That Evening On Lake Bled!

I’ve been privileged to enjoy many epic fishing experiences over the last few years, so I’m spoilt for choice when it comes to the subject matter for this piece. One, however probably eclipses all the others, both personally and for those who were on the bank with me. For those who’ve watched the scene unfold in Eurobanx 2, it has also surely become iconic. I refer, of course, to that evening on Lake Bled, and the absolute carnage which ensued in the midst of a thunderstorm. 

Just being at Bled is amazing, particularly during the heat of summer, and it’s slightly surreal as far as carp fishing venues go. It was the end of June and we were enjoying a warm spell. Temperatures were into the thirties by the middle of the day. It was carp fishing meets beach holiday!

It was our second full day at the lake and we had started early, as you have to at Bled. The first day had been good, and the pressure was off as we’d all caught. We were aware of the water’s potential, though, and were super keen to continue where we’d left off. Before first light, we made our way to the Casino Bank, to an area we had baited the evening before. 

As dawn broke and the sun rose, Alan, to the delight of the onlooking Japanese tourists who were eating their breakfast near to where we were fishing, managed to land a couple of lovely dark mirrors. The beauty of Bled is the positive interaction you can have with the public. You’re centre of attention, and it’s something you don’t really experience anywhere else.

The problem with the lovely weather we were enjoying was that once the early morning bite time had passed, very little followed in terms of opportunities. After scouring likely areas and checking those we had baited, we’d found nothing. It was early afternoon as we reconvened back at the chalet. It was the perfect place for some lunch, and to cool down with a dip in the lake. The heat was increasing, a thunderstorm was forecast later and clouds were already building. 

It was at this point that we made a new friend, in the shape of local legend, Gaspar. I discovered him poaching in our garden and we immediately clicked. I invited him for a beer and to meet the other lads. He suggested we go and check the woods on the far side of the lake. With conditions as they were, he thought that was a good shout. Alan and Bastl duly headed off to check it out, while Nick and I continued our stalking the margins in the garden. 

The rest, as they say, is history. Just as Gaspar had predicted, as the storm rolled in, the carp moved up into the shallows, and they were hungry. Alan and Bastl soon found them stacked up. After they’d set a couple of traps on the tip of a big snag in the shallow water down the margin, so began the night of madness. Bites came so thick and fast, they were barely able to keep a rod in the water. Before long, they had amassed several fish and had run out of nets. They then called us, and Nick and I went to join in the fun. 

It proved difficult photographing the backlog of fish as the rods just kept going off. Amidst the bolts of lightning, heavy rain and thunder rolling around the valley, we were treated to the most amazing carp-fishing experience. At one point, following a double take, Bastl and I stood side by side up to our waists in water as we both played big commons. Elated, we managed to bundle the two fish into the same net as we whooped like kids. It was one of those core memories, a moment neither of us will ever forget. The excitement was heightened by a very real risk of being struck by lightning as we stood in the lake waving bits of carbon about!

Rotating takes, we worked as a team to get the rigs retied, baited and back in the game as quickly as possible, so we could capitalise fully on a feeding spell that was fairly concentrated over two of the rods. 

All too soon, eleven chimes of the church clock signalled an end to proceedings for the day, and as much as we wanted to keep going, it was almost a relief. We were exhausted and soaked to the skin. We also hadn’t eaten; there simply hadn’t been time.

In four hours’ fishing we had landed fourteen carp and had lost a couple more. The haul included several forties and a big one for Alan which topped the magical twenty-kilo mark. It had been total, sweet, epic carnage.

We returned to the snags the following day, maybe not expecting but definitely hoping for more of the same. The storm had passed, however, and with it the opportunity. It was wall-to-wall sunshine and the banks were crowded with sunbathers and swimmers. Nevertheless, we did manage to nick a few more bites on our final day.

We finished our three days’ fishing at Lake Bled having banked thirty-three fish between us. It was a dream session at a dream venue. Ironically, though, the session has become a bit of a thorn in our sides, as we know it’s going to be tough to ever top it!