Braxted Reservoir 'As The Matrix Slips'

Through the years of writing my blogs I've occasionally touched on a subject that I call the "fabricated reality". This concept isn't some 'hoodoo' that I read about on a crazy fringe website or in a dodgy 'new age' book. This is a theory that came into my mind well over a decade ago, coincidently, it was whilst I was on the bank fishing. If I remember rightly the whole concept came to fruition whilst chasing secrets down on Micklem Mere, it was early morning, I'd managed to get my rods out just before the sun came up. It was poignant because I was the only one on the water and the nearest human was fields away. As I watched 'reality' unfold before my eyes I realised that, within that moment, there was no outside influence to distort my perception of the world around me. It was simply me witnessing everything in its purest form, it was an undiluted example of a beautiful world. 

In theory that's what existence should be, unfortunately it isn't, it never really has been and I fear it never will be for vast swaths of the worlds population. In my head the idea of a 'Matrix' came to mind long before the films were ever released. For the Matrix to exist you need to keep the mass of the population under hypnosis, there needs to be certain mechanisms in place to maintain the collective trance. Firstly you need "repetition", for example, "boring repetitive jobs", "advertisements", "marketing campaigns", "radio playlists", "habit forming activities", "meaningless labels" that create division, the list goes on. From the elements listed above, over time, behaviour modification takes place. It's actually this form of modification that we're seeing now with this 'pandemic'. I believe repetition breaks down your resistance, it literally dumbs you down both physically and mentally, turning may into docile unquestioning shells.

Running seamlessly alongside this is "thought control", this is the most important link in the chain, and it comes in many forms, predominantly through information received. This includes the media in all its guises and the related cooperations, TV, movies, celebrities, algorithms, advertisements, social media, think tanks, and let us not forget the Tavistock Institute of human relations. Literally everything that makes up the "modern age" is continually bombarding both our senses and consciousness to the point where we are being programmed without even realising it. Because this has been part and parcel of our everyday lives since birth, our conscious minds are unaware that it's even happening, however our unconscious minds are soaking up everything, the subconscious never sleeps. 

Answer me this, through everything listed above how the hell can you experience any real undiluted reality?. How can you not be influenced by the bullshit around you when you're literally subjected to it every waking second, and more importantly how can you not be influenced and moulded by everything you're seeing and hearing ... and feeling. All of the above is what's driving the current hysteria we're witnessing, all of the above is what's making people blindly follow ludicrous rules and regulations that, with a little common sense and logical thinking, you'll begin to see the absurdity in it all. Since this 'pandemic' came to fruition I feel the crack within the walls of the Matrix has become painfully obvious, if you aren't starting to see it for yourself then I suggest you look a little harder. 

I believe for everything I've mentioned to be solidified into place you need one last element, "distraction". If you can keep people distracted with the meaningless then you can keep them blind to any form of reality or truth. Too me this is the real virus, it's a virus of the "collective mind", distraction falls in line with thought control, it's the same elements that perpetuate it, celebrity obsession, social media, alcohol, drugs, pornography, platforms that enhance self-obsession, narcissism and self focus, and of course, the media. In my mind 'repetition', 'thought control' and 'distraction' are the three main elements that keep the worlds population trapped within the Matrix. To see through it you have to start using your own mind, collecting your own thoughts, feel confident in your own observations, and most important of all, question everything, especially when it's the MSM version of things you're continually being force fed. The puppeteers behind the media are the same entities that keep the whole system/prison in place.

I see the same patterns forming in modern day carp fishing, all these fashionable rigs, baits and items of tackle don't just happen. It's carefully designed marketing campaigns that are selling you the idea that a certain rig or bait will catch you more fish. Those with a modicum of sense will realise this is all just waffle, it's where you put your bait and rig that matters, not all the bells and whistles coming from the mags and DVD's. Through the years of writing my blogs I often get asked why I don't use "modern" rigs and my answer is simple. I see no benefit in changing from what I've been using for the past 30 years. Understanding the waters that you fish is one of the most important elements of carp fishing, for me everything else is simply a distraction.

So let us take a slight rest-bite from the madness and, 'through words', magically transport ourselves back to the Autumn of 2016 where I ventured up to Braxted reservoir for a day session. As I recall I was pretty 'down' on the venue after my last trip, the small nondescript carp appeared to have taken over the place making it a shadow of its former self. The 'Res' use to be a venue that I got excited about, when I first joined Chelmsford, it was one of those places you could go to if you'd been struggling on other waters. It contained a fantastic head of 20's and you always knew you were going to have a productive day. Nowadays it's just not the same and over the past few years it has lost  the appeal it once held for me. But not being one to shun a gut feeling I embraced the enthusiasm, threw everything in the van and headed up the A12 in the hope I could rekindle some of the lost magic.

My enthusiasm to get the rods out made the journey fly by and before I knew it I was pulling into an empty car park down by front lake. All I had to do now was take the torturous walk up to the 'res'. Today I'd opted to use my little margin creeper rods, mini bait runners and my old TLB bite alarms. I was hoping without my normal 12-footers and stainless steel pod, it might just make the uphill journey that little bit easier. With a fast moving sky overhead and a slight bite in the wind, I clamboured up the muddy farm track. Finally reaching the top, I was met with a beautiful windswept landscape and best of all there wasn't a soul in sight. 

View From The Swim

The wind was pushing nicely towards the dam wall, it made sense to fish on the front of it. It wasn't a particularly cold breeze and the carp do have a habit of getting on the front of the wind more times than not. Everything was going to be kept as simple as possible, I was going to fish small-ish PVA mesh bags with both crushed and full boilies in them. I was basically going to fish a mouthful at a time, hoping this might pick out the slightly better carp. I felt that if I started to pile the bait in the small carp would be on it in no time at all. Both rigs would be my usual 'semi-fixed' setups fished on 3oz leads - "blowback" style, my bait of choice was Tigernut & Maple. I wasn't going to be aiming for any particular spots, the rule of thumb would be one rod fished in the marginal areas and one chucked out into the open. I would only recast when and if I got a bite, there's a pretty heavy stock in the res and you can get bites from most places.

Mesh Bag Mouthfuls

  Blow-Back

So with both rods ready to go I deployed the 'mesh bag landmines' into the chaotic water before me, two very satisfying 'PLOPS' occurred followed by the sweet "DONK" that indicates 'we're good to go'. Having used 12ft rods for so long it felt a little strange dealing with my 8.5ft creepers but there was something endearing about them, matched up with my old skool TLB alarms and mini bait-runners, I was actually really looking forward to getting a bite. With the clouds racing overhead and the water fighting with itself in all directions, I took a much deserved seat under my brolly, taking refuge from the chaos. It was now the inevitable wait, I sensed I wouldn't have to wait too long though. I've fished the res in similar conditions to these many times before and it always manages to deliver a few fish. So, a few cups of coffee later and a hell of a lot of daydreaming, the conditions drastically changed for a moment or two, the clouds slowed down and started to disperse and the water became less confused looking. And, as if someone flicked a switch, within minutes, the clouds came back racing faster than before and with that, the water started to fight with itself again.

TLB's & Margin Creepers

Because the res is up so high the weather tends to be a series of extremes, it's a sun trap in the summer and pretty dam unforgiving in the winter. Amid the juggling of conditions my righthand alarm started crackling and bleeping, shortly followed by a monstrous run. Grabbing the rod and leaning into the fish, the reel spun and I just let the carp race off. Every lunge and pull seemed magnified by the shortness of the rod, the fish was kiting all over the place, I could tell I wasn't hooked into one of the small ones, it felt pretty good. Slowly it started to tire and within the flat spots the carp was creating just under the surface I saw a large tail and a pretty decent set of shoulders. As it came in close I slid the net under a lovely looking common carp. 

A Beauty Of A Common

 

This was such a clean fish and an utter pleasure to catch, this carp reminded me of 'the res of old' where fish of this quality where in abundance. I slipped it home and fired the rod back out into the watery void, somewhere far below the bait landed and a "DONK" was felt. The rod was positioned carefully on the alarm, the bobbin was hung primed for another screaming bite. The day started to pass and I was in and out of minor hypnosis staring incessantly and both bobbins as they swung around in the wind. Occasionally one of them would slam against the bank stick, that sound was oddly satisfying. A couple of hours had past me by before the same rod shot off again, the bit was almost identical, the tip of the rod hooped round and my little bait-runner whizzed a like a pneumatic drill. I lifted the rod in my right hand and gently cupped the spool with my left, this felt like another good fish. The battle was pretty intense, I was fighting both the fish and the ridiculous wind smacking me straight in the face. Because the water level was so low I was standing where at least 5ft of water should be, as the wind blew, small waves were lapping on the tips of my boots. As the carp tired I eased another good looking common over the net. 

A Lovely Mid Double

This was another awesome looking carp, I took great pleasure in releasing it back into the chaotic water, paying close attention as it faded from view as it slowly swam away. No time was wasted, I put a fresh bait on, slipped the mesh bag onto the hook and launched it back out into the 'ball-park' area I'd had the two fish from. My margin rod remained motionless, maybe the dropped water level had something to do with this. In theory I was actually setup where fish would usually be feeding. Thinking back I've actually caught carp from the spot that my rods were on.

Low Water Level

The afternoon started to close in, an hour or so past, the next rod to go was the one up the margin, this was a finicky take. The bobbin danced and then pulled up and slapped the blank. Picking the rod up, the carp had already shot right up the margin, as I applied the pressure it kited far out into the open water. It ran out of steam pretty quick and I soon found myself netting a spirited little common carp. This fish represented what you can expect from the res nowadays, the smaller fish have taken over, unfortunately CAA don't own the fish in any of the Braxted waters so they can't manage the stock in the same way they have on their other venues.

Common Number Three

I put the fish straight back and got the rod back out, opting to fire it a little further towards the open water rather than the margin. The rest of the session was uneventful on the fish front but I always enjoy it when the light starts to fade. One of my favourite things about fishing this time of the year is when darkness falls. I like sitting under my shelter and watching the sunset, the only light that can be seen is from my stove if I use it or from my alarms if I get a liner or a run. I love the isolation of being alone on the water in the dark, there's no distractions, no outside influence it's just you and the surrounding planet, free from the Matrix, if only for a short time. I packed away about 7pm and made my way along the res, down the farm track and into the car park, I'd had a great day and my enthusiasm for 'the res' had been rejuvenated slightly.

The Dark

Braxted Reservoir Part Two 'Escaping The Trance'

The sun was high in the sky and there wasn't a cloud in sight, it was a good day. I had a chance to escape the system/trance for a short while, I'd made the decision to head up to Braxted reservoir, it's a water I like to fish when I don't want to fry my brain thinking too deeply about trying to get a bite. When I first joined CAA the reservoir was a water that I'd get really excited about. It contained a lot of 20's with a large stock of upper doubles. You could always guarantee that you where going to have a great day. Unfortunately in recent years I've found 'the res' has become a shadow of its former self, it's now overrun with hundreds of small carp and they've really effected the biomass of the water. Because the club don't own the fish they can't manage the stock like they did so brilliantly on Cants mere. This blog is from summer 2016, it was around this time that I started to see the waters deterioration. 

After a few more visits during 2016 & 2017, come 2018, I'd pulled off the place all together. As I sit writing this, I haven't fished the reservoir for well over a year, and to be honest I don't plan to fish it again, which is a real shame. But putting all that aside, it feels good to revisit the 'res' having not fished it for so long. A week or so before this session I'd taken a trip down to Burrows for literally a few hours. The session was so short that it wasn't really worth writing about, it was a lovely warm evening and I just felt that I had to cast a line. It was an 'off the cuff' decision that produced an 'off the cuff' common, it was a beautiful carp caught close to a sunken tree. It proves that sometimes it pays off to just go to the water, keep everything as simple as possible and see what happens, overthinking and over planning isn't always the way to go - I was very pleased with this capture.

Short Trip Success

On the morning of my session I felt lazy, I didn't see the point in rushing, the 'res' is good for a bite at most times during the day. To keep my head clear and avoid the possibility of 'thought pollution' I kept both the television and radio off, my wife had gone to work so I opted to eat my breakfast in silence thinking about the day ahead. The windows of both my front room and bedroom where wide open, the sun was beaming in, the net curtains were swaying as the breeze flew through my front window then exiting out the back. In the distance I could hear the sounds of the city, there were sirens, a constant hum of traffic and the occasional rumble as the train trundled along the track that's situated just a short distance away. I love mornings like this, especially when I can get 'the hell outta dodge'. Once the van was loaded I eased my way through the roads of SE7 and down onto the Woolwich road. The traffic was awful and as I looked into the distance I could see that the Woolwich road flyover was jammed right up. 

Living in London, this is the price I have to pay for not getting up at the crack of dawn, from feeling so relaxed I now started to feel wound up. Sitting in a static jam with a thousand exhaust pipes spitting poison, it was clear I needed to get out of the city before it got the better of me. As I looked at all the cars and all the people in these cars staring lifeless ahead of them, I couldn't help but think they were all in the trance that I'd spoken of in my last blog. So here I was desperately trying to escape the system, trapped motionless with a lung full of poison, as me and hundreds of others sat contained in our 'four wheeled' prison cells. I had no choice but to just sit there, silently wishing that those around me would just evaporate. After a very slow crawl I eventually found myself engulfed by the tubular hell that is the Blackwall tunnel, I can't put into words just how much I detest this 'eyesore'.

The Rat Race

Going northbound through the tunnel never feels quite right, I'm heading towards the city and everything gets really claustrophobic. The buildings tend to swallow the sky and everyone is fighting their way through the streets. Coming back southbound has a completely different feel about it, it's as if I'm escaping. Living on the outskirts of the capital is the perfect place to be, you generally don't feel trapped, everything appears more spread out and I have an exit route to the waters literally at the end of my road. Exiting the tunnel and now moving at pace, London was soon a speck in the rear view mirror. I opened the windows of the van and let the warm fresh air blast all the cobwebs of the city out of my ears. The journey flew by and as I turned off the A12 and on to the final stretch to Braxted, I was feeling excited. Pulling into the car park it was practically empty. Taking a quick wander, there were a couple of guys on back lake, front lake was empty.

The Walk Of Doom

Once my barrow was loaded I took a moment to prepare myself for the killer walk up to the reservoir. There's no easy way of doing it, it's a long hike, mostly up hill and just when you think you're getting to the top. You turn a corner and the hill gets progressively steeper, it's at the top of this final slope that the prize awaits and the dam wall end of the 'res' comes into view. As I stood at the peak of the hill I was hit by a lovely warm breeze that was firing down from the shallows, I took a few very deep breaths, I really needed them after the crippling walk. The res is surrounded by farmers fields so the wind can really pick up, when it's warm the carp have a tendency to get on the front of it. I didn't bother walking the water before setting up, I decided to be 'predictable' and fish tight to the dam wall over a heavy spread of bait. It's not brain surgery extracting the carp from the 'res', keeping it simple was the way to go. My bait of choice for this session was the 'tiger-fish', I'd been doing really well on it. Before even setting my rods up I put out about half a kilo making sure I spread it all over the area that I was planning to put my baits. Today was going to be pure boilie fishing.

View From The Swim

Regarding my rigs, I fancied a change, I'd been using my semi-fixed setup for so long. It works fine and I'm 100% confident in it, I just felt like using something different. I decided to revert back to the good old running rig. I feel this specific setup is so underused nowadays, I'd always done well on it. I can't help but wonder if some of the fish living in the more pressured waters are starting to get use to 'bolt-style' setups. I think this is something I'm going to explore over the coming months, when you think about a fishes instinctive reaction to bolt upon feeling resistance. How long does it take for a carp to go against its instincts and simply eject the bait upon feeling the weight. When I first started carp fishing I used the running rig exclusively. In past blogs I've made it no secret that initially I just couldn't get my head around the concept of a bolt rig. I was totally convinced that upon feeling the lead the fish simply dropped the bait and buggered off. Personally I believe this happens more than we think, are those single bleeps really just line bites or has a carp just ejected us, I guess this is something we'll never truly know. In the meantime I think a running setup is something I'll be moving over to.

A Simple Running Rig

    

With both rods now rigged up I was ready for the casts, I wasn't going to bother clipping up. The area that I'd baited was large, I felt that I didn't really have to worry about being super accurate. I knew that when the fish move in they're 'sure as hell' going to find my hook bait, they have a tendency to be in groups and they seem to feed heavy. Both casts were executed, both rigs plopped into the water and a soft "DONK" was felt as each came to land on the bottom. The make up of the bottom near the dam wall is mostly soft clay and silt, I love this specific area because you can literally see the carp moving in and feeding. You can almost predict when the bites are going to occur, you'll get a mass of 'fizzing' and then all hell breaks loose. Now with both baits in position I proceeded to put out another large helping of tiger-fish. I must admit, I've got to be careful because I find myself getting strangely addicted to using the throwing stick. I get a real sense of satisfaction listening to the sound the boilies make as they whizz out the end of the tube. To aid accuracy I like to give them a dip in lake water, they tend to exit the stick better than when they're dry.

Give-em A Soak

With the rods out and the bobbins clipped onto the lines, I got my swim organized and took a much needed seat. Looking through my scope I could already see some fizzing coming up in several areas where I'd put the bait in. My left hand rod which was positioned slightly further along the dam wall was bleeping and knocking. Within a matter of minutes it was away, I was on it fast and as I lent into the fish it bolted hard up towards some low lying branches. I could tell that this was a good carp, it was heavy, before I even managed to gain proper control, it had bolted under the branches. Everything went solid, as fast as the fish was on, it was gone, leaving me with a sick taste in my mouth. The rig was now very clearly stuck, I suspected there was probably a "get out clause" underneath the branches that the carp use to ditch many an angler. I cupped the spool and very slowly walked backwards keeping the pressure solid and consistent. Further and further back I walked, the mono was literally as tight as a 'military style' tripwire. I kept walking backwards, then ..... 'ping', the rig was free and as I retrieved it, thankfully I'd managed to bend the hook out leaving zero tackle in the water. 

Red Arrow Points To "Get Out Clause"

In my mind this was a false start so, after taking a long deep breath, I tied on a fresh hook-link and propelled the rig back out. Give or take a few inches, it pretty much landed in the same position. I now knew where the fish were going to head if that rod went off again, I decided to lock the clutch right up, I didn't want to be giving an inch. I put some more bait out, concentrating on spreading it right up to the spot the carp had ditched me. With the throwing stick still in hand, my right rod tore away. This fish bolted sharp to the right and headed straight towards the corner. I applied some serious side-strain to pacify its initial run. After an early explosion of energy the fish came in pretty easy. I had a feeling this carp must visit the bank a lot, it literally waved the white flag and jumped in the landing net. I felt slightly underwhelmed, it was a nice surprise to see a mirror engulfed in the mesh, considering most of the carp in the 'res' are commons. Unfortunately it was pretty beaten up, I took a few quick shots, applied some "propolis" to some of its old battle scars and quickly slipped it back.

      
A Weathered Looking Mirror

I got the rig back out followed by another helping of bait, during all this I'd been receiving liners on my other rod. There were definitely carp in my swim, it hadn't taken them long to move in at all. I reckon due to the wind direction there were fish milling around the area before I'd even turned up. With both rods back out I took a seat and continued to peer through my scope, I could see fizzing all over the place, it wasn't long before both alarms and bobbins were fidgeting like crazy. It was my left rod that was the next to go, the bobbin shot to the top and the rod started to get dragged off the rest. I was on it before 'panic mode' kicked in, the fish shot up fast towards the "get out clause", I managed to steer it away easily, this fish clearly wasn't as large as the 'escape artist' that had imitated 'Houdini' earlier on. It kited right out into the deeper water directly in front of me, I just let it run and slowly eased it towards me. I was enjoying this fight, the fish was frantic but it was a very pleasurable experience, thanks to my "3IB Ballistas". After a spirited tussle I slipped the net under a little silvery common.

Bite Number Two

Before taking a few photos I fired another couple of handfuls of bait into the swim. My other rod was bleeping and knocking so I slipped the carp back quickly just in case it went off, I didn't want to be juggling fish. I got the rod back out, hung the bobbin and sat there peering through my scope. There were clear signs of fish in the area, from a distance the swim looked pretty lifeless. It shows the importance of having a scope or binoculars of some type. I've got into the habit of using 'magnification' most of the time, it's amazing what you can see if you really look, there have been times when I was going to reel in and reposition my rigs, when on closer inspection with a scope, you could clearly see that there were carp in the vicinity. So there I was sitting on the edge of my seat peering through my 'magnification', both rods where crackling with liners. It was tense stuff, I knew a bite was imminent, sure enough my right rod screamed off. Picking it up I suspected this was one of the smaller carp, there was no pull and it was zigzagging all over the place, it wasn't taking any line, I even loosened the clutch just to hear the addictive 'ticking', it came in close and literally jumped into the net. It was another 'weathered' looking fish. For some reason, with each bite that came I was feeling more and more uninspired.

A Uninspiring Third Bite

I slipped the fish back fed the swim some more and got the rig back out. I don't know exactly what it was but I was starting to feel somewhat deflated. This was very odd for me, it was lovely being out on such a warm and bright day but the overall feeling of the 'res' and the fish I was catching appeared to be putting a dampener on proceedings. Even though the session was suppose to be a laid back affair. I couldn't help but think that I now wanted far more out of my fishing than waters like the reservoir provide. I wasn't enjoying catching these carp, it had nothing to do with the size of them, it was the condition that was getting me down. I think the carp in the 'res' are so pressured and many of them have been caught loads of times before, add the amount of small carp living in the water to the equation, and it all just feels a bit crap. The magic I felt when I first fished the place had clearly vanished. Whilst I sat contemplating the situation, my left rod tore off. Just like the bite before, it was shooting from left to right but it wasn't taking any line. Only when it was under the rod tip did it wake up, as it surfaced I caught a glimpse of another nondescript common. As I lowered the net it made a last ditch attempt to escape but was soon engulfed in the mesh.

  

More Of The Same  

Slipping the fish back I decided to reel my other rod in and stop fishing for awhile, I suspected that a large-ish shoal of smaller carp might be sitting on my bait. The plan was to let them clear me out and hopefully they'd move off, then later I'd cast a couple of singles back out and see if I could tempt a better fish. The large carp always seem to come later on in the day. It was 3:30pm now so the plan was to cast out at 5pm, I put the kettle on, brewed a coffee and decided to go for a walk around the water. I made my way up towards the shallows, looking out over all the fields, there wasn't any sign of another human anywhere, I had the whole place to myself. Just for a second I wondered what it would feel like to own my own lake, it's always been a dream of mine, being all alone with only the water as company, I imagined that both the reservoir and the fields that surround it were mine. I think it would feel pretty special to own your own secret water, you could hand pick the carp and give them a good home, I wouldn't fish it. I'd leave them alone to grow up and have a peaceful life. I imagine time spent watching both the fish and the water mature would be a very cathartic experience. There would be no restraint or control, nature would simply take its course.

Amid The Fields

As I reached the shallows I half expected to see loads of fish milling around, it was surprisingly quiet, I spotted a couple but nothing to really write home about. Sipping my coffee whilst the odd twig cracked underfoot, I felt better just existing by the water than actually having my rods out. Now on the opposite bank from where I'd set up, my swim looked a mile away and the dam wall looked huge. It's amazing how the perspective of both the swims and the water can change depending on where you're standing. I made my way down the bank and onto the stretch of the dam wall, all the branches were overgrown and obstructing the path. I clambered through until my swim was in view, with the mini expedition over I daydreamed and watched the water right up until 5pm. Then both rigs, each with a single hook bait, got launched back into the swim. Now with the bobbins hung and a newly found enthusiasm, I sat static staring across the water. 

The early evening is by-far my favorite time, activity on the water tends to increase and the 'magic-hour', more times than not, tends to produce a take or two. It was dead on 6pm when my left rod ripped away, this was a violent bite, I immediately it was a better fish. As I lent into it my 'Ballista' arched right over, I swear I heard the blank give off a 'yelp'. With the clutch humming, the carp made its way across the open water at a serious pace. This was the first bite of the day that I felt excited about it was pile-driving, left, right and center, I was embroiled in a real battle. With the sun slowly lowering, I was still totally alone with the water to myself, standing connected to a mystery that was minutes away from coming into view. As the carp came in closer, it surfaced, it was a long looking common with a lovely grey back and white belly. Catching a quick glimpse, I was eager to get it in the net, closer and closer it came, it was now in spitting distance of the landing net. After one last run around I was soon netting a beauty of common carp.

A Perfect Fish To End The Day

Once the fish was safe in the cradle I took time to admire it, there was one slightly damaged scale that I treated. Apart from that it was spotless and a solid reminded of why I use to love the 'res' so much. I know that between the hoarders of tiny carp that now inhabit the place, there's always going to be a few secrets swimming around somewhere. I decided not to cast out again, instead I reeled both rods in and slowly packed away. With the sun lower in the sky than it was an hour ago, I took one last look at the 'res', the mallards were fighting and the coots were skipping along the waters skin. I trundled down the hill and onward through the farm yard, the scent of cow poo hit me as I past the the cattle buildings. It had been a strange day, it was only towards the end that I started to feel inspired. I just genuinely feel like I've grown out of the place, it would be November when I'd revisit the res for my next session. In the meantime, in the short-term, I'm going to be heading back down Burrows for a series of sessions where I concentrate all my efforts on a section of the water that I call the 'bottle-neck'.

The journey home was easy, I flew down the A12 at a leisurely pace, I was driving towards the sun, minute by minute it slowly fell below the horizon line. As I edged closer and closer to London I could feel the traffic getting heavier, I could feel the system closing down around me. To avoid the 'thought pollution' I kept the radio off, once home I didn't switch the television on. Between now and the next session I was going to do my best to avoid the 'psychological ball & chain' the media like to put on our thought process. But I knew it was going to be tough, it just a matter of time before both 'the trance' & 'the hypnotists' would do their best to muddy the waters, to continue to divide all of us. I was counting the days till I could, once again, make my escape and leave our engineered reality behind. It turned out I'd be back out within the fortnight, I look forward to sharing the next set of sessions with you. It's and interesting section of water that I focused on with some equally interesting results.     

  

"When you get the time, cast your lines and break the trance". 

Braxted Reservoir 'The Spinning Coin'

I woke up under the clearest of skies, above my head the deepest of one hundred thousand blues. The sun was bright and high in the sky, the breeze was light and warm, I love days like these so much. The conditions were perfect to be out on the water, however I was up and out early for different reasons, I had work to do. Walking to the van without my tackle felt odd and very frustrating. Hopping up into the cab and reluctantly turning the key in the ignition, I suddenly had a wild thought. I was heading up to Colchester but after that my day was free. It occurred to me that on the way up I pass by Braxted. If everything goes according to plan, once I'd done my work I could swing by the waters for an afternoon session. I wouldn't have a great deal of time but it was worth a shot.

One Hundred Thousand Blues

Before I'd even finished that thought I was racing back into my flat to get my tackle. It was all very undignified, I literally grabbed everything by the handful, dragged it out the door and 'carefully' threw it all in the back of the van, smelly fishing clothes included. Now with the engine humming, I opened all the windows fully, cranked the stereo up to 'ear bleeding' volume and made my way out of the city. I whizzed up the motorway and on towards the Dartford tunnel, the music was pumping hard. I had no doubt that the monstrous riffs of the 'self-titled Killing Joke album' were battering everyone within a mile radius. As I entered the tunnel, the music carried and reverberated to crazy levels, I instantly got flashbacks to 'Donnington Monsters Of Rock' 1993.

As I reached the A12 I had a head full of carp and music, the adrenaline was racing through my veins and my thoughts were already at the waters edge. How was I going to fish?, Should I fish zigs?, both of these questions couldn't be answered until I was in my swim and ready for the casts. I simply couldn't wait to get to the lake, however, I still had to hold onto some kind of reality, I was forgetting I had a job on. The journey seemed to last forever and as I past Braxted on the way up, I started to get pretty dam impatient. The miles limped by, the minutes felt like hours. After what felt like a lifetime I eventually rolled into my destination, 'Status-Graphite'. It's a small family run business that builds both guitars and basses out of wood and graphite, they supply to some of the biggest touring bands in the world. What they produce is total quality - if 'Status' built fishing rods, 'I'd take 12 sets'.     

The Task Was Easy

The place has a strange connection to my fishing, one of the craftsmen that works there is the son of the late great Roger Heaton who was bailiff on Kingfishers Hoo complex. I always have a coffee and we have a little natter about all things angling, sadly Roger passed away December 2017. I will miss him very much and the lakes just wont feel the same without him around. So after much conversation, coffees were finished and the guitars were left for servicing, my next destination was the water. I sparked the vans ignition, opened the windows fully again, set the stereo to 'stun' and I was on the road once more. The journey back flew by and before I knew it I was winding down the old farm track to the Braxted car park. As I pulled up, to my surprise, the whole complex was empty, there were no cars and no signs of another human anywhere. It was looking like I had the whole place to myself.

I hopped into the back of the van and covertly changed into my 'stinky' fishing threads. I then took a slow walk around both the front and back lake. By this time some heavy cloud cover started to move in over head, this changed the feel of the day drastically. I had a feeling though that it might actually improve the fishing. Back lake looked lovely and I was tempted, however I knew that come 5:30 it would start to fill up with anglers 'that are only after the big one'. I didn't really want to find myself hemmed in between lots of guys casting out to their 'pre-baited' spots, some of whom think they own the lake. I decided to give it a swerve, the choice was now between the res or front lake, I really couldn't make up my mind. After a good 15 minutes of juggling random 'pros & cons' around in my head, I decided to flip a coin, heads 'the res' & tails 'front lake'.

Heads Or Tails

Prising out a slightly discolored two pence piece from my wallet, I flipped it off my thumb and waited for the decision to reveal itself to me. The penny twirled in the air for a second or two and then hit the floor with a muted thud. It was 'heads', the 'res' it was, the idea of the back breaking walk up wasn't inspiring me much but the coin had spoken. I began the killer journey, it really doesn't get any easier, as usual, by the time I got to the top I was seeing double. This was actually an improvement, usually I'm on the verge of blacking out. By this time it was mid afternoon so I was looking at about 4/5 hours of fishing, that was more than enough to tempt a bite or two. Being the only one up there felt inspiring, it was like a doorway to another world that only I had the key to.

I did a quick lap before deciding where to set up, surprisingly there weren't any signs of fish. This was very rare, the carp in the res are usually pretty clumsy at giving their location away. The water looked dead so I thought I'd follow the wind. It was pushing nicely down towards the dam wall, I'm usually reluctant to fish the dam swim because it gets hammered, but I thought it was worth a go. I was now in two minds whether to fish zigs or bottom baits, I was having a day of extreme 'indecisiveness' so instead of spending more time tangled in thought. I got the coin out again, heads 'zigs' & tails 'bottom baits'. A nice sharp thumb flick saw the coin twirling in the air once more, it hit the deck on tails, the coin had spoken, I'd be fishing on the bottom.

The dam wall swim has a few "go to areas" but I wasn't planning to target any of these. I wanted to get a spot going in the slightly deeper water, the plan was to fish both rods close together and load the swim up with a lot of bait. Taking into consideration that I didn't have a great deal of time, it might sound stupid to be fishing with a lot of bait, but I just a had a feeling that it was the right way to go. There's a pretty high stock of fish in the res and I always use a lot of bait when I'm fishing on the bottom. As usual everything was going to be kept really simple, I'd be fishing running rigs in combination with bottom baits. My bait of choice was 'Tigerfish', I'd be fishing a single boilie on the hair with a small mesh bag containing crushed Tigerfish and a few high oil pellets. This would add a little bit of extra attraction around my hook bait.   

Crushed Tiger Fish

I performed a few measured casts in the 'ball park' area I was planning to target. Both rods were then clipped up to 13 rod lengths, I made the penultimate casts, both landed perfectly. It worked out that both rigs were roughly a rod length away from each other. I then proceeded to spread about a kilo and a half of freebies in and around the area. It was a proper big spread, I didn't keep it too tight, I wanted to draw the carp in and get them feeding confidently. Working on the basis that over the past year or so, a lot of smaller fish seemed to be coming through. I wanted enough bait out there to, 'hopefully' attracted the slightly larger ones. Both alarms were flicked on, bobbins were hung and I could finally take a seat.

View From The Swim

It had been a pretty busy day and it seemed like a hell of a lot of effort for what would only amount to a couple of hours. But I'm always up for getting the rods out whenever possible, you don't have to be doing long haul sessions. Within twenty minutes of setting up all the clouds cleared and it was bright sunshine once again. My favorite kind of day had returned, I sat there alone by the water watching everything around me. The light breeze continued to push down towards the dam, gulls cut through the sky above and the usual politics was occurring between the mallards and coots, they appear to be forever at war. Sitting surveying everything around the water, the real world seemed like it was a million miles away, which was fine with me, for the next few hours I had no interest in it.

Over the next hour or so I started to receive a few liners and a couple of carp topped towards the back of my spot. There were definitely fish moving in on my bait and all the signs were pointing to a bite. I grabbed my binoculars and started scanning the area, I clocked a few patches of bubbles. They were quite hard to see because the ripples were obscuring them but I counted at least five separate patches. Now with a slightly raised heart rate I sat as still as a statue and focused on my rod tips, one could go at any second. More line bites started and as my attention went from my tips, to the water, and back again. A huge eruption appeared directly over my right hand rod, you could literally see the silt clouding in the upper layers.

The Tip Of My Attention

BANG! my right rod exploded into life, the buzzer screamed and the clutch whirled and clicked, grabbing the rod and leaning into the madness. The blank arched round and I was connected to, what felt like, a really good fish. It was steaming at speed out into the open water, I held on tight, with the sun low over head I was being blinded by the reflection on the surface of the water. I literally couldn't see anything, I clambered up holding the rod in one hand and managed to grab my polarized sunglasses with the other. Waiting for the bright blotches to disappear from within my eyes-balls, I was 'back in the game'. At this point I hadn't gained any ground so I decided to let the carp 'blow its load' and then start to tease it back towards me.

I wasn't in any rush, this fish felt heavy so I just braced for the ride, after another 10 minutes or so I finally started to guide her my way. It was now only a short distance out and as it fought for every inch of its life, just below the surface, the suns rays suddenly reflected off a huge flank of large mirror scales, that's a moment I'll never forget. I instantly knew which fish it was. A few years back an angler I got talking to on the bank had showed me a photo of this specific fish. To say that it's unique looking is an understatement. I was now feeling really nervous and as I lowered the net down and went for the final scoop, I prayed to god that it would go in with no fuss. To my relief the carp cruised over the cords with no sudden bid for freedom. 

A Shimmering Prize

I couldn't quite believe what I was witnessing, this was an incredible example of a mirror carp and I can safely say that it was way up there with one of the best I've ever caught. It was an honour to be able to hold such a mind blowing creature. It seemed that passing both my choices and decisions over to a measly, discolored two pence coin really paid off. It wasn't something I was going to make a habit of but fate had definitely dealt me a winning hand. I gave the fish a good soaking with some water, checked its mouth which was perfect - 'due to the fact I hadn't bullied it'. Now it was time to get a few shots, preserve the memory and then send her back home.

Pure Perfection - in every sense

To say I was happy would be dishonest, I was blown away, I was so pleased that I'd decided to make the effort to fish today, this capture wouldn't of happened otherwise. It just goes to show, like many times before, short sessions can pay off. If the fish are feeding and you drop in on them then you can get quick results. The rest of the afternoon passed me by without another bite, this really didn't bother me, to be able to sit and watch the day slowly decay into evening was a simple pleasure, I packed up 'a happy man'. The long walk back down to the van was a blur and as I started my journey home, with both windows wide open and the stereo pumping out some hard and heavy riffs. I once again felt lucky to have angling in my life, you just never know what might happen. This short and 'indecisive' session will be one that I'll remember for many years to come. Where will I end up next? I might just let the coin decide.

Heads Or Tails?

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!