How Martin Locke banked Britain's best loved common carp

Key Stage 1: Welcome to Bensonland!

Plans and first impressions: “Seeing the lake in its worse case scenario: i.e. August Bank Holiday”

Every now and then, a fish comes along that you just can’t get out of your mind. On this occasion, it was an amazing common called Benson. It quickly got into my head and under my skin; it was the one I just had to catch. I knew that the Bluebell Lakes complex was near Peterborough and that it was a day ticket venue, but I knew nothing of the water, its size, stock or other details… all I knew was that Benson lived there and I wanted to catch him!

The only contact I had that way worked for Angling Times. He was a great lad and one of the nicest guys you could ever meet: Kevin Green, who tragically, has passed away since, and all too early. Kevin gave me a bit of info about the complex and directions to ‘Bensonland’. He had warned me that it was a busy venue in central England and, as such, anglers came from all over. With attention from a few local lads also, the water was nearly always under pressure. Perfect… I grew up on waters like Brooklands and Darenth and found that on such places you have to try that bit harder to be consistent, so the Bluebell complex was right up my street. There’s no pre-booking or reserving dates, you simply turn up, pay your money and get on with it!

My first trip was to be on what is probably the busiest weekend of the year: August Bank Holiday. My idea was that if I saw the lake in a ‘worst case scenario’, i.e. packed, then I’d be happy to sit there at all other times.

That was it then, I set off for what turned out to be, an exact 100-mile trip door-to-door. On arrival, I drove down the farm track, passing the strawberry tunnels. Eventually pulled up at the shop, café and house, and was greeted by Lynn, owner of the complex with husband, Tony. She passed me a colour print leaflet that I presumed was a long list of rules, but turned out to be the menu for the local takeaway that delivered to the gate… any time you like! There are four or five lakes on the complex, but my only question was: “Which one is Benson in?”

“He’s in ‘Kingfisher’,” Lynn replied, “over the bridge, turn left, drive to the end… can’t miss it. There are quite a few on, but you’ll be able to squeeze in somewhere.”

With that I paid my money and went on my merry way.

Owner Tony on his rounds

Key Stage 2: Off to a good start

First trip success: “While it may have been busy, it was still very quiet”

There’s something mysteriously exciting about seeing a new lake for the first time and this was no different; I got that ‘would I love it or hate it’ feeling as I drove slowly up the track. “Wow!” I said to myself. “This is beautiful… great looking and not over ‘manicured’.” I took an instant liking to the whole feel of the place.

Bluebell was the first lake, generally a lot easier than Kingfisher, and therefore more popular. There it was: Kingfisher, a beautiful lake of six- to seven-acres; small and tricky as this type of water usually is. I got out of the van and started a slow walk round.

The lake had lots of character, with small, weedy bays, overhanging trees and snaggy corner areas… and somewhere out there was what I’d come for. I loved it from that moment and I knew I’d stay until I caught him. That was that. Even better, was that on three of the four banks, I’d be practically fishing from the back the van - no barrow pushing needed here.

Lynn was right, it was busy. Unfazed however, I set-up on ‘Creek’ bank. As busy as it was, it was very quiet and the anglers seemed to have an inherent respect for each other. There was no casting in each others’ swims and no shouting, just peace and quiet. All this on the busiest weekend of the year - nice! I was liking it more by the minute. On top of that I was blessed with a 23lb mirror on the second night, so my recce had been successful. I was itching to get back as I left, my head buzzing with new plans and tactics for the next trip.

Key Stage 3: Tracking him down

OMG… That was him!: “20-yards out and right over the bait, came the biggest head and shoulders I’d ever seen!”

I’d been doing trips of two to three days pretty much every other week, each time fishing different areas and swims, trying to narrow down where I thought I’d catch him. Each trip I managed to catch one from the water which was proving to be as tricky as I’d anticipated, with very few fish being caught around the lake. You certainly had to earn your rewards; it was perfect for my style of fishing. I had, of course, been chatting to some of the regulars, some of whom became longtime friends. One was Steve Broad, who worked with Kev at Angling Times. Steve was a regular on Kingfisher and often fished overnighters, so sharing takeaways and fishing stories with him and the other lads just added to the enjoyment of each session. With Steve, there was Dunc and Hoppy Dave to name but two; they were all great characters to spend time with.

Tactically, I was trying something different each trip, all with some success. I do like the side of things whereby you need to be different; tackling a venue where everyone is doing different things if that makes sense. On one particular trip, I was on the right-hand point on the centre path between Kingfisher and Bluebell; the plan was to fish maize with a few added extras to see if it would produce more than the single fish-a-trip I’d had up until then.

Fishing at catapult range, I started to get liners on three of the four rods; it was gripping, edge of the seat stuff. Then, just 20-odd-yards out and right over the bait, from the depths came the biggest head and shoulders I’d ever seen. “OMG!” (or words to that effect!) “That was him!” I was shaking with fear and excitement, like a freezing, quivering puppy.

Ten minutes later the left-hand rod pulled up tight and I almost had kittens reaching for the rod… it turned out to be a common of around 12lb! That was that for the action, but the vision stayed with me; Benson was massive. And it increased my determination to catch him… to brain damage levels!

Catching up on the news from around the fishery

Key Stage 4: Piecing it together

From the mist came the plan: “I racked my brains as never before, then it came to me: maggots.”

As it does all too quickly, summer turned into autumn, and autumn to winter. It was the weekend of the clocks going back: the most miserable weekend of the year. Everything was dark and it was only 5pm. Traffic at a standstill all the way up the M11; it was dark as I set-up, foggy, damp and still. The word ‘gloomy’ sprang to mind as I wondered what I was doing sitting in the bivvy on a weekend when the fog remained all day and night. It hung; I could barely see the lake, let alone expect to actually catch anything.

As I looked out on the Sunday morning, I could just make out the ducks surfacing, each with an uneaten boilie in their bills and being terrorised by the gulls, squawking and stealing their prize. My only thought then, was that the fish were not on the boilies.

I packed up, all the time thinking of what to do next. There just had to be a key to unlock the water. I racked my brains as never before, then it came to me: maggots, the most commonly available bait known to anglers, yet the least used by carp anglers. That was it, I was shaking with excitement. ‘If this works,’ I thought, ‘I’ll catch the lot!’ But to use them properly would be expensive, and to keep my potential edge under my hat, difficult. Now though, I had a plan.

Set-up to do the job, not to look pretty!

Key Stage 5: Getting the right kit

It’s game on!: “The plan had worked… Come on Benson!”

After a few days and some sleepless nights convincing myself, going over the potential problems to initiate the plan, I got on the phone to Phil at Angling Technics; a bait boat was required.

“There’s a six-week lead time at the moment, Lockey… when do you need it?”

“Next Tuesday please mate!”

That was roughly how the conversation went and sure enough, Phil sorted me with an ex-demo Microcat which I collected on the day specified. Thanks Phil! (Bless him.)

The next problem was how to get enough maggots and at the right price from places that wouldn’t mention that I’d bought them. (At the time, no serious carp anglers were using the bait, so my plan would definitely get out if I wasn’t careful. Ten gallons later, I, along with my ‘pets’ and the bait boat were on their way North. I had a slideshow to do in the Stoke area the night before I headed back to the lake for a four-night session, when I would put the plan into action and I could hardly contain my excitement that evening.

The morning couldn’t come quick enough and I was soon on my way. Looking after such a large quantity of maggots is not easy. If I wasn’t careful, the rascals would soon sweat up and take over the van… and I’d possibly succumb to ammonia inhalation!

There were now far fewer anglers about, so I set-up in a central swim to get a better spread of the rods. The Microcat worked a treat, holding around a gallon of bait in the hoppers - and each drop was costing me around ten quid! Nevertheless, that first four-night trip using maggots produced four carp, with nothing else being caught around the lake. This was it. The plan had worked… game on!

Key Stage 6: Soooo close...

It was half the size of my van!: “He drifted slowly back into the depths and I looked up at the sky.”

I was so excited, I couldn’t help but tell a couple of close friends, both of whom left me to it, rather than copy me and become competition. As John Hannant said, “It’s your plan son, good luck to you!” My respect goes out to John for that. Nice one mate.

I was having consistent results, every take was eagerly anticipated as I knew at some point, it would be ‘him’ on the end. One night, Broady popped over for a chat. I hadn’t told him what I was up to at that point, but I had the third fish that evening and invited him to unhook it. Shortly after, he slowly looked round at me, “You crafty bastard Lockey!” he said as he slipped out the size 1 hook with a ball of 50 or 60 maggots attached. Respect to Steve also as he didn’t jump on the bandwagon either, but again left me to it.

By then it was mid-December. The weather had been flat all weekend, but was turning milder by Sunday, so I opted to stay for one more night. All the takes were coming in darkness, which not only gave me confidence through the long nights, but it also made the secret-keeping easier than if they’d come during daylight hours.

It was one of those evenings when you get that feeling, and sure enough, at around 7:30pm the indicator on the left-hand rod pulled up slowly to tension before pinging out of the clip. I picked up the rod and tightened into it - Benson attached to the far end, no doubt about it. After a typical slow, steady fight of a big fish, the line was pointing into the margins. I put the net into the water… and then I saw him! Profanities aside, I remember thinking, ‘He’s half the size of my van!’

He swam, broadsided from left to right, clearly visible in the crystal water. I was just about to reach for the net when it happened… the hook pulled! He drifted slowly back into the depths and I looked up at the sky. I was getting soaked in the fine rain. I felt gutted, and very alone.

I couldn’t even pack up and go home as the gate was locked. I called John, I had to tell someone who’d understand. After expressing my despair and recounting the events, I let him get on with his evening. He forwarded me a number to call that might help… it was The Samaritans! This brought a smile to my face on what had become sad and sorrowful evening. The follow-up conversation is for another day!

Key Stage 7: Picking myself up

Second chance?: “My confidence was low, but my determination and belief was not be beaten by that pesky carp.”

As you can imagine, the loss took its toll on my efforts. The winter set in and I took a few weeks off to regain my confidence. I was seriously doubting whether I’d get a second chance and ever catch him. Could I face another summer of ‘normal’ fishing without the edge that I’d had with the maggots? I had to pick myself up and forget what happened that December evening. I need to convince myself that he’d fall for the same trick. Only thing was that everything was waking up as spring approached: the plants, the trees…and the anglers! My confidence was certainly low, but was balanced now by my determination and belief to not be beaten by that pesky carp.

With my longtime friends from Germany, Alfons and George, I’d enjoyed some wonderful sessions over many years on some great waters in Europe and the UK, from Cassien to Redmire and Savay, among others. Our yearly get-togethers are always memorable and as this was my turn to host, we made arrangements for our early April trip to be at Bensonland. It had been a brilliant winter there for me: 17 takes in 17 nights, with me losing just the one fish. Broady helped himself to his fair share too; between November and then, we’d had every take on the lake. Spring was coming though and the advantage was dissipating by the day; this session simply had to count!

Some of my best mates ever. Left to right: Kevin Ellis, George, Brian and Alfons

Key Stage 8: I did it! I did it!

Game over!: “The incredible Benson lay helpless in the net, unaware of the what all the fuss was about.”

With everything arranged I, along with the van loaded with three lots of gear, was on my way to Gatwick to collect the boys who’d travelled from Bavaria. Only thing was, I was 24hrs too early! Amazing myself as to how I could have got it so wrong, I drove the 140 miles to the lake and set-up the gear. That impromptu trip resulted in a 28lb mirror and my confidence was duly restored. It was a particularly cold weather forecast with easterly winds all week and which, looking back, effectively preserved the edge that had done me proud through those winter months.

After 6 hours’ driving and 280 miles, we finally got back in the swims. I was on the Right-Hand Point on the centre path, with the boys to my left. Two other great friends in the shape of Brian Hankins and Kevin Ellis came along to join in the ‘jolliment’, so regardless of weather conditions, we’d have plenty of amusing tales and jokes to tell. Conditions were bitterly cold, but true to form, the fish were awake to the maggots. Alfons had his UK PB: a common of 34lb, and George did the same with a fish of 26lb.

‘That feeling’ was getting stronger, just as it had been in December. It was around ten o’clock at night and tension filled the air. Then, one bleep was followed by another. I looked to the left-middle rod and the indicator slowly rose and tightened up. I wound into the fish and pulled the hook home. The fish kited left, over and under five lines. This was him! I could hear the alarms going off as the lines were picked up. I shouted to Alfons, “It’s me! Open your bail arms… I’ve got Benson on!” “Okay geezer, no problem,” came the reply.

I kept telling myself that all would be okay. He had my name on him and nothing would go wrong. As I teased the fish slowly back to my swim and to the net, I became aware of four other lines in addition to mine… it was like lifting a giant spider’s web from the water! With so much nervous energy and adrenaline pumping through me at the time, I couldn’t recall how long I’d had him on or who slipped the net under him. The moment he went in though, was everything: relief, jubilation, joy, pain; every twist and turn was now worth it.

What a rollercoaster ride it’d been. Starting back in August, through autumn and winter until then, that cold evening in April. The incredible Benson lay helpless in the net, unaware of the what all the fuss was about. He was finally mine. The weight was completely irrelevant: 54lb something. To share the capture with my great friends, on what had largely been previously, a solitary journey, was the perfect ending to a great adventure.

Thanks to everyone who contributed to my story along the way: Tony and Lynn for creating the fantastic venue that is Bluebell Fishery and of course, to the legendary Benson for making my, and many others’ dreams come true. Thanks for all the memories.

Benson, the legend

Celebrating with Alfons and Brian