Burrows 'Echoes From The Valley' Part 11

These next set of blogs are going to be accounting for a series of sessions down on Burrows, it's these 'last' few sessions that will see me leave the water indefinitely. Part of me feels like it's a shame to walk away, I've fished the place for over a decade and it's the one place that I seem to have a special connection with. My reasons for pulling off are pretty simple really, firstly, I don't agree with what has been done with all the swims. The banks went from looking rough, ready and natural to suddenly having timber planks and wood chip thrown everywhere, not only that but the addition of a few extra pegs and their positioning has now created plenty of opportunity for stupidity in regards to anglers fishing on top of each other. Along with that, once a few 30's got caught and were plastered all over social media, anglers that usually didn't fish the place came flocking down. Finally, for the first time in ten years, me having two arguments in one week with two pricks who clearly didn't understand the concept of manors. I finally decided that it was best that I moved on and focused my attention elsewhere, when the carp circus comes knocking I've got to find the exit quick.

So let us turn the clock way back, the day of my session pretty much started out like any other. I arrived at the lake nice and early and decided to make my way round to where I'd had all my winter bites from. I was going to keep everything simple, pretty much just mimicking what I'd done all winter. Whilst I was slipping, sliding and wrestling with the barrow, I kept my eyes on the water, down past the muddy double and onward up the path. I came to a stand still to catch my breath opposite a swim that I call the 'bottleneck', this is an area of the water that I've never had much luck from. It use to be a 'hot spot' but over the years it seemed to dry up. Looking down in the edge there appeared to be several  patches of silt that had clearly been kicked up. The water had both the look and consistency of soup, milky looking bubbles still lingered on the surface. Carp had definitely been feeding there, after witnessing this, my plan instantly changed. I was working on the basis that if carp 'had' been there then there's a good chance they might still be in the area. I dipped into my bait bucket, showered the area with some 'tiger-fish', did an 'about-face' and made my way back up the path down through the woods and into the 'bottleneck' swim.

  

Swim Position 'Birds Eye View'

It was going to be a straight forward approach, I'd place both my baits a rod length or so either side of where I'd seen the silt patches. Any ounce of 'cool' I'd been exhibiting had very swiftly vacated my body, I was in a minor panic, mixed with a crazy excitement. If carp were still about I wanted to be getting my baits out as soon as possible. If today was to end in a fish I'd already made up my mind that over the next few weeks, in between my other sessions, the 'bottleneck' was the swim that I'd focus all my attention on. Just like my winter approach, I'd come down on a regular basis and put my baits on the same spots. With most of the other swims on the lake, you can pretty much guarantee that a lot of different bait will be going in and a lot of different anglers will be fishing all the obvious 'go-to' areas. Because this specific part of the water gets very little pressure, I knew that 9 times out of 10, when I'd come down to fish, this swim was going to be vacant. If I stuck to week days I could 'covertly' get on with my own thing, build the swim up and hopefully get some results. It was all dependent on how today was going to work out.

View From The Swim

Over the weeks that followed, I started to get a feel for the make up of the swim. There's a fair amount going on and I found it interesting. The marginal areas to the right hand side of my spot were surprisingly deep close in and then it gradually sloped down to 8ft, the bottom of the slope worked out to be just over half way across. I wanted to be positioning my bait no deeper than half way down the slope. I wasn't getting any real 'DONKS', it felt like a mix of silt & clay. Directly opposite me where the silt had been kicked up. It was about 3ft close in, about half a rods length out it fell away sharply to 5.5ft then gradually sloped down to 7-8ft. 

The left hand side of the swim fell away in 3 sections, it was relativity uniform close in and had a couple of sloping drop offs until it fell away to the deeper water. I wanted to be fishing the shallow sections of this area, it made no sense in targeting the deeper parts. From the communication I was getting every time the lead 'thumped' on the bottom. It appeared to be to same make up as the right hand spot, which was silt & clay. It's in these situations a deeper sonar would be an amazing tool to map the swim quickly but casting a bare lead about really helps to build up a mental picture. How accurate that picture is, it's hard to say but I feel better having something in mind to work with.

Tiger-Fish With A Fleck Of Color

Now with everything setup and ready to go I made one 'roughly judged' cast with each rod, both landed pretty much where I wanted them to. Having already chucked a couple of handfuls of bait in the swim from the other side, I opted to 'go relatively heavy' and scatter about half a kilo around the whole area. The reasoning behind this was 'instinct' more than anything else, feeling the temperature of the water and judging by the low clouds and atmosphere, I just knew in my gut that the conditions were right to bait heavy. Also from a 'passing thought point of view', I wanted enough bait out there to pull whatever fish might be ghosting around down onto my bait. If they didn't feed here on a regular basis I knew I had to keep the bait going in, with the hope that it would end up being an area that they got into the habit of visiting with the intention to feed. Obviously 'all the above' was wishful thinking but with a little bit of conviction and 'single bloody mindedness' it might just work out.

Long Hairs

Rig Talk

For the last 4 years or so I've been using an extra large rig ring on my blow back rigs. I've been asked a number of times why I do this, I'll explain. I personally think the more movement you give the hook bait the better the hooking potential. Through the years I've both read about and witnessed with my own eyes, carp picking up a hook bait and instead of bolting, sitting there blowing and sucking on the boilie trying to eject the hook. This was something I was told about many many years ago by Graham at Crowborough tackle. He explained that, on one specific local club water called 'Wirgol', the carp had a tendency not to bolt, instead they'd sit still sucking and blowing using the boilie as a tool to dislodge the hook.

To be honest I didn't really believe him and wrote it off as bollocks. This was until I had a very strange occurrence up Wirgol on a session not too long after the conversion. I can see it as clear as crystal in my mind. There I was sitting behind my motionless 'mixed matched' rods with my 45p orange bobbins clipped onto my lines. It was a really bright day, I was using a Richworths boilie called 'Meaty Mix' I can literally smell it as I type these words. I hadn't received one bleep which was hard to believe considering the pond was about an acre in size.

Towards mid afternoon I decided to reel in for a recast, as I picked up my right hand rod I was instantly met with a heavy weight. Whatever was on the end bolted off at pace, my old Sundridge rod was bent over double, not because it was a 'through action', because it was a 'shit action'. Anyway .... after a violent tussle I slipped my first ever fully scaled mirror over the net, weighing in at an awesome 13IB. At the time that was the biggest mirror I'd ever caught, the capture stayed in my mind for two reasons, firstly the size of the fish, secondly the fact that the carp had clearly picked the bait up and hadn't bolted. After what Graham told me I had no doubt in my mind that the fish was trying to ditch the hook, god knows how long it had actually been sitting there trying to do it. This was an experience and conversation that has stayed with me ever since, not all carp are the same but I think some are a lot smarter than what we give them credit for.

Large Rig Ring For More Free Movement

This is when the 5.3mm rig ring came into my mind, I wanted something that would stop the carp being able to use the hook bait to ditch the hook. I've found nearly 9 times out of 10, when you're using a large rig ring that can slide right up the shank and over the silicone kicker. The hair and boilie seem to tangle/lasso around the hook link, thus stopping the carp from being able to get the boilie back in its mouth. The bait basically tangles and stays well out the way. 'The white arrows on the image above shows the direction the bait has a tendency to travel when ejected'. I find this size ring combined with a long hair gives me really good hook holds. This is not in my imagination, I've genuinely seen a massive difference in the quality of the hook holds and I haven't lost a fish due to the hook coming out. Combined with a long hair, I have 100% confidence in this setup.

Back To The Session   

Bait of choice as mentioned before was the faithful 'Tiger-Fish', combined with that I was going to be fishing semi-fixed inlines with bottom baits. Attached to the hook on the cast would be a small mesh bag of crushed boilies, the hook bait would be topped off with an imitation orange maggot. The bait is of a dark tinge so adding a fleck of color might just help to entice a carp into picking it up. To finish off, my hook-links were made up of 'Nash Trigga-link' in 25IB combined with 'Kryston Silkworm' in 25IB. Many will know from past blogs that I love using the 'Trigga-link', I genuinely think it confuses the carp, you can tell by the bites you tend to get on it. You can literally see the confusion in the movement of the bobbin, not only that, if you're fishing for 'cute' fish that use the weight of the lead to try and ditch the hook. I think the 'spring' like quality of the 'Trigga-link' renders the whole 'head shake escape' useless. So now with both rods out I got my brolly up and set my swim out nice and tidy. Looking at the skies above I was definitely in for some rain, it was time to get the kettle on, sit back and hope that the fish that were in the area earlier weren't too far away.

Nice & Secluded In The 'Bottle Neck'

Why do I call this swim the bottleneck?. It's pretty simple really, this is the one part of the water that narrows. In my head Burrows is a lake of three sections, up the far end you have the cages. Then you have the main body of water which narrows through the bottleneck, opening back up at the 'bowl' end where the muddy double swim is located. You'd think that carp would be passing through the bottleneck all the time but, as mentioned before, the only bite I've ever had out the swim has been on a 7ft zig. Maybe they're moving through on a regular basis but they're mid-water, that would explain the zig bite. Also, lets not forget that I only fish days, maybe I would've had more of a result doing nights and longer stints. But as documented many times before, I can't stand camping, my night fishing days are very much behind me. I personally think that you put way more effort into what you're doing when you subtract night fishing out of the equation. I think it takes far more dedication focusing on just days, especially if you're going to be fishing consecutive sessions. I know there can be downsides to 'days only' but on each lake I fish I have to try to find a way to get a result in the time I have available to me.

Fish Feeding

Now with the steam from the kettle spluttering out the spout and the soft 'pitter patter' of the rain lightly hitting my umbrella, I sat quietly gazing out over the water. All the trees and branches were in full bloom, it felt like I was sitting in a strange 'hollow' within a lost woodland. The trees tower overhead and a small gap within the foliage gives you a partially obscured view of the water. As I sat staring out over my swim I started to see some activity, small streams of bubbles started to appear. At first I thought it might've been the mallards, but they were calm and hadn't made any commotion. I got my scope out and took a closer look, there was no doubt in my mind that carp had moved in and were very clearly kicking the bottom up. Now with my eyes fixed on the skin of the water, bubbles were hitting the surface in multiple spots, all the minor explosions were reminiscent of smoke signals. Coinciding with this, my right buzzer was signalling some movement, I sat transfixed, my heart was pounding in my chest, it was resonating in my head, boom .. boom .. boom ... booooom .... sccrreeeaammmm !!!!!. Before I could clock what was happening my right rod was away.

As the fish bolted off, multiple explosions could be seen, it was clear to me that the carp that had been feeding there in the early morning had come back. I lent into the fish, minor euphoria gripped my whole body, from all the years of fishing Burrows this was the first bite I'd had from this swim off the bottom. The fish bolted hard to the right, it was clearly heading for the sunken posts that 
ran up the the right side edge of the swim. You could just see the top of one poking out the water, this carp was firing on all cylinders to try and reach it. I had to put some serious pressure on to stop it, amid the battle I lowered my left rod off of the buzzer and sunk the tip so the line was well out the way. I continued to try and pacify the fish I had on, I'd managed to get it clear of the posts and I now had it 'comfortably' out in the open water in front of me. I started to relax a little, glancing down at my left rod still half sunken in the water, I saw the butt section jolt sharply to the left. Checking where both the fish and my line were, neither were anywhere near the rod. I had an awful feeling that I'd had a second take and I didn't have a second set of arms to land it.

Fish Number 1

I applied a little more pressure managing to get the first bite in the net, once it was safe in the mesh, I rushed to pick up my left rod and wound in the slack like a madman. I kept on winding until the line went tight, turning the reel and lifting the rod up high. It instantly pulled down to my right, I could feel a carp on the end but it had clearly bolted for the posts and succeeded in snagging itself around one of them. I couldn't believe it, I'd had a double take from a swim I couldn't buy a bite from in years. You could just about see the top of the post vibrating and pulsating as the fish was trying to flee. I kept the pressure on for a good few minutes, after which, I couldn't feel the carp anymore, looking at the post, it appeared motionless. I tighten right up, cupped the spool and walked back slowly, stopping for a few minutes as I went. The line was bow tight, pinging like a guitar string, suddenly everything gave way. I'd managed to bend the hook out and get all my terminal tackle back. I was obviously blown away with the fish waiting for me in the net. However having a second take and not being able to do anything about it left a sour taste in my mouth.

A 'Bottle-Neck' Beauty

Lifting the net slightly so the fish came into view, I was met with a beautiful chestnut colored mirror, this carp really was an amazing creature. A couple of photos were taken and I slipped her home, I had a feeling that all the commotion probably spooked whatever carp might have been in and around the area. However I wanted to witness the day 'play-out', this part of the water was new to me and I find simply sitting, watching and thinking about the swim can nurture new ideas for future sessions. Nothing else occurred but that didn't bother me, due to the result, I'd made up my mind that over the next couple of weeks I'd focus solely on this swim. I still didn't think it was an area that the carp fed in a great deal. I was going to approach it 'heavy-highhandedly, I'd 'fill it in', I didn't think a mouthful was going to cut it. If carp were passing through, which I believe they were, then enough bait had to be out there to attract them down. Before leaving I spread a good kilo and a half all around the swim with the plan to come back later in the week and give it another go. This little mission I'd set for myself was going to be a mini marathon, not a sprint.           

Braxted Reservoir 'Fixed Zig Fishing"

There was only a month or so to wait until my Chelmsford waters were set to open. The club has a great system in place, those that participate in an out of season work party get to fish from May 1st. This gives you a month of relatively quiet fishing before the club officially opens come the 15th June. I always choose to go and work down on Micklem Mere, in my mind, it's a water with a great future ahead of it and being part of it now, in its infancy, gives me a huge sense of purpose. As morbid as it may sound, when I'm long gone and the anglers of tomorrow are perched on its banks, fragments of me will be ingrained within its soil. There have been many times when I'm on my waters and I find myself thinking of all of those that have come before me, so many waters hold just as many ghosts as they do fish. I sometimes wonder what stories the swims contain, what discussions they've overheard and, of course, what monsters they've witnessed. As generations of anglers come and go, each leaving a fraction of themselves on all the waters they choose to fish, the one true constant, the real history, is within the carp themselves.

'New Swim' Work In Progress 'Micklem Mere'

History to me can mean so many things, especially when it comes to angling, it wasn't so long ago when I took a 'non-fishing' trip back to the water that I basically grew up fishing on, it was strangely emotional. Even though a huge amount of time had passed it still held the same feelings. I almost had a lump in my throat as I walked around remembering the amazing times I'd had. I stood looking at all the swims, some of which, a good few decades ago, me and my friends use to pitch up in for days. They hadn't changed, nothing had really changed, only the faces. The lake was now occupied by a whole new set of anglers, none of which would truly know of the beautiful 'history' that's embedded directly beneath their feet. As I stood soaking up 'the once familiar', watching as those fishing cast their lines out into my past. I had no doubt that they were making their own memories that, one day, they'll look back on with great affection. There are many aspects of my 'history' that I choose to forget, to keep buried, but my angling past is something I choose to dip into every so often. Like most things in life, over time, there are elements that become irrelevant. But I don't find this to be the case with fishing, everything that has come before makes both the waters and the fish what they are today - and so the cycle continues. 

I was up and out early on the day of the session, having been chained to the banks of Burrows for so long, it felt refreshing to be heading out to a new destination. I opened my front door to a very different world, gone were the icy bitter winds and the dark foreboding skies. I was now met with a mild warmth, clear blue horizons and a series of sure signs that spring was well and truly on its way. It wouldn't be long before I craved the smell of fish-meals and GLM base-mixes, both Spring and Summer just wouldn't be the same without them. Today I'd chosen to visit Braxted reservoir, it's not an overly hard water and I felt it was the perfect place to kick off my new season. Making the long journey up the A102, through the Dartford tunnel and up onto the A12, surprisingly, was a ritual I'd missed. Time always seems to fly by because my expectations on the pending session are playing out in my head. It's only once I've stopped at Boreham services, with my journey nearly complete, do I feel the excitement take hold, I can't seem to get to the water quick enough. Closer and closer I got, off the A12 I turned, I'd have to snake through a few country lanes before a quick ride along an old farm track would see me safely into the complex car park.

With my gear now loaded on the Barrow, it was only the back breaking walk up to the reservoir itself that stood in my way. This might sound pretty straightforward but the walk takes you through a large farm yard and then up a hill that gets progressively steeper the higher up you get. Just when you think you're getting to the end, it progresses further and gets even steeper still. It has to be seen to be believed and I know its been the 'downfall' of many an angler throughout the years. I've always made this crazy agreement with myself that I wouldn't stop once, however painful it got, I'd always try to do it in one go. I'm proud to say I've always managed it, although I do have at least 20 minutes of vertigo when I finally reach its summit. So ... here I was, my beloved water now within touching distance, but I still had the final hill to go. I was puffing and panting, each limb in my body burning, just a few more meters .... phew !!!! I'd made it. Now with a strange nausea and dizziness, I feasted my eyes on 'the res', it looked perfect. There was a strange haze that shrouded the landscape, all the trees and bushes were displaying a 'new born green', and coupled with that, a lovely warm light breeze was carrying itself down towards the dam wall. 

The Summit

Once my 'discombobulation' eased off it became apparent very quickly that the carp were up in the layers. They were all over the place, some with their backs out, others just below the surface. I was going to approach this in the most direct way possible, opting to fish fixed zigs exactly where the majority of the fish were. I wasn't going to mess about trying to suss the 'exact' depth out, I feel you can get way too preoccupied with this. It was simple, I would fish one zig at 8ft and the other at 9ft, the maximum depth, where the fish were holding was about 12ft/13ft. I was working on the basis that the carp were going to be at all different depths. One thing was very clear though, they certainly weren't anywhere near the bottom, so fishing on the deck was totally out of the question. I got everything setup quickly but precision was needed to get the zigs just right. To do this I use a tape measure and a single bivvy peg. The bivvy peg goes through the center of my hook link spool and I simply measure out the desired length.

Precision Measurements

My favored hook-link for zig fishing is 'Rig Marole Specialist Mono' in 10IB, it has a fairly low diameter and doesn't kink or twist. I find dedicated zig lines to be troublesome, they have a habit of twisting and knotting up after a few casts. In combination with this I use a size 8 'Nash Fang Twister' hook, my bait is then tied on 'knot-less knot' style with a very small piece of rig tube to create a 'blow-back' effect. I understand there are a few products on the market to make zig fishing easier, Fox Zig Aligners etc, but I don't have a great deal of interest in using them. I like to make all my rigs from scratch with my own chosen components. Bait wise, I don't use a food source, I opt for relatively small colorful pieces of foam, the 'Avid Zig Lites' are perfect. These are usually topped off with an imitation maggot, I'm going for curiosity bites, something small and colorful seems to work for me. Finally I use the lightest lead I feel I can get away with, I favor 1.5oz riser fished on a lead clip.

Small & Bright

I understand that fishing zigs is still rather perplexing for some out there, my advice to you is simple, it's all about 'mindset'. Understand that carp are designed to locate the smallest of items and microorganisms anywhere in their environment, they're masters of their realm. If they can pinpoint blood-worm and other food in the murky depths, buried deep within the silt and weed. They sure as hell can hone in on an item suspended in the layers, sometimes they need some encouragement, for instance, spodding soup to draw them in. But if you can actively see them dancing on, or near the surface in front of you, then a single suspended bait is more than enough to tempt a bite. Through the years I've come to understand that zigs don't necessarily work on every water, however, if the venue has a relatively high stock where the fish have to compete for the food, they can be highly effective. It's just a process of trial and error, dedicate a sensible amount of time to them, then you can draw your own conclusion - for those conclusions to come, you have to stick with it. 

The Riser 

Now with both my zigs meticulously tied it was just a case of getting them out, with a nice tight cast, my left rod went directly into the middle where the majority of the carp seemed to be holding. It didn't seem to spook them, this is the reason I love riser leads so much, due to their shape they covertly 'clip' into the water with very little disturbance. I dropped my right rod short, there appeared to be a few bigger carp straying away from the main crowd, again, the cast didn't seem to disturb them. When zig fishing I like to keep my line fairly tight, I wound in the slack until both rod tips were bowing over, bobbins were hung. Finally my first session of the new season was officially underway and it felt pretty dam good. It's hard to believe that only a few months ago I was sitting shivering down on the banks of Burrows, barely being able to feel both my feet and hands. As much as I enjoyed it, it was a bloody endurance test.         

View From The Swim

The first bite came quickly, my left rod was the first to go, there I was just about to descend into 'full daydreaming mode', when the bobbin slowly lifted up to the blank and stopped. I proceeded to gently lift the rod up and make contact with my first Chelmsford carp of the year, a spirited like scrap resumed. The fish didn't feel particularly big but I was just happy to get the bite. Mid battle a lovely chocolate colored common briefly peered its head through the waters skin, I swear we made eye contact. It came close, turned on its side and seemed to welcome the net mesh without any final bid for freedom. It was a lovely little carp, spotless and perfect looking in every way. The quick result told me that my approach was spot on, I could now sit confidently knowing that I could be up for a few more bites. A few snaps were taken, the carp was sent home and the zig was straight back out. The cast was crisp, the riser clipped back through the surface of the water, I waited for the drop .... DONK!. The bobbin was hung and I was back to 'pre-day dreaming mode'. 

The First On A 9ft Zig

Zigs make for a welcome break compared to fishing on the bottom, I don't have to faff around with changing boilies, dropping and losing boilie stops, or tying bags up. I simply check the hook, push the little piece of rig tubing back up, 'so the blow-back effect is primed', pop a nugget on and fire it back out. I find it very engaging, as demonstrated, if you're on some fish you can usually get a very quick result. So now with the kettle on I sat back and watched the carp, they were in constant motion. It was such a refreshing sight having spent the Winter staring for hours at a water that was content on giving absolutely nothing away. The fish seemed utterly care free, topping, twisting and circling around from one direction to the other. I knew it was just a matter of time before another bite occurred, both zigs were placed perfectly. My eyes kept focusing on, what appeared to be, a couple of rather large carp that were out on their own. They were moving slowly and far more cautiously, surveying their environment in far greater detail.

My intent observation was abruptly banished when my right rod sprung into action, it ripped off so violently, the tip was pulsating sharp to the right, the drag was buzzing. Lifting into the fish I instantly knew I was connected to something special, it was heavy, really heavy. I let it take as much line as it wanted, I wasn't going to rush this one. After the initial run, it slowed, I was steadily easing it back towards me but it seemed determined to stay very close to the margin down to my right. There were a number of low lying branches and snags, I had no doubt that it was going to do its best to dive into them. When obstructions are about it's amazing the extra power the fish seem to acquire. This made me nervous, considering it was on a 9ft hook-link, that was a lot of exposed line to get severed. Keeping the rod low and adopting some serious side strain I managed to keep the fish away from danger, it was now in touching distance. I lowered the net, eased and teased, it  suddenly surfaced, it was one hell of a common, easily a good twenty. Closer and closer she came, I was preying that the 'net fear' wouldn't kick in, I really didn't want it racing off again, I wanted to 'complete this transaction' in an orderly fashion. All was calm, up on the side she went, with my heart now in my mouth I slipped the net under, what looked to be, the largest fish I've landed on a zig.
 

Largest Zig Capture

I was totally blown away, it's amazing to think that a carp of this size would take such a tiny piece of foam. When you truly analyze it, you are suspending a minuscule fragment in a vast underwater universe, you'd think it would remain lost forever. But this just isn't the case, it reinforces just how incredible the carps senses really are. After a few photos I took great pleasure in watching her swim back home, I checked the hook, it was good to go, a nugget was slipped on and the cast was made. It appeared a large number of fish had now vacated the area, there were still a few milling about but the numbers had dwindled. I still felt confident in fishing the zigs though, I just didn't see the point in even considering going onto the bottom. For the next few hours everything seemed to go quite. The conditions remained the same but it was clear most the fish had moved on. I decided I'd just sit it out, sit on my hands and see what late afternoon would bring.

Time continued to tick by, a couple of coffees and a few teas later I was still waiting. Late afternoon came, the air turned cooler and with it, the fish started showing. They were still down my end but appeared to be really spread out, they were leaping and jumping like crazy, many were now showing along the dam wall. Looking carefully, after each leap, streams of bubbles would kick up off the bottom. Maybe they'd started feeding on the deck?, I had a decision to make, do I stick it out up in the layers or do I get down on the deck. I couldn't make my mind up, I can be utterly indecisive with decisions like this. I was twiddling my thumbs, wrestling with the conundrum that stood before me when, out of nowhere, my left rod was away. It appeared the stalling and indecisiveness had made the decision for me. The fish had taken the bait and shot towards me at lightening speed, I was reeling in the slack like a madman. The fight resumed under the rod tip, it was 'pure pleasure', my 3IB Ballistas have such a lovely tip action, the rod literally does all the work for you. All you have to do is stand back and soak up the communication between the blank and the fish. Each tug and pull travels along the carbon, in through my arm, across my rib cage and straight to the heart. The fish slipped into the net with little fuss, I instantly recognized it, it was a unique looking mirror I'd had off the bottom a year or so ago. It was great to see that it was still in prime condition, if memory serves me well, it was about 17IB.

An Old Friend

Reacquainting yourself with a previous capture can be enlightening, especially when you see that the fish is doing well. It makes it so apparent that the fish we catch don't just cease to exist the minute that we release them. The carp I catch are never 'out of sight, out of mind', they go on and continue to live and function both in my mind and in the water simultaneously, that's why we must always take the upmost care of them. When I sit and fish on any of my waters I often wonder where my past captures are hiding. This thought goes back to the very beginning of this blog, in regards to history. I feel that every fish we catch, we become part of it, an element of its past, and when they go on and continue to live through the years, sometimes outliving those that fish for them. They gather and contain a rich tapestry of everything that has come before them. It might seem a rather profound way of looking at something that many describe in a derogatory way, such as 'mud-pigs', but I feel they deserve much more respect than that. 

This fish signaled the end of the session, I'd had a great day, I sensed that the 60 odd miles home wouldn't feel very long, it's never a drag when I've had a good day. Packing up and giving 'the res' one last look, it felt great to be back. I know it's beneficial for the waters to have a closed season but I really do miss fishing them. Down the hill I rolled and on through the farm yard, the smell of cow dung hit me as I went, strangely it's a smell I'd missed. Now back at the van with the gear loaded, I peered through the trees at front lake, it looked perfect. Last season I hadn't put a great deal of time in on the place. As I stood there watching, a few carp leapt clear of the water up the far end by the buoy. They looked to be good fish, I felt a feeling brewing in my gut, traveling at pace up through my heart and into my head. It was obsession taking hold, the carp I'd caught today had pacified it briefly but it now appeared that front lake had kicked it straight off again. Within seconds I was already itching to cast my lines out into its water, I was hatching a plan. Carp Fishing - there just ain't no cure!       

Burrows 'Echoes From The Valley' Part 5

In this post I'm not going to go into too much detail about my bait, rigs and location, all this was covered in part one. For those that may not have read it, you can check it out here - Winter Series Part One 

Weeks had past since my last trip, during this time my thoughts about how I wanted to fish the next few months had firmly rooted. I was walking around like a man obsessed, I wanted to cast out so badly, I had trigger happy hands. Any slight sound that was similar to a bite alarm had me on high alert, I swear I ended up striking my phone at least twice when it rang. When the opportunity to get out came around, I was like a kid in a candy store. All the preparation had been done, fresh rigs had been tied, rods and reels had been cleaned meticulously, and both my baits had been soaked up to the eye balls in glug. The sweet aroma of both the Banana Cream & Honey Nectar had been flooding my flat with smells that instantly reminded me of the past. In the summer fish-meals give me flash backs, in Autumn and Winter, Milk Proteins remind me of the cold nights I spent in my bivvy years ago, out in all weathers, pacifying this new obsession that I'd found in carp fishing, and angling as a whole.

I have such fond memories of 'the boilie', I'd spend hours on end in my local tackle shop smelling all these bags of 'strange little marble sized' carp sweets. The colors, the packaging, and the way all the different flavors would hit you as you walked in. Those were great times and I have to say that when Crowborough tackle finally closed its doors. It left a gaping hole in a lot of our 'local' lives. As I sit and type these words I can almost taste Richworths 'Hawaiian Pineapple', Starmers 'Garlic Mint', Nutrabaits 'Cream Cajouser' and, of course, the formidable Tropicanna Gold by Kevin Maddocks - along with many more. I remember rolling my own baits on a Solar sweet birdseed base-mix, The Quench, Wild Strawberry and The Caramel were the first flavors that I used, they all caught me a lot of fish. My baits weren't formulated very well, they were odd shapes and had a tendency to split, but they worked. We've all got to start somewhere when it comes to bait and it played a memorable part in my carp fishing history. Along with the baits I used, I flash back to the places I once fished.

Rod Hutchison Apotheosis 'Two Man'

 

Before I past my driving test I was pretty much a prisoner of the town I grew up in, "in more ways than one". I was very lucky though, because in and around Crowborough, East Sussex, there were a lot of waters in close proximity to each other. At times my parents would drop me off, other times I'd struggle with the little tackle I had, peddling like crazy on my bike. Determined to get my 'fishing fix' before the sun went down. It was a race against time, a race to catch up on all the fishing I'd missed, having not discovered it earlier in my life. My world was the water, the roads that took me to them, and of course the mythical fish that were residing in their depths. Once I left school I continued playing drums by night to earn my living and spent most of my days down by the waters edge waiting and anticipation.

Once driving, a whole new world opened up for me and that's when the night fishing took hold. I saved my pennies to purchase my first Bivvy, the Rod Hutchison Apotheosis, '2 man'. This was terrible compared to todays standards but it kept me and my mates safe and dry whilst we slept under the stars. There were around 9 of us that were fishing all the same waters at the same time. We ended up fishing together a lot, all the Crowborough Angling Club lakes became our second homes. Tanyards, Pippingford Park, Bunny Lane, the list went on, and if we weren't fishing together, we nearly always bumped into each other whilst traveling between waters. I have memories of endless summers pitched up on the bank, cook outs, beer that was kept in bags resting in the margins to keep them cool, and hour long conversations about the big mirrors and commons we'd all seen but never caught.

Locked In Time

One memory that always resurfaces is the night that all of us literally slept on top of each other in my bivvy. We'd been telling ghost stories and no one wanted to sleep on their own. The one tale that put the fear of god up all of us, was the story of a girl called Alice Bright. Apparently she committed suicide by jumping of a railway bridge, a road was named after her. It just so happened that the water we were doing the nights on was down the very bottom of Alice Bright Lane and the railway bridge was overlooking the lake, 'I kid you not'. It was a local legend that we'd all heard about at school and it had imprinted itself on all of our minds. We never witnessed anything whilst we were fishing but it was always eerie every time the sun went down. The railway bridge and its arches would stand like rigid archetypes under the light of the moon. You semi expected to see the ghostly figure of Alice making her way along the tracks at the top of the bridge, or even worse, along the other side of the lake.

All these memories will never be forgotten and each one of them has become a cross-thread that runs through me, and has contributed to making me the angler I am today. Nowadays, when I find myself losing sight of things due to how commercial carp fishing has now become. I take a moment to reflect and look back, it doesn't take me long to feel inspired again. I do often wonder what my old fishing companions are doing now. Did they carry on fishing? Do they find themselves thinking back to those times? I get the feeling that maybe I was the only one that continued the journey. Circumstances change, people change and the older we get, life and the mundane of the 'everyday' has a tendency to take over. There have been periods in my life where my angling was almost lost, destine to die a slow death in the clutches of 'responsibility'. But there was no way I was going to let that happen, there was far too much to lose. There are still so many waters yet to explore, countless secrets yet to be unearthed, and of course many memories yet to be written. The great thing now, is that I can share them in a 'digital' form with all those who choose to read them.

So with a head full of memories and a gut wrenching calling to get the rods out, I packed the van and headed off down Burrows to continue with my master plan. It was one of those cold bright winter days where everything had needle point clarity. The blue skies above appeared panoramic and each breath I took felt like my lungs were being cleansed of all the poisons that I 'unknowingly' inhale due to living in the city. My last session had been a very successful one, considering I had to change my plan at the final moment. However, today I really wanted to get back on track and start to properly target my secret spot. 

Driving 'full-pelt' down the motorway, my mind was racing, the journey flew by and as I pulled up into the clubs car park, it was deserted ... result? I loaded my barrow quickly and made my way down the path towards the water. It was looking perfect, stumbling through the mud and clay, I got to my 'self made swim' and proceeded to get everything setup with precision. The rods were already rigged up so I wrapped them to 12.5 rod lengths, slipped the baits onto both hairs and made the measured casts. I wanted to get them both 'spot on' straightaway, the plan was to keep any disturbance to a minimum. Stealth fishing was the key, today I was going to continue to really try and master 'silence', Winter is the perfect time of the year to practice this with the banks being so quiet. 

The Skeleton Of Trees

 

I have a firm belief that when carp don't know they're being fished for, they have a tendency to act in more of a natural way. Through the years I've seen so many examples on lots of different waters to back this belief up, I'll use the main lake at Hoo as my reference point. I'm currently putting a block of time in on this water and I'm having good results, I'm fishing it during the week when it's empty, only short afternoon sessions. The lake is very pressured and most weekends it will be rammed with anglers, you've got the spods flying, endless casting and lines suspended through the water at all angles. Occasionally on Sundays, I go down to Hoo to fish 'a relatively ignored' water called 'The Cut', I have to walk past main lake to get to it. More times than I can remember I've talked to anglers that have been down there for 12 hours, sometimes more, and they haven't had a fish. Along with that, they haven't even had a liner, let alone seen any jump. 

I usually finish my sessions on 'The Cut' late evening, by this time all the weekend anglers have gone home. The water is once again empty and it's peaceful and quiet, I'll always stop for about half hour to watch. I nearly always see carp activity, vortexes, flat spots and more times than not, fish jumping. I believe that when lots of leads start hitting that water the carp retreat to the reeds and don't really venture out until they feel it's safe to do so. All the sessions I've done recently on main lake - 'which will be written up in the months to come', have been successful because, I 'very quietly' make my way onto the water and wait until the fish give their location away. Once I've spotted where they are I'll fish for them, I'll make one cast and then sit back, watch, wait and remain as quiet as possible. It really has been as straightforward as that, mastering 'silence' is a skill and it's there for everyone to practice, I believe it can be the difference between blanking and catching.

Back To The Session 

Both baits kissed the clips perfectly, I was more than happy with where they landed. Freebies were then deposited tightly around the area, bobbins were hung, the alarms switched on, now it was time to engage in the most important bank-side activity of all ... getting the coffee on. Sitting back with the kettle creaking, the only sound, my Coleman gas cylinder battling desperately to bring my first brew to the boil. It, all of a sudden struck me just how still the environment was, the waters surface was like a sheet of glass, no bird-life was active, not one single branch was twitching on the trees around me. It was as if I'd unknowingly installed myself into a 'still-life' portrait, stranger still, I suddenly had this foreboding feeling of just how minuscule I was in the scheme of things. Inside our heads both our world and who we share it with seem so large, but the truth is, us as humans are barely a 'pinprick' on the surface of the universe - I really need to stop my thoughts running away from me!

Now with the steam from the kettle fogging the crystal clear landscape, I poured the boiling water onto my 'Colombians' finest. The sweet aroma of a thousand and one coffee beans infused itself into the air around me. Now it was the waiting game, sitting still and watching the water closely, there were no signs of carp anywhere. This is when you really have to stay confident in your approach, thinking back to some of the previous winters, I've learned that bites literally come out of the blue. There can be no indication whatsoever that the fish are in your vicinity. As the hours past, the temperature felt as if it was dropping. To try and warm myself up, I visualized the banks in bloom, in the height of the summer when the water is a deep emerald green and you can paddle in the margins barefoot, those times felt like a world away.

A Different World

          

A short, sharp liner suddenly drew my attention to my right-hand rod, all visualization stopped and I was very much 'in the moment'. My eyes now firmly on the rod tip, I registered a tiny jolt that didn't indicate on the alarm. It was clear that something was occurring, sitting there literally holding my breath, I was anticipating a bite, within seconds it was away. The rod tip tore round to the right and the clutch kicked in, I was on it fast. As expected the fish made a beeline towards the underwater post, I managed to steer her back my way. I kept the pressure on until I was out of danger. Now in the open water, it pulled slowly from left to right, and back again. I didn't want to curse the situation but it felt like a pretty heavy lump. I was slowly making head way and now with the fish about a rods length from the bank, I was starting to get nervous. I was dying to catch just a small glimpse of my winter prize.

As the fish tired, its back cut the waters skin, I was met with big plated scales that instantly reflected off the sun. It was very clear that I'd managed to catch yet another one of Burrows special secrets, 'it's the water that just keeps on giving'. It was a big heavy plated mirror that encapsulated what I can only describe as 'perfection'. I gently slipped the mesh under her and took a huge sigh of relief, peering down into the net, I couldn't quite believe what I was looking at. This had to be one of the best looking mirrors that I'd ever managed to catch, its winter skin morphed into the colors of the landscape perfectly, each scale, literally shimmering under the low winter sun.

Perfectly Plated 

After a few photos and a salute farewell, I found myself feeling both honored and inspired, that's one of the many beauties of carp angling, you never know what could happen at any given moment. From a lake that looked as desolate as you could get, one of the more unique residence decided to reveal itself. As time has gone by, I've learned to appreciate every single fish that I catch, if it's big then that's a bonus. If it's small then I know I've made contact with a future king, kings that will eventually grow on to be the next generations myths. I just hope that, not only the carp, but all species of fish are always given the respect that they deserve. 

With the sun starting to yawn over the horizon and with temperatures dropping, I decided to call it a day, I had to be up early for work so staying after dark wasn't an option. I was more than happy with the result, these winter sessions are a marathon, not a sprint,  they're going to be a long, slow process. As originally stated at the very start of this series of blogs. I'm anticipating that if I keep the bait going in, stick to both the spot and the approach, my catch rate could well improve, we'll have to wait and see.

  





       

The Stock Pond 'Restricted Time'

A huge chunk of time had gone by since my last session, I had been working so much, the weeks seemed to mould into one and before I knew it summer was on its last legs. During these periods both the angling and the writing take a back seat, my brain needs to be fully engaged to do both correctly. Over the recent weeks I've become pretty skilled at keeping my angling desires in check when I'm having to work a lot. After a good few weeks away from the water my obsession seems to simmer, I've found the best way forward is to try and find a perfect balance. It's healthy to take a break, it gives the mind enough time to file everything away, which in turn shifts and freshens perspectives.

A Fresh Perspective 

It doesn't take a great deal for me to lose perspective on things, that's why over the years I've become more of a short session angler, and much prefer it that way. In the early 90's once I'd gone through my "coarse fishing" stage and started to focus solely on carp, I would be night-fishing all the time, days would morph into weeks and most of the time I'd be hauled up in one swim just waiting. I found after a few nights I wasn't really fishing anymore, all my energy went into trying to stay awake, I'd be too excited to ever sleep well. It's as if the actual fishing became secondary to 'camping'. Instead of concentrating on catching, my thoughts were preoccupied with, Have I got enough food, Do I have enough water and gas for the stove .... etc. 

I'd turn up to the water in a blase fashion, ferry a colossal amount of gear to my desired swim. Spend an age setting everything up and then cast the rods out to the first predictable place I could see. Then I'd sit there for however many days I had at my disposal and wait. I knew that if I was there long enough a few fish were bound to come my way. When I look back on it all now, I wasn't really fishing, I was just camping out. During this period I wasn't progressing or learning anything, I was very simply standing still. A saying my Dad told me rings so true to describe all this, he said "some people have 30 years experience, others have one years experience 30 times". Take a minute to think about that.

Caught On A Quick 3 Hour Session

Nowadays my longest sessions will be about 13 hours and that's in the height of the summer when days are at their longest. If I want to be there for first light, I'll get up early. If I can only manage a half day then I'll go to a water where I know the fish have a tendency to come on the feed later on. I've said it before, it's not the amount of time you have, it's how you use that time which is key. A lot of my enjoyment now comes in the intensity of trying to workout how my 'chosen water' works in the time that I have available too me. I'm now more inclined to really try and make something happen, because I'm always fishing in short, sharp bursts I find both my perspective and enthusiasm is always primed. 

I do understand that if you target big pits or larger waters with low stock, pitching up camp can be a huge advantage. But I personally feel with dedication and observation you'd still be able to get results fishing short sessions. It just means you've got to put more effort in. When I've had long periods of time without any work and I've chosen to focus on a single water, I'll drive back and forth each day for a week if I feel I have to. Again, if I'm travelling a long way to my chosen venue, it's amazing what thoughts you can have about how you want to approach things on both the journey to and from the water. Living in London, the 'drive' out of the city into the country is inspiring on its own.

This brings me on to my last session down on the stock pond, I had stuff to do in the morning so I headed down just after midday. I'd had a fair result on both my previous trips so,"third time lucky" sprang to mind. It was looking like it was going to be the last session on this water for the foreseeable future. When Autumn starts to arrive I want to focus my energy on my Chelmsford waters. As a whole, the fishing had been pretty patchy for me a lot this year. I really wanted to try and maximise on the big Autumn and Winter feed.

On The Stock Pond Winter 2014

Arriving at the water I was greeted with empty banks, apart from my old friends, the horses and the squadron coots, there was no one around. It was overcast and warm with a nice fresh breeze. As expected, the weed was still very heavy. I walked a few laps of the water, it was quiet, almost too quiet. For this session I was planning on fishing singles with a light scattering of pellet, I was going to keep it really simple. My chosen bait was the ever reliable Banana Cream, when fishing just single baits I always like to fish a nice bright bait.

Visual Attraction

The wind was pushing down towards the front corner of the water, I was going to target the reed line. Picking my spot here would allow me to walk around and drop a handful of pellets over each rod. Most of the weed I could see in this specific area was on the surface, underneath it I could see a clear hard bottom. I was going to launch my baits through the weed, both would be fished on the bottom. I picked bottom baits because when the lakebed is clear, a single pop up can stick out like a sore thumb. I knew that a bright single bottom bait with a scattering of pellet was the perfect presentation. 

View From The Swim  

The rigs were my usual 'semi-fixed' inlines, both leads had a lovely dark finish to them. When fishing over clean bottoms I really try to conceal everything as much as I can. Because I wasn't actively fishing in between heavy weed I wasn't going to use a leader. Instead I opted for a length of translucent green tubing, roughly 46cm long. This would do a perfect job of both concealing and protecting the line. As usual I gave myself one cast, if there were fish sitting in the reeds I didn't want to alert them to my presence. I didn't clip up, I made the cast as measured as possible, both fell pretty close to where I wanted them. As the rigs cut through the surface weed, a few seconds later I received a lovely "DONK" off both rods, I was in the clear.

Regarding the subject of 'concealment', there's this age old argument among some that it makes no difference. I personally think that it does, anything you can do to make sure your rig blends in is only going to help matters. I personally believe that some of the more wary carp can see your end tackle. This might explain why some fish go uncaught for months, sometimes years at a time. Over the years I've seen carp spook off and react very strangely around rigs, especially when using lead clips, I find that lead clips can make the lead sit funny, especially over hard bottoms. 

For most of my fishing I favour inlines because, "depending on the shape you choose", it keeps everything very low-profile. I will only opt for using lead clips if I'm fishing over soft silt where there's a danger that the lead might sink and drag everything down into the junk. Though my rigs might not be complicated I like them to be as covert and streamline as possible. I work on the basis of giving the carp a huge amount of credit, and anything you can do to up your chances of a pick up is a winner in my book. 

The Right Colours For The Job

Due to the surface weed I didn't use back leads, instead I opted for a semi slack line. With both baits now in position I wandered round and threw a handful of pellet in the rough vicinity of where both rigs landed. By this time the wind had really picked up, it was beating hard against the reeds, so much surface weed was making its way into the area. I knew that it was just a matter of time before the odd carp or two came to investigate. Now with the kettle on the verge of boiling, I took a seat, my eyes were fixed firmly on my rod tips. If a bite occurred I wanted to be on it as fast as possible.

In true "stock pond" fashion, time ticked by with not so much as a liner. I'm very familiar with the way it works, I rarely receive any indication that fish are in the swim. The takes seem to come out of nowhere and they're usually full blown 'screamers'. Time continued to pass and as I sat looking way out over into the distance I could see heavy clouds starting to gather. It felt like a new wind was passing through, a lovely cool temperature drop came fleeting over the distant fields, onto the water and through my body. I inhaled deeply, visualising all the 'spiritual cobwebs' within me being blown away. Clarity comes in many forms!

Come 5 o'clock I was still sitting on my hands, couples starting appearing along the public footpath that runs along the side of the water. They were out wandering and walking their dogs, I preyed that none of their four legged friends would venture into the lake. This has happened on so many occasions, they come bounding over, jump into the water and go for a swim. Thankfully they all quietly passed, mid thought, my attention was suddenly drawn to my left hand rod, I clocked the tip violently twitch. The alarm gave out a few 'bleeps' and then it was away, I was on it fast, the fish headed away from the reeds and shot through as much of the weed as it could, I kept the pressure on but it went solid.

My heart sunk slightly, I find the best way to deal with these situations is to just keep the pressure on, slowly pulling towards me. There was a jolt, the rod bent over and the clutch kicked back in, it was out but I still had one hell of a job getting it to my net. The fish was darting, swirling and taking me in all directions, weed was now strung up the line. As it came closer the fight ceased, I'd clocked a lump of weed over the fishes face. Now was my chance to gain some proper ground. I very gently guided her my way, my net engulfed a massive pile of weed, somewhere within it was my prize. 

Embrace The Weed  

Peeling away 'the green stuff', a long dark body revealed itself, I'd caught one of the older mirrors, I actually think I'd had this fish before a good few years back. It was good to see her again, she looked in good condition. There was minor mouth damage which I treated, after a few quick photos I let her recover in the sling for a few minutes before setting her free. I didn't bother recasting, the commotion would've spooked anything else that might've been in the area. 

An Old Friend

Once again, another short session had delivered the goods, on the short walk back to the car I was already thinking about where I was going to go next. Summer was on its way out, I could feel it, the year had passed so quickly and I still had this nagging feeling that I hadn't yet found my 'mojo'. I was hoping that things would change in the coming months leading into the colder weather. Either way, another positive session was underneath my belt and I felt pretty optimistic. Lets see what the rest of the year brings.