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Thread: random carpy stories

  1. #561
    Elite (Bronze) bigupgazza2009's Avatar
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    May 2009
    Nottingham, United Kingdom, United Kingdom


    Quote Originally Posted by littlewoody View Post
    Nat I still have the pictures on my camera, cracking fish!!!
    pop 1 up then woody
    you've ad a bit ant ya

  2. #562
    Site Regular simon39's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2009


    Quote Originally Posted by bigupgazza2009 View Post
    pop 1 up then woody
    I heard you need to pop a tablet to get one up these days son
    "If it aint broke......Dont try and fix it"......unless your names Jim Jim you pile of **** you were a legend now your a disgrace rot in hell

  3. #563
    Elite (Bronze)
    Join Date
    Mar 2004


    Quick Lunchtime Read.

    There’s nothing I love more than walking down the path and getting a face full of cob webs, a sure sign that I am the first to grace the banks on my early morning venture. The startled cry of the heron as it takes flight, the manic flap of its wings as I disturb the wood pigeon from the elderberry tree, or the panicked scuttle of the squirrel as it bounds through the undergrowth. All these thing let me know that no heavy footfall has put them on edge, no clumsy weekend camper has push them out of reach, they are waking from their slumber and hopefully looking for breakfast.

    As the early morning sun slowly creeps above the tree tops, the shortening shadows will slowly reveal their whereabouts. Will it be they are hanging just of the tips of the willow branches that gentle brushes the water’s surface, or under the outer leafs of the set of pads? Years of experience make walking with a rolled step and treading lightly, avoiding the brittle branches that can crack like a gun shot, watching for the all snagging brambles that reach out to snag nets and shirts is now second nature. Eye’s constantly scanning the water as I walk, slowly and with grace, scanning constantly looking for that shadow that lies beneath the morning mist ghosts that are slowly melting away as dawn breaks.

    With minimal tackle, traveling light allows me to never dismiss doing several laps of the pit, often creeping past zipped up bivvies’ with snoring weekenders sleeping off last night’s booze. Stepping over disposable barbecues conveniently placed in the middle of the path for their social the previous evening. Not that I am against it, as angling is all about perusing your quarry how best you see fit, spending your free time enjoying yourself is what it really should be about, not numbers or sizes or even fish that have names! And I myself have enjoyed the cold beers from the cool box, the burnt burgers from the grill and the belly laughs with good friends on many many occasions, angling to me is always about the escapism.

    Tackle has come on somewhat in the last 25 years, whereas all those years ago I would wind in one of my ledger rods and re-tackle with a homemade controller (a small piece of branch!) and take several (or more) attempts at putting a baiting needle through a mixer without it splitting, that would only withstand 4 or 5 cast at most. In all fairness our “stiff” rods back then were only 2.1/lbs test curves, very soft by today’s standards, and it’s one of these rods that I still use today. A beautiful rod, handcraft by some guy called Trev from Wilmslow, who procured some carbon from a chap called Harrison and went ballista with it, the finished article being virtually an extension of my arm once a full battle curve has been taken on.

    Over the years I have managed to refine my tackle, and am pleased with my set up. A lovely through action rod, matched with a small baitrunner style reel, a bum bag that holds a couple of kilos of mixers plus additional side pockets that hold all that’s needed, including my controllers and hooks, float stops, carp care kit and the godsend that is the fake mixer. Although I still prefer my homemade cubes of cork glugged in a fishy sauce that can be found in the supermarkets. But there is nothing better than getting them going in the edge, close enough to free line half a pop up on their noses(Baity Baits, peachy sweet pink pussy’s of course!). The set-up is rounded off with a decent size lightweight beanie filled unhooking mat attached via a carbine clip to belt of the bum bag, a wide rim hat and the all-important polarised glasses . My best purchase to date has to be my hydration back pack that carries 2 litres of water with ease, long gone are the days of pounding headaches through not drinking all day and sunstroke!

    Upon entering my chosen pitch, one I just know will hold carp, one which commands a small bay that the overzealous chainsaw maniacs that appear ever spring for “work party season” have overlooked once again, thank god. The swim being deemed not worth the effort to make big enough for the latest all singing all dancing super dome bivvy as the six yard cast isn’t long enough for those that think 3 ounce leads are all you can use to get your bait to the horizon. Without the room for the 3 rods neatly placed upon a stainless goalpost setup that is spirit level straight, reel handles fold naturally! Umpteen bait buckets with latest wonder bait endorsed by some carp fishing media whore superstar, supersized bed chair all housed with above mentioned super doper dome, this neglected and overgrown patch of bankside is my stalking utopia.

    They are here, a couple of fish swim lazily under the canopy of the far bank cover, just dark shapes whilst in the shadows but identifiable when the breeze blows back the branches to reveal their scaled flanks. Not massive, but pretty none the less. The achievement now is keeping low, quiet and presenting the bait now comes into play. Using the cover of the bankside foliage I step back and unclip my mat to sit upon, slowly and carefully assemble the rod and net and lay upon the rushes that are providing my cover from the two doubles no more the 10 feet from where I sit. The obligatory roll up steadies my nerves, and I am aware my breathing has quickened, relax fella just relax.

    First two, then 3 mixers are thrown up wind of the fish, the breeze doing its bit to help me out. I take a decent glug of drink from the back pack, adjust my hat and give my glasses a quick clean before I repeat the process. I stub out my rollie and put the butt in an old empty 35mm film can I carry, check my breathing like a sniper and slowly raise myself onto my knees to take a little peek over the reeds.

    The breeze is in my favour, just 2 mixers this time to keep the chum trail going, try to draw them out a little.

    The gill plate flares, they know the baits there but remain settled. The first group of mixers pass over their heads without being taken, the gill plate flares, they know the baits there. I go back to the beginning, I settle into a comfortable position, throw out 2 then 3 mixers up wind, check my breathing, try to relax.
    Slowly I pick up the rod, check the hook, all ok, check the clutch, all ok, fire out a couple of mixers settle down comfortably.

    The gill plate flares, they know the baits there but remain settled. The second group of mixers pass over their heads without being taken, the gill plate flares, they know the baits there.
    Another roll up is needed, sit back relax, have some drink, throw out a couple more mixers and position the net where is can be grabbed without snagging when needed.
    A swirl, a slurp, game on!

    With a gentle underarm flick I able to get my hook bait out at the tail end of the chum line, but for good measure I throw out four more mixers and slowly bring my feet up so I am now crouching.

    A swirl, a slurp, confidence is building.

    Eyes never leaving my hook bait as it approaches the two sets of pearly white lips that breaking the surface, slurping down the freebies with gusto. A turn of the head, a flick of the tail and the heavily plated mirror is heading for the half pop up that I have side hooked. His mate, a just as pretty fish, is at his shoulder as if to say “no way, that’s mine” and they approach almost simultaneously, greedily both going for it.

    I check my breathing like a sniper and slowly raise myself onto my toes in readiness for battle. The explosion of water signals that one of them knows he has slipped up, my rod arches overs, the power of the beast transmitted through it carbon, this is what it is all about.

    The twists and turns, the taking and giving of line, the change of the angle, followed by the final cough of surrender as the fish rolls on his side and allows me to glided him to the awaiting net, he is mine. Let him settle, treat him with respect, give him a moment so he can recover whilst you savour, this is what it is all about.
    I wet the mat, check his fins and raise him from his environment. Let him settle, treat him with respect, check him over. A clean hook hold requires no treatment, no damage to fins, no scales have been lifted. Let him settle, treat him with respect.

    No picture is needed, I know I have met him this day, and I know I have outwitted him, I need no glory from comments on social media. Let him settle, treat him with respect. Safely cradled within my mat I carry him to the water’s edge and lower the mat below the surface to return my prize to his environment, let him settle, treat him with respect.

    I hold his tail for a brief second, then let him slowly glide away with a tip of my hat and a smile of appreciation, this is what it is all about.

  4. #564
    Elite (Gold) farfromthesun's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2010


    Nicely put.

  5. #565


    Some great stories on here, I thought I would have a go!

    I'm thinking back a few years to the late nineties, I spent most of my time fishing linear's manor farm, in fact I would spend as much time there as possible when I wasn't studying or working.

    For those that didn't fish the complex as it was it used to be a very different place, always busy but far more sparsely stocked. I understood manor held 50 fish and it was roughly 1 in 3 was a 30. When you consider this the old bit of filming where Matt Hayes had a fish on a shrimp for the cameras becomes quite impressive indeed.

    The trip I'm thinking of was in the height of summer, I had arrived late morning and it was fairly busy. Roy (linear's bailiff) had already told me the main pump was running from smiths gravel works in to the corner of peg 1 which usuall mean the fish were stacked up in the area as it was flooded with oxygenated water. As I walked over the squeezing conveyor that runs over the path I could see swims 1 and 3 were taken, standing in peg 2 the fish were apparent but so was the angler in peg 3 who didn't want a neighbour..

    I decided the best bet was to get over to the far side as there wasn't exactly much room in the area and the river bank was both shallower and empty! I made it to the life buoy which is the first swim on the river bank and there were backs everywhere! At the time I was really in to the beachcaster, I had seen it on an old des Taylor VHS and thought it was the one for these wary and pressured fish. I had tried for them on the top before but they would always shy away at th last second. The beach caster would allow a perfect presentation which I hoped would make all the difference.

    Pulting mixers out on to the wind got a quick reaction, I always remember they would take like submarines, humps appearing and sinking amongst the slight chop. I cast the rod out as far as I thought I could raise the line over the water and propped it on the make shift stand that consisted of a John Roberts clip and a spod taped to a storm pole to cup the rod butt. It didn't take long for the first take which was a small common but given the low stock I was made up, the fish were still feeding so I repositioned the rod. Over the course of the afternoon I had 3 more fish up to a mid twenty mirror that I had caught before, called baby shoulders.

    The weather had deteriorated considerably but they were still taking, so when it started to rain around 3/4 I was reluctant to reel in and threw the Titan over my barrow and took shelter watching the occasional back break surface in the area.

    Finally amongst heavy rain the rod ripped off and I was in to another in the rain, off the top! After a good scrap I netted an upper 20 leather that looked a proper old warrior and one I hadn't seen before!

    The session went well and I landed a few more off the bottom (including one that went on to be a very big fish indeed) but landing 5 fish in an afternoon from a lake that contained only 50 is, and will probably continue to be, one of the best days angling of my life. Especially in full view of the chaps blanking in the 'hot' swims on the far bank

  6. #566
    Elite (Bronze)
    Join Date
    Mar 2004


    Anyone got anything new to add?

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