Sunday, 12 September 2010

Back Where I Need To Be

Another day dawns on a lake, a lake that has seen witness to many a finer angler than I...I can conjour up names like Walker, Taylor, Hilton and Maddocks. A lake, that had it not been for pollution in the 1960's would be one of the foremost Carp lakes in the country, a water of legendary fish sadly now past.
 Except, some of those fish were strong, a handful, probably Leney strain survived the pollution and are still swimming around. A very small group of old stagers, wise, canny and beautiful,
   The Common is possibly one of these fish, it is immaculate and rarely graces the banks. The first time I saw a photo of Her I knew I had to try to catch Her.
 So here I am again, on a hard to fish venue, at the wrong end of the year, embarking on yet another campaign for Her. If ever I have earned a fish, it is this amazing creature, yet She eludes me and makes me yearn for Her more.
 I am currently using two rods although I'm allowed three and using boilies as bait..I've done my homework and am confident my set-up and bait is capable of being picked up by Her. Landing Her is a different matter, the lake is full of weed and line cutting Mussels. I lost a large fish last year when my line just went slack as the beast took flight over the razor sharp blighters, I was gutted.
 The evening started with the usual chat to the regulars and then onto various tweeks and fine tuning of my rigs.
 Darkness closed in and I entertained myself by feeding the many bats with small pieces of sausage roll which I threw into the night air for them to acrobaticly swoop and catch.
 Having bedded down, the lake became silent, except for the distant traffic and train sound, I was soon asleep.
 The next sound I heard was the town church clock toll three o'clock, then a large fish crash out in the darkness sending ripples some seconds later towards my twin rods.
 Six o'clock and I hear "Excuse me mate, can you take a photo of this for me?"..The chap had caught a stock fish, around 24lb and had traipsed it in the weighsling to my swim, I berated him for doing so, but took his photos and returned to the sleeping bag, turning to take the above photos.
 Onto daylight then and the bobbins were still where I'd set them, she'd eluded me for another day.

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