Nostradamus 2012/ A very carpy winter...

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'.

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.

My first few excursions conformed to the cliche of the modest jack that was 'this big' 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 possibly be perceived as a bite, then the countdown must 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... 

A 15lb Pike from a stour valley stillwater.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

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.

 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. 

"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? 

Thankfully, Nostradamus was wrong!

Post Script

As the sun sets on fishing opportunities in 2015 I decided to squeeze in a couple more short sessions...

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...

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.

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!
This time I hit it no problem and retrieved the culprit - this feisty, dark 3lb 8oz tench!

A few blips at the end of the day were worth hitting!

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!

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.



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.

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.
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.
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.

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...

Until next time my string is pulled, thanks for reading and have a very Merry Christmas!

Could do better?

Early morning at Longshaw Farm

The opportunity to fish for four consecutive days presented itself to me this week along with the conundrum of where to go - given that a great number of my favourite lakes and the River Stour are inaccessible and even unsafe due to the recent flooding. I opted in the end for 2 ticket waters and 2 days on one of my club's lakes.

My first day ticket was Mansfield Farm Lake. I had never been there before and had heard mixed reports but apparently there is a good head of carp (though the sizes of which are hotly disputed), crucians, tench, silvers and even sturgeon. The variety of species got me quite excited. I decided to target the carp with one rod fishing ledgered meat and on the other rod I float fished maggots and corn alternately for whatever might come my way.

Throughout the day I had about 20 small roach on maggots and nothing on corn. I had a good run on the ledgered meat and connected with what felt like a carp briefly before the line went slack. The weather was better than forecast and so with the sun beating down on my corner of the lake in the late afternoon I decided to throw a few mixers out to see if anything would surface. Nothing happened at first but just as the light started to fade and the bait had washed up against the bank came that all familiar slurping sound. I was straight on it with a freelined mixer and managed to winkle one small carp out before the light had gone completely. 

I am disappointed not to have caught any of the other species that reside in this lake. I am in two minds about the place but will return in warmer weather to see if I can improve in this regard.

Next was Longshaw Farm, not my first visit - in fact before I joined CDAA I was here all the time. My last trip to Longshaw was in November 2010 when all my clubs lakes had lids on them as did most lakes in the area but Longshaw is largely immune to ice thanks its water pumps. On that day I had 2 fish, an 8lb common and a 17lb 8oz Mirror. I was fortunate enough to have forgotten my camera that day - I say fortunate as forgetting my camera forced me to do what can only be described as a 'selfie' with my phone and produced my favourite of all my angling photos.




It was no where near as cold this time, although there was a very chilly breeze rushing through the valley. When I set up on the big lake I was the only one there, a contrast to the middle lake next door where a match was being held. I've never fished a match, nor do I ever intend to - as the composer Bartok said 'Competitions are for horses not artists' and though I've not exactly got my angling down to an art yet, I am trying!
It amused me to watch the exodus of anglers pushing their barrows to their swims at 9am and the simultaneous shuffle of their poles when the starting whistle sounded thirty minutes later.

The swim I chose gave me access to a causeway between two reed beds within which there were plenty of carp nosing around evident by the reeds constant twitching. I cast one rod inside this channel and the other to the right, both sporting chunks of meat in front of an in-line lead.

Just before 10am the rod in the channel received a fantastically confident take from a very hard fighting common carp which weighed in at 11lb 4oz. This however, was my only fish of the day. I didn't even get another bite which is unusual in my experience of Longshaw. Perhaps it was the temperature or the time of year. Perhaps it was the  other anglers who moved in either side of me adding more pressure with the increased number of lines towards the same feature. I don't know. Either way, I enjoyed my time here. It's a very comfortable and well maintained fishery with good facilities and a wide variety of species to target across 4 lakes to suit a range of angling preferences. I look forward to my next session here...

I spent much of Friday in this position.

Birch Lake was my next stop. I arrived at 8:30am on Thursday and was the only person at the Littlebourne complex. Half an hour later my friend arrived and we set up opposite each other so that we could both fish the end of the lake towards which the wind was blowing. It was very cold and, having only just returned to normal levels after flooding, the water was a horrible chocolately brown. This time last year I fished here and had considerable success which I wrote about here. Therefore I could be forgiven for anticipating more of the same from this session.
A morning of showers extended well into the afternoon and no bites were forthcoming. The weather improved later in the day but my catch rate did not.
I snoozed until midnight when I discovered that my feet became warmer with just one pair of socks than they had been with two! With toasty toes I would have been able to sleep right through until morning if it hadn't been for a rude awakening from my bite alarm at 3:40am which kept up its jazz-like phrasing, disjointed and irregular, until I arrived at my rods and then stopped.
This was all the excitement I was going to get within this 36 hour session. I tried meat, pellet wrapped in paste, bread (boilies are not allowed at this venue or infact any of the venues I visited this week) but nothing provoked any interest from the fish. My friend had no joy either.
As I moved off several white vans were coming down the path bringing the next batch of anglers to try and conquer what is normally not a difficult water but one that on this occasion left me absolutely stumped.

So as I reflect on the last four days I feel like the tranquility has done me some good but am slightly baffled as to how I could have disturbed the peace with a few more fish but, I suppose, that's what will spur me on to try again. It's not a sport of certainties but certain possibilities. That's why I love it so much.

The sun setting in the field behind Birch Lake.

A good start to the year!

Although today was not my first trip of the year, until now I had not been able to dedicate more than an hour or two at a time to my fishing since Christmas, mostly due to work. However this week I 'm not complaining about being a secondary school teacher as it's half term and I'm making the most of it!

After considerable debate with myself about where to fish I settled on Littlebourne following the advice of some friends on a fishing forum. As the sun came up over Birch lake this morning I made my first casts, sat back and appreciated my surroundings whilst waiting for my first bite.

First fish of the year: 3lb 14oz Tench!

I started off with one rod fishing maize in the margin and one on pellet mid-water over some lilies which have died back for the winter. It was this rod that went first at about 10am. The take was strange, shaky and intermittent. This tench was the result, hopefully I will see a few more of these this year!

After the rod in the margin had been sat there stationary for a few hours I brought it back in an changed the bait to luncheon meat. This was clearly a good move as 30 minutes after I recast it went screaming off with this 14lb 10oz common carp!

Mid afternoon the same rod went off again, same bait, same spot. This time a 14lb 7oz mirror carp.

As I was returning the mirror to the water it hung around in the recovery sling long enough for me to get my phone out of my pocket and capture it swimming off safely.

After that it went quiet and got very cold! I decided to quit while I was ahead as in the past I have gone on to ruin it with a funny five minutes or even as I call it 'happy hour' where one bad decision or rushed action follows another and ends up with poor casts, spooked fish or even lost tackle. Today this was not going to happen. Everything had gone perfectly and that is how I will remember it!