PHIL AND MARY: THE STORY BEHIND THE ICONIC SHOT

Mary was one of the most iconic carp that has ever swam in British waters. Originally transferred from Rayners Lake, where they were stocked in the 1970s, a small group of four carp, including Mary, were moved into the mighty Wraysbury One. Mary hit the headlines in those early years with captures by pioneering anglers such as Pete Springate and Dave Cumpstone. This coming June will signal the 30th anniversary since Phil Thompson put a mesh around this iconic carp and here’s the tale of how he did it…

Bad start
The year was 1994, and it was the second week of the season. It had been a disastrous start for Dave Lane, who had moved from his close-season pre-baited swim in the North Lake after only twenty-four hours, only to hear that another angler, Shakey Del, had followed him in and caught two of Wraysbury One’s most elusive residents. The fish were part of a small group that Phil Thompson and Laney had been feeding there throughout the closed season—the first one was known as The Pug and the second was The Short Fat linear—it’s first capture in eleven years.

Found them
Determined to do better this week, Phil arrived first and located a group of fish in the bottom of Bryant’s Bay, on the South Lake side of the 120-acre pit. Amongst this group, Phil had clearly seen the impressive frame of Mary, the lake’s largest resident and, at that time, possibly the largest fish in the UK.

Ambush point
After an afternoon spent unsuccessfully attempting to catch her on floaters, Phil moved the short distance up to the end of Bryant’s Point in an attempt to set an ambush for the fish should they leave the heat of the bay throughout the evening. Bryant’s Point was a 200-yard-long peninsula that stuck out into the vast central section of the South Lake. It was heavily wooded, with just a small winding path through the trees that led to a single swim on the end. Apart from this isolated spot, there was just one other swim at the base of the point, a swim that eventually would be re-christened ‘The Photographer’s’ as it always played second fiddle to the main swim. Any angler fishing it usually ended up just taking photographs for whoever was on the end of the point.

A new season
That evening was spent celebrating a new season on such a large and magical pit, discussing the hopes and dreams of the coming months and years. A fair amount of alcohol was consumed, and probably a small fire was built to drink it next to, as was usually the way for this carping duo. At this time, Wraysbury was a wild and carefree place, where rules and regulations took a backseat and pure enjoyment, hard work, determination, and an undiluted love of the outdoor life took precedence. In other words, it could get rather messy at times!

Phil’s away
The following morning, Laney (who seldom had any supplies at all) walked up to Phil at the end of the point to see what sustenance was on offer. However, before the first cup of tea had even been consumed, Phil’s alarm sounded out, and the handle of his old Mitchel 410 started to backwind as if possessed of a life of its own. Phil’s tackle was not exactly renowned for its strength and power, and pretty soon, the Mitchel 410 was nearly empty of line, and the 11ft rod was hooped over to the max. Luckily, the carp went to ground in a large weedbed, and all concerned took a much-needed break.

Boat battle
After a while, it became obvious that a boat would be needed to continue, and Laney was dispatched to run the half-mile marathon back around the bay to the car park on the opposite bank. Once there, he dragged a yellow inflatable dingy from the car, pumped it up and then rowed the 250 yards back across the bay. He arrived to find that Phil had somehow managed to free the fish, and it was now stuck behind a small bank of weed just a few rod lengths out to the left of the swim, perilously close to a jungle of branches that adorned that side of the point. With places swapped and Phil now at the front of the boat, Laney then waded out up to his chin, holding the back of the boat steady above his head whilst Phil finished the battle from above. The five-foot aluminium landing net handle took the strain as the fish was passed back along the side of the boat, and the duo hoisted her ashore. Every inch of the 36” landing net seemed to be full of carp, and it was instantly apparent that Phil had just landed the Queen of Lake and Country, Mary, at a huge weight of forty-nine and a half pounds.

6ft from the bank!
When Laney asked Phil exactly where he had caught her, he simply pointed into the right-hand margin and said, “Right there.” Sure enough, no more than six feet from the bank in a few feet of water, they could both clearly see the uneaten boilies that still lay on the bottom. Bizarrely enough, Phil said that this was his ‘long-range spot’, and the visible baits on the left were no more than half this distance from the bank.

Admitting the true…
Later that evening over a few more beers, Phil admitted to Laney that, during his absence to fetch the boat, the great carp had broken free of the weed and had actually emptied his spool of line. Phil had been forced to grab the line between the reel and the first eye, as the final knot holding the line to spool had been exposed.

‘That’s Phil!’
Phil ‘Tommo’ Thomspon was renowned for a rather laid-back approach to his angling, particularly considering the types of venues he fished. He could regularly be seen wandering the banks in beige corduroy trousers, brown carpet slippers, and a tatty old Paddington bear T-shirt. Clutched in one hand would be a can of beer and in the other a pair of gardening secateurs, with a copy of The Times newspaper folded under his arm.

Photographers!
The following February, Laney went on to capture Mary from the exact same swim at one ounce under fifty-pounds and on that occasion, the roles were reversed, and Phil was set up in The Photographers. In fact, after this occurrence, the swim was named as such!