Burrows 'Echoes From The Valley' Part 14

"It would appear that desperate times call for desperate measures and within these desperate times it seems that many people would rather step on your neck than hold their hand out to pull you through"

Observations Of The Outside World

I haven't written a blog for quite some time now, I've been preoccupied with life, work has been busy and I haven't really felt like communicating with the outside world at all. Not only that but 'via social media', something I genuinely try to stay away from, the whole 'modern carp fishing' scene and the concept of social media as a whole has been grinding on me, so much so that I've decided to delete my twitter account, the jury is still open on the 'page' I have on Facebook, not having an actual profile keeps me away from endless status updates, second to that, Instagram isn't so bad, I like the idea of sharing imagery. To me, it appears a vast majority of people out there are trying to be "rock stars", "angling gurus" or "social media sensations". Everyone's an artist, model, creative, dancer, writer, painter, sculpture, song writer and the most perplexing of all, a "Mental Health Advocate".  To me it all just comes across as an egotistical load of complete bollocks. Being so effected by mental health problems myself this "Mental Health Advocate" term seems to be used by people that want to gain more followers because of "their amazing contribution to mental health awareness" which in reality usually ends up with them just continually updating everyone on how bad they feel all the time, thus creating a platform to get the attention they so obviously crave. This 'observation' might come across as harsh, but having suffered with severe mental health problems myself, and still do, it's a subject, I not only have a huge amount of experience with, but it's something I'm very sensitive about. I can assure you that when I was manic, psychotic, chronically depressed, delusional and suicidal, the last thing on my mind was updating my social media informing everyone of my condition. But alas ........ we now live in a very narcissistic and shallow world and people will do just about anything to get that dopamine hit they continually require.     

Habitually Distracted

The way I see it, this continuous obsession with followers, likes and retweets is contributing towards the erosion of rational thought. However hard I tried I found myself preoccupied with the meaningless, I needed that notification fix, it's like my consciousness was split into two halves, one half was in the real world, the other, tangled in a virtual universe that held no baring on reality. I found myself looking for validation off of a bunch of strangers I'd never even met. HASH-TAGS were becoming a new language, all my thoughts had to be edited down to fit into 280 characters or less, my phone became an interface to access a reality that held absolutely no weight in the material world. I personally think social media is a virus within itself, it's a new form of mental illness and since quitting, all of a sudden the 'white noise' has fallen silent and I can, once again, think clearly, not be a victim of social engineering and not deprive myself of reality. Unplugging myself from "the Interface" is a beautiful feeling. These blogs will be my smoke signals to the outside world.

the interface

a vast junkyard of wasted humans,
forgotten geniuses eaten away
by their own genius,
derelict hosts once so nuanced 
prescribed an ‘overdose’
I’m living a counterfeit life
all seems real to an untrained eye,
it’s the era of the ‘death of self’
familiar imagery, thousands
having mastered mimicry
I haven’t heard one true voice

since we’ve wired ourselves
into the interface
we’re forced to participate,
the mob can’t wait to retaliate
to opposing views that challenge
their delusion, I feel the confusion,
it all seems such a waste,
I’ve spent years trying to cut
my connection to the interface,
it’s malpractice, a database
used to debase, a tool
to develop our predecessor
a freedom oppressor

So now I've finally decided to put "finger to keyboard", as you all know, I'm writing to you from a very different world, a somewhat uglier world than it was before, if that's possible. As you're aware, there is a virus, 'which I believe has been released on purpose' that is 'apparently' infecting thousands of people all over the planet. People are 'apparently' dying in numbers and with the help from the scaremongering media, ..... social media being the other main culprit yet again, .... we are now witnessing hysteria at a level never witnessed before. I've always said that "the true measure of the man is how he deals with a crisis", everyone can be a great thoughtful person when everything is going well. But when the shit hits the fan you tend to see people for what they really are. What I'm witnessing by the majority disgusts me beyond belief, the general public are like a pack of jackals scrambling over each other, tearing metaphorical flesh from the metaphorical bone as they strip the supermarket shelves and shops of anything and everything, caring, not one jot for those around them. 

Living in London you tend to see far more 'pond life' than you do if you're living out of town in more rural areas. But right now, human behaviour in every town and city has shown me that disconnecting from the masses and the fucked up social conditions that molds everyone's thought's and personalities has been the right decision to make. It's proven that in a crisis the majority turn into savages who are only looking after number 1. I'm sure there are some considerate people out there but I'm yet to meet them. I have no desire to communicate with those that have no thought for anyone other than themselves. I have nothing in common with those that take the moral high ground only went it suits them, I like people to be real not fake or a different person depending on whatever situation they're currently in. So whilst mankind continues to demonstrate that the distance between the evolution of the amoeba and the human is a lot less developed than one might think, I'll continue to 'stay down amongst' until this all blows over.   

So moving on to more positive things, over the winter I took a step back from fishing more than I'd done for a good few years, to be honest this worked in my favor. Not only did I enjoy my time on the bank more I also had some really productive sessions resulting in some really good fish, most notably the awesome mirror below. I don't know exactly what the driving force was but everything just fell perfectly into place. All my casts seem to be spot on, all my freebies were hitting the target and all the carp appeared to be playing ball. Compared to recent years we've had a pretty mild winter so I'm sure that this played a big part, marry that with the waters I chose to fish, it's no real surprise the bites came along.

A Cold Water Carp

So let us take the final journey back to the last two sessions that I did in the bottle-neck swim, all my recent blogs from the "Echoes From The Valley Series" are focused around this specific area of the water. It was a swim I was determined to make work for me, it turned into a complete single minded obsession. Results started off slowly but with a little persistence it started to fall into place. If you missed the first blog in this specific installment you can read it here Part 1. This blog will be accounting for my last two short sessions before I moved on elsewhere. The reason the last two sessions ended up being relatively short was due to the fact that most of the bites I'd had ended up being between 3:30 & 4:30 in the afternoon. Instead of getting up at the crack of dawn and waiting all day for the bite, it made sense for me to turn up just before bite time and leave once the take had materialized. It became clear to me that the swim was a bite a day if you approached it correctly. I think my first session was an exception, two bites came because it was very clear that carp were feeding there in numbers.

View From The Swim

On the day of my fist session I arrived at the water around 2:30 in the afternoon, the sun was shining, overhead the clouds were broken and there wasn't even a whisper of a breeze. The world seemed pretty dam perfect, fishing this area had now become second nature. I got my alarms and pod sorted, constructed the rods, rigged up and got both baits out with zero fuss. Today I'd decided on a bait change, I was using Tigernut & Maple, it's another bait I have a huge amount of confidence in. Just like all the sessions before, I baited relativity heavy over both rods, with the bait change came a rig change as well. Bottom baits had served me well but taking into consideration that both spots hold a lot of silt I decided to fish a pop up on a 'Withy pool rig', this would be fished on a helicopter system. The 'Withy' is such an underused rig nowadays. To be fair I haven't used it a great deal in recent times, mainly because I'm fishing waters where I don't need to use pop ups, but it's definitely one of my favorite ways to present a popped up bait.

The Withy

Anytime I'm using a Withy or something similar I always set it up so the bait sinks through the water nice and slow, this ensures that the rig will sit over any debris or silt that might be on the bottom. I create my own curves so I have them in a variety of heights and lengths, some are more aggressive than others, basically I make sure I've got options depending on where and what I'm fishing over. Once all the freebies were deposited there was nothing left to do other than wait for that bite to come. Once thing I love about this specific swim is the tree cover you have, it's the perfect place to sit in the shade, and as the wind blows, the leafy branches above gently sway and occasionally create an opening where the sun can fire through. Sitting there with the warmth of the sun on my face made me realize what a multifaceted pass time angling was, without sounding too obvious, it's not all about catching fish. 

It didn't take long for the time to pass and before I knew it 3:30 was upon me and the prospect of a bite was edging ever closer. The breeze started to pick up and just like clockwork, I started to get liners off of both rods, with some careful observation I could see evidence of feeding, mainly over my right hand spot. Just as 4:00 approached my right hand rod sprung into life ..... result, gently lifting into the fish, the rod arched round and the clutch whirled and ticked. This felt like a good one, I took it easy, there was no reason to panic, I let the fish lunge, pull and thrust, gently cushioning each blow. It really woke up under the rod tip and made ample use of the deep margins, as it began to tire I started to see a fleeting glimpse of a lovely looking common carp, it was deep bodied and almost perfect looking. A touch more patience saw it in the net, as I looked down at my prize, it was clear I'd caught another one of Burrows beauties. 

A Classic Common

My hunch about the bite time had been confirmed again, it appeared they definitely seemed to visit this spot to feed later on in the day. I believe the one main point that helped the area remain productive was the simple fact I'd be fishing it consistently over a period of time and a lot of bait had gone in. I didn't see the point in staying any longer, a second bite rarely comes, the plan was to come back the next day and pretty much replicate what I'd done today.

Back Tomorrow

After getting some odd jobs done in the morning I headed down to the water for about 2:30 again. The conditions were slightly different to the day before. There was more of a breeze on the water and it was way more overcast, it felt nice and fresh. I got both baits out straight away, placed the rods on the floor and then proceeded to set both my pod and alarms up. I reverted back to bottom baits on both rods, there was no real reason for this, I was baiting the swim with Tigernut & Maple but I was fishing Green Lipped Mussel on the hook with small mesh bags of crushed GLM and Bio CP2 Amino crumb. Again, there was no real reason for the hook bait change, I just fancied trying something different. There are times when I have a short attention span over a certain approach or bait, I have 100% confidence in all the different baits I use, hence why I do switch them around quite often.

View From The Swim

GLM Hook Bait & A Crumb Mesh Bag 

 GLM & Bio Cp2 Amino Crumb

So just like the day before I twiddled my thumbs until around 3:30 and once the magic hour arrived I sat on my chair watching closely for signs of feeding fish. On cue I started to get liners and I could see streams of bubbles coming up from the right hand area again. After another few minutes of 'fidgeting', the rod fired off, a huge explosion of bubbles erupted from the spot at the split second the alarm screamed. Making contact with this fish I could feel that it was decent, they were slow powerful lunges and it plodded about in a 'hippo like fashion'. As usual, underneath the rod tip was where it really woke up, after a fair tug-of-war I netted a large pale looking mirror. I knew instantly that I'd had this carp before, if my memory served me correctly it was about 22IB. I didn't bother weighing it but I suspected it was of a similar weight. It's certainly not the best looking fish Burrows has to offer but it was appreciated none the less. 

Repeat Capture

This fish signaled the end of the session for me, not only that but it closed my time fishing the "bottle-neck", I was really happy with all the fish that I'd had but I wanted to move on to some different waters now. This whole period of time has shown me that if you stick to a certain area, keep the bait going and plug away, it's possible to get steady results. Taking into consideration I couldn't buy a bite from this swim in the past, I was more than happy with the outcome. 

Mission Accomplished

Cants Mere 'The Perfect Sky'

So here we are in the middle of a heatwave, the world outside my window is burning up in more ways than one. There's discontent, a distinctive sense of unease as the perpetual propaganda machine insists on keeping the population fighting amongst itself. London town feels more like a concrete desert rather than a buzzing metropolitan city. It's during these periods where I usually grab my rods and get the hell out of town, but with the severe heat continually pounding down on the waters. I'm finding the carp are literally fixed in a docile trance - 'which in turn puts me in one as well'. I need adrenaline in my life, something to get the blood flowing and the heart pounding. Angling provides all these things for me and without it I really don't feel right at all. However, part of angling is to understand when you're using your time wisely and when you aren't. I've said it before, but you've got to go when you know the fish are up for it - whatever the weather. Summer can be a very misleading part of the season, it might be nice out on the banks, you can get a nice tan and sunbathe, but the long and short of it is, it really isn't the best conditions, especially when carp are involved.

On the whole, it has been really tough, I've managed to pick a few off but, for the most it, I feel I've been 'flogging a dead horse'. This can have a few downsides, from an angling point of view, you can burn yourself out easily when it's clear that it just isn't happening. Secondly, and on a more personal level, with no means of escape, I'm subjected to the painfully ordinary 'everyday' that I've spent my life trying so hard to avoid. The days just seem to drift on by, I work and try to write but if you're not stimulated then there's nothing to really write about, all in all it's a very frustrating time. So to ease my slightly 'shackled' feelings I'd like to take you back to a 'short' afternoon session that I did up on Cants mere. This blog harks back to the start of summer in 2016, it's hard to believe that so much time has passed me by but when you're in a perpetual state of 'pursuit', time just doesn't come into it, you're forever focused on the next water, the next cast and the next potential piece of the wild being eased over the landing net cords. Factor in the constant search for words, both poetically and for the blogs, you really don't have much mental space for anything else.

Escape The Monotony

My past sessions on Cants had been successful and I knew there were some more good fish to be had, word still hadn't really got out about the size of the carp that now resided there. I was sticking to my original plan, I'd focus on the water hard and when the crowds started to arrive I'd simply ghost off and start fishing somewhere else. Over the last year or so I've started to choose my waters carefully. When the banks are heaving and everyone is chasing the same prize, it sucks every ounce of enjoyment out of it for me. Hence why I don't just jump on the day ticket circuit, the idea of turning up to Linear or Farlows and hemming myself in between hundreds of other lines is my idea of hell. I value isolation and peace far more than the chance of a 30/40IB fish. There's part of me that feels if I did fish these types of places I may well have a few bigger carp underneath my belt, but I've got to stay true to myself. Part of my own fishing is the continuous search for the perfect space. That destination between the 'here and now', that feels like the perfect home, it's a location you can't really describe in words, but you know in your heart when you've found it.

The Perfect Sky

On the day of the session I was pretty eager to get going, for two main reasons. Firstly the conditions felt spot on, it was really overcast with rain showers and a lovely strong wind. As I stepped foot outside, hung right above my head, was the perfect sky. I've fished under this type of sky before and I've always had a good result. Secondly, after the best part of 25 years of searching, I'd finally managed to get hold of a mint set of the original Tony Fordham, Sportex Kevlar carp rods. I'd always dreamt of having a set of these from the moment I'd laid my eyes on them, harking way back to the days of Crowborough tackle. I managed to pick up a set of three for an amazing price, they've got a super thick blank, they're as light as hell and they have the classic purple whipping that was the first thing that caught my eye. I think it's safe to say that another part of my angling life is very much complete owning a set of these rods. I was itching to use them and I thought that Cants would be the perfect place to give them a good go. If they could withstand the crazy thrusts from some of those long commons then they could survive anything. The tackle was packed and I was soon 'zig zagging' up the A12, the rain was beating down the windscreen and, every so often, a gust of wind would catch the van, it was pretty treacherous but when the water is calling you, you've got to listen.

The Dream

As expected, when I arrived at the venue the car park was empty, the rain had eased and the wind had dropped, this gave me enough time to do a quick lap of the water and get myself setup. Looking at the clouds gathering in the distance it was clear that I was going to be getting a right old soaking today. But I knew the fish were going to be feeding so I was prepared to 'take it on the chin'. After a quick scout about it was clear to me that there were some fish tucked up in the back bay. I could see at least five separate patches of fizzing, it was a 'no brainer'. I picked the swim directly opposite, this gave me a lot of options. Because carp were clearly in the vicinity, I'd give myself one cast with each rod. They'd be no clipping up or faffing about, both rigs would go straight out followed by a couple of handfuls of bait, this would be spread around the whole of the bay area. I wasn't going to feed directly over the top of each rod. The fish were there so I wanted to get them rooting about, if I was going to start piling it in I could kill the situation before I'd even started. I was going to take on the role of an 'angling sniper', get everything in position as 'covertly' as possible without alerting the carp to my presence.

View From The Swim

Bait-wise I'd opted for the 'sweet plum seed', it's super effective and one that I want to start using more. Because I wasn't familiar with this specific section of the lake I was going to ditch the bottom baits and fish low-lying pop ups. Judging by the amount of trees surrounding the bay, I suspected there was fair amount of junk on the deck. Rig-wise, as usual it was straightforward, I'd be fishing 1.5oz inline leads with a relatively short hook-link. This might sound a little odd for fishing over possible debris, but I didn't want to give the carp an inch. There have been at least two separate occasions in the past where I've witness carp ditch a pop up on a long hook-link. I wanted everything short, compact and discreet. I fish this rig on various hook-link materials, my favorite being a 'Trigga-Link' combi. Today I'd opted for the 'Rig-Morale' hydro link in 25IB, I'd cut the fluorocarbon inner core out, just short of the hook eye, this created a lovely hinge effect. Add a PVA nugget on the cast and that should ensure it lands well and sits primed ready for a carp to come along.

A Simple Pop Up Presentation

So with both rods ready I now had to gauge the correct amount of 'oomph' to put into each cast. I hadn't really helped myself opting to use a set rods I'd never fished with before, I was going to go on instinct here. Picking up the first rod and preparing for the penultimate casts, it felt slightly odd, the old Sportex blank is much thicker than any rod I've used before, and it's incredibly light. Raising the rod above my head, I really felt like I had 'history in my hands'. A short sharp jolt saw the lead fly seamlessly through the air, as the rig cut through the waters skin, I waited for a 'DONK', I didn't get one. The impact of the lead hitting the bottom kicked up a small explosion of bubbles, I was definitely in the silt. The second rod went out as poetically as the first, I was now fishing. I catapulted roughly two handfuls of bait all around the bay, I wanted the fish to start actively seeking out each individual boilie. If they started to get into a rhythm, I had no doubt that one would trip up on my hook bait.

As the heavy clouds started to move in overhead I just managed to get the brolly up before the heavens fractured. It happened within seconds, the sheer power and velocity of the rain was unbelievable. If I was on a ship it would of sunk, never to be seem again. I perched underneath my fibreshield clinging onto the storm poles. It's seen me through many storms before, the gusts of wind where rocking it backwards and forwards. For a second I though that 'Armageddon' might've finally arrived, coming to take back a planet that's rightly his. In all fairness I wouldn't blame it if it did, when I look at the sheer misery and destruction that the human race has inflicted on the earth, it makes perfect sense to me that 'the powers that be' would want to take back what is inherently theirs. Whilst the chaos continued I held on for dear life and tried to focus my mind elsewhere. Through the madness that was unfolding I could see clear feeding bubbles coming up all around the bay, the fish were clearly feeding heavily.

Armageddon

As I sat still clinging on as if my life depended on it, the water started to flood in underneath my brolly, within a few minutes there was a small stream running under my feet. It was all strangely exhilarating, all the colors of the trees were so vivid and the air was clear and fresh. The concrete desert of London seemed a million miles away and I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to be able to escape it every so often. Eventually everything started to ease, the rain, that minutes ago resembled bullets, was dispersing, the clouds that resembled my perfect sky started to clear, and before I knew it. The sun was shining and it felt like a completely different day, it's as if the world had cleansed itself of all the wrong doings. As I crawled out from underneath my shelter, I soaked up the atmosphere, paying close attention to the million and one rain drops dripping and 'plopping' off the trees and thumping onto the ground. I had such a profound sense of clarity, now all I needed was a carp to complete the picture. 

Cleansed

Peering out across the water it appeared that the feeding had slowed down, I really hoped that the sudden sun was going to throw them right off. I've experienced this before, everything is perfect, it's looking like a bite is on the cards. Only for the sun to start beating its heat down, thus moving the goal post considerably. A few hours past and the conditions stayed exactly the same, there was no point in me recasting or applying anymore bait. The swim was setup perfectly, patience was the key. The afternoon was swallowed up in a blink of any eye and I really started to doubt that anything was going to happen. I watch the water, the rod tips and waited, I was urging something to happen. Just when I thought that all was lost, two fish topped in the bay, they were perfectly synchronized. Directly below where they showed, streams of bubbles starting flooding to the surface. I was on edge, it all seemed too perfect.

The world fell silent .. then ... 'BOOM', my left rod was away, a huge eruption came from where I'd placed the bait. This was a big fish, I could feel it in my bones. I lifted into dead weight, the fish powered off to right with such force. I tinkered with the clutch, the 'Sportex' blank was not arched right around. Every so often it would creak - which was slightly worrying, I put this down to the fact that they really hadn't been used and the varnish/resin was expressing its disgust as they were forced out of retirement to handle such a beast on their first outing. The rod handled the carp beautifully, I was making good ground and with some careful consideration the fish was slowly coming my way. Not before too long I finally had it in netting distance, I still hadn't laid my eyes on it. All of a sudden it surfaced, it was a common and it was rather large. With my legs shaking and my arm aching I slide the net into position, 'slowly does it' ....... 'RESULT'. Peering down at the beast that laid waiting in my net, it was clear that it was a very big fish.

After The Storm, The Beast Arrives

To be honest I was totally speechless, this was a serious creature, it's as if the violence of the weather I'd experienced earlier had manifested itself into the shape of carp, and I'd gone and tamed it. The width of its back was crazy and both the color and proportions were nothing short of perfect. A few shots were taken and I slipped her back home, it was a surreal experience watching it gently glide off into the nothingness. I didn't bother casting back out, my expectations had been surpassed so I thought I'd leave on a high. It had been a short, crazy day, 'Armageddon' had arrived in the shape of a beast, a cleansing of the world through biblical rainfall had washed all the 'ills' away, and I had a chance to use a set of rods I'd been obsessing about for the best part of two decades. Who said fishing was boring?. The low evening sun accompanied me on the journey home, and as I approach London town I saw Canary Wharf looming on the skyline in the distance. I knew I was entering back into the apparent 'real world', a land of confusion, a place that offers a strange sense of isolation, the polar opposite to what angling provides. I would do my very best to survive until the next opportunity came for me to make my escape. I sensed it wouldn't be too long before the water was calling me once again.

Concrete Deserts

Cants Mere 'Head In The Past'

Its been a while since I've had both the time and focus to take a seat and put 'fingers to keyboard'. Now with Spring finally in full form after, what seemed like a very long, cold and miserable Winter, my head is well and truly lost on the waters once again. This year I've joined a new club and I've been totally obsessed with working out the two venues I've chosen to focus on. I managed to get a few Winter trips under my belt, not as many as I would've liked, however I was lucky enough to land some nice fish. When the temperatures really dropped and the snow came, it pretty much killed off all the action. I used this time to get on with work and bury my head in some 'carp fishing literature'. Every so often I have to revisit the past to help me understand how certain things have evolved, not just in fishing, both music and drums as well. Looking back can help you see things in a simpler, less confused way, and because the past is now very much ignored, taking inspiration from it can change the way you view what you're doing in the 'here and now'.    

I found myself reading Kevin Maddocks 'Carp Fever' for the 30th time and getting totally sucked into 'Carp County - Kent and the Evolution Of Carp Fishing'. Both of these books hark back to the 'wonder years' of carp angling and it became apparent, 'as I was getting lost among the pages', it's the distant past of our beloved sport that inspires me the most. I find this puts me in a weird place because, the now over-saturated and extreme commercialization of carp fishing has turned it into a very different beast, one that bares no resemblance to what it once was. You've got to be careful when it comes to 'nostalgia', you can look back through rose tinted glasses and convince yourself that things were so much better 'back in the day'. When in reality that isn't always the case, however I feel with carp fishing, the best days are very much behind us. I consider myself lucky because when I started at the beginning of the 90's, I feel that I experienced the tail end of the 'glory days' and those early years will stay with me forever. 

Those Days Of Magic

I understand 'progress' but like I've mentioned many times before, 'progress' doesn't always make things better. I know it depends on what specific field we're speaking of. Obviously 'progress' in both science and technology has been, and remains to be both unbelievable and invaluable. But in other areas it can tear the heart and soul clean out of the issue. For me elements of apparent 'progress' in carp angling amount to simple 'convenience'. The main aspect that really catches me about the 'pioneers' of the past was the sheer determination and focus to catch. Size didn't come into it, it was simply about getting the bites, if a monster came along in the process then that made it all the sweeter. But the true fundamental was learning the 'craft' of real angling and enjoying the whole experience and journey. 

When you read the two books I've mentioned above, the enjoyment, the journey and the friendships made along the way were on par, if not more important than the fish they caught. Each element fueled the other, there were no distractions, marketing campaigns and a barrage of unnecessary products to pull you away from the essence of what you were doing. Reading about how excited these guys got landing singles and doubles is where the real honesty lies for me. The gear they used was basic, with a vast majority of it being homemade, the clothes they wore were standard, completely unfashionable and usually not up to the job. But none of that mattered, it was about the waters and the fish that lived within them.

Nowadays I think for many, this has got completely lost somewhere down the line. I'm personally having a hard time trying to find inspiration. So many waters are over fished and from what I'm seeing the carp are suffering for it - this is something that I will be touching on in a future blog. I've come to understand, for me to feel inspired about my own fishing, I have to keep my head well and truly out of the 'modern day', and quietly continue to try and walk my own path. Paying too much attention to the 'current carp circus' can really muddy my perspective. I find this leads me to stray away from the 'circuit/named fish waters', targeting places that may only contain a few larger fish. 

But to be honest, I prefer it this way, not only does it make it special when you catch some of the larger residence. It minimizes the stupidity and contact that you can come across when a water is full of big carp and everyone is chasing them. In regards to the magic I once felt back when I first started, I do feel it's still possible to obtain. I just think you've got to put more effort in trying to find it. So, to all you guys and girls out there that love their fishing, who sometimes find themselves void of inspiration. I urge you to dip back into our angling past every now and again, I'm sure you'll find something that will connect with you and help to keep your flame burning bright.

Innovation - Not Imitation

In this blog I'd like to account for an afternoon session up on Cants mere, after my last trip being such a success. I was itching to get back with the hope I could trick a few more carp into taking my carefully positioned treat. After a quick job in the morning I headed up to the water for midday, the conditions were very different to last time. It was warm and bright with a very light breeze, this helped take the edge off the heat from the sun. I was scooting up the A12 with the windows of the van fully open, the further I got from the city, the sweeter the smell. 

As I left London I was clearly inhaling the fumes from a thousand engines, you could see a giant cloud of smog looming over Canary Wharf. There were sirens, car horns and a general mood of frustration, this all slowly melted away when I hit the back roads just a few miles away from Cants. The air was clear, clean, with the occasional 'whiff' or horse manure, if I could blend the smell of 'carp slim' into the mix then it would almost be the perfect aroma. Finally arriving at the gates to Cants, I shuffled the padlock in my hands, opened it and proceeded to drive up the bumpy path to the car park. I was now in a 'secret world' only a few knew of, best of all, I was the only one on the whole complex.

Dumping everything on my 'ever deteriorating' MK11 carp porter, I made my way down to the banks of Cants, passing Blunts on the way, I couldn't help but stop and take a moment to observe the peace. I spotted a few dark shadows just under the surface of the water, I stood there transfixed until they slowly glided out of view. As the first part of Cants came into view, I could see a lovely gentle breeze pushing down towards the car park bank. I made my way around to swim 8, left my gear and then took a slow walk around the lake. Everything appeared to be quiet, I couldn't see any fish in the upper layers which was surprising considering the warmth and scum lines that were developing. I decided to keep it simple and approach the water exactly the same way as I did last time. Swim 8 gave me access to the two bars that ran down either side of the island, they produced for me before so I saw no reason why they wouldn't again. 

Tiger Fish

I'm not usually so one dimensional but considering this was my second session on the place, I wanted to work my way in slowly. For those that may have missed my first session, you can view it here Cants Mere Part 1. My approach was going to be exactly the same as the previous trip, simple semi-fixed bottom bait rigs with a nice spread of boilie over each rod. My hook-link material was my ever faithful 'Trigga-Link' combined with 'Sufix' Camfusion. The hairs were long, fished on a 'blow-back'. As usual I'd opted to use my 5.3mm rig rings, these provide perfect separation and free movement of the bait. I'd run out of Pineapple CSL so I'd chosen to use the 'tiger-fish'. To finish the whole thing off I was going to use small mesh bags containing 'multi-mix' pellets with a sprinkle of hot chilli hemp ground bait. This would not only spice up my hook bait but also add a nice dash of color.

Mesh Bag Contents

A few measured casts with a lead and braided line saw me locate the bars super quick, both rods were clipped up and pinged out with no fuss, I then spread a fairly large amount of bait around both areas. I wanted enough out there to attract any carp that might be passing through, today there was no time for subtleties. Large beds of bait worked very well last time so I was hoping to mirror the success in the short time that I had. I may only be fishing to what amounted to 5 or so hours but I sensed the carp would be up for a fair bit of grub, everything in the 'ether' felt right. Bobbins were hung and the alarms were switched on, I was now officially 'angling' and it felt really good. It seemed like an age had past since I was last out and if there's one time in my life where I can clear my mind and align myself with the world, it's when I'm perched behind 'the carbon', watching, thinking and waiting.

The universe around the lake was buzzing with life, the trees were creaking, every branch was stretching towards the sun, the bees and insects were buzzing incessantly and the continuous politics from the geese and ducks were whipping up the waters surface to a foam.  All these things might seem obvious for some but when you live in a void of continuous bodies and industrial clutter like London, you learn to look, listen and appreciate all the tiny little aspects you're so often starved of. I consider myself very lucky that, literally, just at the end of my road I'm straight onto the motorway, turning right is my escape route up to Chelmsford and turning left takes me right into the heart of 'Carp County' itself, Kent.  

 View From The Swim

Sitting back in my chair, it took all of three seconds for me to get locked into my usual ritual of watching both the water and my rod tips. My focus would move from the waters skin and then to the tip of the blank and back again. I started to get visions of those old 'cat' clocks with the eyes that moved back and forth, no wonder when I leave the water at the end of each session my vision is distorted as if everything appears to be rippling. The reason I do this is pretty straightforward. I don't want to miss anything and there's been so many times when my tips 'nudge' and 'knock' without registering on the alarms. Anything that signals to me that fish are about is valuable information. It turned out that I didn't have to be so acute in my observations because I started to get some major liners on my right hand rod almost straight away.

 The Tips, The Water, And Back Again

Through the next 20 minutes or so the liners kept reoccurring and I had absolutely no doubt that fish were feeding on my freebies, I knew it was just a matter of time before my rod went off. I sat on the edge of my seat waiting for the imminent chaos to occur, I knew I had to be on my rod quick because, for experience, the carp in Cants fire away like rockets. Sure enough the bite came, the rod melted off at such a pace that, even though I was expecting it, it still surprised me. I was on it fast, as expected the rod arced round and the clutch 'whizzed' and 'whirled', I let the fish run and take as much line as it wanted. The first minute or two I let the fish 'blow its initial load', then I started to tease it my way. Due to the deep margins, when it came in close it was powering downwards. There were a few tense moments involving the marginal snags but eventually I eased the fish over my net cords. It was a lovely looking mirror, long with a dark bronze coloration.

Cants Bronze

It was nice to catch a mirror considering they're pretty thin on the ground in most of the Chelmsford waters. It was clean all over and scale perfect, however it did have some mouth damage which was sad to see. I treated it with my Propolis and speedily got it back home. I'd like to use this time to express my concern about the increasing mouth damage that I'm coming across. It really does appear to be getting worse and to be totally honest its starting to get me down a lot. I understand that sometimes it's unavoidable, we all occasionally get dodgy hook holds and some hook-link materials have a tendency to cut more than others, but I don't think that the damage I'm seeing is purely down to that. I think its got more to do with some people having no real understanding of how to 'play' a fish correctly. I feel this is down to lack of education, the mags and DVDs may promote how to look after your catch whilst on the bank but few, if any, actually demonstrate how to 'play' a fish safely.

Side Thought

Nowadays with the mind control-fashion of 3.5 test curve rods, heavy lines, cluttered rigs - and instant anglers, it's no surprise that the fish are suffering for it. In my mind these types of rods are solely designed for distance and maybe solid bags, you can land all sizes of carp on a 2.5 - 2.75 - 3IB test curve rod with no bother. If anything you have more chance of landing it because the blank is far more forgiving so the chance of the hook 'tearing' out is minimized greatly. Not only that but the fight is far more pleasurable and instinctive because you can feel every tug and pull. The whole point of playing a fish is to tire it out, if this is done correctly then the whole procedure of unhooking, weighing and taking a few photos is made much easier. If the carp is tired it wont be flipping about, thus minimizing the chances of it getting damaged whilst out the water.

I find when a fish is ready for the net it will signal this by going up on its side, yanking, hurrying and rushing it in is not the way to do it. Remember that any damage or deformity that you inflict, the carp will have to live with for the rest of its life. Not only that but it spoils the whole 'catching' experience for the anglers out there that want to be seeking out well conditioned fish. I feel that, as anglers, when we catch a fish, the whole point of the procedure is to return it as if untouched. I think that all of us should keep this in mind and aspire to achieve it, when I have a session where all the fish have been returned to their home in the same condition they came out, then I feel I've not only achieved what I set out to do but it makes the whole experience far more fulfilling for, not only myself, but for others that will go on to catch those fish in the future.

Back To The Session 

After a few quick photos I slipped her home and got the rod back out. I held off on putting anymore bait out, I only had a short time left so I didn't see the point. In true angling style, the time was running away from me and before I knew it, it was early evening. Half day sessions can be very frustrating because when you're just starting to get into it, it's time to pack up. I decided to wait it out until later, the chance of another fish was too tempting, even if it meant getting home late. It was a pleasure to watch the day play out and as the sun started to lower slightly, and the breeze evaporating to nothing. The atmosphere of the water completely changed and I had a very strong feeling that something magic could happen.

Closing The Day On Cants With Eric

Last knockings started to crawl towards me but I sat tight, I'd had a few 'bleeps' on my left rod but nothing came from them. Strangely, 15 or so minutes later, my right rod started to pull and knock, the bobbin would gently rise and drop again. I was now completely transfixed on both the water and my rod tip as if, in some strange way my intense concentration might magically make it go off. It just so happened that a few minutes later, it did. The alarm screamed and the rod tip bent tight round, the fish had bolted straight towards the snaggy channel to my right. 

As I picked the rod up it was 'pile driving' towards the snags, I tightened up and gave as much side strain as I could. I quickly found the sweet spot on my clutch so, just as the rod was about to lock up, it would feed off just the right amount of line. As mentioned previously in this blog, no 'yanking' or 'heaving' took place, I didn't want to get this carp in to find that I'd cut its mouth up. Steady, sensible pressure was maintained until I managed to turn the fish towards me, it was a crazy fight and right down to the last second it gave everything it had. The fish revealed itself as it slowly went up on its side to signal defeat, it was a long dark common, easily in the low to mid 20IB bracket.

A Truly Incredible Carp

This was a serious fish and the photo above really doesn't do it justice, firstly and most importantly, the hook hold was nice and clean, it was super long, dark and each scale was perfectly positioned. The sheer power in the fight was nothing short of 'spectacular', last knockings delivered me with a prize that I'd never forget. I took a minute to admire it, got some shots and sent her back home - in exactly the same condition she came out. In my mind I'd accomplished exactly what I set out to do, I packed up slowly and as I made my way back to the van the sun was starting to fade, the heat of the day had ceased and the world was a few hours away from sleep. Driving back down the bumpy track to the gate, I shuffled the padlock once more, which gave me entry back into the apparent 'real world', a place I'm not so keen on. Locking the gate behind me, I had a vision that the time on both Blunts and Cants would simply stop and slip into some kind of strange cryogenic trance, and upon my return they'll wake and everything will spring back into life once again.  

          

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!