The Moat

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.

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…

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.

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!

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. 

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.

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...

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.

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.

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!

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.

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...

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!

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

Just what the doctor-fish ordered!

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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!

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'.

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

what was yet to come would make this a very special session indeed.

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.

The first fish after sunrise however was equal to my personal best - 7lbs of hard-fighting male tinca!

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.

Beeeeeeep!!! The rod bent 90 degrees right. Line is peeling. Spools are turning. Leaping up. Bang. Connected! Clutch is giving. Sausages burning! Unstoppable! 

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.

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.

Pure delight.

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.

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.

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!

I've been Itchen for a Grayling!

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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! 

Unfortunately, with so much going right something had 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.

After wading through several more salmonidae I finally caught my third and final grayling of the day.

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...

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!

Looking back at 2015

Marking Year 7 Music books whilst blanking at Fordwich... The only way I could justify a number of trips this year!

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.

Fordwich
In Fordwich Frustration 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 Summer Carping on Fordwich Lake and More Fun at Fordwich. 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.
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.

Personal Bests

What seems to be becoming an annual social trip to Charlie's Lake, 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.

My first fishing trip in France at Le Val Dore 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 personal best carp at 31lb 6oz.




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.
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.

Photography
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...



My Wife!
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.

Looking ahead...
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.
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.
In the mean time, thanks for reading and I look forward another year of blogging in 2016.
Merry Christmas!

A 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.

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.

I will return to Fordwich in pursuit of carp again this autumn, work permitting, before my attention turns to the pike and perch.

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.

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.

A good stamp of fish at Minster

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...

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.

This photo really was the best of a very bad bunch...

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. 

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.

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!!!

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.

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!