Finger licking good

Just like so many big fish campaigns, this one started long before I even had a ticket. Fishing Stanwick Lake’s day ticket fisheries on and off over the last few years, I just couldn’t resist a little wander further up the track during one of my many walk arounds. Other than being a corker of a pit and seeing a few fish as a taster, the stand-out thing that had me desperate for permission to wet a line in there was the fact that it was so devoid of anglers through the week during my quick overnighters on the pit next-door. Yes, the fire was well and truly lit.

I needed to be fishing whilst I wasn’t on the bank if you like, and my biggest edge from day one was regular baiting

registered my interest with Phil and John and they said they’d keep me on the list. Two years passed and I fished the day ticket lakes as much as I could, along with the constant pestering and a couple of days of free graft helping them with the stock ponds had them seeing the light and getting the nod, of which I’m very grateful, and my ticket would start on 1st of April 2015. Happy days.

Being only a 30 man syndicate and tickets not coming up very often, I felt like I’d won the Lotto and plans were started. I must have walked miles through March, just looking for clues and chatting with the other members, most of whom I already knew from many years ago fishing the local club waters along the valley. They all had a story to tell of my tear-away days of partying on the bank in the 90’s; we were all young once, and although fun at the time, I now see things how they did back then and I must have been a nightmare, so if nothing else, I had some making up to do!

Being mainly a midweek angler with absolute minimal time because of a crazy job that has me up and down the country all week, I had to fish a bit clever; I needed to be fishing whilst I wasn’t on the bank if you like, and my biggest edge from day one was regular baiting. Living only ten minutes from the lake made it so easy to pop in on the way to or from work, much to the delight of my mate as our work van started to take on the smell of Odyssey XXX by the warmer months! Come rain or shine, night or day, a quick walk round most days kept me in touch with where they were and who else was fishing, meaning when I turned up for my twelve-hours with the rods I already had a good idea where to go.

As the lake is quite long and thin running from east to west, I picked a spot at each end and one at the thinnest part along the middle, these were kept topped up constantly whether I’d seen fish or not, just little and often. When arriving with the kit I’d do a lap and check each area for signs of fish. If nothing was obvious, a couple of handfuls with the stick and off to the next – other angler’s permitting of course. It took a while for these spots to start paying off.

In the meantime, I soon ticked the first blood off a couple of weeks into my campaign, a little bright one on a Choddy cast to a showing fish doing the damage. Being mobile when nothing else was happening paid off and constant scanning of the water had me moving to any shows and I picked off quite a few through the warmer months, most of which came in the night and these were kept as quiet as I could. I felt a bit bad keeping things to myself but needs must, and the mat shots and self-takes racked up and I drip-fed the rest of the syndicate pics slowly, just to show I could do it.

By the end of September the three spots were coming good and if the fish were about I’d manage to get one in the bag, packing up early hours and topping up the freebies and then off I’d go without anyone knowing what had happened. Many a day’s work was carried out on a couple of hours sleep but that buzz got me through and all the effort was paying off with a low forty, five thirties and shed of big twenties falling to my little hinged corkballs.

I soon ticked the first blood off a couple of weeks into my campaign, a little bright one on a Choddy cast to a showing fish doing the damage

Many a day’s work was carried out on a couple of hours sleep but that buzz got me through and all the effort was paying off with a low forty, five thirties and shedload of big twenties falling to my little hinged corkballs

Being mobile when nothing else was happening paid off and constant scanning of the water had me moving to any shows and I picked off quite a few through the warmer months

This was never meant to be a bounty hunt, as I really enjoyed this place, and I would have been gutted in some ways if I’d caught the big ‘un really early but after seeing pictures of him in the summer and watching The Colonel, as he was known, go slowly up in weight, along with observing him many times from the trees I spent hours and hours perched in, he got under my skin in a big, big way. I don’t think a day went by where he didn’t enter my head at some point. The Carp-Talk cutting on my fridge was also a constant reminder of the beast and why I was doing it!

At the end of October I had a week booked in Devon with the wife and kids, I owed them big time as I’d been somewhat side-tracked for seven months, but they know how grateful I am for everything.

The couple of weeks before going away I found a large group of fish spending a lot of time in the western end of the lake, but with cold winds from the east I was certain some wet westerlies would soon have them on the move. A big bait up on a Sunday night led me to taking five fish on quick work nights up to high twenties. Weight didn’t matter as these really were bonus fish and as I packed up at 4am on the Thursday morning I couldn’t help feel the wind had changed straight into my face, it came from the west feeling very damp, mild and somewhat ‘carpy’ and I knew I needed to get something rocking for my return in a week.

Sixteen hours later I was back, but this time I was armed with just the spod rod and about fifteen-kilos of 15mm Odyssey XXX that had been defrosting nicely through the day in the carp room, drawing in the bottle of salmon extract that I’d poured over them as I took the baits from the freezer. With nobody else on the lake to see what was going on, out it went, every last bait to my spot in the bay at the eastern end of the lake that had already seen so much through the year. With the warm wind in my face and that horrible drizzle that looks so harmless soaking me to the bone, I locked the gate behind me with a little grin on my face.

Part two of my plan came on Friday morning as I made sure to tell as many people as I could of my bit of success down the other end of the lake, I even sent the bailiff a few pics as a little sweetener, and he even did two nights himself down there I later found out, so it worked a treat.

A lovely week was spent making it up to the family with the T5 chilling down amongst the Devon surf and beaches and I couldn’t help but think how mild it was as that warm onshore wind blew across into the Bristol Channel. A couple of texts back and forth to a few members on the way home on the Friday revealed there were only three on with nobody in my baited swim. I stayed up late to sort the wetsuits and holiday kit out and then packed the fishing truck for a quick getaway in the morning.

I pushed the barrow into the swim later than I’d have liked, around 10am, but it was free and that was all that mattered. I watched for sometime and saw a fish crash deep in the bay to my right so had a little nose. No more than a rod length out I could just make out a group of fish milling about and enjoying the most of the last rays of autumn sunshine. I had to have a couple of hours with some bright ones on their head. I wasn’t overly worried about fishing on top of them and spooking them out as they’d only push out to my baited spot. I chucked the brolly up to claim the swim then spread about fifty baits with the stick over my baited spot before going to pester the group in the corner, giving them a few hours.

A couple of lifts of the line and the odd bleep had me off the floor a few times but it didn’t go. I watched as their bubbling became evident further and further out in the bay and towards the baited area, imagining them still looking for the Odyssey that they’d been eating all week. It seemed now was the best I get some rods out there!

Before doing so, another two-kilos of fifteen-millers and ten tins of corn got dispatched with the Spomb that was still clipped-up from baiting a week ago. Three fresh corkball pop-ups followed, tied to freshly sharpened size sixes and I sat back well happy that I couldn’t be doing anymore.

Halfway through the first brew, an almighty crash come from over the spot. I looked up to see a massive amount of water had been rocked that could only be caused by a chunk. I was buzzing. I made a quick call to the good wife as she promised to nip in later with some food as I didn’t want to waste any time on the way shopping; there’s only one food when The Colonel’s about, so KFC it was to be – another advantage of living so close to the lake, bless her!

To take my mind away from my rumbling belly, I flicked on the recent Carp Cast podcast I’d made sure to download before leaving home and laid back listening to Simon Scott’s very informative thoughts on our scaly targets. What a refreshing change to the radio as he got the grey matter stirring.

Just as I was getting my head around dissolved oxygen levels and the effects of rotting leaves in winter, I had a bleep, then another. I looked out at the water half expecting a coot to surface. But then the slack line picked up in the water and met the tip ring, by which time my boots were on and as I made the few steps to the rods, the middle Neville was in full meltdown.
The rod bucked in the rest as an angry fish made its bid for freedom. I lifted into a steam train of a first run as line ticked steadily from the clutch with the fish staying real deep heading into the bay to my right. Off he plodded, just doing as he pleased, getting as far as he could before turning on a sixpence and heading straight back to where he’d come from. Winding frantically to keep up with the unseen beast, he then proceeded to take just as much line back the other way. With my arms outstretched to the limit, trying to keep the main line away from the now brown rushes that grew out past the end of the swim – a cut-off at this point would have finished any man off.

I had no way of getting the waders from the back of the swim to gain those extra feet so gave Gordon a shout who had set-up in a couple of swims away. Luckily he’d heard my cries for assistance and was soon by my side, straight on the wind up and putting all sorts into my head which really didn’t help my already shattered nerves!

I watched for some time and saw a fish crash deep in the bay to my right so I had a little nose

Being pigmy-sized like myself he soon had my waders on and stepped in with the net, chucking the other two rods into the reeds out of harm’s way as he went. By now the fish was only a couple of rod lengths out and playing my game, up and down he went as the line pinged off a fin more times than was comfortable, each time my heart missing a beat. I walked back steadily and up he popped, but with Gordon between me and the net I couldn’t quite see what was going on but as he gave out a reassuring whoop I knew it was over, I knew the fish was in safe hands and I asked Gordon to pass me the other rods.
“You don’t need to be worrying about another bite boy,” he said knowing full well what I’d managed to bag. “Yes, it’s him Gav, it’s The Colonel,” he said repeatedly.

I wasn’t having any of it but a quick glance in the net was met by what could only be described as two breeze blocks length of golden scales! I run a hand down his armour and he was as deep and solid as he looked in each picture I’d gathered of my little obsession, but for the next few minutes he was mine.

With the light fading fast, we quickly weighed him and rattled off the pics, I held him up proud as punch and had my moment, a moment that will stay firmly etched for a very long time indeed. A few pictures in the water as I slid him back and it was all over, soaked to the bone and absolutely buzzing, it had all happened in a flash.

I wouldn’t have done it without Gordon and he really did help it go smoothly and helped keep my cool, handshakes and pleasantries exchanged and he left me on my little cloud!

The wife rang moments later: “I’ll be needing some dry clothes and Guinness with that KFC, babe,” I blurted out! She knew instantly what I’d done and was soon at the lake. The phone went into meltdown as I shared my news and I did the night with the remaining rods out but hardly slept a wink from that big fish buzz.

Writing this a week or so later and I’ve thought a few times about ‘red carding’ myself, but that ticket was hard to come by and with plenty of other purlers still swimming about, I’m definitely not handing it back just yet…