Beard and Wonderful

"If you love something, set it free.

If it returns it is yours.

If it doesn't, It never was..."

The  Sun rose on my final day this year at the home of The Common, she'd outwitted me again, my quest will continue next year, I just can't face the prospect of another blank hard winter on this lake and I have a new target to go for, more of which will follow in time.

 The session had been a failure, that is unless I was actively fishing for those green beauties that seem to have been turned suicidal by the current warm spell...Did someone say "Indian Summer?"

The 'late on parade' Dragonflies and Ladybirds certainly thought so.....

I must admit though, that I will not be sad to leave this lake, it is by far the most difficult of places I fish for many different reasons. Many will appear for a few weeks, then never be seen again, foiled by the abundant weed, difficulty to get in swims, dogs, public, 'erberts, not to mention the incredibly cagey Carp.

It is beautiful though and so are its inhabitants. Unfortunately, the swan in the picture is now alone after its mate was viciously attacked by dog whos owner failed to take heed of the signs telling him to keep it under control. The bird was taken to the local rescue centre, by anglers, but unfortunately died a day later

This weather can't really disguise the changing of seasons, the crackling of leaves underfoot a giveaway. It's a nice time to be on the bank though, fish or no fish. There's a lot to be said for a cuppa under the stars, looking over a lake, in anticipation.

Talking of anticipation, my next trip out will be to that most fabled of pools Redmire, for my yearly trip...Regular readers will know of my traditional beard growing exploits at this time, in homage to the greats that once trod the banks of this wonderful little estate lake.
 I have to say that I have excelled all expectations this year, it will most definitely be the last time I complete this hideous undertaking as it just drives me insane.
 In conclusion then I might just raise a glass at the dam wall and exclaim...."Yates, James, McDonald, Arbery and Springate, I salute your angling capabilities, and admire your whiskered persistence"

Autumn....already ?

As I walked , or rather slid across the rickety bridge ( I know it's a death trap, yet it still gets me.) I found a coin, picked it up, then tossed it in as an offering to the Carp Gods.
I avoided the rain, setting up my camp for the next few days on ground sodden from the previous hours deluge, a close shave.
 I was back then, in my favourite September swim, just one other angler on this difficult lake, a cacophony of waterbirds greeted..Tufties, Mallard, Swans and the usual Gulls, they all came to see what I'd feed them, all left empty beaked (until I baited the swim).
 Kingfisher yelled and completed a welcoming flypast and Buzzard circled overhead keeping one eye on proceedings and another on the shrews that danced in excitement around my bag of bait.

The wind grew ever strong and disease ridden Sycamore leaves fell upon my shelter, from the burnished heights.

The Hawthorns bursting with berries make a fine feast for the hungry birds.

Alas, their leaves too are losing green, turning through yellow to copper. It all seems a little Autumnal.

As night drew in I found myself drifting in and out of sleep, sudden heavy showers causing the trees to drip upon my abode, then at around 1am, a run, left rod flying.

 The lake is very weedy and the fish rapidly pung the line upon it, sending heartstopping vibrations through the rod to my hands,powerful surges led me to believe it a 'biggun', had I lost her I'd have guessed her much bigger, she wasn't a 'biggun' though. Gracing my net was an absolutely stunning linear Mirror then, just under 20lb with a great paddle for a tail. It was a true treat to see her glide slowly back to the depths.

My poor night photography will never do a fish like this justice but I'd rather that than juggling a fish and a camera for a self take trophy shot in the night, when it's not really necessary.

 Morning then, and the almost religious rite that is tea.

 The wind grew stronger and a bow had formed in the line of my left rod. I switched the alarm off to make adjustments.

 All amendments made, I took a cuppa to Ian in the next swim and chatted a while.

On return to my rods I noticed the left one was arced around and the bobbin was bouncing away as line was being taken. I'd forgotten to switch my alarm back on and had another fish on. It turned out to be a Tench of around 5lb, a morning treat.

 The following day rolled along with visitors, tea, biscuits, alas no cake.

 The wind slowly but surely wound itself up and the Poplars swayed further and further. Leaves continued to fall upon my bivvy rendering it a little more 'Realtree' than usual.

As darkess fell and I at last had the lake to myself, a deluge, yes, Old Izaac's curse had caught up with me again and I was confined to barracks.
 At around midnight I stumble out to a run which produced an incredibly pretty Mirror Carp and a welcome golden glow.

I slept little and by daybreak the wind and rain had worsened.

No more dancing Shrews, no more noisy Kingfishers, just the howl of the wind and the disparaging Ducks.
 James, a shop customer, and good fellow arrived, I put Steve, the kettle, on. We both agreed that the Carp would've moved with the wind, I didn't want to move, but would if necessary. Fortunately, about 10 minutes after he left a large Carp leapt at range in front of my swim, I was easily convinced to stay-put.
 Whilst confined to the bivvy, I finished reading "How To Fish" by Chris Yates and have to say, it's one of his finest works and has re-ignited my desire to catch a fat Perch this season, maybe next week !

The last night was uneventful, the fish had indeed moved on, as I packed away the sky began to show traces of blue,and the aphids, ladybirds and other bugs that sought refuge from the elements with me, finally returned home, as did I.

I'll have one more attempt to catch 'The Common' this year, before moving to another lake and the rivers for winter.

The Common....caught!!

At 08:28:01 yesterday morning I received the following text message.. "She's been out this morning", I knew exactly that it meant that the Common had graced the net of some fortunate sole for the first time in nearly a year.
 It transpired that it was the anglers first ever fish from the water, caught on a bait and rig probably intended for Catfish. The weight of the fish is also somewhat sketchy, the magic number followed by "in the weigh-sling".
The irony of it all has not been lost on many anglers who persue this fish but in many ways I am happy and indeed I even shook the captors hand in the shop yesterday. It is good to know that the fish is still there in the lake (we know fish are moved illegally on occassion), but most of all it was the words of a witness that resounded in my head for most of yesterday...."She is the most beautiful and impressive fish I have ever seen"...I will take a couple of weeks break from the lake, but, the quest will continue.

The Glorious Sixteenth

At a work party on my river syndicate last week a member (no, not me) unceremoniously decended a tree whilst attempting to trim a branch, somewhat faster than he had climbed it..if you get what I mean.
 Far from receiving the sympathy and concern of his fellows, he was met with raptures of laughter and applause.
 The syndicate leader, a chap of deadpan, dry wit was grateful, "Thanks for that my old mate " he said, "You have entertained us greatly and for that we will name that swim in you honour." The poor chap seemed to cheer up on hearing this, only for the syndicate leader to shoot him down again with, "There you go then members, this here is now "The C*** Swim"...To more raptures of laughter.
 Oh how it would've been a delight to spend the opening night/day on that glorious river The Gt. Ouse, it was not to be.
 My quest continues with abandon at the home of 'The Common' but in the last few weeks a veritable festival of Tench has descended upon me, not such a bad thing I hear you say but the pleasure is curtailed by the heavy tackle I am using due to weed and the possibility of monstrous Catfish.
 The weather seems to go from the sublime........

to the ridiculous...........

and all in a days fishing.
 The "Glorious Sixteenth" found me then, near a public path, beside the park lake that is 'Her' home. You know the kind of place...where men go to shout at their dogs, or get shouted at by personal trainers.
 Visitors arrived at my side at a constant flow as I attempted to set up my home for the night. Some were welcome, my parents, on the look-out for a Kingfisher (which did turn up about twenty minutes after their departure), some were unwelcome, the gossip-mongers, ready to stab a fellow piscator in the back at the earliest convenience, I'll have no part in that.
 Darkness fell and the Bats, at first seemed reluctant, there don't seem to be as many mosquitoes about for them this year...yet.
 They soon put on a fine display of aero'bat'ics, I do love the little critters.
 Conditions have changed on the lake bed and I had decided to try different rigs to my usual, and as if to sign in the new official season, at midnight exactly my right rod was away resulting in quite an impressive Tench and probably the biggest from the lake this year, the lack of sporting battle and lack of a decent photo dictates that it would be pointless to say its weight, but, it was BIG.
 With the rig and bait back on the spot I soon drifted off to sleep dreaming of early season Barbel and Chub, how I miss them.
 At 2am the same rod leapt into life with what can only be described as a tanking run. I struck and the rod arched over, I could feel the fish thumping around, a long way out in the lake.
 Constant pressure soon had the fish heading in the right direction and after about 10 minutes the fish was in the net, a stunning Mirror, not a stockie, but one of the characters, these fish aren't huge but I believe they have age and guile, I was happy.

By 4am the lake was alive with 'boshing' fish, many were Carp, perhaps the Lunar Eclipse had cast some unseen spell on them, I just new that I'd get a run and sure enough I was in again.
 This time the battle was a more dogged affair, until about fifteen minutes in everything went solid.
 I know the routine well, give constant but not heavy pressure for a while, it wasn't budging...Put the rod back on the rest for as long as takes for the fish to find it own way free,, an hour later and no movement...Last resort, straight line, walk backwards slowly, the fish started to move and the fight was back on.
After another ten minutes or so a Mirror of 20lb+ was thudding around in the margins, as I guided her to the net she seemed to look at me knowingly, the hook pulled and she waved me 'Goodbye'.
All in all an eventful night which has helped in taking my mind off of that river for a while yet.
I packed away and headed home a content fisher.

Old and New, Green and Blue

This post finds ol' Gurn having to do a bit of the old 'backstroke', yep, just a couple of months ago I posted that I wouldn't be following the masses and using a barrow for transportation of my carping kit...Oh dear, then, as this week saw me acquire a brand spanking new Nash PegOne Barrow.

 I am now officially old in my eyes having succombed to using the mind instead of the muscle, common sense has prevailed and I think this model will be ideal for the overnighters I generally do these days. I will let you know how it performs.

Also new in the Gurn armoury this week is a new set of rods, I won't say that I've upgraded, my old Greys' have done me proud and I've caught the fish of my dreams on them. I have, however, purchased a set of three Century FBS rods. I have bought them with one eye on a future venue, but also feel they will cope better with the "nuisance" Wels Catfish I will inevitably encounter this year. Once again, I'll let you know how they perform.

What then of the fishing ? Well my quest continued along with the company of Lady Sarah. We opted for my old, cold-weather swim, not the good Lady's ideal choice, being as it was, facing into the cold North Easterly that seems to have sneaked back in through the back door. I thought some fish may have followed it though and the plan was to set all three baits no more than twenty feet from the bank.

 The bivvy went up...eventually, thanks to having another pair of hands to help, bless her.

 There really hasn't been many catches on the lake to give me any guidance, I generally follow my own path anyway.

 Two on pop-ups, one on bottom bait, a small scattering of my mainstay boilies as freebies this week.

 The swim is one of the more secluded on the lake but unfortunately the fellow who had walked an entire lap of the lake, chatting on his mobile so loudly that he actually probably didn't need the phone (his mate would've still heard him) decided, as I knew he would, to come blundering straight towards us. I strolled towards him, behind the bivvy, in a way that polite anglers do, so's not to enable him to walk into the swim and make himself comfortable, even then he felt the need to yell at me for 15 minutes before continuing on his loud route around the lake.

 As the darkness fell, our only other vistors were my old mates, the bats. Lady Sarah looked on, amazed at there twilight antics..a special time.

 As we bedded down, listening to the wind outside, I wondered how many more nights lay ahead in my quest, will it end, will I catch Her ?

 2 a.m. and my right rod is away, I'm on the rod quickly and strike, a plucky fight, but this is no Carp...or indeed Cat, a fine Tench came to the net. I was joined out in the cool night air by Lady Sarah, bless her, she was still half asleep, answering "Ey ?", "What ?", "Pardon", to everything I said to her. It's a strange thing but I've never really been in a fish catching situation at night with someone who doesn't instinctively know what to do, you know, get the net, sling, mat, forceps. All these things are what fellow piscators immediately do. I apologised later to her for being abrupt when this didn't happen.

She's a fine partner, great company...alas, I fear she'll never make a good photographer !!!

 Dawn broke to two welcome sounds, the high pitched call and bright blue flash of the Kingfisher and the first audible sign of the cuckoo this year.

The wind still blew hard and cold as we packed away, The Common, is still uncaught this year.

Warm Night.

Well I've got into this little routine, you see. I do a bit of pre-baiting the night before, then fish the area with just a handful of free offerings, it gives me confidence and I can stroll down the little track laden with gear in the knowledge that I've put some effort in and any capture will have been earned.
 Oh dear though, last night, having been through this routine, imagine my horror when said swim contains a rather too grinny angler.
 Yep, you know it, the sun is shining and I look around the lake that I generally have to myself to find 1,2,3,4,5,6....SIX other anglers, my solitude is over now until probably October.
 Not only do I have to make alternative, second choice swim arrangements, but now have to contend with visitors with empty mugs in their hands and listen to the always fantastic rumours and gossip that this lake generates regularly and quickly.
 Of course, all this, is part and parcel of fishing this particular lake, a lake visited by people from all over the country and it was good to catch up with some of the old-schoolers.
  With the coming of sunshine and more pressure on the lake, pre-baiting becomes, in reality, a waste of time.
 In the past I've had people move to fish over my bait within an hour of me leaving the lake. These things you have to take on the chin, just one more of the challenges my quest for 'The Common' holds.
As well as anglers, we also now have many other park users, they are generally well behaved and leave us alone, there are the odd few that don't think the park rules apply to them or their dogs though, all good fun and more stories along those lines to come as the Summer unfolds, I'm sure.
 Also, the wildlife...just where do all them frogs come from ?? I also spotted a Mink, Then there's the bugs and what can only be described as a "mahoosive" spider in my bivvy this morning.
 The ground-dwelling creatures don't bother me that much, it's the bloody mozzie's that I hate, so the twilight feeding frenzy of the local bat population was enjoyable for more than one reason.
 I saw signs of fish movement, but nobody caught.
One thing can be said though,'It's certainly warming up'.

Should've Gone To The AGM

To be honest, as a club bailiff I should've really been at the AGM. Instead, I saw the opportunity to fish the lake, I was the only one on the lake again.
I'm starting to get back in tune with the lake now and felt quite confident having caught on my previous two trips and having baited the swim the night before. I've had some of the boilies I use made in black and it has proved successful in stopping the birdlife diving down and guzzling them, they just don't seem to be able to see them.
 Unfortunately, neither did the fish on this trip. I did however spend a very relaxed evening listening to the local bell ringers practicing in the distance at dusk with this as my view.

Am I Losing My Way ?

OK, hands up, I admit it, for the foreseeable future I am what them that may scoff would call a 'fish chaser'. I've been lured in, for me it has become a personal quest against a single fish. As I sat alone on the lake this week, those questions appeared in my mind.."What if She didn't survive the winter".."What if She's been stolen".."What the #### am I doing here, searching for a single fish, when it's difficult enough to extract any of the residents of this lake"..Are these the musings of an obssessive ?
 Of course, as a rule I take great joy at all of my captures from the smallest Gudgeon, I wonder at them all and feel priveledged with every capture, but something this week has troubled me....I'll set the scene..
 The night was warm, I was back on the lake, back on my own, I've continued to bait up the area of my last capture with my mainstay boilies and succeeded in placing three hookbaits within an area about the size of a football pitch with an average depth of twelve feet.
 I lay in the bivvy watching the shadows of Rabbits and Mice against my bivvy as Spurs were unceremoniously battered in the ether of my tiny (quiet) radio.
 Like countless times before I stared out to the lake wondering where at that precise moment She might be.
 The ripples on the water of the ever gathering frogs played with the light of the nearby football pitch floodlights as loud groaning goods trains trundled by in the distance. All too familiar scenes and sounds, in many ways I long to be rid of them, for my quest to end, sooner, rather than later. She keeps me going back. I drifted into slumber.
 At approximately 3am, a bleep, right hand rod, then another, the bobbin twitched and a slow ponderous take occurred. Strolling out to the rod, shoes on this time, the run had become steady and I struck. This one pulled back a bit and kept deep, it felt a good fish, you know the type ?, a plodder.
 The fish took line, a lot, and my heart started to beat faster. This is the time I think about knots, hook holds and line strength, I retrieved a little line, but it took it all back and then some. The fight went on, maybe fifteen minutes in reality, it seemed like more.
 At this time I allowed myself the luxury of considering that I might be attached to a rather large Carp, which could actually be The Common.
 The fish started to tire and slowly, carefully, I lulled it towards me until it was close enough to think about getting the net.
 I switched on the headtorch to see what delight lay before me.....My heart dropped, the only emotion I honestly felt was...disappointment. There in the clear margins lay Silurus Glanis, the Wels Catfish. It simply hadn't crossed my mind that this fish would not be a large Carp, it's take and fight, along with the time of year pointed towards Carp.

I have, in the past dedicated much time in pursuit of these strange and interesting creatures and have caught them to well over 100lb ( and not in the Ebro either .) I loved that time and built up a lot of respect for the fish that Kevin Maddocks described as "The Neglected Giant".
 I am slightly disturbed at my apparent distain for the capture, so I ask you out there..Piscatorially speaking, Am I losing my way ?

Lady Luck ?

I was joined for a night on the lake by Lady Sarah this week, she has often brought with her a little bit of angling luck and is always welcome.
I sloped off from the shop an hour early and we loaded everything in to the car with no drama. "Will we need any money ?" I enquired,"Not unless someone is coming around the lake tonight selling raffle tickets" was her witty retort...I left the cash at home.
 I'd visited the lake the night previous, there are a few anglers starting to get out on it now and I blagged a cuppa before putting two kilos of bait on an unfished (by me) spot with the throwing stick.
 I considered that a tweek of the rigs and starting to use my warm weather bait, along with the Good Lady for company might bring a change in luck.
 Lady Sarah sat in the evening sun whilst I set up the bigger of my two bivvies, furnishing the inside with our bedchairs and sleeping bags, she'd bought enough food to last us a week and a bottle of wine, we were sorted.
 Setting off around the lake with a view to parking the car in a safer place now that our home for the night was made, I was amazed to find that some idiot had taken one of the lifebuoys from its red plastic station and tied it to a nearby bush, a group of 'erberts sat upon a nearby bench, I just gave them 'the look' before returning the buoy to its home, which incidentally looks like it may also be home to a family of Blue Tits quite soon, judging by the presence of a new looking nest inside the plastic housing, a small hole on the casing looked barely big enough for a bird to pass through.
 As I returned to my swim a fellow piscator (one of three of us) approached and gobsmacked me by saying that he read and enjoyed the blog, cheers fella.
 Back at the swim it was time to get fishing....
 It was at this time that the age old problem of getting a cast from a tight swim with a bivvy behind me arose. There was nothing to it, I'd have to take my shoes and socks off, roll up the trousers and wade out. The water is still cold, very cold, but three baits went out on the baited area just fine and were followed by another kilo of bait.

 As darkness fell the clouds gathered and a few drops of rain started to fall but the faithful shelter of ours was snug and secure, we drank a couple of glasses of wine and chatted into the night before our eyes became heavy.
 The now familiar sounds of night on the lake affected Lady Sarah's sleep more than mine, at least it wasn't my snoring this time !
 Time passed,  my eyes opened, it was light, fishless again, I looked over to the good Lady, awake. We exchanged morning pleasantries when, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP, a single toner, I bumbled to get out of the bivvy door, ignoring my strategically placed shoes, out into the cold morning air and into the muddy ground to the rod, its reel still whirring...I struck...contact.
 The fight was spirited, the fish had run a long way and definitely knew where the weed beds were, fortunately so did I and it was light enough to see what was on the fishes mind, I steered it away, taking line as it kited to the right. Eventually it came into sight, a common, not 'The Common' but the first common to be caught on the lake this year, and on my mainstay bait for this coming summer, a result.
 Once netted and on the bank the fish continued its fight, I've never had a fish struggle so much to escape a net, especially after such a scrap. I decided on one quick snap, you can see I am poised for it to flap, I sensed its muscles tensing as I held it but am glad to report it was returned none the worse and fighting fit.

 I was also able to sport for the first time my British Specimen Anglers hat. Check out their site for all things fishy.
 Lady Sarah had once again brought me some luck, and even her photographic skills are getting better....I just wished someone had come around selling raffle tickets, her face would've been a picture.

Spring in the Air ?

Back in the swim again, I'd managed a couple of pre-baiting trips since the last time I'd fished. I'm not sure if these offerings are being picked up but it makes me feel like I'm doing something positive on a lake where the Carp simply don't seem to be having it at the moment.

It's just so nice to be setting up in daylight knowing that next week we'll also have that welcome extra hour, my old fishing buddy Brian would've described conditions as "an overcoat warmer".
 As darkness fell it is strange to me just how noisy tranquility can be, once more I was the only angler, a Frenchman seemed to be having a rather loud phonecall on the other side of the lake,completely oblivious to my presence, the sound of eager footballers at a nearby floodlit pitch, the cheer of a goal, a factory alarm, distant car horns, the hoot of my friend the Owl and the drone of aircraft.
 Morning came all too soon, the obligatory blank imminent.
 I watched the Coots collecting twigs for their nests, the pair of Swans claiming territory, sending another pair packing, their wings making that 'whoop whoop' noise as they flew off over my bivvy, the early morning tap of the Greater Spotted Woodpecker and the cackling call of his Green relative.
 The Ducks squabbled as they usually do, directly over my baits.
 As a solitary Magpie flew over the swim as if to mark the fact that I was to be fishless again, I wound in and went for a stroll to scatter some bait about.

Green shoots, Blue Tits feeding on the willow, Sunshine and blue skies.

It seems to me that Spring is truly, at last, in the air.

So, what of "The Common"......well, she's eluded me again,  but there will always be another day.

A Rest Is As Good As A Change!

Many things have conspired towards my absence from fishing for a while, my ongoing aural problems after a perforated eardrum meant my balance wasn't so great, not ideal if you are fishing alone at night. Also, we are currently in the stages of opening another shop, busy times and then there is the good Lady, to be honest she'd have no problem with me angling at any time, but it is nice to spend time with her. I suppose, I'd probably be fishing for Chub or Barbel on the rivers or Roach on my syndicate water in a normal year. I've blocked those thoughts out, kept the focus, in my quest for The Common, I'm back at her home.
The Good Lady Sarah had dropped me off after the usual after-work dash and I set out once again over the muddy terrain, laden like a Himalayan Sherpa, still no barrow.
 I arrived to find that once again I was the only angler present, no-one else cares much for my solitary pursuit, no-one else cares to pursue my prize at this time of year, the peace and tranquility of early Carping never lasts, I make the most of it while I can.
 I've recently acquired quite a lot of new kit with my quest in mind, firstly a new bivvy. One that suits the trek and my usual overnighters,Trakker's Pioneer Ultralite. Its ability to be erected in quick-time a bonus.
 Darkness came faster than expected, I needed to re-rig all three rods, Two with maggots fished Mag-Aligner style and one fished Snowman style.
 The "Snowman" is my take anywhere rig and has accounted for the vast majority of my Carp captures, this is what mine looks like.

I use a Nash leader (leadcore is banned on the water) and Atomic Nobbler leads, these leads are great, they're supposed to be used for 'The Method' but I use them because they are aerodynamic, they don't look like other leads and I can tie PVA stocking full of goodies to them via the hole and nick the hook in the bottom. This is a Carp's eye view of the rig.

Setting up the rigs unnerved me slightly, it is not wise on this lake to draw attention to yourself after dark with ones headtorch, especially if you are alone.
 Fortunately all three rods were set in their spots and Steve (the kettle) was soon
singing a happy song.
 I watched over the water, just looking for a clue, nothing, after about two hours my eyes became heavy and I jumped into the sleeping bag.
 1.00 am, I wake with a start...not a run....footsteps, FOOTSTEPS, behind my bivvy.
For the first ten seconds I felt that someone was going to stick their head in to my open door, friend or foe ?, I thought, but then, when nothing happened I deduced that it must've been a badger, a noisy one at that.Shortly after this incident, as I lay in a half-sleep, I heard a noise that all Carpers love, the splash of a huge fish. I looked out over the lake, the ripples eminating from a spot no more than fifteen metres in front of my swim, I had a dilemma, reposition a bait to this area but risk spooking the fish or leave well alone and hope that this leviathan would search out my bait, I chose the latter.This proved to be the wrong choice, I drifted back to sleep until morning, runless.

I fished on until 11 am, up to this time is often good for a run, but nothing happened.

 I wound in and donned the polaroids for a mooch around the lake poking my nose through bushes and throwing a bit of bait onto spots that may come good later in the year.

I also took time to meet up with some old acquaintances, though they seemed more interested in my leftover maggots than me.

 After a while the relentless seagulls busted me and I called it a day...Homeward bound, she'd won again.