Simon Crow
Carp Angler The Adventures of a
Contents
The Adventures of a
Carp Angler Foreword by Rob Hughes........................................... 7
1. How It All Came About......................................... 8 The early years of my angling and how I ended up where I am today 2. Day Ticket Days...................................................... 14 Fond memories of my first steps into the media reviewing day ticket waters with Rob Hughes
3. Looking for a Bit of Blue....................................... 26 The adventures of two young carpers as they travel around the wild waters of France
4. Birch Grove Winter Syndicate............................. 40 It all comes right on my last trip to the exclusive Shropshire mere
5. The Raduta Years................................................... 52 Six years of fishing the Romanian super lake, which had everything any carp angler could dream of 6. Eight Days in the Bush.......................................... 66 Face to face with a leopard and some huge carp in the South African bushveld 7. Christmas at Dolly Mill.......................................... 76 Christmas on the bank sees a target fish in the net and the beginning of a new chapter in my life 8. Opening Week at Redmire Pool.......................... 88 Fulfilling a boyhood dream of walking with legends 9. Love ’Em or Loathe ’Em........................................ 98 The highs and lows of winning and losing on the carp match circuit
10. Along the Way - Part 1........................................... 108 First part of a collection of memorable photographs from my travels 11. Big Water Challenge............................................. 110 Targeting forties from three of the most demanding French reservoirs
12. Orchid Love Affair................................................. 128 An insight into my favourite day ticket water in the hotbed of Oxfordshire 13. Mad Dogs and Englishmen.................................. 138 Opening a commercial lake in France was full of all sorts of surprises 14. The One That Got Away....................................... 146 Two years chasing the Motorway Pond’s elusive Big ’Un
15. The Old Brickyard.................................................. 160 My first Yorkshire forty at 41lb 12oz from one of the North’s oldest venues 16. Tilery’s Black Fish.................................................. 172 Hunting scaly old mirrors at the most demanding water in East Yorkshire 17. Morocco’s Pots of Gold........................................ 186 Pioneering the first ever English carp trip to the Atlas Mountains of Morocco 18. The Lake in the Forest........................................... 198 Landing my first 60-pounder from somewhere in Austria
19. A Carp Called C Scale............................................. 214 Getting lucky after only four nights on North Yorkshire’s Fairview Lake
27. Acton’s Big Bill....................................................... 306 An invitation to fish Acton Burnell in Shropshire sees its biggest resident in the net at 51lb
20. Amongst the Lilies................................................. 222 Surface action with the legendary Selby 3 Lakes carp
28. A Venture Too Far.................................................. 316 Launching and selling a tackle company in the cutthroat and relentless modern day carping industry
21. The Estate Lake...................................................... 236 My quest for the finest fish in all Yorkshire, the Estate Lake Big ’Un at 43lb 6oz
29. Hunting Arnie......................................................... 322 One of the North’s biggest carp off the top at 45lb 12oz from Manton Old Lake
22. Along the Way - Part 2.......................................... 250 The second part of a collection of memorable photographs from my travels
30. Diamond Scale....................................................... 336 The best looking character carp in the North
23. Right at Home........................................................ 252 Two trips to Chad Lakes, Gloucestershire, in search of the legendary Black Eye 24. Yorkshire’s Big Puddle.......................................... 264 The early years of fishing on what is now the most famous carp water in the North, the Willows 25. It’s Not Always About Size................................... 278 Enjoying a few stalking trips at the historical Brandesburton pits 26. Trigga and Trio....................................................... 288 The trials and tribulations of my time on Northern Stillwater
31. Along the Way - Part 3.......................................... 344 Final collection of memorable photographs from my travels 32. Dropping On ’Em at Mesters............................... 346 Springtime action with the Mesters syndicate “A team” in North Lincolnshire 33. Woldview and Floppy Tail.................................... 360 A summer targeting the oldest carp in Rod Hutchinson’s famous syndicate 34. Hungary Hippos..................................................... 374 A new personal best and a record breaking week at world record lake Euro-Aqua, Hungary 35. The Theatre of Dreams......................................... 388 The most exciting lake in the world takes hold as I’m bitten by the Rainbow bug 36. Emmotland............................................................. 400 Tips on how to tackle Yorkshire’s premier day ticket complex 37. Hall of Mirrors........................................................ 412 Getting to grips with the big mirrors in South Yorkshire’s Tyram Hall 38. Fish of a Lifetime.................................................... 424 The story behind my personal best 83lb common from Echo Pool, France 39. Behind the Captures............................................. 434 A brief look at the technical side of my carping approach 40. Bankside Banter.................................................... 438 Laughter, lies and babble from my carping life so far
Chapter ?? How it all came about
Came About How It All
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The Adventures of a Carp Angler
The joys of being a teenager, with a step in my hair, a black eye and a sheath knife strapped to my side. Oh, and a nice little double!
M
y earliest memory of fishing dates back to 1974 when my dad took me to Patshull Park for the day. Back then, we spent a lot of weekends on the bank with my grandad Fred, either chasing fish in the local canal or at any one of a number of private ponds my dad used to get invited to. Fred taught me the basics of angling, sitting me on an old creel next to him whilst watching a float, my dad fishing a little bit further along. I don’t remember catching any carp back then because it was mainly pleasure fishing for anything that came along. Often we were joined by my then school mate Dave Chancellor and his dad. Dave lived down the road from me in Penn, Wolverhampton, and we used to spend hours together talking fishing and playing in puddles, pretending there were monster fish in them. We were both fishing fanatics and had some great times chasing tench at Enville and barbel on the River Severn. Unfortunately, I lost touch with Dave in 1977 when my parents split up and I had to move to Stafford. It was tough times for my mum as we ended up living in a single parent shelter before moving to a council flat on income support. I hardly did any angling over the next two years because I lost contact with my dad. It wasn’t until 1979 when I started going again, by which time my mum had remarried and we’d moved to Codsall in South Staffordshire. My first carp was caught in 1980
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My dad started the angling bug for me, but he’d never caught a double until he went carping at Weston Park in 2011
Leighton Pool with early Optonics and monkey climbers
when I was ten during a fishing trip with my mate Rob Turner, totally by accident. It happened at what was then known as Gaskill’s Pool in Codsall (later known as Leighton Pools) whilst I was float fishing for anything. My float was fished only a couple of rod lengths out and it gently drifted under as something took the piece of luncheon meat on the end. As I struck, my reel fell off the rod and dropped into the lake, the bottom overfit having slipped down the cork handle as I tried to reel in. The fish bow-waved left and right in the swim before Rob slipped the net under it. It was massive and I can remember being totally blown away by its size.
Andy wasn’t that interested, but they fascinated me, especially once I had the right rig in place to drift some floating bread over their heads. Watching those fish taking off the surface was such an adrenaline rush I wanted to carp fish every time I went fishing!
My next brush with carp came at Pool Hall in Lower Penn. It was during the middle of July 1983 whilst England were playing New Zealand at cricket. Chris Tavaré and Graeme Fowler had just put on more than two hundred for the first wicket. My mum had dropped me and my mate Andy Hawker off and we were listening to the match on the radio whilst trying to get anything to bite. The next minute this fella wandered over and started teaching the two of us how to fish for carp on the surface. We’d had no joy at all and there were carp cruising all over the place.
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My first UK twenty landed from Leighton in 1988
The Adventures of a Carp Angler
Angling, however, was only an occasional hobby during my early teens as most of my free time was spent trying to be the next Ian Botham or Barry McGuigan. I became hooked on cricket and boxing and I didn’t catch my first double until I was sixteen when my mate Ant Jones took me to a lake over the road from his house in Tettenhall. Known as Wergs Hall, the water was simply stunning, an old estate lake with rhododendron bushes along one bank and lots of overgrown areas. I fell in love with the place, and as fate would have it, ended up being on the first ever syndicate there a few years later. It was also across the road from this lake whilst I was visiting Heronbrook Fishery with Ant when I had my closest dice with death. A short while after looking at the water, a crazy farmer decided he wanted to shoot at us with his 12bore shotgun. Luckily for Ant and another lad named Max Eden, who was with us, the farmer only managed to hit me, an incident which made the national news headlines. I ended up having emergency surgery to remove the slugs from my arms whilst four pieces were left in my back, all of which give me grief today. In late 1987, I started to drive. It was still mainly local general fishing I was participating in, but a short while later, I met a lad called Richard Sedgley, who started weekend work at the egg farm where I was employed. We got on to the subject of angling and specifically carp. It turned out he was only into carp fishing, so we organised a trip to a pond over in Penkridge where I’d been the week before. He was a couple of years younger than me, but he had loads of flashy kit that caught my attention. I hardly had anything that was carp orientated other than a BJ bite alarm and a bag of Richworth Tropicano boilies. I ended up catching the only carp we had that night, and I was drawn in by a magazine that Rich had been reading called Carp Fisher. I’d only ever seen the Carp Society’s Cyprinews before that time, so it was attractive to see a glossy publication dedicated to one species. I’d caught quite a few carp by design by this time, but in my mind, that was the day I officially became a carp angler – I was well and truly hooked!
in the area. I only had one rod by the overhang, with the other fished in the margins at my feet. My monkey climber had a slight drop on it when my alarm caught my attention. The fish came out into open water quite quickly and it was there where the battle came to life. I saw it roll on the surface and immediately turned to jelly. I nearly had it in the net three times before I eventually had it where I wanted. Watching the dial go around the scales again and again was awesome, and I wanted more of it! By this time I’d met a lad called Richard Taylor (now the Wychwood MD) and together we started travelling a bit further afield, all courtesy of the “Beekay Guide to Carp Waters” book. Anywhere that looked worth a trip that was within driving distance we went there, such as Sapphire, Packington, Calf Heath, the Telford waters, Patshull and Pool Hall. We also started regular visits to the South West between 16th March and 15th June when all the waters in our region were governed by the traditional close season. We went to some great waters together, ranging from Trevella and Slade to the circuit waters of College and Tamar. We caught some lovely fish, including a few twenties. Closer to home, I continued flitting all over, trying different places and catching fish from waters I knew nothing about. I didn’t really settle down until Ant Jones got me a season ticket for Wergs Hall in 1989. The following year it turned syndicate and I also managed to get Richard a ticket, so we spent a lot
There was something about angling that felt right, almost like I was being drawn into it. My angling remained in the Midlands and my next memorable moment was landing my first UK twenty in March 1988. It was during a day session on Leighton Pools whilst fishing to some lovely overhanging bushes. I was set up in a small bay and the carp were renowned for hugging the margin opposite along the bushes. I’d dropped some Duncan Kay Red Karpi boilies along the overhang and seen a few decent fish milling around Chapter 1 How It All Came About
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A fish named Lumpy from Leighton weighing 24lb in 1989
Days
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t was the summer of 1993 and I was sitting in the sun fishing on Calf Heath Reservoir at Gailey in the Midlands. I’d only been there an hour or so; my rods were out and a few fish were cruising about in the weed in front. I was sitting looking across the lake towards the busy A5 with my mind wandering off in all sorts of directions. I was at an age when I didn’t really know where my career was heading. Suddenly I was thrust from my dreamy world when the sound of a strimmer was cranked up by the lake’s groundsman not far from where I was pitched. I didn’t know his name, but he lived on site at the house on the top bank. I’d walked past him earlier in the morning on my way to the swim and said a polite “Hello” but he never used to say much. The peace and tranquillity – or what there was of it on this lake – began to fade as he set about cutting the long grass behind my swim. I was only there for the day. Most of my sessions on Calf Heath tended to be short days as I was busy with girlfriends back then. I tried to return to my faraway world, but couldn’t because of the noise from the strimmer. It got louder and louder as it closed in on the grass nearest to where I was set up, which was in one of the more popular swims. The groundsman had probably been strimming for a good twenty minutes when I heard the engine spluttering as it tackled
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Catching carp wasn’t the only thing that made me smile at Calf Heath
something heavier than grass. As the machine cut out, the groundsman yelled at the top of his voice: “For Ffff**ks Ssssake!” I leapt up from my chair and looked towards him, wondering what had happened. Thinking he may have injured himself, I was struggling to keep a straight face when I saw his green overalls covered in chopped up toilet paper and splattered with shite! I didn’t know what to say when he looked at me. Clearly it wasn’t me who’d hidden it in the grass as he’d seen me arrive and set up. He could, however, see I had a smile on my face and I guess he didn’t like it when he
snapped: “You f*ckin’ carp anglers! I’ll have fishing banned on here so you have nowhere to leave your dirty crap!” He then stormed off in the direction of his house to go and clean up. I was in stitches sitting there thinking about what happened. Of course it was foul, but that incident set the ball in motion for what was one of the longest running series of articles in a carp magazine. As I sat there fishing, I couldn’t help but wonder about what the groundsman had said. If he banned fishing
One of Orchid Lake’s big mirrors from the winter of 1994
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Rob with the Big Fully Scaled from Bury Hill Fisheries
on Calf Heath – not that he had the authority to do so – where would the lads who were fishing there go instead? It was an open club ticket and there weren’t many other waters run like it in the local vicinity. I started thinking about day ticket waters. There were quite a few in the area, but in those days there wasn’t that much literature keeping people informed of what was available. I’d only quite recently had an article published in Carpworld and I wondered what the possibilities of writing a series on day ticket waters in the magazine were. All day I sat there thinking about it, and that evening when I saw Rob Hughes I suggested the idea to him. The very next day he was on the phone to Tim Paisley, who liked the idea, and the rest, as they say, is history, the Chapter 2 Day Ticket Days
first piece on Sapphire Lakes being published in the November 1993 issue. Both Rob and I had fished quite a lot of day ticket waters by the time the series kicked off so had a lot of ideas. I’d been travelling to the South for several years, to places like Farlows Lake and the South West waters, in search of some fishing during the then traditional closed season – those waters remaining open either through the “any method trout” rule or regional bylaws. It’s fair to say that Tim hyped the series up when it was launched, referring to the two of us as “Midland stars,” which didn’t go down too well with some of the egos in the carp world. In those days, carp fishing was all about catching the
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Love ’Em or 98
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like to think I’ve played my part in making carp matches as popular as they are today. Although they were not my idea and I was by no means the first to ever fish in one, my friendship with Rob Hughes definitely helped influence the launch of the British Carp Angling Championships, which today remains the nation’s number one carp match event. I can remember the day when Rob first told me of his idea of launching the BCAC, which wasn’t that long after we’d won the inaugural World Carp Cup in 1996. He was fed up of being stuck in an office job and asked me whether I thought his idea would work. In those days, carp matches were something of a novelty as quite a few well known carpers had been vocal about them having no place in the sport. Tim Paisley had quite recently won a high profile match at Horseshoe Lake and there was a lot of bitterness floating around about the result. Some didn’t like the idea of having “champions” within carp fishing, so our result over in France attracted a lot of similar criticism, some very high profile anglers doing their best to belittle us, despite the fact that they’d never fished outside of their local lakes. I accept that we all don’t have the same interests, but you can guarantee the same people would have relished the label bestowed upon us had they had the balls to put their reputations on the line.
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We had won and it was time to celebrate!
as were some of the biggest sponsors in the business. The huge camera company Konica was one of the main backers, as indeed was Carpworld magazine, but nothing topped the partnership with car manufacturer Ferrari. Its association lifted it to another level, as besides the Formula 1 Championship, it was the only event of that year that Ferrari was to sponsor. The prestigious French based FIPS (Federation International Pêche Sportif) finished off the affiliation by ratifying it as an official world angling match. On the way there, we were very tense and excited. Although we had visited Fishabil on a number of occasions before, we knew that swim selection would be the biggest factor against us. Experience told us that the fish would move on pressure, and for this reason, we hoped to get in a swim where the main bulk of fish would be at the beginning of the match. We considered them more vulnerable in the early stages, and the fact that the lake had not been fished by anyone for over a week meant that a good start was certainly possible in the right swim.
The opening ceremony on the Friday morning soon arrived and it was not long before we were kitted out in the official apparel and heading towards the draw. We were a little fired up, if I’m honest, having been the brunt of a few friendly jokes by Jason Hayward and Chris Woodrow, who were also fishing. “Nashbait, zill points!” they would laugh out loud when they saw us, the two of them believing we had no chance of beating them. There had been a special marquee erected for both the opening and closing ceremonies, and surrounding this were some of the best cars in the world on display. The atmosphere in the marquee was incredible. Everyone was on edge and you could feel the tension of the draw. Michel Mahin, the President of the FFPC (French Federation of Carp Fishing), was the draw master, and it seemed like forever until our team number of twenty-three was pulled out in thirtieth place. Being a watercraft draw, we were amazed to find that the north bank swims of sixteen, seventeen and eighteen were still open for selection. Either the other anglers had not seen the fish in front of these swims, or they just didn’t know the lake. Needless to say, it was along the north bank where we focused our attentions, in the end plummeting for seventeen, which was on a slight point. Arriving in the swim slightly late at 3.55pm, we didn’t have a great deal of time to get set up before the 4pm start. Two rods were loaded with 20mm dark brown boilies to help them blend in with the lake bed and make them look natural in appearance. There was no time to start casting around a leading rod, which most of the other anglers were doing. We were sure the team that got an early start would be in the running. Rob’s buzzers were poked into the ground and his first rod consisting of a single bottom bait was punched out eighty yards. Our game plan was to scatter four hookbaits across the swim at varying distances of sixty, eighty, one hundred and one hundred and twenty yards for the first evening and then bait up at close range just before dark. There was no point in firing out loads of bait whilst the fish were in the swim; all this would do was inform them of our presence and put them on guard. At 4.20pm, I had finally finished delivering the tackle when Rob’s right hand rod at eighty yards started belting off! First to arrive were the judges, then the public, and then the media. Tim Paisley was avidly clicking away with his camera and we prayed to God that the fish stayed on. It didn’t put up much of a fight and was wallowing on the surface in only a matter of minutes. It looked a certain twenty and was a good sign that the carp out in front of us were feeding. What a start! Not only was it the first fish for us, but the first of the contest.
A Fishabil carp nears the net on the first day of the 1996 World Carp Cup
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The first carp match I fished was a Regional Organiser event run by the Carp Society
Winning the World Carp Cup opened up so many doors it was incredible, and to this day, I am eternally grateful of how that match helped pave a career for Rob and I. It was a period of transition for carp fishing in the UK, a time when the sport went from being solely about the pursuit of individual target fish to one of different genres. It was the second carp match we’d fished in. The first had been a Carp Society Regional Organiser event a year or so before that we’d entered with John Thacker, finishing third against some very prominent names. Quite why we decided to go in for the World Carp Cup I can’t actually remember, but we were at an age when we loved competition, so I suspect it had something to do with that. By 1996, we’d been compiling the day ticket series in Carpworld for three years and were beginning to make a name
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for ourselves in the short session game. Kevin Nash had obviously seen something in us too, offering to pay our entry into the match, which was set at £1000. Being two students, we instantly accepted, and he loaded us up with bait and tackle, including the newly released Ball Pellets that had not yet been launched on the European market. We were brimming with confidence when we set off for the start of what was at the time the most talked about carp match in history. It was marketed all around the world and the organiser Raphael Faraggi expected upwards of twenty thousand visitors would attend the three day event that was to be held at his Fishabil centre, close to Loscouet-sur-Meu, in north west France. The world’s angling media were present, The Adventures of a Carp Angler
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1. 35lb-plus from the St Lawrence River in Canada with Paul Hunt 2. Near thirty from Mangrove Swamp on a guest session 3. Four seasons in one day at Lac de St Cassien, France 4. 34-pounder from Hardwick Smiths at Linear Fisheries, Oxfordshire 5. Day session result on the Seneca River in Upstate New York 6. There’s more to life than just carp fishing 7. On daddy duty. I carried Beth around in a rucksack when I stalked this little cracker 8. Magical early morning moment captured by Rob Hughes 9. Ultimate big water carping on Lake Ontario with Mr Hughes 10. Rob and me on stage with the great Terry Hearn 11. Forty-two degrees at Snagmere in South Africa, the hottest I’ve ever fished in 12. A near thirty in sub-zero conditions at Orchid Lake 13. Lake Raduta brace shot with the one and only Mr Briggs 14. Filming the successful “Short Session Carping” video at Sapphire Lake 15. Fantasy Island at Fishabil with owner Raphael Faraggi 16. An awesome scaly upper twenty from Horseshoe Lake during the 2000 BCAC final 17. The picture that made the cover of “Discover Carp Fishing” 18. Stunning winter linear mirror from Orchid Lake 19. Fatty Arbuckle from Withy Pool at mid-thirties 20. Big Scale at 29lb from Rob Hales’ Avenue syndicate 21. Sunset on one of the most impressive waters in the world 22. The incredible Lake Raduta where anything can happen!
I fell in love with Orchid as soon as I stepped foot on its banks
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t was way back in the early 1990s when Orchid Lakes in Oxfordshire grabbed my attention. Its name kept cropping up in the Angler’s Mail news round-up every week with anglers holding thirties. I can’t actually remember the date when I first visited, but it was one of the early waters we featured in the day ticket series in Carpworld that kicked off in 1993, a time when it was owned by Dorchester Fisheries and run by original Savay Lake syndicate member Paul Bray. It’s fair to say that I fell in love with Orchid as soon as I stepped foot on its banks. Having been born and bred in the Midlands, there weren’t many gravel pits in my local area. Orchid was one of the first of its type that I really got my teeth into. I also became good mates with Paul as I was growing up, listening to his stories of catching carp in the early days when the hair rig was first hitting the scene. As a carp angler, I looked up to him. He had an album full of massive carp, including one of the most impressive fish in the
Midlands: the prized Lagoon Common at 38lb from Orchid’s neighbouring Dorchester Lagoon. Back then, Dorchester Fisheries controlled the fishing on both Orchid and the Lagoon, although it was the former that had the most lasting impression on me. At sixteen acres in size, Orchid had everything I wanted in a carp water: an island, reeds, gravel bars, silt, bays, pads, snags, out of bounds areas... you name it, it had it. Backing it up, there was an exceptional stock of homegrown carp, including several different thirties, all old warriors that had seen every rig and bait thrown at them for years on end. The first time I stepped foot on the lake, I was in my own little world. I felt right at ease with the venue and settled into the fishing immediately. Paul was a great help, offering advice wherever he could as well as allowing me to spend my work experience down there for six weeks. I met a few different faces along the way. Hinders boss Bryan Jarrett was a regular visitor, as was Jerry O’Regan and his mate Richard Devitt, who
Currently the biggest fish in the lake is Delilah, pictured here spawned out at 30lb 8oz
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A fish Marsh had never seen before at 31lb 12oz, now known as Radders
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ended up being the first UK carper to bank an eighty from Rainbow Lake. It was happy times as Paul allowed me to pop down whenever I wanted to, although I never visited as often as I’d have liked due to being at university up in Yorkshire.
Above, from left: My first venue thirty, Daisy 32lb
In 1995, everything changed, however, when Dorchester Fisheries went into receivership and Paul had to leave the site. I was gutted when I first heard the news, not really knowing what the future had in store for the fishery or, indeed, my own fishing. There was all sorts of talk about who was going to buy it, including landfill operators and housing developers. Then one day I received a phone call off well known specimen hunter Marsh Pratley telling me he had bought the property and I was welcome down whenever I wanted. It was fantastic news and just what I wanted to hear. In fact, right from my very first meeting with Marsh, I knew that my love affair with his lake was going to continue. I got on with him really well, his no nonsense style being right up my street. We forged a friendship and to this day he remains one of the nicest fishery owners I know.
A 28lb 2oz stalked common
On and off I’ve now been travelling to Orchid for more than twenty years, mainly for short two or three day sessions whenever I’ve fancied it. It has never been a water I’ve target fished as it’s too far from my home and somewhere I’m quite happy popping down to whenever I feel like I want a few days away. It is one of my favourite open access waters, and it is the one venue I receive the most questions about too, so this chapter has been written to try and give those of you with an interest in fishing the venue something to go on. If I had to sum Orchid up in one sentence, I’d say it’s the perfect place to go if you want somewhere that isn’t too easy yet not too hard. There’s always a good chance of catching because there’s lots of beautiful old carp to go at, including a few fresh faces coming through the ranks too. Since I’ve been going there, most of the Chapter 12 Orchid Love Affair
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Some of the fish are breathtaking One to keep an eye on at 29lb 4oz
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Our first sighting of the property, no wonder we wanted it! Two young lads not really sure what they’d let themselves into
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he new millennium saw several big developments in my life. The arrival of my youngest daughter was the most significant, but on the work front, Rob Hughes and I began looking for a lake in France to buy and run as a holiday water. For what seemed like ages, we’d been travelling to French destinations and working as agents for different companies. Both of us had a decent amount of money stashed away, so we spent much of the next twelve months searching for somewhere that fitted our budget. We trolled the Internet, searched through the papers and even drove thousands of miles looking in estate agent windows hoping to find something that fitted our requirements. Being so young, we were driven by excitement and price more than a level head, but in the summer of 2001, we eventually found what we were looking for in the historical Somme Valley town of Abbeville. At a mere five acres in size, with its own brick built chalet and very much resembling an English-type water, our little bit of France could be reached from the Port of Calais in just over an hour’s drive. Fringed with lily beds and bordered with some age-old willows, it was very much neglected and looked good for development, with a view to getting it up and running and then selling it as a going concern. Negotiations to purchase the lake seemed to go on forever. As anyone who has owned property in France will tell you, the law in England is so very different to over there. If the French can make something difficult, they will do, and firstly we had problems working out
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My first fish from the lake, weighing in at low thirties in the depths of winter
although we later found out that the Garde-Pêche had the power to go higher if necessary. Once he got involved, it was very clear that the root of our problem wasn’t what we were doing; instead it was the local anglers who weren’t happy about the amount of carp we had in our lake. They wanted some for their waters too and the Garde-Pêche had heard enough moaning from them that he wanted to see for himself what was going on. He was a very strong character and right from the off he said he didn’t like what we were doing, making us firmly believe all of our work, efforts and, more importantly, our investment were about to go down the pan. We had all sorts of orders thrown at us over the next two weeks, as well as the expected visits from the suits in power. Both Rob and I were backwards and forwards to France trying to sort out what was going on. It all seemed crazy to us, especially when compared to other activities that were happening on
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neighbouring lakes that went ignored. No one seemed to care about the crazy duck shoots that were taking place, when a load of hunters would turn up and get totally wasted on wine before they tied a duck to a bungee cord, attached it to a concrete block and then took pot shots at it with a 12-bore! How they classed it as sport was baffling. There was lead flying everywhere and it was barmy to see our little lake under so much scrutiny for petty politics. A couple of weeks later, when the Garde-Pêche could see we were doing no wrong, light finally started to appear at the end of the tunnel. It was the old Hughesy charm that won the day, if I’m truthful. Once Rob found out that the Garde was into his predator fishing, a box of the very finest lures straight from America did the trick. It set us back nearly £300, but the Garde’s face was a picture when he saw them, typical of the arrogance that came with power. We also gave him a lifetime permit to fish the lake as well as his own key The Adventures of a Carp Angler
In the height of summer it was a lovely little lake
and car parking position. He absolutely loved it, and from that moment onwards, we couldn’t put a foot wrong, especially Rob! If we wanted any help, he was there for us, and once word spread locally that we were willing to do a bit of brown-nosing, it was amazing to see what developed. We had all sorts of volunteers knocking on our doors in the days that followed, all telling us about their power within the local community. Sadly, we already had the man we wanted. It was therefore very hard telling the president of the local mushroom pickers club that a box of the very finest champignons wasn’t good enough for a season permit! If we hadn’t already seen enough hiccups along the way, the final blow in advance of opening happened a mere two weeks before the big day, when the whole of the Somme Valley was hit by torrential downpours. Everyone we spoke to in the region said they’d never seen such terrible rain. Within no time the water levels were at their highest for decades, and the river was at bursting point. The news on the radio was awash with quarrels between the French river authority and locals. Not enough flood defence work had been done and something had to give. Eventually it did, and it was ironic to see the house of one local, whose door we’d knocked on prior to buying – who told us he’d lived there for eighty years without any problems whatsoever – completely flooded out. It was chaos. Roads were closed, houses flooded and locals in disarray as everything looked Chapter 13 Mad Dogs and Englishmen
like one giant puddle. The chalet on our lake was half waterlogged whilst all of the newly built swims, as well as the car park, were completely submerged. There was nothing we could do other than cancel the first six weeks of bookings. It was very hard on the customers and it was obviously hard on the business too. We had to sit and wait for the water to drain away. It took at least three weeks before it began to recede, when the big clear up commenced. We called on our old mate Derek Fell from Doncaster to help out, who organised a few work parties with his mates in return for some fishing. Within no time they had it looking respectable, and if it wasn’t for their hard efforts, as well as those of John and his family, we’d never have recovered from the mess that was before us once the water was gone. It was a team effort and something to be proud of. Expecting something else to go wrong, on the arrival of the opening day we were full of anticipation, unsure of how the fish would respond to a sudden influx of angling pressure so soon after the seriousness of flooding. We prayed they wouldn’t blank. Thankfully, it took all of an hour for our minds to be put at rest, an upper twenty gracing one of the punters’ nets. To us, the relief was amazing, but typically of how things had been going, that very same evening one of the customers was rushed to hospital after a gas stove exploded in his face!
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The Old
Brickyard 160
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first started to take a look at the tricky Brickyard, run by Hull & District AA, just before the spring of 2003. Situated not far from Broomfleet, East Yorkshire, it was steeped in history having been run as a fishery for in excess of fifty years. Back in 2003, the biggest in the lake was a mirror named Curly Tail, which was around 38lb, with another mirror named the Grey Fish not far behind – the two main targets. As for the remaining stock, there was the Original Big ’Un at low thirties, two upper twenty commons, a couple of mid-twenty mirrors and two or three low twenties, with the rest made up of upper doubles, several of which were really rare visitors to the bank. I needed a local water to focus my attentions, and after
hearing about how well the lake was doing, I thought I would have a dabble. I started doing the odd night in between work, mainly on Thursdays and Mondays as these seemed to be the quietest. Short trips made getting the swim I wanted quite difficult at times, but because I spent more time looking than actually fishing, I quickly fell in tune with the lake and its carp. The margins of almost all of Brickyard’s eight acres are lined by thick reeds and rushes, making it a lovely water in the height of summer. Like a lot of the waters in the East Yorkshire region, it was originally dug for clay, most of its bottom being up and down with bars. Divided into two halves by a long reed bed, the first half closest to the car park never really took
Left: The glorious Brickyard
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Huddled away in their home
The Two-Tone Mirror for the first time
I finished off my first season with the Fat Common at 27lb in late November
That night nothing came from it, but I managed to take three fish from that same spot over the next two weeks, including the Two-Tone Mirror at 26lb, the Pale Mirror at 24lb 12oz as well as a 19lb 12oz mirror. Things were starting to go well, although my trips were still very irregular. By the end of May I was doing fairly well, having fished twelve nights for seven fish. My final fish of the spring turned out to be the Original Big ’Un at 30lb 8oz. The times I had seen this fish in the water, it always appeared to be unhappy, swimming in an aggressive manner. The day I caught it, the fight was stronger than any fish I’d hooked from the lake before. It was a lovely evening when I set up, a typical spring one with lots of birds singing and lovely fresh smells of rapeseed from the field next door. There was just one other angler down, fishing in the eastern corner near the inlet, meaning I went straight into the Sunshine when I arrived at 7pm. I put my left-hander just off the snag in the corner, tight to the reeds in 4ft. My middle rod went on the band of reeds running down the middle of the lake, around thirty yards out, with the right-hander going to a nice marginal spot that seemed to do very well first thing in the morning. All three rods were loaded with single hookbaits and I was all set for 9pm. The lake was flat calm and there were no signs of carp anywhere. Not much had been caught during the week, and to be honest, I wasn’t that confident of catching because the fish had recently finished spawning. The sun slowly slid away for the night and with the onset of darkness came the usual swarm of mosquitoes. I was beginning to unravel the mozzie door on the bivvy when a large carp broke surface along the central reed line. It left a huge set of rings,
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and although it was some fifteen yards from where my middle rod was, it did leave me feeling quite optimistic when I eventually hit the sack at 11pm. For some strange reason, at 1.25am I was awake. There wasn’t any sound on the buzzer or any sound outside that caught my attention. I wasn’t just awake either, I was wide awake. I lay on the bedchair and took in the silence that came with the venue. It is a wonderful place to fish, right in the middle of nowhere with only a couple of houses nearby. At night you might hear the odd screech from a heron or owl, but that’s about it. Through the mozzie mesh, I could see the outline of my rods, and whilst I was staring at them, the middle one sounded a slight drop back. I scrambled for my shoes and unzipped the door. As soon as I hit the take, it was like bending into a solid object. The rod tip never moved from its arc. No twitching or bouncing; just solid. The only movement the fish did was to head off from the reeds in an arc to my right, like I’d hooked a plastic bag that was kiting as I reeled in under pressure. For ten slow minutes it was like this, until I got the fish under the tip and ready to fight properly. In the margins it battled as well as it had done out in the middle, slowly heading left and right in the deep water along either side of the reeds that bordered the swim. It was a brilliant fight, and when I eventually slipped the net under the fish, I nodded in respect. It hadn’t been a long fight compared to some fish I’d caught, but twenty minutes of sheer aggression made it very memorable. When I saw it was the Original Big ’Un in the net, I knew why. I unhooked it quickly and slipped it back into the landing net. With only an hour till daylight, I thought it wise to let the fish rest in the net before I took any pictures. The old warrior had done its battle in the water and I wanted to let it recover. It The Adventures of a Carp Angler
One of the most historic big carp in the region, the Original Big ’Un, at 30lb 8oz
was the least I could do for one of the most famous carp in the region. I was honoured to have caught it. I didn’t fish the water much during June and July. I started back in early August, visiting for the odd overnighter. Again it didn’t take long to get back amongst the fish in the Sunshine, with a single hookbait tight to the marginal reeds resulting in my first capture of a fish known as the Long Common, coming during my first overnighter of two that week. The fish had made 30lb earlier in the year, but when I banked it, I hardly recognised it at a spawned out weight of just over 26lb. I had just the one more success that year, coming during a trip in late November when I banked the Fat Common, a relatively shy fish, weighing in at 27lb. By the end of the year, I’d been very lucky on Brickyard when I looked back at my results. I’d caught nine Chapter 15 The Old Brickyard
fish in total, which wasn‘t bad for a total of seventeen nights’ fishing. I fished only one full day, with most of my visits being overnighters. It had been an enjoyable first year and I was very much looking forward to having a go the following season, when hopefully I would come face to face with one of the two big mirrors. In the early part of March, I decided to start a regular baiting campaign. I baited as many spots as I could, including an area in front of the swim known as the Cemetery, which didn’t get fished much. My plan was to fish there if the Sunshine was taken because I’d seen one or two of the better fish hanging around its margins. I began with the odd overnighter in late March, but this season started a lot slower, despite me having introduced a fair bit of bait. The weather was cold, yet more people were starting to concentrate on the lake. It was becoming harder to get into the
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Tilery’ s Black 172
Fish
The Adventures of a Carp Angler
Derek Fell with the Black Fish at 35lb
T
Left: Tilery, the most demanding lake in Yorkshire
he thirty acre Tilery Lake situated at Broomfleet in East Yorkshire is one of the hardest and most demanding waters I’ve fished. The nearest car park is just over a mile to the western bank. The trek takes you over fields, down tiled paths, and when it rains, your feet become clogged with clay, making it even more demanding. It is one of the furthest walks to a lake I have endured in the UK, and under the water, the terrain is equally as challenging. There are features galore, including acres of reed beds, bars, drop-offs, silt beds, a warm water inlet from the neighbouring tile factory, snags and masses of blanket weed. Add a low stock of carp – around seventy when I fished there – as well as restricted bank access, plus a booking system for swims, meaning you can’t react to weather patterns, it is easy to see why many regard it as one of the hardest waters in the North. Basically, it’s a man’s Chapter 16 Tilery’s Black fish
water, and during my years on the venue, I witnessed many a good angler arrive with high hopes only to fall by the wayside after only a few attempts of fishing it. In its early years, Tilery was only fished by a handful of anglers. Its first twenty was landed in August 1984 at 23lb 12oz, and down the years, it has attracted some of the biggest names in Yorkshire carping history. In time, day fishing became open to all members of Hull & District Angling Association, with night fishing only allowed for class A night permit holders. This permit used to entitle members to fish Tilery, its neighbouring Brickyard fishery and the more high profile Motorway Pond. In 2001, however, the ticket was split to separate the fisheries, and with Motorway containing the East Yorkshire record at 42lb, most opted to drop their Tilery and Brickyard ticket, which gave way for a new batch of members.
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Plump and full of spawn, this time Warty was over thirty
There was never any pattern to the feeding times in peg one, with action possible during the middle of the night or day. Anglers were not allowed to walk along the factory bank because of regulations, but a good sign that the fish were in this area would be from the staff members at the factory. At dinner time in the summer, at least half a dozen lads would wander over to the lake to eat their sandwiches. They always sat in front of the bays, and if there were fish present, you would see lots of finger-pointing going on. Some threw in crusts to see if they would take, and I even heard a rumour that one of them caught a thirty off the surface from the area.
Although Derek didn’t catch anything as a guest, it didn’t take him long to find success as a member. Within his first half a dozen trips, he landed several good fish, including a couple of nice thirties. As predicted, my own fishing took a bit of a back seat during the whole of the season. I managed eight trips in the spring and summer, with one really good session in peg one. During a two night trip, I tempted eight fish, including seven twenties to 25lb 8oz. I finished the
The next year saw Derek Fell join the night permit membership. This was great news for me because I’d taken up the part time post as editor of Carpworld, which tied me up to an extra ten days of work per month. I didn’t know how much time I’d get to fish Tilery, so it was nice to know that one of my good mates would be keeping an eye on things. He lived about half a mile away from me and I’d become very good friends with him. We’d fished together in Romania as well as France and he really liked the look of Tilery after fishing it a few times as my guest.
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Derek Fell with Drop Scale
The Adventures of a Carp Angler
The Small Leather at 29lb 8oz from peg one
year with a few sessions in peg seven on the island. It was late September and a huge raft of weed had gathered in the bay to the left of this swim, and in turn so had the carp. The raft had been blown there and was covering almost the entire bay, about five acres in size. I banked several nice fish from close to the raft, including mirrors to 27lb 12oz. The highlight was seeing Steve Dack land a mirror that I’d never seen before weighing 33lb 12oz, maintaining my belief that the lake still held some mystery. The year 2004 proved to be a very memorable one in more ways than one. I was hit by the news of divorce, something that really put a spanner in my lifestyle, let alone my fishing. As a result, I didn’t get myself focussed on Tilery until the beginning of the autumn when I found it much better to be on the bank than in my own house. I also found myself slightly distracted by a certain big mirror known as Curly Tail that was starting to make prominence in the neighbouring Brickyard, a fish that I went on to catch earlier that summer. Apart from a few stints in peg one and peg seven in July, I didn’t put any effort into Tilery until early September. The demanding nature of the lake continued to beat up most who stepped foot on it, and by the twentieth of the month, virtually all the other members had given up and I had the place to myself. If the tough fishing hadn’t taken its toll on them, the ploughed field on the walk to the swims had finished them off. It was horrendous, with eighteen-inch Chapter 16 Tilery’s Black fish
troughs all over the place, making it very difficult to get to the island swims, plus the farmer had ploughed so close to the hedge there was no way of avoiding it. Heavy rainfall had also made the field mushy and cloggy underfoot. The closest swim, peg one, had also been shut for a period of time because the weed was so bad, meaning that only the foolhardy and mad remained. The effort was worth it, though, and I finished the season in style with a string of good fish, including a beast of a mirror called Paddles at 33lb and the one known as Two Sides at 31lb. The next year saw me in possession of a Motorway Pond night permit, which I’d waited years for, so despite still having my sights on a few more of the Tilery thirties, the venue did come second in line as I went in search of a forty. When Big ’Un found the net of Keith Mason in early July, I opted to have a break from Motorway and spend a few days on Tilery. Although it had received quite a bit of attention during the early part of the year, some of the long walk swims had hardly been touched. Derek Pye started the season with a blinding catch from peg one, followed by another equally impressive catch by Derek Fell a week later in the same swim. This saw a concentrated effort in that area of the lake by a number of other anglers, leaving peg seven completely untouched. It looked a good bet for the few days I had ahead, especially since there was a low pressure front moving in from the North East that
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One of the leathers at 24lb
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About
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Kev Clifford with Jumbo when caught from Sandholme Pool
D
espite having lived in Yorkshire since 1993, it took until 2010 before I ever cast a line into Hull & District’s Brandesburton 3&4 Pond. I’d walked around it once in 2008, but for one reason or another, I’d never thought about fishing it. I suppose it was mainly down to the size of the fish as its glory days were well and truly behind it. The older carpers amongst you may remember that the eight acre East Yorkshire gravel pit made the headlines in the 1980s when a giant mirror known as Jumbo weighing 40lb was netted by accident during a routine survey on the lake carried out by the Association. The fish was subsequently moved to Kevin Clifford’s private Sandholme Pool following the netting, where it was caught at over 40lb by Kevin, Clive Gibbins and members of the Culley family. It was quite a controversial fish at the time because no one else could fish for it other than Kevin’s friends, and that remained so until its death in the early 1990s. Despite the controversy, there’s no denying that Jumbo was a special Yorkshire carp. There were a mere handful of forties in the country when it was discovered, and despite reports from pleasure anglers about its presence, it went completely undetected by the hard core northern carpers of the time. It lived a healthy life in Sandholme Pool for many years and ironically passed away only a short while before I started work in the Carp-Talk office. It lived its last few years completely angler free, Kevin having placed a complete ban on carping at Sandholme. Its heaviest weight was 43lb 4oz to Clive, and what a stunning fish it was. It now resides on the wall in the bunker at the Carp-Talk office, and every time I wander into the room to dig out an old magazine, I can’t help but stop and admire what an awesome Yorkshire carp it was. If only I could turn back time…
comfortable with it. Constructed as two original ponds numbered 3 and 4 in a chain of gravel pits, the Pond 3 end appeared to be the quietest with hardly any fish activity at all. There were no roach or bream rolling and it reminded me very much of the perfect area to try for a bigger fish. I had visions of the biggies hanging around somewhere in there, away from the masses. As I neared the central section of the lake, things began to come to life. There was a large set of lilies in the middle and immediately they caught my attention. It only took a few minutes for me to see a carp, a back breaking the surface and causing a vortex next to the pads. I sat myself down and just watched for a few minutes. It was a lovely summer’s evening, with the sound of a distant tractor working a field behind me. A kingfisher appeared from under the canopy on the far bank and darted across the lake about a foot above the water. I was in heaven. Some ten minutes later it was clear there were quite a few fish in the lilies out in front, so I fired out some Mixers. There were no ducks about and I continued around the lake hoping something would take an interest before I got to the other side for a closer look. I carried on around the path, not seeing another carp until I arrived at a lovely point swim known as Gaza, next to where I’d fired the Mixers. By now the pads were alive with carp really looking for bait. There were big vortexes coming up all over, backs breaking surface and even lips sucking the underneath of the pads. There must have been twenty fish in the vicinity, possibly more.
It was June 2010 when I eventually decided to go and have a fish at 3&4 Pond. I wanted somewhere to go and do some stalking for a bit of fun, and Ben Wales tipped me off that the fish liked a floater or two in the summer months. The lake looked stunning, set in open countryside with hardly anyone else around. Immediately I liked what I saw, and my mind wondered back to the days of Jumbo and how awesome it would have been to fish a lake like this with a forty-plus Yorkshire carp swimming in it. Set in mature surroundings, there were lots of overhangs in the margins as well as reed beds and lilies that just screamed carp. It looked the ideal specimen angler’s water, and to be honest, I felt very Chapter 25 It’s Not Always About Size
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First one banked, just short of twenty
preferring the bottom bait approach. I saw one lad have a go, but he didn’t follow it through, just casting a few Mixers out and leaving them. The more trips I made, the more it became obvious the fish lived in the middle set of pads. If you fed them enough bait, within a couple of hours you really could get them munching. It was very easy fishing and every time I went I had the chance of catching something. A week after catching the scaly mirror, I singled out the linear I lost on my first trip and landed it. It was a stunner with massive scales on its flanks, almost certainly an Acaster Malbis fish. I showed a picture of it to Kevin the next day and he was confident it was a Leney descendent just by looking at it. With so few Yorkshire waters containing Leney carp, it was a very special capture indeed.
They came in right under your feet – a 21lb mirror just before dark
that was slightly bigger, but the light was so low it was hard to judge which was which. I was confident I would eventually catch up with the better fish, as well as one of the commons, if I kept the Mixers going out regularly in the areas where the carp were showing. Over the next couple of weeks, I made a few evening visits here and there. It was clear that no one else was fishing on the top, the other anglers on the lake
A week later, with the same tactics, I went on to catch the biggest mirror I’d seen on my travels. I eventually found out from the local lads that it was known as Cut Tail, a fish that hovered between 21lb and 24lb. It was clear it was an old warrior when I netted him, with lots of marks on its flanks from previous battles. Once again I caught him off the top, singling him out from a group of fish that I’d coaxed closer in after baiting and watching for an hour or so. That week I also learned from the regular lads that the biggest fish in the lake was a common
You could pick out the fish quite easily
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that hovered around mid-twenties. I saw a picture of it on someone’s phone at over 25lb – It was a Redmire-Leney fish and looked stunning. I was sure it was the one I’d seen a few times close up, a very shy fish that always hung back from the rest. It started to get under my skin after seeing its picture. I really wanted to catch it. I’d still hardly fished the lake, maybe making ten visits for a few hours of stalking, that’s all. I knew it was catchable as I’d seen it take a few Mixers. By the end of August, I’d found the area where the common preferred to hang out the most. I’d held back on catching anything since I’d landed Cut Tail as it was clear I’d caught most of the better fish. Every time I saw the one I wanted, I lathered the area with surface bait. The fish was a cracker: golden brown in colour and a classic looker. It was cagey on the top, coming into areas and brushing past my Mixers with its mouth open, not actually taking them. It always seemed to be uneasy whenever there were other
fish around too. In fact, I don’t think I saw it take a Mixer amongst a group of fish until one evening in early September when I fed a group of ten fish almost a sack of bait for well over an hour. They were so confident on the top they were taking right at my feet in the margins. The common cruised into the area, but just mouthed a couple of baits and drifted away. At one point I thought it was going to take, so I dropped my hookbait close to it, but it didn’t like that and disappeared within seconds. It came back twenty minutes later and started to take the odd bait here and there, still missing a lot more than it took, kind of playing with them rather than going for them like the other fish. I stuck it out until dark when sadly the light levels beat me rather than the fish. Seeing the common take on top, though, was all I needed to feel confident I’d eventually catch it. There were more than ten fish cruising and taking close in when I left, but there was no way I could single out the one I wanted as it was
The Leney, absolutely lovely!
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My fishing is based on what I consider to be a logical and simple approach
Captures
Behind the 434
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H
aving written so many articles over the years with a technical slant, I wanted this book to have very little content of that type. However, I accept there will be people reading this who haven’t seen many of my articles and will want to know something about the rigs, baits and strategies that I use. I could write pages and pages about this topic, but I’m going to keep it short and focus on the key aspects. One of my mates, Derek Fell, once said that if you award a carp with a fair amount of intelligence you are on the right lines as you will try harder to outwit it and apply more thought to your fishing. In some respects, I tend to agree with Derek, but I also think that you still have to be aware that carp aren’t as intelligent as perhaps some anglers give them credit for. Wild creatures don’t think like ourselves, even when educated by angling pressure. Carp aren’t capable of outthinking anglers. The main thing they have to their advantage is that they can sense danger
better. That is how they survive. All of my fishing is therefore based on what I consider to be a logical and fairly simple approach: be as covert as possible, use a rig and bait I’m confident in and fish it in the right position. You can go back a long way and look at some of my earliest writings in both Carpworld and Carp-Talk and see that my rigs have not changed much over the past twenty years. Apart from a brand of hook or a type of swivel or hooklink, you’ll see that I’m probably the most unfashionable rig angler around. Whenever I go to the British Young Carpers’ Angling Championships each year and sit talking with the lads about my rigs, they’re amazed at how simple they are; I’m often the brunt of many a joke about how old fashioned I am. As boring as my rigs may be, however, the fact is they work for me. In fact, if there’s ever any one piece of advice I can pass on about rigs, it’s if it works, don’t try to fix it – some excellent words that Julian Cundiff used to deliver in his articles when I was a youngster.
32lb Birch Grove common on a ten inch hooklink
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