Cants Mere 'Under The Rods Tips'

This blog is going way back to September of 2018, it's crazy how fast time passes, this was a good period to be fishing Cants because it wasn't overrun with people desperately trying to catch a 30. Chelmsford had done a great job in developing Cants from a water overrun with thousands of small carp and turning into a proper 'big fish' venue. Those that have read my older blogs will know that I've fished Cants a lot in the past and then I pulled off to focus on other waters. Living my life intuitively I knew that when the time was right my gut would tell me when to return. What Was My Motivation? it wasn't the size of the carp now in the water, it was simply the desire to revisit a lake that I loved fishing a few years before. 

All my blogs from this point won't be showing the spots that I fish, nowadays a lot of people want things handed to them on a plate and I genuinely don't see why I should put the time into fishing these waters only to let everyone know exactly what I'm doing. People really need to suss out how to catch carp by their own accord. You'll learn nothing about carp fishing by copying others, actually doing this stops you from moving forward and really only offers a temporary solution. The only advice I would really give is to be different in what you do, don't followed the herd, there's more than one way to catch a fish. 

View From The Back Bay

When fishing Cants in the past I liked to focus on the descending bars that are locate on both points of the island. In my mind these were perfect ambush points and I'd had some good results adopting this approach, but Cant's is also a fantastic margin water because, firstly the margins are deep, and secondly you have so many overhanging trees and bushes, let us remember that carp love the margins, so I'd made up my mind that I was going to basically fish underneath my rod tips super close in. For this approach to work the lake needs to be near empty and you have to be as quiet as possible, with the way carp fishing is nowadays these two elements are almost impossible to come by. However, on the days I chose to fish there weren't many people about especially up the back bay where I planned to go.

My plan was simple, fish mouthfuls of bait under the overhanging bushes either side of my swim, I was going to use my baiting pole to drop the rigs covertly and quietly. This was at a time when baiting poles hadn't become the latest fashion accessory, actually hardly anyone used them, I'd constructed a really long one adding sections using carbon wrap and carbon spray glue. Doing this allowed me to purchase long pieces of carbon tube and modify them so they slotted into each other. At the time I was using it I can safely say that it was probably one of the longest baiting poles being used, I went a little nuts in regards to the length but .. hey "you've got to do what you've got to do" to give yourself an edge. The fact it took about an hour to set up and put away was something that I had to make peace with rather quickly. Also, occasionally you might get a shard of carbon in you hand but that just added to the overall comedy value of the dam thing.

Custom Made Baiting Pole

This Is Only Half Of The Total Length

I was only going to be using a few sections to ship my bait out under the bushes either side of me, due to the depth of the margins you could get away with tucking the rig right under the marginal growth and you were still in a really good depth of water. Unlike my older Cants sessions where I fished a lot of bait spread around the area, this time I was opting for a mouthful in the shape of a solid bag. I knew the carp hugged the margins so there was no real need to load the swim up with bait in the hope to attract them. In my mind, if you could get the bait bag under the bushes any fish that came along wouldn't hesitate to suck it up. I used a large PVA bag which I filled with crushed Boilies and pellets of varying sizes, I stuck with fruity flavours, I'm still using Starmer Baits, I wouldn't change from their bait even if a gun was held to my head, before shipping the bags out I'd inject them with some liquid feed.

Once both bags were placed I wasn't going to move them, I genuinely felt confident that "if" the fish drop down to feed then I've given myself the best chance at getting a bite. That's all you can do, carp fishing to me is setting up a scenario where 'if the fish are feeding' you're giving yourself the highest chance of success. This approach doesn't involve loads of complicated rigs and ultra scientific baits, it's all about putting your bait in the right place. Once all the 'rigmarole' was out the way of setting all my gear up and making sure my rods and reel handles were perfectly symmetrical, I sat back watching the water carefully.

It really didn't take long for a bite to occur, the rigs had been in position for little over an hour before I got a thunderous take that ripped the rod tip sharp to the left. Leaning into this fish I knew straight away that it was big, the sheer power of the pulls and lunges were scary, due to the marginal obstructions I kept the rod tip low in the water and basically held on for dear life until the fish tired enough to get a net under it. This fish was a beauty weighing in at a touch over 28 pound, it was built like a torpedo, it was a lovely dark brown, every part of it was immaculate. 

This was the only bite that occurred on this session but I planned to head back the following day to adopt exactly the same approach. This trip was eventful in more ways than one and it had to be seen to be believed. I'd arrived slightly later in the day for my second trip, everything was exactly the same as the previous day. Solid bags were tied and carefully placed under the marginal growth with my baiting pole, the day passed with no action. As the sun started to lower it was 'game on', everything felt right and I knew a bite was imminent, I sat perched up the bank when all of a sudden my alarms gave an unorthodox set of blips. My left rod pulled right round to the left, my pod fell downwards to the left and the rod flew into the water. 

This all happened within a second, I had no time to think so I slide down the bank and dived headfirst into the lake, the rod had disappeared so I lunged my arm in the vague direction that it went off sailing. As I stretched full reach and lowered my arm through the water my little pinky finger managed to connect around the line between the spool and the first guide on the butt section of my rod. As I picked the rod up with both hands and lifted the fish was still on, I was now standing in the water fully clothed up to my stomach. The carp on the end of my line was going nuts but after an intense fight I managed to slip another dark Cants common under the net cords, scales fell to 29IB.

This fish was totally worth a drowned phone and a set of warped bank cards that got flooded in my wallet, because it was a lovely warm evening I dried off quickly. No other bites came that day which doesn't surprise me because me jumping in headfirst probably spooked half the lake. I drove home that evening smelling of both Cants and the carp that lived there. Because my approach appeared to be working I decided to head back up a few days after I "took my dive". It was all very regimented by this point. I quietly made my way to the swim, kept low to the water, tied my bags, extracted my pole and silently slid both my rigs either side of the swim under the marginal growth. 

Just like the previous sessions nothing happened during the main part of the day, the bite came just as the sun had gone down, the light was fading. My left rod tore off at a crazy pace, a huge vortex of silt and leaves erupted from where my rig had been covertly placed. This carp felt like a beast, it was pulling hard towards the bushes but I kept the pressure on, this caused it to dart into the small bay to the left of me. The vortex's were huge and the bottom was being kicked up every time in lunged on another powerful run. Slowly and surely I was gaining ground and as it got closer to me it was clear that this was a big carp. As the net slid under this fish a huge amount of relief washed over me.

This fish was big and the scales sunk to 33IB exactly ... what a fight and what a fish, the last two carp I had out of Cants sort of made me feel like I was building up to one on the 30's so the whole scenario felt strangely poetic. This would be the last time that I fished Cants because I would end up dropping my Chelmsford membership. I was getting tired of the journeys up and down and I wanted to find a few more waters closer to home. Not only that but all the venues were really starting to get busy and when this starts to happen I naturally pull off looking for places that offer solitude.

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

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

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".