury Hill is a beautiful venue which I know holds some amazing specimens of a variety of species I target and so fully intend to return.</div>
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<b>Pike</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVQKBRS_ooVa9ZbFYZSzOQ065jQmlx5JsqBqBa-_7u49Yh3255hKcDjHAQI4EVigUJcJtljxiF5BSSWREv0iXyQb6VpqcrqLHQJeHWF01SzXrW9oNi6BjHDG5avL7HzFqFAC57ugKDi6x/s1600/10429332_10154696085605632_7267455286603566440_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVQKBRS_ooVa9ZbFYZSzOQ065jQmlx5JsqBqBa-_7u49Yh3255hKcDjHAQI4EVigUJcJtljxiF5BSSWREv0iXyQb6VpqcrqLHQJeHWF01SzXrW9oNi6BjHDG5avL7HzFqFAC57ugKDi6x/s1600/10429332_10154696085605632_7267455286603566440_n.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>This is still a work in progress but so far this season I have been out but a few times for pike and all but my last session have been productive. I've caught on dead sea baits fished on a paternoster in still and flowing water as well as on lures. The fish pictured was taken on a lure in high, coloured flood water in very poor light in an effort to entertain myself in my last unproductive barbel session! I have never fished with live bait but every time I've been out this year for pike, the guys using live baits have totally out-fished me. Got to be worth a try...</div>
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I've not caught many fully scaled mirror carp but this year I have had a few on association waters. They were not big but they were very beautiful...</div>
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<b>Perch</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXmzzqh1XndmNzGlAUlOGyreCah_ySeQeGt6B1MWRzGB43TK_rp80Q0jLufKPGpENXhFadzRHCusEUFVEXu5608ohxB2FH7euQeEuL75LzYHF7yM9L4mTrUIDicc2OU-LDky5WyiTVoqP/s1600/10500464_10154376932775632_5595422159309895975_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXmzzqh1XndmNzGlAUlOGyreCah_ySeQeGt6B1MWRzGB43TK_rp80Q0jLufKPGpENXhFadzRHCusEUFVEXu5608ohxB2FH7euQeEuL75LzYHF7yM9L4mTrUIDicc2OU-LDky5WyiTVoqP/s1600/10500464_10154376932775632_5595422159309895975_n.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>I never make time for this pursuit but look lustfully at other angler's catches of big sergeants and vow to make the effort in ernest some day soon. I went out twice for perch in the early season. The first time I caught a few small fish on a little jig. I did spot some better fish however but they were not at all interested my lure so I went back the next day with a float and pot of worms. The first fish I had was a small flounder, 20 miles upstream from where the river meets the sea! The second however was a gorgeous perch which I guessed to weigh about 2 1/2 lbs.</div>
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All in all, this year has been a blast with many good times on the bank besides those mentioned here. Of course there have been some lows and moments of utter despair and hopelessness but they only make the highs all the more fantastic when they finally come. The biggest lesson I have learnt is to relax, enjoy and relish the peaceful contrast fishing provides to an otherwise hectic life!</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-72982048126607017862014-11-01T13:25:00.003+00:002014-11-01T13:25:40.654+00:00And now for something completely different!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbEjDPAxjzdwlMHgrkQYb43PAQzpW-WbSO_TOh_5MiJMyFO7CPWHs69Pt2yKSBTTeYjMXA1jynUqmRBk8f1Etr082kd1taTF-b33BhaAK1WCC5_5Viz5ALJ3Qq1wEsRcjSatJ3CFDWm53/s1600/IMG_8941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbEjDPAxjzdwlMHgrkQYb43PAQzpW-WbSO_TOh_5MiJMyFO7CPWHs69Pt2yKSBTTeYjMXA1jynUqmRBk8f1Etr082kd1taTF-b33BhaAK1WCC5_5Viz5ALJ3Qq1wEsRcjSatJ3CFDWm53/s1600/IMG_8941.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Percy Preist Lake, Nashville at the start of fall</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAd8XBoNL4VmXhCghbLKelixIEo9HdERibfOYLvQ9iB5vcsTCJOlpboB05YJFkSXzJVSYY5uxWtzlVMv6n1KqyNK1pCduMT5ALxougYQrPMOF5Xxtn1NsY67GT99nM-sMbjaXdRd4ulCwN/s1600/IMG_8940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAd8XBoNL4VmXhCghbLKelixIEo9HdERibfOYLvQ9iB5vcsTCJOlpboB05YJFkSXzJVSYY5uxWtzlVMv6n1KqyNK1pCduMT5ALxougYQrPMOF5Xxtn1NsY67GT99nM-sMbjaXdRd4ulCwN/s1600/IMG_8940.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>I have been fortunate this last week to have taken a holiday in Nashville, Tennessee which featured a bit of a road trip to Memphis - something of a musical pilgrimage you might say but I couldn't go all that way without packing a travel rod and a few jelly lures. </div>
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Nashville is situated below the many meanders of the Cumberland River so I expected that might provide me with the odd opportunity to wet a line. The river, as it flows through the city however, is quite inaccessible to anglers due to urban developments and scarily steep banks so I had to seek an alternative location for my taste of fishing in the states. <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/Percy+Priest+Lake,+Nashville,+TN+37076,+USA/@36.156944,-86.6175,11z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x88646b096db27301:0x55139b3dd978fa1c" target="_blank">Percy Priest Lake</a> seemed to be the perfect location but as it was a little bit out of town and we had a busy schedule my only window of opportunity fell upon the final few hours before check-in at the airport.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihE6DTST5WvvwnHEYK6Ci7ly39Kt5NXqQzzxmqZGhApiYjd0PparR9wI10Q-r8Ib3U7asJuKM-GhbZWADXdGcwnAbL4z1AAPZkjfuf-awL4IVqonNmY5tehi9U6xPl4Osi-iXJ1GDK6gLT/s1600/IMG_8759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihE6DTST5WvvwnHEYK6Ci7ly39Kt5NXqQzzxmqZGhApiYjd0PparR9wI10Q-r8Ib3U7asJuKM-GhbZWADXdGcwnAbL4z1AAPZkjfuf-awL4IVqonNmY5tehi9U6xPl4Osi-iXJ1GDK6gLT/s1600/IMG_8759.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>To fish in Tennessee a TWRA (Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency) license is required but it seems most public parks and waterways are free to fish without day tickets or club memberships. I found out the hard way in advance of my trip that it is impossible for a non U.S. resident to purchase a license online but the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/twraheadquarters?fref=ts" target="_blank">TWRA Facebook page</a> were very helpful in pointing me in the right direction and once in town I was able to buy a 3 day permit for $16.50 with relative ease at the Bass Pro shop, which by the way, is the biggest tackle shop I expect I will ever see in my life! The TWRA provide a <a href="http://www.tn.gov/twra/pdfs/anglersguide.pdf" target="_blank">PDF fishing guide</a> which got my hopes up to catch some Bass or Sunfish perhaps or maybe even Gar - all of these hopes were reinforced by the very helpful guy in the tackle shop.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMZIoadzzePxTVb0QNfepvB76bFtTVANe6DLQRW_P2mvzbJTH-5ZqKaszN5lp_K8JRRVYK8P8CkdPXpjuU6R7_zZCAmetbTz_KVWrB_5qQhEKLvRizr2vB3KBW57lCLgXj3kUxOuRYKQ3/s1600/p4ADD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMZIoadzzePxTVb0QNfepvB76bFtTVANe6DLQRW_P2mvzbJTH-5ZqKaszN5lp_K8JRRVYK8P8CkdPXpjuU6R7_zZCAmetbTz_KVWrB_5qQhEKLvRizr2vB3KBW57lCLgXj3kUxOuRYKQ3/s1600/p4ADD.jpeg" height="261" width="320" /></a>The reservoir itself is massive! 14,000 acres of man made lake fed by the Stones River. This flooded valley takes its name from the engineer who built the dam, J Percy Priest, for the purpose of hydro-electric power. This is by far the biggest lake I have ever fished and yet I had such little time! I had been directed to a couple of spots either side of the dam wall - the first of which was shallow and rocky with a sudden drop-off. I lost several jigs trying to fish over the shelf - an approach which would have been far better attempted from a boat casting towards the bank but that wasn't on the cards unfortunately. Over the other side it dropped off much quicker and I could see small fry and amongst them, slightly larger fish milling around. They did not seem interested in anything I offered, even though I tried a variety of bottom-bumping techniques. I noticed a few fish in the margins spooking as they saw me walking the bank so I sought out a spot 'off the beaten track' where they might take cover in snags which I could cast to without giving myself away. Even this resulted in nothing but frustration as my one and only chance to catch here was slipping through my fingers. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cwMeUq3ft4RoYmI73a8Eeg3an1_T_Xvk2Ki9qw6s8YO9XU5ws9T08B-LrBE7U1AAg1pnYhVmD5SrnKW6LXLHKk0vvjWJHQSBqxTrHFzajiNvQAa44BQEa6I03w3biZZIqW8ZcrEcgQw6/s1600/IMG_8944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cwMeUq3ft4RoYmI73a8Eeg3an1_T_Xvk2Ki9qw6s8YO9XU5ws9T08B-LrBE7U1AAg1pnYhVmD5SrnKW6LXLHKk0vvjWJHQSBqxTrHFzajiNvQAa44BQEa6I03w3biZZIqW8ZcrEcgQw6/s1600/IMG_8944.JPG" height="320" width="220" /></a>I spoke to some other anglers who acknowledged that the fishing here had been slow recently and so I decided to drive down beneath the dam and fish the Stones River as it reemerged to resume its course into the Cumberland. A few other anglers were already there which gave me a bit of confidence as did the sight of many fish leaping out of the water. One told me that this isn't really the time of year to catch bass and pointed out small minnows (roach) in the margins being chased by slightly bigger silver fish - these, he said, were skipjacks or skipjack herrings also known as the 'Tennessee Tarpon'. They were feeding up before starting their migration to the sea. I had previously been most persistent with a little silver shad which resembled the bait fish but noticed this local angler was using a bright yellow jelly, so with such little time left, I saw no point in being proud and copied his tactic. This produced me a fish on the second cast! Now these fish are certainly not river monsters, averaging only about 12" but they fight like fury and made great sport on my 10-30g casting weight telescopic travel spinning rod! This battle is enhanced immeasurably by this fish's tendency to leap right out the water whilst you are trying to bring it in. These acrobatics cost me 2 fish before another kind angler came over as I was playing one and told me to tighten the clutch and reel it in quickly because otherwise the fish will be able free itself by creating slack in the line whilst doing air time. I took this advice and managed 2 more fish before having to leave for my flight home. </div>
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I might not have caught anything huge, nor were they the bass I was hoping for but it was tremendous fun catching fish that punch well above their weight in such an epic setting. Nashville is known as 'Music City' with a bit of a reputation for being a party town and it lived up to this and totally exceeded my expectations but I am so glad that my passion for angling lead me to experience a very contrasting, beautiful and peaceful side of this vibrant musical Mecca.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUT3-fDSfMXGoI5yGHZRm_SAIZSjB9pD-ZVLTujEf1ieGwgLYCkH-jW5zcfeE-QMveNgPMLEYsd_3SIJklvyhoYywQmyTogcC4kTY_Vbd6_istx9GWMxZEyWa5AtsGuWOHgSp6ry_MDpT/s1600/IMG_8947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUT3-fDSfMXGoI5yGHZRm_SAIZSjB9pD-ZVLTujEf1ieGwgLYCkH-jW5zcfeE-QMveNgPMLEYsd_3SIJklvyhoYywQmyTogcC4kTY_Vbd6_istx9GWMxZEyWa5AtsGuWOHgSp6ry_MDpT/s1600/IMG_8947.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142778274545467070.post-85812249752222676852014-10-05T18:14:00.000+01:002014-10-05T18:14:32.743+01:00Not bad for a novice!<div style="text-align: justify;">
At the risk of sounding a little hypocritical, I have in the past been been fairly vocal about my disdain for competition fishing and yet this, I concede, was probably based on an unfounded prejudice which in fairness a good many match fishermen return in spades to those who call themselves 'carpers'.</div>
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However, when invited by a friend to take part in the '<a href="http://www.maggotdrowning.com/" target="_blank">Maggotdrowners</a> Southern Champions Match' a degree of curiosity and a little 'can't knock it till you've tried it' drove me to accept.</div>
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The venue was the '<a href="http://www.tricklebrookfishery.co.uk/" target="_blank">Tricklebrook</a>' match lake, which is stocked well with a wide variety of species but I decided that if I was to be in with a fighting chance of weighing in well I would have to play to my strengths and target the carp as it is a long time since I fished seriously for silvers. I had in mind to fish the method but I took the advice of Ray at <a href="http://www.bleanangling.com/" target="_blank">Blean Angling</a> who put me onto the pellet feeder having explained its numerous advantages. He told me I needed to decide upon a plan and stick to it. 'There's no use chopping and changing' he said, 'you've got to have faith!' and I took heed whilst allowing for the 'wag and mag' as a plan B should blanking look like a possibility.</div>
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The sun was just coming up as I arrived but a small crowd of likely looking gents were already engaged in friendly banter by the waterside, something which would continue throughout the day. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8rszjZWJJqu89_58gjD8tXZgLfYUmd94jadmJ_EHk_VzCQyoLEsJRtEcG9H0p5Zm62w3uYl7rSDP1QLd24f6zSle2vKL560UJRBA_059d3nPZ0jNOqpL0wflsWBP5Lf3-ktO5RrVlkHp/s1600/IMG_8577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8rszjZWJJqu89_58gjD8tXZgLfYUmd94jadmJ_EHk_VzCQyoLEsJRtEcG9H0p5Zm62w3uYl7rSDP1QLd24f6zSle2vKL560UJRBA_059d3nPZ0jNOqpL0wflsWBP5Lf3-ktO5RrVlkHp/s1600/IMG_8577.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun coming up on Tricklebrook Match Lake</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0dNstcTfnHiDUtSheGT8PHYjilBLOp14vNEtCTg0atYugic5mlrv2qYgaNo8C2h5xlsxirETgF9MwArhDZqiALY9j2gHBlmupi0IC4sMSXWuFDM1HdR8X2vhtXKh6oMbHb1AYbFsOQb7/s1600/IMG_8581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0dNstcTfnHiDUtSheGT8PHYjilBLOp14vNEtCTg0atYugic5mlrv2qYgaNo8C2h5xlsxirETgF9MwArhDZqiALY9j2gHBlmupi0IC4sMSXWuFDM1HdR8X2vhtXKh6oMbHb1AYbFsOQb7/s1600/IMG_8581.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
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Whilst waiting for the draw I took a stroll around the lake. In some parts carp were already showing on the surface but my spot for the day was not going to be for me to choose. As chance would have it I drew peg 2 which allowed me a reasonable amount of open water and an island to cast to. Even more unlikely was that the chap who drew peg 1 next door to me was none other than Mike Jameson, a former world champion! What a juxtaposition for my first ever match!</div>
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We started fishing at 10am and agreed to finish at 4pm. By the start of the competition the sun was baking down which some said had a negative impact on the roach's feeding. It didn't seem to stop the carp from feeding though as I received many great takes, each almost ripping the rod off the rod rest before my reflexes kicked in! I was fishing with a 6mm pellet on a bait band tied to a short hair. When the bait band spoiled on a few occasions I snipped off the hair and put a big clump of reds on the hook which accounted for some of the better sized fish. There was a time when I thought I was ahead of everybody but some, it transpired, we're keeping their cards close to their chests. Mike had found a good margin spot which produced consistently throughout the day, whilst my method was a little more intermittent.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior2CBXIdcho8bBpX11x0oLxsP015YNR2i0sFIjpCwGzvW9Ji68pS3PGgkOyPGNkkorp3_wUIgLKOrk9f9zMnkmKtmBNzSOGp5h8Y22BJgYu9uk26yKi8XeiNewRNPFc0jizJTxgHwuciB/s1600/IMG_8579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior2CBXIdcho8bBpX11x0oLxsP015YNR2i0sFIjpCwGzvW9Ji68pS3PGgkOyPGNkkorp3_wUIgLKOrk9f9zMnkmKtmBNzSOGp5h8Y22BJgYu9uk26yKi8XeiNewRNPFc0jizJTxgHwuciB/s1600/IMG_8579.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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After a spell of almost an hour with no fish I did change briefly to the Waggler and dropped it in the margin spot I had been baiting up as a contingency. Half an hour past with no bites on the float and I felt like I was deviating from the plan so I reeled back in and persevered with the feeder which did me a few more fish before time was called. Frustratingly in the last 2 hours I lost 5 carp to hook pulls. I don't know if the hook had blunted but I changed it nonetheless and the positive hook-ups resumed. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLu6Cotmbx2lmiUv0F3oWrQODqxOFxKxwAKf4_kTTjDOb0YWS1rS5l3L-fzX6Ydq-lKxUhFqaKTW0iML7dVAumB_qZv_dANICup_ET28q_4TKfCziD7U_qp_gA37VYqg7YqnkidK6z7iZ/s1600/IMG_8580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLu6Cotmbx2lmiUv0F3oWrQODqxOFxKxwAKf4_kTTjDOb0YWS1rS5l3L-fzX6Ydq-lKxUhFqaKTW0iML7dVAumB_qZv_dANICup_ET28q_4TKfCziD7U_qp_gA37VYqg7YqnkidK6z7iZ/s1600/IMG_8580.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
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As you can see, at the final weigh in I came 4th out of 12 anglers with a total of 24lbs- which I am very proud of. There's no shame in being beaten by a world champion. The other guys who placed above me were both old hands too. I am thankful for the advice I was given as another angler I observed who didn't do as well kept changing his method every 5 minutes and casting here there and everywhere which clearly worked against him. So a little faith and confidence in what you're doing evidently counts for a lot!</div>
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You could say I am now a convert. Not that I am going to abandon my specimen angling but to be made to feel so welcome, instantly one of the gang, took away the intimidating mystique that surrounded this aspect of the sport in my mind and the sense of accomplishment when my nets were hauled up to be weighed full of fish compelled me to concede to do this again.</div>
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Richard Naylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222117434282439521noreply@blogger.com0