Well, it's been a while since I did my last blog. We've been getting steadily busier in the TC office and I hadn't really given it a thought!


Anyway, in my last one I detailed an encounter with a somewhat disagreeable landowner. I'd been unknowingly preparing a small piece of his overgrown 'garden', for a spring assault on the carp living in the stretch of river below. After weeks of hard work doing recces from my small inflatable boat, plumbing it, and baiting it up, I was left licking my wounds after a right earbashing.

Once the dust had settled, a few weeks later I returned at night dressed like a ghillie sniper, to fish an evening-only session with minimal gear - ready to leg it! I didn't get any action before I left at midnight and, although I'm not usually deterred from blanking, a big part of going fishing, to me, is to chill out. Nearly having a heart attack every time I heard an animal shuffling about in the woods behind me was never going to be conducive to a relaxing session, and with that I decided to abandon the best spot I'd found so far.

I felt confident that I was in the right area for a big 'un and, not wanting to let all the work go to waste, I focused my efforts on a new area just 50 yards upstream.

A concrete boat ramp on the opposite bank gradually sloped out into the river, at the end of which was a vertical drop-off from five into 10 feet of water. Slopes at either side of the ramp also angled down towards the bottom of the drop-off. Combined, I imagined the three steep gradients would be a funnel for any natural food and, more importantly, my bait to collect. That'll do nicely, I thought.
At this point the season was ticking on, and I was beginning to wonder whether I'd be able to catch my target – my first river twenty – before time ran out.

With three weeks to go until the season's end, confident of the new area, I began to prepare for a last-gasp session.

For the first week I treated it to a kilo of hemp every other night, with a few handfuls of large boilies mixed in. In week two the quantities of boilies went up to a kilo per visit, with the same of hemp. Once it had got to the final week I decided to have another plumb around, this time with a sea fishing gripper lead (those with the wires sticking out.) I knew from the first plumbing session that there was a fair amount of a stringy silkweed about, and plenty of thick, stodgy silt, so I was keen to see if the feed had helped polish it clean. Although the spot was noticeably firmer, I was still pulling back the odd clump of lengthy silkweed. Because of this, I decided to bring a rake head tied to some rope with me for the penultimate prep trip, and give the bottom a good churning up. After an hour of raking, I completed the usual baiting routine and left covered in silty spray and nursing a bit of rope burn. Stinking the car out all the way home, I didn't give a monkey’s because all I could think about was getting back there to fish two days later.

The much anticipated session came around and following a frantic drive (as is always the way when you can't wait to get fishing), I arrived an hour before dark, wasting no time in setting the traps. Two rods we're clipped up to the mark ready and both went out without a hitch.

To match the prebait that had been going in, glugged milk-protein/bird-food boilies topped with small white pop-ups were the hook baits for both blow-back rigs. I decided to fish the third rod about 10 yards downstream of the spot, where there was still loads of thick silkweed on the bottom. A chod rig with a glugged, beige pop-up was used because it was the only rig that I felt confident of presenting neatly.
To start with, I catapulted about 1lb of matching 15mm and 20mm boilies to the groundsheet-sized spot the first two rods were being fished to. I choose not to put any hemp in now when I actually fish, having learnt the hard way with the bream on a few sleepless nights!

Setting up camp I felt super-confident, and an hour later a take from the baited spot only added to the feeling. The culprit turned out to be one of my smallest river carp yet, at around 4lb – not exactly what I was hoping for.

Two hours later the same rod produced a better common of 13lb. Not a monster by many's standards but the thing about these river carp, whatever the size, is that the scraps are immense!

Hoping for more, I had to wait another three hours for any further action. At this point it was getting on for midnight and past sessions have taught me that from this time onwards is when the bigger ones usually come out to feed.

Just as I was thinking of getting into bed, the downstream rod just off the baited area registered a couple of beeps. A second later, the bobbin whacked the rod and the reel began to fizz. The fish's first run was simply jaw-dropping, the most powerful I've ever experienced. It stripped line like I'd left the Baitrunner on and when I finally stopped it, it was at least 50 yards downstream. I suspected I was attached to the one I'd been longing for, and the adrenaline started to kick in. I managed to get some line back, but it was soon taken again – and some – as the fish belted off downstream once more at full pelt. It then kited to my left along the near margin and I held my breath as I felt the telltale grating of the line on a snag. After muttering every swearword in the book, I shouted "YES!" much louder than intended as I felt the line come free and got some headway on the tenacious fish. It wasn't done yet, though, and nearly made the cover of a reed bed to my right after another surging run, this time against the current! With my shoulder burning I could feel the fish beginning to also tire. As it finally neared the net I saw a wide set of shoulders and a big mouth break the surface and my legs turned to jelly. It wasn't keen on the net at all and I gasped as it violently shook its head and powered off away from it. On the second time of asking, though, I lived the dream in slow motion as I scooped up what I knew was my biggest river carp to date.

Admittedly, I had to take a couple of minutes to calm down; I was completely charged with elation and still shaking from the nerves. I can't say what I shouted out at the top of my lungs, but it must have woken everyone within a mile radius, and wasn't exactly child-friendly!

Once the echoes had subsided, my mate, Max Stenning, was called and he barely got a word in before agreeing to come and take the pics. A few minutes later I cradled my season's goal, and probably most deserved capture, recording a weight of 20lb 10oz.

Although probably not worthy of such celebration if from a lake but, for me, being from my beloved River Avon it might as well have been my first forty.

Since the season ended I’ve joined a new syndicate in Oxford, which I’m yet to fish, and have also had a dabble on the local canals. I’m sure I’ll enjoy what’s in store for both this year but, to be honest, I’m counting the days until June 16th!


PETE MCKENNA, EDITORIAL ASSISTANT