Karl Jenkinson reflects on a very rewarding weekend.
The elusive carp of a local farm pond are all I have been able think about lately. Over a two-week period I visited the lake five or six times after work to apply some bait and build up knowledge of the fish behaviour. Having only had seven carp over 50 nights’ fishing, it was imperative that I did my homework.

The lake is one of the most fantastic, unkempt venues I’ve ever been to and it was far from a chore to spend my time there. Despite a low stock and the largest resident being just over the mid-twenty mark, it was a place that I preferred to fish over my club water, a clay pit that holds a large quantity of bigger carp. The carp are magnificent in appearance, wild in their fight and I’m yet to catch one that doesn’t blow me away.

During the time I spent down there leading up to my planned session, I observed several of the lake’s inhabitants frequenting a large patch of weed in the shallow end. Knowing that they usually head for the deeper water at dusk, and the weather forecast predicting a strong southwesterly straight into that area, I baited the opposite end of the lake. I knew I would be up against it to catch one of the residents, so observing and staying mobile was going to be key.

The time finally came around and upon realising that I would have a quiet Friday afternoon at work, I decided to get down there a day early.

Arriving at 3.30pm I initially set off on a tour of the lake, baiting the two areas that I’d been prebaiting lightly. Sure enough, there was a small group of fish holed up in the weed in the shallower end. I observed them for around an hour and set about trying to snare one off the top but to no avail. They were simply not interested in any surface bait, as is normally the case, but just because they have a reputation for not coming out off the top, doesn’t mean they won’t.

I was three hours in and decided that I’d have to have a go on the bottom. I waited for the carp to move from the spot that they kept returning to and flicked a chod into the weed, again with no success. I returned to my car at around 8pm and got my rods onto the two margin spots that I’d baited and a hard area on the corner of the island.

Within 10 minutes of my island rod entering the water it was away. A slow take was very uncharacteristic for the wily old carp in the lake. It was soon evident that a bream of around 5lb was to blame. Getting the rod back on the spot and scattering another handful of boilies over the top, I was confident of another bite. I hastily set the brolly up, while keeping an eye on the water, but after an hour or so of observing with no sign of my quarry I got my head down for the night.

Waking at just after 5am, a time when I’d had most of my bites from the water, I sat timidly, waiting for the high-pitched tone of a screaming alarm. It never came.

By 7.30am I was back on my travels around the lake, looking for signs of fish movement. Once again the fish were back in the large weed bed, nestled in the shallow water. I spent a further two hours viewing the rest of the lake but mostly watching this small group of fish move between the weed bed and the marginal bulrushes. If I was going to get a bite during the day, it was almost certainly going to come from here.

I despatched two light chods into the weed, one just off the bulrushes and the other in the centre of the dense bed. Despite only using 1oz leads I still waited for the fish to move out of the area before positing my traps. The last thing I wanted to do was put the cagey specimens on high alert.
Three hours passed and despite watching several of the larger carp move in and out of the weed bed my net was still very much dry.

An angling friend arrived to bring his godson fishing for the first time. Despite the wind hacking down into the opposite end of the lake and the skies looking overcast, he was excited for his first-ever fishing trip.

A couple of hours passed and with a bit of help and coaching, a net full of roach and a stunning tench of around 3lb fell to the young budding angler’s waggler-
and-double-maggot tactics. He was elated, but getting four-year-old Harvey to hold the tench was a different story, but we got there.

It was then paramount to any angling success that was in store to attend the fete in the village. Sampling the fine hotdogs, burgers and ice cream on offer, I returned to my rods with a new sense of optimism. While moving my brolly out of the strong southwesterly that was still tearing down the lake, a brief fight erupted between my Tempest Air and a barbed-wire fence; needless to say the Tempest lost. Refusing to be beaten, I repositioned my rods and decided on an afternoon nap.

I erupted from my bedchair to the deafening tone of a running carp. The next thing I knew, my rod was bent double and once again an immense fight had broken out. With its awesome power and bursts of speed I did my best to hold onto the fish as it did its utmost to evade me. The battle lasted what seemed an age, but before long the muscle-bound brute sat in the depths of my net, spent and exerted from the tremendous battle.

After repositioning the rod I unhooked, weighed and placed the carp in a retention sling. With my angling friend from earlier potentially returning, I gave it two hours before deciding that self-takes were my only option due to the fading light. Rattling off a few shots, I returned the wily old brute to its watery home. I was elated. At 16lb 4oz it was by no means a big fish, but for me it was one of eight special captures from the remote, picturesque venue, each one hard earned.

Watching carp crash over my island spot I became confident of another fish.

My new-found confidence was diminished as I woke in the early hours of Sunday to another bream. The rod went back on the spot and I proceeded to sleep through until the morning.

Despite only catching one carp it was a successful session. Staying active and mobile had worked me hard, so I was glad to have been rewarded for my effort. Prior commitments meant that I had to leave early on Sunday. With a new bait on the horizon that’s been tearing places apart I am more eager than ever to return.

Karl Jenkinson is the designer for Advanced Carp Fishing Magazine, and a keen carp angler.