In reply to Post #377
While scouting about for an alternative area to fish we found quite a nice plateau just in front of the mini islands between swims 14 and 16. The rod is not pointing at the spot in this pic, in fact the plateau is off to the right a fair bit.
Well we had brought with us about twenty kilos of frozen, home-made Trigga boilies (barrels) and a couple of sacks of a 50/50 combo of groats and Red Band pigeon conditioner a bucket of which had been in soak since we left the UK. By now it was heaving nicely!
We were going to fish four rods between us and we'd been warned that really strong end gear was required due to all the snags. The only stuff I had in the box that I thought would do was 45lb Quicksilver so I borrowed a trick from history and made up a double length hooklink using this material. I added a fine hair and crimps to hold it all together. To my eyes it looked crude as hell but what did I know.
Hookbait was a pair of Trigga barrels on the hair. Nothing special.
To start with we dropped the hookbaits and a small scattering of boiled bait, some of which I crumbed around the areas Steve had suggested, including one up the channel. We'll tackle a take on that one when we come to it, we thought!
We had 25lb braid on the reels with a snag leader of 45lb Quicksilver topped with a header of leadcore. The lead was attached using a drop off clip and the milk bottle was allowed to run freely up the line to a stop placed about fifteen feet from the hooklink swivel. Was that strong enough? We would see.
There is no easy way to put the following 12 days. We saw neither hide not hair of a carp, though we did see on the bank several bream and tench and a solitary sturgeon. Our eyes were glued to the spots throughout daylight and we kept an ear open for the slightest splash during darkness: we saw nothing and heard nothing. Mind you, we were not alone. Alain in 12 blanked as did the guys in 16 to our left. Meanwhile Tim and John had arrived and moved into 19 where they picked away at slow but steady fishing until John caught an 82lb mirror. This was apparently a carp known as the Briggs fish and it would later go on to break the Rainbow record at 91lb plus for Martin Locke.
We kept the bait going in by dibs and dabs in the hope that there would be something there for the carp to eat when they eventually turned up, but in the meantime the tench and bream were eating everything we threw at them and the sturgeon didn't help either.
It was cold, wet and miserable and come the day of our wedding anniversary we were glad to get off the lake in favour of a trip into Bordeaux where we wallowed in the luxurious comfort of a posh hotel and even posher nosh, but even that short break did nothing to get the carp feeding on our spots. We decided to move the channel rod onto the plateau and moved the corner rod fishing in the margins of 13 up the bank to join the other rod fishing the vicinity of the stump. This was the area that was producing the majority of the non-carp takes, so at least we knew were doing something right, even if the carp had yet to play ball.
Day after dreary day, the trip wound it's way to a close. With one more night left to go we put the baits out one last time. As darkness fell at last we saw a splash over the stump baits. Come on you beauty.
It was fully dark when one of those rods gave a couple of bleeps then showed a huge drop back. Had a fish nudged the lead down into the deeper water or was it an actual take?
While scouting about for an alternative area to fish we found quite a nice plateau just in front of the mini islands between swims 14 and 16. The rod is not pointing at the spot in this pic, in fact the plateau is off to the right a fair bit.
Well we had brought with us about twenty kilos of frozen, home-made Trigga boilies (barrels) and a couple of sacks of a 50/50 combo of groats and Red Band pigeon conditioner a bucket of which had been in soak since we left the UK. By now it was heaving nicely!
We were going to fish four rods between us and we'd been warned that really strong end gear was required due to all the snags. The only stuff I had in the box that I thought would do was 45lb Quicksilver so I borrowed a trick from history and made up a double length hooklink using this material. I added a fine hair and crimps to hold it all together. To my eyes it looked crude as hell but what did I know.
Hookbait was a pair of Trigga barrels on the hair. Nothing special.
To start with we dropped the hookbaits and a small scattering of boiled bait, some of which I crumbed around the areas Steve had suggested, including one up the channel. We'll tackle a take on that one when we come to it, we thought!
We had 25lb braid on the reels with a snag leader of 45lb Quicksilver topped with a header of leadcore. The lead was attached using a drop off clip and the milk bottle was allowed to run freely up the line to a stop placed about fifteen feet from the hooklink swivel. Was that strong enough? We would see.
There is no easy way to put the following 12 days. We saw neither hide not hair of a carp, though we did see on the bank several bream and tench and a solitary sturgeon. Our eyes were glued to the spots throughout daylight and we kept an ear open for the slightest splash during darkness: we saw nothing and heard nothing. Mind you, we were not alone. Alain in 12 blanked as did the guys in 16 to our left. Meanwhile Tim and John had arrived and moved into 19 where they picked away at slow but steady fishing until John caught an 82lb mirror. This was apparently a carp known as the Briggs fish and it would later go on to break the Rainbow record at 91lb plus for Martin Locke.
We kept the bait going in by dibs and dabs in the hope that there would be something there for the carp to eat when they eventually turned up, but in the meantime the tench and bream were eating everything we threw at them and the sturgeon didn't help either.
It was cold, wet and miserable and come the day of our wedding anniversary we were glad to get off the lake in favour of a trip into Bordeaux where we wallowed in the luxurious comfort of a posh hotel and even posher nosh, but even that short break did nothing to get the carp feeding on our spots. We decided to move the channel rod onto the plateau and moved the corner rod fishing in the margins of 13 up the bank to join the other rod fishing the vicinity of the stump. This was the area that was producing the majority of the non-carp takes, so at least we knew were doing something right, even if the carp had yet to play ball.
Day after dreary day, the trip wound it's way to a close. With one more night left to go we put the baits out one last time. As darkness fell at last we saw a splash over the stump baits. Come on you beauty.
It was fully dark when one of those rods gave a couple of bleeps then showed a huge drop back. Had a fish nudged the lead down into the deeper water or was it an actual take?
In reply to Post #378
We always take alternate runs and this one was Tat's so she picked up the rod and reeled like mad to get in contact with the fish while I got the boat ready. Tat, however, said she didn't need the boat as it was, "just another bloody bream", and certainly, she did not seem to be having too much bother reeling it in. However, as the fish got closer to the swim it began to put up a bit more of a fight and the rod took on a more familiar curve. Was this a carp after all?
It sure was! Not one of the fabled monsters but at 23lb it was very welcome nevertheless. It behaved like a dog on a lead, a common trait when my lass plays a fish. They seldom give her grief and even from over 200 yards away she played this one in like a true pro. I assume it was one of the stockies that went in back in 1995, and that being the case I wonder how big it might be today?
So there it is, the story of my second, and probably final trip to Rainbow Lake. I told you it was nothing to get excited about but from looking at Kev's vids I think Steve's advice holds true today, so if one of you is lucky enough to get a booking in swim 14, maybe this meagre account will help.
I'll finish with a couple of scenics. They don't really do the lake justice, as you have to see it to understand the raw beauty of the lake.
More to come soon!
We always take alternate runs and this one was Tat's so she picked up the rod and reeled like mad to get in contact with the fish while I got the boat ready. Tat, however, said she didn't need the boat as it was, "just another bloody bream", and certainly, she did not seem to be having too much bother reeling it in. However, as the fish got closer to the swim it began to put up a bit more of a fight and the rod took on a more familiar curve. Was this a carp after all?
It sure was! Not one of the fabled monsters but at 23lb it was very welcome nevertheless. It behaved like a dog on a lead, a common trait when my lass plays a fish. They seldom give her grief and even from over 200 yards away she played this one in like a true pro. I assume it was one of the stockies that went in back in 1995, and that being the case I wonder how big it might be today?
So there it is, the story of my second, and probably final trip to Rainbow Lake. I told you it was nothing to get excited about but from looking at Kev's vids I think Steve's advice holds true today, so if one of you is lucky enough to get a booking in swim 14, maybe this meagre account will help.
I'll finish with a couple of scenics. They don't really do the lake justice, as you have to see it to understand the raw beauty of the lake.
More to come soon!
In reply to Post #379
CHATEAU LAKE: OCTOBER ‘96
I thought you might like to read a bit about my experiences on a lake I became associated with back in the 90's and the 00's, L'etang de la Poiteviniere, aka the Château Lake or simple the Chat.
This was not the first French lake I fished. Nige, Steve and myself had ventured across the Channel first in 1989 and several times thereafter. However, while we had fished some pretty decent lakes such as Chatillon and Hutchy's 'Commons Lake' it wasn't until we tripped over Poiteviniere that our French forays really began to kick off.
Tat and I had also discovered the joys of French holiday cottages enjoyed some pretty decent gite/fishing holidays and it was on one of those trips that we first encountered the now-famous estate lake that has since become so well known. Little did I know at the time that the Chat was to figure so hugely in my angling over the next fifteen years.
Have you ever looked through a fence or over a wall into a dream-world? You see before you the private landscape of an ancient château; a lawn that looks as if it has been painted onto the surface of the earth, a Capability Brown garden blossoming with colour and splendour and, maybe, a lily-fringed lake where huge carp sport and parade with not a care in the world. A paradise. Wistfully you say to yourself, “I'd give anything to be able to fish there,” but you know that cannot be. For a start there's a bloody great sign baring your way that says "Private"
That is what happened to us a few years ago, in the late summer of 1991. We had rented a gite situated on the banks of a big lac de barrage in western France. It was one of three lakes that lay in the valley of a river, surrounded by thick forests and dotted with the occasional village, the lake was about 800 acres in size.
We had chosen the gite 'on spec' more because it was only a stone's throw from the water that any other reason. We took a chance that the lake would produce carp and while we did catch a few upper doubles and mid-20s we had hoped for better things. Here's Tat with a low twenty and myself with a typical carp from the huge lake.
You can get some idea of the size of the lake from the above pix and at the time it was certainly the largest lake we had fished so far in our carp fishing lives. College was the largest venue we'd tackled to date so to look out on this huge expanse of water - and these pix show only about a quarter of it - was pretty daunting. To be honest I think we did pretty well to catch anything at all! As you can see from the photo the weather took a dislike to us in no uncertain way!
CHATEAU LAKE: OCTOBER ‘96
I thought you might like to read a bit about my experiences on a lake I became associated with back in the 90's and the 00's, L'etang de la Poiteviniere, aka the Château Lake or simple the Chat.
This was not the first French lake I fished. Nige, Steve and myself had ventured across the Channel first in 1989 and several times thereafter. However, while we had fished some pretty decent lakes such as Chatillon and Hutchy's 'Commons Lake' it wasn't until we tripped over Poiteviniere that our French forays really began to kick off.
Tat and I had also discovered the joys of French holiday cottages enjoyed some pretty decent gite/fishing holidays and it was on one of those trips that we first encountered the now-famous estate lake that has since become so well known. Little did I know at the time that the Chat was to figure so hugely in my angling over the next fifteen years.
Have you ever looked through a fence or over a wall into a dream-world? You see before you the private landscape of an ancient château; a lawn that looks as if it has been painted onto the surface of the earth, a Capability Brown garden blossoming with colour and splendour and, maybe, a lily-fringed lake where huge carp sport and parade with not a care in the world. A paradise. Wistfully you say to yourself, “I'd give anything to be able to fish there,” but you know that cannot be. For a start there's a bloody great sign baring your way that says "Private"
That is what happened to us a few years ago, in the late summer of 1991. We had rented a gite situated on the banks of a big lac de barrage in western France. It was one of three lakes that lay in the valley of a river, surrounded by thick forests and dotted with the occasional village, the lake was about 800 acres in size.
We had chosen the gite 'on spec' more because it was only a stone's throw from the water that any other reason. We took a chance that the lake would produce carp and while we did catch a few upper doubles and mid-20s we had hoped for better things. Here's Tat with a low twenty and myself with a typical carp from the huge lake.
You can get some idea of the size of the lake from the above pix and at the time it was certainly the largest lake we had fished so far in our carp fishing lives. College was the largest venue we'd tackled to date so to look out on this huge expanse of water - and these pix show only about a quarter of it - was pretty daunting. To be honest I think we did pretty well to catch anything at all! As you can see from the photo the weather took a dislike to us in no uncertain way!
In reply to Post #380
It was the weather as much as any other factor that kept us off the bank of the big lake while we indulged in a spot of touristy stuff, you know, eating and drinking the best that France has to offer and occasionally doing a bit of sight seeing. It was while on our tour of the area that we came across a large French town with a big river running though it and for want of something better to do we tried our luck for the carp, even though we did not know for sure if there were any carp in there. (We have since found out that virtually every French river holds carp to a greater or lesser degree. Indeed, if we'd though to stop in the town we'd have found a big tackle shop, the walls of which were festooned with photos of good sized carp. Hey-ho! You live and learn.) This is a short section of the river in question.
As it turned out there we got pretty lucky and dropped onto a few fish straight away and we actually caught a few twenties. In fact there are much bigger carp in there as we subsequently discovered but on that visit we were happy with what he caught. This is Tat and myself with three nice twenties.
I mentioned that the big barrage was one of three lakes in the valley so naturally we had a look at the other two. The first was as big as the one we were fishing but was long and thin whereas the one by our gite was just big! The third lake was only twenty kilometers away from the gite so naturally enough we visited the lake. God, it looked carpy!
The lake was in the grounds of a fairy story chateau with wide sweeping lawns and thick forests: it looked as if it had come straight out of a novel or was some exotic film set. Further enquirers in the nearby town indicated that, indeed the lake was very private and was owned by a true aristocrat, a count no less! We were told that there was some talk that the lake might open for fishing on a limited scale the following year, so the following year we were back, this time staying in a nice little bar/restaurant cum guest house situated right on the banks of the river we had fished the previous year.
Again we managed a few decent fish from the river but once again we were disappointed to find that the private lake remained just that...Private.
Year followed year...we found new challenges and caught a few from here and there. Then in the early part of 1996 I got an excited phone call from my old friend, now living in France, Pete McDermott. He had managed to get permission to fish the Chateau Lake and together with Mikhail his mate he had fished a 24-hour session for seven fish, smallest just over twenty pounds, biggest a good thirty. This is Pete with a Chateau Lake mirror.
Pete and his mate were the very first carp anglers ever to cast a boilie into the lake and naturally they visited it throughout the summer, each time being rewarded with some very decent fish.
The lake was a completely unknown quantity as far as its potential was concerned and Pete was eager for me to fish there as he knew the lake may not remain open for long as the owner was in two minds whether to allow the great unwashed onto its banks. I don't think he needed the money so who could blame him. However, Pete arranged a meeting between me and the Count, the idea being that we could talk it over and I could maybe point out the financial benefits he might gain by opening the lake, which I would publicise in the UK.
It was the weather as much as any other factor that kept us off the bank of the big lake while we indulged in a spot of touristy stuff, you know, eating and drinking the best that France has to offer and occasionally doing a bit of sight seeing. It was while on our tour of the area that we came across a large French town with a big river running though it and for want of something better to do we tried our luck for the carp, even though we did not know for sure if there were any carp in there. (We have since found out that virtually every French river holds carp to a greater or lesser degree. Indeed, if we'd though to stop in the town we'd have found a big tackle shop, the walls of which were festooned with photos of good sized carp. Hey-ho! You live and learn.) This is a short section of the river in question.
As it turned out there we got pretty lucky and dropped onto a few fish straight away and we actually caught a few twenties. In fact there are much bigger carp in there as we subsequently discovered but on that visit we were happy with what he caught. This is Tat and myself with three nice twenties.
I mentioned that the big barrage was one of three lakes in the valley so naturally we had a look at the other two. The first was as big as the one we were fishing but was long and thin whereas the one by our gite was just big! The third lake was only twenty kilometers away from the gite so naturally enough we visited the lake. God, it looked carpy!
The lake was in the grounds of a fairy story chateau with wide sweeping lawns and thick forests: it looked as if it had come straight out of a novel or was some exotic film set. Further enquirers in the nearby town indicated that, indeed the lake was very private and was owned by a true aristocrat, a count no less! We were told that there was some talk that the lake might open for fishing on a limited scale the following year, so the following year we were back, this time staying in a nice little bar/restaurant cum guest house situated right on the banks of the river we had fished the previous year.
Again we managed a few decent fish from the river but once again we were disappointed to find that the private lake remained just that...Private.
Year followed year...we found new challenges and caught a few from here and there. Then in the early part of 1996 I got an excited phone call from my old friend, now living in France, Pete McDermott. He had managed to get permission to fish the Chateau Lake and together with Mikhail his mate he had fished a 24-hour session for seven fish, smallest just over twenty pounds, biggest a good thirty. This is Pete with a Chateau Lake mirror.
Pete and his mate were the very first carp anglers ever to cast a boilie into the lake and naturally they visited it throughout the summer, each time being rewarded with some very decent fish.
The lake was a completely unknown quantity as far as its potential was concerned and Pete was eager for me to fish there as he knew the lake may not remain open for long as the owner was in two minds whether to allow the great unwashed onto its banks. I don't think he needed the money so who could blame him. However, Pete arranged a meeting between me and the Count, the idea being that we could talk it over and I could maybe point out the financial benefits he might gain by opening the lake, which I would publicise in the UK.
In reply to Post #381
Excited by Pete's news that I might be in with a chance of catching some previously uncaught carp, I made arrangements to go over for a visit in late October 1996. Unfortunately I had to undertake the trip alone, my usual fishing partners being committed to other adventures and Carole being hard at work earning a living so that I could go fishing. Bless her!
The thought of spending any length of time in my own company was rather daunting. I've never fished in such isolated circumstances, nor for such a long time without company or a break of some kind. I was a bit uneasy about the prospect ahead. To cap it all the shipping forecast gave SW 6-8 for the night of my crossing so my stomach was churning with butterflies as I left home.
The crossing from Plymouth to Roscoff was pretty rough and bumpy with a south westerly gale blowing. On board I met a group of English anglers who were on their way to Fishabil. I told them of my plans and where I was going (though I didn't name the lake) and they queried the wisdom of going to a completely unknown lake, when I would have to drive straight past the known quantity of Fishabil in order to get there. But if you don't try out new things, you never, learn do you? Starship Enterprise - to boldly go and all that, splitting infinitives in the process. !
The rough weather meant that I didn't sleep very well on the ferry and I drove to the lake with drooping eyelids. The weather was not very pleasant, heavy rain under lowering grey skies. Not the sort of start I would have wished for. I met Pete and his mate Mikhail at the lake and we agreed that we would fish together for the weekend before they had to pull off for work. Eric got a bottle out - I found out in later visits that sinking a swift glass or seven was the accepted procedure to follow at the start of a trip in France. Here's Pete on the left with Eric the Estate Manager.
Eric mentioned that there were already three English lads fishing the lake so we all went up to see how they were doing. They were not best pleased to see me and even less so when I told them of the purpose of my visit, but nothing was agreed just yet and until I had met the Count their little secret was safe.
By a huge coincidence I had met one of the group before; Roy Williams, an old College visitor from way back. It's a small world. Nige Cobham and Graham Mountain were on the trip too. Good anglers all three of them, so it was no surprise to hear that they'd had a few decent fish, though they were cagey about sizes. As they were leaving the next day I was all for going into their vacated swims, but after a bit of a discussion it was clear that Eric felt we were in with a better chance if we fished two newly created pontoons swims situated on an island in the middle of the 170 acre lake. (It turned out that these had been built especially for my visit so it would have been rude not to fish them.) In the photo the pontoon on the right is east-facing, while the one of the left faces west towards the main road and the sluice outlet.
Back at the car park Eric steered me in the direction of a rather dilapidated pontoon alongside which sagged a rather tired-looking semi water-logged punt about the size of the QE2. If it hadn't be tied to the jetty I reckon it would have sunk.
We bailed it out but water came in as fast as we emptied it. Oh well. We bit the bullet and got on with it! Pete had brought his big Zodiac with a powerful Evinrude petrol outboard so we loaded all the gear into the two boats and prepared to set off the half mile or so across the choppy surface to the island. Of course, the outboard wouldn't start so after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing a small electric motor was hitched to the transom of the punt and the battery was connected up. Even with the size of the punt there was only room for Pete's gear and mine so Mik's went in the Zodiac, and wheezing like a good 'un, the little electric struggled to get all three of us out to the island. This was my first view of it. I was mighty impressed, to say the least.
Excited by Pete's news that I might be in with a chance of catching some previously uncaught carp, I made arrangements to go over for a visit in late October 1996. Unfortunately I had to undertake the trip alone, my usual fishing partners being committed to other adventures and Carole being hard at work earning a living so that I could go fishing. Bless her!
The thought of spending any length of time in my own company was rather daunting. I've never fished in such isolated circumstances, nor for such a long time without company or a break of some kind. I was a bit uneasy about the prospect ahead. To cap it all the shipping forecast gave SW 6-8 for the night of my crossing so my stomach was churning with butterflies as I left home.
The crossing from Plymouth to Roscoff was pretty rough and bumpy with a south westerly gale blowing. On board I met a group of English anglers who were on their way to Fishabil. I told them of my plans and where I was going (though I didn't name the lake) and they queried the wisdom of going to a completely unknown lake, when I would have to drive straight past the known quantity of Fishabil in order to get there. But if you don't try out new things, you never, learn do you? Starship Enterprise - to boldly go and all that, splitting infinitives in the process. !
The rough weather meant that I didn't sleep very well on the ferry and I drove to the lake with drooping eyelids. The weather was not very pleasant, heavy rain under lowering grey skies. Not the sort of start I would have wished for. I met Pete and his mate Mikhail at the lake and we agreed that we would fish together for the weekend before they had to pull off for work. Eric got a bottle out - I found out in later visits that sinking a swift glass or seven was the accepted procedure to follow at the start of a trip in France. Here's Pete on the left with Eric the Estate Manager.
Eric mentioned that there were already three English lads fishing the lake so we all went up to see how they were doing. They were not best pleased to see me and even less so when I told them of the purpose of my visit, but nothing was agreed just yet and until I had met the Count their little secret was safe.
By a huge coincidence I had met one of the group before; Roy Williams, an old College visitor from way back. It's a small world. Nige Cobham and Graham Mountain were on the trip too. Good anglers all three of them, so it was no surprise to hear that they'd had a few decent fish, though they were cagey about sizes. As they were leaving the next day I was all for going into their vacated swims, but after a bit of a discussion it was clear that Eric felt we were in with a better chance if we fished two newly created pontoons swims situated on an island in the middle of the 170 acre lake. (It turned out that these had been built especially for my visit so it would have been rude not to fish them.) In the photo the pontoon on the right is east-facing, while the one of the left faces west towards the main road and the sluice outlet.
Back at the car park Eric steered me in the direction of a rather dilapidated pontoon alongside which sagged a rather tired-looking semi water-logged punt about the size of the QE2. If it hadn't be tied to the jetty I reckon it would have sunk.
We bailed it out but water came in as fast as we emptied it. Oh well. We bit the bullet and got on with it! Pete had brought his big Zodiac with a powerful Evinrude petrol outboard so we loaded all the gear into the two boats and prepared to set off the half mile or so across the choppy surface to the island. Of course, the outboard wouldn't start so after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing a small electric motor was hitched to the transom of the punt and the battery was connected up. Even with the size of the punt there was only room for Pete's gear and mine so Mik's went in the Zodiac, and wheezing like a good 'un, the little electric struggled to get all three of us out to the island. This was my first view of it. I was mighty impressed, to say the least.
In reply to Post #382
Eventually we reached the island and the two pontoons that had been built to accommodate anglers. They were very sturdy and comfortable but not big enough on which to put up a bivvy. However, there was plenty of room on the island itself. In fact it was mega comfortable and it even had its own WC... of sorts!
I had the big double bivvy with me for the long session and soon I was installed in the absolute luxury and blissful comfort of the excellent canvas pump-up.
It was all a bit hard to take in at first: here I was marooned on an island in the middle of a seventeenth century estate lake that was apparently stiff with carp. How good is that!
Pete and Mikhail had arranged some time off work to do a couple of nights with me. The pontoon looking down the lake towards the road end was slightly bigger and would accommodate two sets of rods so they took that side while I set up on the opposite side of the island. Here the swim faces more or less due east, a bit of a bugger as the wind was a fresh south westerly, blowing away from me. Not to worry! This is Pete and Mik as they are setting up on west-facing pontoon, the bigger of the two.
And this is the view of Pete and Mik's swim from afloat with the Chateau in the background. Nice, eh?!
Soon we were installed on the island. What a magnificent setting! Off to the left the imposing château dominated the view, surrounded by a thick pine forest the magnificent lawns swept down to the lake edge. There were even a few deer grazing quietly on its lush expanse.
A quick buzz around with the sounder and the Zodiac showed a distinct area of shallows in front of the lawn. It was only about a meter deep but the depth dropped off fairly steeply a couple of hundred yards of the chateau bank's margins. There was then a deep channel some three to four meters deep running between the island and the shallows and I felt this would be a good spot for at least one or maybe two rods.
I decided to bait up fairly heavily along the change-over line from deep water to shallow. In effect, this meant that I could fish into two or three metres of water about fifty metres off to my left, while the gradual slope meant a cast of about a hundred meters further put me in the deepest water of about four meters. I dropped a kilo of bait along the drop-off, concentrating mainly on the deeper water and the shelf leading up to the shallows.
Eventually we reached the island and the two pontoons that had been built to accommodate anglers. They were very sturdy and comfortable but not big enough on which to put up a bivvy. However, there was plenty of room on the island itself. In fact it was mega comfortable and it even had its own WC... of sorts!
I had the big double bivvy with me for the long session and soon I was installed in the absolute luxury and blissful comfort of the excellent canvas pump-up.
It was all a bit hard to take in at first: here I was marooned on an island in the middle of a seventeenth century estate lake that was apparently stiff with carp. How good is that!
Pete and Mikhail had arranged some time off work to do a couple of nights with me. The pontoon looking down the lake towards the road end was slightly bigger and would accommodate two sets of rods so they took that side while I set up on the opposite side of the island. Here the swim faces more or less due east, a bit of a bugger as the wind was a fresh south westerly, blowing away from me. Not to worry! This is Pete and Mik as they are setting up on west-facing pontoon, the bigger of the two.
And this is the view of Pete and Mik's swim from afloat with the Chateau in the background. Nice, eh?!
Soon we were installed on the island. What a magnificent setting! Off to the left the imposing château dominated the view, surrounded by a thick pine forest the magnificent lawns swept down to the lake edge. There were even a few deer grazing quietly on its lush expanse.
A quick buzz around with the sounder and the Zodiac showed a distinct area of shallows in front of the lawn. It was only about a meter deep but the depth dropped off fairly steeply a couple of hundred yards of the chateau bank's margins. There was then a deep channel some three to four meters deep running between the island and the shallows and I felt this would be a good spot for at least one or maybe two rods.
I decided to bait up fairly heavily along the change-over line from deep water to shallow. In effect, this meant that I could fish into two or three metres of water about fifty metres off to my left, while the gradual slope meant a cast of about a hundred meters further put me in the deepest water of about four meters. I dropped a kilo of bait along the drop-off, concentrating mainly on the deeper water and the shelf leading up to the shallows.
In reply to Post #383
Out in front of me, looking eastwards up the lake to a distant bay, the lakebed seemed pretty flat at about three meters deep while off to my right the bottom could not have been more different. Here it went up and down like an egg box. I was spoilt for choice. I decided to fish three rods out in front cast as far as possible with the fresh wind from astern to help me and one rod across towards the shallows. I planned to trickle bait into the egg box for a few days as a back up if there was no action. See what happens...
We got sorted out by dusk, then cooked the evening meal before sitting back to relax for the first time since leaving home. It was wonderful to sit and drink a cold beer watching the sunset and listening to a few carp crashing out away up the lake to the east. Soon my eyes were drooping with lack of sleep so I climbed into the blissful warmth and comfort of the bag and fell asleep almost immediately. I slept like a log, thus missing what was apparently the mother and father of all storms that hit the lake during the night. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed and yours truly slept right through it. Just as well I didn't have a take, though I should add, I have never ever slept through a take in my life.
It was still dark when I awoke. I looked at my watch; four in the morning. I peered out of the bivvy door to be greeted by a thick fog. The lake what I could see of it was while calm. Looking at the fog I thought to myself, “That's the end of that,” for I have never done well in foggy conditions. However, just to prove me wrong suddenly, from the other side of the island, a buzzer screamed out! It was one of Mikhail's rods! Pete was as wide awake as myself so we were soon with him on the pontoon as he took up the fight. Apparently the take had come on a bait cast into about three metres of water some twenty metres out. It was a terrific scrap from a beautiful carp, a big hump-backed grey Italian strain mirror of just over thirty pounds.
Everybody was delighted for Mikhail for it was a personal best. We had a cup of coffee to celebrate the first carp of the trip then went back to bed. I tried to read a bit of my book but I could feel my eyelids slapping shut and gave in to the fatigue. It didn't seem as if I'd been asleep more than a few minutes when I too had a very fast run. I made my way along the pontoon, through the fog, then picked up the left hand rod. The LED was glowing brightly and the indicator was emitting a continuous shriek! As soon as I struck I knew I was attached to a very good fish. It had picked up a pop-up boilie cast off to the left some thirty metres out. And what a fabulous fish it was, a common not far off thirty-five pounds!
There was no more action that night, nor during the day that followed but we'd had two “thirties” after all. What a fabulous way to start to a session!
Obviously we were very excited by the prospect of the next night's fishing but in fact it was a complete let-down after the two big carp of the previous night. We all blanked. It seemed almost unbelievable that they could switch off so quickly after switching on so instantly the day before. I think perhaps the weather conditions played their part for it was a completely different night, clear and cold with millions of stars shining in the sky, not a ripple on the lake and a touch of frost on the ground. We were all rather disappointed, especially for Pete who had to leave that morning. He had not had a touch all through the session, but Mikhail and I were obviously very happy with our big carp.
My two friends left at midday. I sat out on the rods in the freshening south westerly breeze. The conditions looked good again; blue skies and big white clouds all puffing along on a fresh south westerly breeze. There was some early drizzle in the wind but that soon cleared up and it was quite warm in the sun. I sat out on the western pontoon with the bins, scanning the water for a sign of carp. There were enough fish poking their heads out to make the heart pound harder!
Out in front of me, looking eastwards up the lake to a distant bay, the lakebed seemed pretty flat at about three meters deep while off to my right the bottom could not have been more different. Here it went up and down like an egg box. I was spoilt for choice. I decided to fish three rods out in front cast as far as possible with the fresh wind from astern to help me and one rod across towards the shallows. I planned to trickle bait into the egg box for a few days as a back up if there was no action. See what happens...
We got sorted out by dusk, then cooked the evening meal before sitting back to relax for the first time since leaving home. It was wonderful to sit and drink a cold beer watching the sunset and listening to a few carp crashing out away up the lake to the east. Soon my eyes were drooping with lack of sleep so I climbed into the blissful warmth and comfort of the bag and fell asleep almost immediately. I slept like a log, thus missing what was apparently the mother and father of all storms that hit the lake during the night. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed and yours truly slept right through it. Just as well I didn't have a take, though I should add, I have never ever slept through a take in my life.
It was still dark when I awoke. I looked at my watch; four in the morning. I peered out of the bivvy door to be greeted by a thick fog. The lake what I could see of it was while calm. Looking at the fog I thought to myself, “That's the end of that,” for I have never done well in foggy conditions. However, just to prove me wrong suddenly, from the other side of the island, a buzzer screamed out! It was one of Mikhail's rods! Pete was as wide awake as myself so we were soon with him on the pontoon as he took up the fight. Apparently the take had come on a bait cast into about three metres of water some twenty metres out. It was a terrific scrap from a beautiful carp, a big hump-backed grey Italian strain mirror of just over thirty pounds.
Everybody was delighted for Mikhail for it was a personal best. We had a cup of coffee to celebrate the first carp of the trip then went back to bed. I tried to read a bit of my book but I could feel my eyelids slapping shut and gave in to the fatigue. It didn't seem as if I'd been asleep more than a few minutes when I too had a very fast run. I made my way along the pontoon, through the fog, then picked up the left hand rod. The LED was glowing brightly and the indicator was emitting a continuous shriek! As soon as I struck I knew I was attached to a very good fish. It had picked up a pop-up boilie cast off to the left some thirty metres out. And what a fabulous fish it was, a common not far off thirty-five pounds!
There was no more action that night, nor during the day that followed but we'd had two “thirties” after all. What a fabulous way to start to a session!
Obviously we were very excited by the prospect of the next night's fishing but in fact it was a complete let-down after the two big carp of the previous night. We all blanked. It seemed almost unbelievable that they could switch off so quickly after switching on so instantly the day before. I think perhaps the weather conditions played their part for it was a completely different night, clear and cold with millions of stars shining in the sky, not a ripple on the lake and a touch of frost on the ground. We were all rather disappointed, especially for Pete who had to leave that morning. He had not had a touch all through the session, but Mikhail and I were obviously very happy with our big carp.
My two friends left at midday. I sat out on the rods in the freshening south westerly breeze. The conditions looked good again; blue skies and big white clouds all puffing along on a fresh south westerly breeze. There was some early drizzle in the wind but that soon cleared up and it was quite warm in the sun. I sat out on the western pontoon with the bins, scanning the water for a sign of carp. There were enough fish poking their heads out to make the heart pound harder!
In reply to Post #384
The forecast was good for the night with fresh winds and reasonably high temperatures. But I didn't know what to expect after one night when we caught was followed by one when we all blanked. As the evening drew in a few carp began to show a long way off in the bay away to the east. It looked as if my fears had been realised, the wind had carried most of the carp with it towards the far bay. I was rather apprehensive that I might be in the wrong swim and decided to give it one more night on the island. If I blanked, I would follow the wind and move further up the lake.
Despite my misgivings I caught a couple of carp, one coming to the rod cast way off to the left in the deepest part of the channel between the island and the château bank, the other on the long range right hand rod cast about 100m in the direction of the far bay. The runs came at three and five o'clock in the morning and were the only takes of the night...not that I was complaining, they were both thirties! I sacked them up to wait for the morning when I could do the photos. (OK. I know the thought police of today will now be having a conniption fit, but back then everybody did it.)
The dawn when it arrived was very red heralding the arrival of strong winds and a few hours of rain. Luckily I managed to photograph the two carp before the rain arrived but then I had to retreat to the bivvy while the rain passed. The weather was not really in favour of the island situated as it was nearer the western end of the lake than the eastern one. With the prevailing westerly wind blowing hard all the time the carp seemed to have followed the wind up the lake, away from the island into the distant bay at the eastern end of the lake a good half a mile away from my baited patch!
The predictable rain, heralded by the morning's red sky had arrived and it pissed down for about 6 hours. I was marooned in a dark, dank sea of green and the rain hammered down onto the roof and the wind threatened to uproot the bivvy and blow it, and me, into the lake! It was bloody horrible and to be honest I was glad I didn't get a take.
Eventually the wind lost its anger and as it did so the rain lost its ferocity and soon the sun came out and the world took on a much rosier hue.
Sitting out in the late evening sunshine, beer in hand watching the world go by, I heard a huge splash that seemed to have come from pretty close by. I got up and looked for the ripples and couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that the fish had crashed out just a matter of yards from the right hand margin of the island, about ten years from were I was sitting. I needed no further invitation to reel in one rod and chuck a speculative hookbait and stringer into the rough area of the splash and before I had time to put the rod back on the pod the bait was taken and a big fish set off for deeper water. After a good bit of to and fro-ing the carp ended up in the net. Another really good fish well over thirty pounds in weight.
The forecast was good for the night with fresh winds and reasonably high temperatures. But I didn't know what to expect after one night when we caught was followed by one when we all blanked. As the evening drew in a few carp began to show a long way off in the bay away to the east. It looked as if my fears had been realised, the wind had carried most of the carp with it towards the far bay. I was rather apprehensive that I might be in the wrong swim and decided to give it one more night on the island. If I blanked, I would follow the wind and move further up the lake.
Despite my misgivings I caught a couple of carp, one coming to the rod cast way off to the left in the deepest part of the channel between the island and the château bank, the other on the long range right hand rod cast about 100m in the direction of the far bay. The runs came at three and five o'clock in the morning and were the only takes of the night...not that I was complaining, they were both thirties! I sacked them up to wait for the morning when I could do the photos. (OK. I know the thought police of today will now be having a conniption fit, but back then everybody did it.)
The dawn when it arrived was very red heralding the arrival of strong winds and a few hours of rain. Luckily I managed to photograph the two carp before the rain arrived but then I had to retreat to the bivvy while the rain passed. The weather was not really in favour of the island situated as it was nearer the western end of the lake than the eastern one. With the prevailing westerly wind blowing hard all the time the carp seemed to have followed the wind up the lake, away from the island into the distant bay at the eastern end of the lake a good half a mile away from my baited patch!
The predictable rain, heralded by the morning's red sky had arrived and it pissed down for about 6 hours. I was marooned in a dark, dank sea of green and the rain hammered down onto the roof and the wind threatened to uproot the bivvy and blow it, and me, into the lake! It was bloody horrible and to be honest I was glad I didn't get a take.
Eventually the wind lost its anger and as it did so the rain lost its ferocity and soon the sun came out and the world took on a much rosier hue.
Sitting out in the late evening sunshine, beer in hand watching the world go by, I heard a huge splash that seemed to have come from pretty close by. I got up and looked for the ripples and couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that the fish had crashed out just a matter of yards from the right hand margin of the island, about ten years from were I was sitting. I needed no further invitation to reel in one rod and chuck a speculative hookbait and stringer into the rough area of the splash and before I had time to put the rod back on the pod the bait was taken and a big fish set off for deeper water. After a good bit of to and fro-ing the carp ended up in the net. Another really good fish well over thirty pounds in weight.
In reply to Post #385
By now I was beginning to grasp the magnitude of the task I had undertaken. I had never fished such a huge lake before and looking at it in the cold light of day it was obvious that there was a huge amount of water I could not cover. Hoping they would come sniffing around the island in search of food was expecting a lot, and there was no obvious activity coming from down the far end of the lake. Nor were they showing themselves in front of the western pontoon now the wind had dropped away. Using Google I have since measured the distance from the island to where I had seen fish showing. As I had thought at the time, its near enough half a mile. In this photo, which was taken from the peninsula (swim 26 for those of you who know the lake) looking back down the lake, the island is in the centre of the photo. How tiny it looks on such a huge expanse of water.
Still, at least I had the beginnings of an article building in my head should the Count finally commit to his plan to open up the lake to the great unwashed!
Four fish on the bank so far and more to come I felt sure. But sadly the next night was a blank one. I wondered if the fish that had drifted away from the far end of the lake might not have by-passed the island altogether and we now feeding on the remains of the bait Pete and Mik had put in at the weekend. Wouldn't do any harm to move a couple of rods over to the other pontoon, would it? I reeled in the two long range rods and moved them across to the other pontoon. I now had a pair of rods on each side of the island and I somehow felt much more confident.
Such confidence was misplaced as again I suffered a blank night but I felt it was only a matter of time before the carp came back to me, even though there was little or no activity to be seen way up the lake towards the far bay and there was no sign of any carpy action to my left or right. I figured the fish could well be shoaled up off the shallows in front of an old boathouse that stood prominently on the château bank. Little did I know what a huge part this little structure would play in my carp life over the years to come. Here you can see the island in the centre of the photo while the boathouse itself is visible on the far left of the picture between the old oak tree on the lawn and the fir tree that towers over the little building. It is about 350m between the island and the boathouse so there is plenty of room for the carp to loose themselves in the vastness of the lake.
Sunday was dull and overcast, a bit drizzly and the wind had freshened up quite a bit, more south-west weather that would surely take the fish out of range again...
In fact it was real carp weather and they should have been going mad. Maybe they were, but not where I was fishing! I was so emotionally exhausted by the long session with only myself for company that I decided to have a day off and went into town to do some shopping before stopping at a Les Routiers restaurant for a shower and a decent meal. By the time I got back to the island at about four in the afternoon I was refreshed and ready for the fray again.
By now I was beginning to grasp the magnitude of the task I had undertaken. I had never fished such a huge lake before and looking at it in the cold light of day it was obvious that there was a huge amount of water I could not cover. Hoping they would come sniffing around the island in search of food was expecting a lot, and there was no obvious activity coming from down the far end of the lake. Nor were they showing themselves in front of the western pontoon now the wind had dropped away. Using Google I have since measured the distance from the island to where I had seen fish showing. As I had thought at the time, its near enough half a mile. In this photo, which was taken from the peninsula (swim 26 for those of you who know the lake) looking back down the lake, the island is in the centre of the photo. How tiny it looks on such a huge expanse of water.
Still, at least I had the beginnings of an article building in my head should the Count finally commit to his plan to open up the lake to the great unwashed!
Four fish on the bank so far and more to come I felt sure. But sadly the next night was a blank one. I wondered if the fish that had drifted away from the far end of the lake might not have by-passed the island altogether and we now feeding on the remains of the bait Pete and Mik had put in at the weekend. Wouldn't do any harm to move a couple of rods over to the other pontoon, would it? I reeled in the two long range rods and moved them across to the other pontoon. I now had a pair of rods on each side of the island and I somehow felt much more confident.
Such confidence was misplaced as again I suffered a blank night but I felt it was only a matter of time before the carp came back to me, even though there was little or no activity to be seen way up the lake towards the far bay and there was no sign of any carpy action to my left or right. I figured the fish could well be shoaled up off the shallows in front of an old boathouse that stood prominently on the château bank. Little did I know what a huge part this little structure would play in my carp life over the years to come. Here you can see the island in the centre of the photo while the boathouse itself is visible on the far left of the picture between the old oak tree on the lawn and the fir tree that towers over the little building. It is about 350m between the island and the boathouse so there is plenty of room for the carp to loose themselves in the vastness of the lake.
Sunday was dull and overcast, a bit drizzly and the wind had freshened up quite a bit, more south-west weather that would surely take the fish out of range again...
In fact it was real carp weather and they should have been going mad. Maybe they were, but not where I was fishing! I was so emotionally exhausted by the long session with only myself for company that I decided to have a day off and went into town to do some shopping before stopping at a Les Routiers restaurant for a shower and a decent meal. By the time I got back to the island at about four in the afternoon I was refreshed and ready for the fray again.
In reply to Post #386
More to follow soon.
More to follow soon.
In reply to Post #387
Excellent Ken, very interesting!!
Excellent Ken, very interesting!!
In reply to Post #388
Continued...
I baited up the gully area to my left with a further two kilos of bait. and fished two rods onto the same patch of bait that had produced a couple of fish earlier in the week, even while the wind was blowing a hoolie towards the far bay at the time. Hopefully not all the carp moved on the breeze. Maybe they'd learned a trick or two from the College carp that at time stubbornly refused to follow the wind, not matter how many 'experts' told them that was whet they were supposed to do!
The third and fourth rods were cast in the direction of the château bank from the western pontoon but with the wind in my face I was not able to get anywhere near the shallows in front of the boathouse. However, Pete had pointed out to me a quite prominent bar that lay only a dozen or so yards off the west-facing pontoon. It was steep and quite vicious, ripping the leads to pieces. It was easy to find to...You just pulled back until the rod tip started banging away like a good 'un. I put one rod on the top of this feature and chucked the other one as far as I could towards the boathouse and backed up the hookbaits with a kilo of bait on each rod.
So far all the takes had come during the hours of darkness. The buzzers had not uttered a single bleep in daylight, so it was a considerable surprise when, at just after nine thirty in the morning with the sun well up in the sky following another blank night, all hell suddenly broke loose. First of all I had a run on the left hand rod on the eastern pontoon and while I was playing that fish one of the two rods on the western pontoon went off! I didn't know what to do, so I hung onto the first rod while the other one screamed its head off. There was no way I could play them both at once as the two were at opposite ends of the island about twenty metres apart!
Thankfully fate decided things for me as I pulled out of the first fish so chucked the rod down and then ran across to the other side of the island to hit the run that was still taking line. That fish I managed to land, a strange box-shaped creature. I guess we'd call it an Italian strain carp over here, but maybe it was simply a slightly odd-shaped Royale strain of fish.
So all of a sudden, out of nowhere, two runs had come at along within minutes of each other. The fish had come back to me at last and the weather forecast finally predicted an end, albeit only a temporary one, to the interminable south west wind. I felt sure that once the wind turned to another direction I'd have carp in my swim in big numbers.
The next morning, dawn arrived in the most spectacular fashion. I have never seen such a brilliant red sunrise. Quite the most amazing I natural phenomenon I have seen in all my (too) many years of carp fishing.
The new day brought with it new weather; not a cloud in the sky, the sun came out, it got warm then hot and by mid morning it was an absolutely glorious day. I had two fish by lunchtime, a mid twenty and a double figure common, the smallest carp so far on this trip. Both had fallen to bottom baits fished with just a small stringer to draw attention to the hookbait, no free offerings at all. It didn't seem to matter whether I baited up with two or three kilos of free offerings or none at all if the fish were there they hung themselves! Both carp were caught on the close-in rods, cast into the gully about fifty meters or so into three metres of water.
I went into the village again that morning and visited the restaurant for another shower and a meal. These left me feeling really invigorated and refreshed. I felt so much better after a good meal, a drop of wine, and a decent shower that I was now ready for anything. Once again I decided to fish only with five bait stringers rather than over a large carpet of boilies and to be honest, I was very confident of my chances of catching now that the wind had stopped blowing away from me.
But I blanked yet again! My brash confidence of the previous night evaporated in a frustrated mist! The lake continued to baffle me. I had been awake for most of the night listening for fish but I never heard a thing. I couldn't understand it at all. Where had they gone? A change in the weather often gets carp feeding and though the lake was now under the influence of a high pressure system, I felt sure that the new wind from the south east would have brought fish into my area. But that's carp fishing. Sometimes they defy all reason and you just have to sit it out and hope! But I couldn't complain. I was happy with what I had caught so far and there were still two more nights to go and now the wind had turned right round and was blowing straight towards the château bank and the island.
Continued...
I baited up the gully area to my left with a further two kilos of bait. and fished two rods onto the same patch of bait that had produced a couple of fish earlier in the week, even while the wind was blowing a hoolie towards the far bay at the time. Hopefully not all the carp moved on the breeze. Maybe they'd learned a trick or two from the College carp that at time stubbornly refused to follow the wind, not matter how many 'experts' told them that was whet they were supposed to do!
The third and fourth rods were cast in the direction of the château bank from the western pontoon but with the wind in my face I was not able to get anywhere near the shallows in front of the boathouse. However, Pete had pointed out to me a quite prominent bar that lay only a dozen or so yards off the west-facing pontoon. It was steep and quite vicious, ripping the leads to pieces. It was easy to find to...You just pulled back until the rod tip started banging away like a good 'un. I put one rod on the top of this feature and chucked the other one as far as I could towards the boathouse and backed up the hookbaits with a kilo of bait on each rod.
So far all the takes had come during the hours of darkness. The buzzers had not uttered a single bleep in daylight, so it was a considerable surprise when, at just after nine thirty in the morning with the sun well up in the sky following another blank night, all hell suddenly broke loose. First of all I had a run on the left hand rod on the eastern pontoon and while I was playing that fish one of the two rods on the western pontoon went off! I didn't know what to do, so I hung onto the first rod while the other one screamed its head off. There was no way I could play them both at once as the two were at opposite ends of the island about twenty metres apart!
Thankfully fate decided things for me as I pulled out of the first fish so chucked the rod down and then ran across to the other side of the island to hit the run that was still taking line. That fish I managed to land, a strange box-shaped creature. I guess we'd call it an Italian strain carp over here, but maybe it was simply a slightly odd-shaped Royale strain of fish.
So all of a sudden, out of nowhere, two runs had come at along within minutes of each other. The fish had come back to me at last and the weather forecast finally predicted an end, albeit only a temporary one, to the interminable south west wind. I felt sure that once the wind turned to another direction I'd have carp in my swim in big numbers.
The next morning, dawn arrived in the most spectacular fashion. I have never seen such a brilliant red sunrise. Quite the most amazing I natural phenomenon I have seen in all my (too) many years of carp fishing.
The new day brought with it new weather; not a cloud in the sky, the sun came out, it got warm then hot and by mid morning it was an absolutely glorious day. I had two fish by lunchtime, a mid twenty and a double figure common, the smallest carp so far on this trip. Both had fallen to bottom baits fished with just a small stringer to draw attention to the hookbait, no free offerings at all. It didn't seem to matter whether I baited up with two or three kilos of free offerings or none at all if the fish were there they hung themselves! Both carp were caught on the close-in rods, cast into the gully about fifty meters or so into three metres of water.
I went into the village again that morning and visited the restaurant for another shower and a meal. These left me feeling really invigorated and refreshed. I felt so much better after a good meal, a drop of wine, and a decent shower that I was now ready for anything. Once again I decided to fish only with five bait stringers rather than over a large carpet of boilies and to be honest, I was very confident of my chances of catching now that the wind had stopped blowing away from me.
But I blanked yet again! My brash confidence of the previous night evaporated in a frustrated mist! The lake continued to baffle me. I had been awake for most of the night listening for fish but I never heard a thing. I couldn't understand it at all. Where had they gone? A change in the weather often gets carp feeding and though the lake was now under the influence of a high pressure system, I felt sure that the new wind from the south east would have brought fish into my area. But that's carp fishing. Sometimes they defy all reason and you just have to sit it out and hope! But I couldn't complain. I was happy with what I had caught so far and there were still two more nights to go and now the wind had turned right round and was blowing straight towards the château bank and the island.
In reply to Post #389
I fell to with a vengeance that night, re-baiting the swims with three kilos of boilies, tying on new hook links and hooks and generally acting as if it was the start of the trip and not nearly the end of it. Not expecting anything to happen until at least one in the morning, I sat out on the pontoon as the night fell. A fresh wind blew straight into my face as I smoked a cigarette and drank a bottle of beer.
The wind was from the south east, warm and humid, a real carp angler's wind. I knew I shouldn't tempt providence, but once again I felt very confident of catching and this time my confidence was well placed. At just after eight o'clock in the evening the right hand rod burst into life, the first time I'd had a take off to the right hand side. After about ten minutes I had managed to get the fish in close. In the fading light I could see great swirls coming up from the bottom as the carp fought for its freedom and this was a prelude for a long struggle under the rod tip. After another ten minutes the fish at last sank into the waiting folds of my net, and I saw straight away that I had captured another good thirty.
I broke out another bottle of beer and tipped the whole lot down my throat to celebrate. The lake looked and felt so completely different that evening and into the dark hours. T-shirt weather towards the end of October in northern France? Unbelievable. With the unseasonably warm weather pushed towards me by a fresh south east wind it felt like carp weather and no mistake. And so it was...yet another thirty came to join me on the island. This was now on the point of stretching the bounds of reality!
The wind started to pick up by mid-afternoon and the fresh south easterly breeze blew straight into the swim, increasing in strength the longer it blew. The new wind brought carp towards me in numbers and they were crashing out all over the place. It just proved what I had been thinking all along, that the fish were following the wind. And the night was young. Plenty of time for more. The wind seemed to be strengthening all the time and it was now looking really carpy. I hope I don't get any sleep I said greedily to myself.
It was awesomely warm but with 100% cloud cover, the breeze shoving them along at a ferocious rate. It looked like a storm was on it's way. In the gathering gloom I sat out in the freshening wind on the west pontoon drinking a few beers and listening to the carp crashing out in the darkness before heading for the shelter of the bivvy. I lay there listening to the wind as it increased in strength. If I don't get a few tonight, I thought to myself, I never will.
Sure enough and hour or so later, with rain now falling heavily, I had a brace of smaller fish, both commons that were returned un-weighed and un-photographed...I wanted to get out of the rain as I was getting drenched.
The weather conditions were perfect as the wind had really began to blow strongly and by midnight it was near gale force blowing straight into the western pontoon swim: it could only be a matter of time before I had another run.
It came as the light strengthened with the dawn, a screaming take from a very strong fish that ripped line off at amazing speed. I bent into it as best I could but nothing I could do seemed to have any effect. On and on it ploughed putting many yards between us. Whenever I tried to stop that incredible run the fish pointed me and continued to rip line from the reel. By now I was soaked right through and was loosing my sense of humour. This fish was beating me up and no mistake!
So there I stood, cold, wet and if truth be told pretty fed up. There was only a couple of reasons why I could make no headway against this fish; it was either foul hooked or it was the biggest carp I had ever hooked. I never discovered the answer and frankly I didn't care one way or the other. I was exhausted and about to freeze to death. Thankfully with the fish on a long line - probably by now 200m away - the weight of the wind on the line and the rod conspired to pull the hook free. Thank God for that, I said to myself.
I fell to with a vengeance that night, re-baiting the swims with three kilos of boilies, tying on new hook links and hooks and generally acting as if it was the start of the trip and not nearly the end of it. Not expecting anything to happen until at least one in the morning, I sat out on the pontoon as the night fell. A fresh wind blew straight into my face as I smoked a cigarette and drank a bottle of beer.
The wind was from the south east, warm and humid, a real carp angler's wind. I knew I shouldn't tempt providence, but once again I felt very confident of catching and this time my confidence was well placed. At just after eight o'clock in the evening the right hand rod burst into life, the first time I'd had a take off to the right hand side. After about ten minutes I had managed to get the fish in close. In the fading light I could see great swirls coming up from the bottom as the carp fought for its freedom and this was a prelude for a long struggle under the rod tip. After another ten minutes the fish at last sank into the waiting folds of my net, and I saw straight away that I had captured another good thirty.
I broke out another bottle of beer and tipped the whole lot down my throat to celebrate. The lake looked and felt so completely different that evening and into the dark hours. T-shirt weather towards the end of October in northern France? Unbelievable. With the unseasonably warm weather pushed towards me by a fresh south east wind it felt like carp weather and no mistake. And so it was...yet another thirty came to join me on the island. This was now on the point of stretching the bounds of reality!
The wind started to pick up by mid-afternoon and the fresh south easterly breeze blew straight into the swim, increasing in strength the longer it blew. The new wind brought carp towards me in numbers and they were crashing out all over the place. It just proved what I had been thinking all along, that the fish were following the wind. And the night was young. Plenty of time for more. The wind seemed to be strengthening all the time and it was now looking really carpy. I hope I don't get any sleep I said greedily to myself.
It was awesomely warm but with 100% cloud cover, the breeze shoving them along at a ferocious rate. It looked like a storm was on it's way. In the gathering gloom I sat out in the freshening wind on the west pontoon drinking a few beers and listening to the carp crashing out in the darkness before heading for the shelter of the bivvy. I lay there listening to the wind as it increased in strength. If I don't get a few tonight, I thought to myself, I never will.
Sure enough and hour or so later, with rain now falling heavily, I had a brace of smaller fish, both commons that were returned un-weighed and un-photographed...I wanted to get out of the rain as I was getting drenched.
The weather conditions were perfect as the wind had really began to blow strongly and by midnight it was near gale force blowing straight into the western pontoon swim: it could only be a matter of time before I had another run.
It came as the light strengthened with the dawn, a screaming take from a very strong fish that ripped line off at amazing speed. I bent into it as best I could but nothing I could do seemed to have any effect. On and on it ploughed putting many yards between us. Whenever I tried to stop that incredible run the fish pointed me and continued to rip line from the reel. By now I was soaked right through and was loosing my sense of humour. This fish was beating me up and no mistake!
So there I stood, cold, wet and if truth be told pretty fed up. There was only a couple of reasons why I could make no headway against this fish; it was either foul hooked or it was the biggest carp I had ever hooked. I never discovered the answer and frankly I didn't care one way or the other. I was exhausted and about to freeze to death. Thankfully with the fish on a long line - probably by now 200m away - the weight of the wind on the line and the rod conspired to pull the hook free. Thank God for that, I said to myself.
In reply to Post #390
Shivering with cold and drenched to the bone I chucked the rod into the bushes and struggled into the bivvy and after a thorough towel down and a change of clothes plus two cups of brandy-laced coffee I began to feel human again.
Early morning and the wind died down and the rain stopped. Peeping out of the bivvy door I saw a sky ablaze with stars. What a transformation. Were the carp still around? Yes, they were...As the dawn broke I had another take from a carp that fought like crazy all the way to the net. It was one of the strongest carp I've ever played taking me over thirty minutes to overcome its powerful struggles. The scales presented me with yet another biggie, a humpty-backed mirror of just over thirty three pounds...Pinch me, someone!
Though it was still early this called for a beer! Another celebratory 1664 slipped down my throat; what a nice breakfast! And it wasn't over yet by any means! Mid-morning I caught a small mirror and just as I was thinking about lunch another big carp took a bait off the big hump to the right of the east pontoon. It was yet another thirty and no sooner had I done the pix of that one that the other rod on the east pontoon went off...!
I was due to pack up fishing at midday but the temptation to stay for one more night was nagging at my brain. I was probably overstaying my welcome and pushing my luck to the limit but I just couldn't bring myself to leave!
At six in the evening I was very glad I stayed! I was sitting on the pontoon as the sun went down, watching the world go by, when the tip of the one of the rods cast into the channel pulled slowly round. The buzzer gave a couple of bleeps, then broke into its full battle cry as a carp took off with the bait. Although the carp had picked up a bait cast well off to the right, all it wanted to do was go left, left, left all the time until it went around the back of the island. I had no choice but to strip off my trousers and T-shirt and go in after it.
What a performance. From snag to snag, tree branch to tree branch. Eventually I managed to get the snag leader onto the reel and I led the carp like a dog on a leash through the snags back to the pontoon. I climbed out onto the boards and eventually landed the fish after about thirty minutes of unarmed combat! Bugger me if it wasn't another thirty. Was I dreaming? I'd never seen such a magnificent fish and after such an amazing fight the memories of that carp will stay with me for a very long time indeed.
The night was quiet until the early hours of the morning. At just after five o' clock I had yet another run on one of the rods cast to my left into the channel. Another fabulous fight from a very strong fish and yes, you guessed it, another thirty.
Suddenly it was over. The dawn broke over the eastern end of the lake and as it the sun rose the wind once again switched direction back towards the south west. The carp moved with it almost immediately and soon I could see them jumping way off in the bay once again. It was time to go, time to bid farewell to this amazing lake. The sun beamed down on the lake and the tranquillity of the surroundings made me sad that I was leaving but I would be back!
Shivering with cold and drenched to the bone I chucked the rod into the bushes and struggled into the bivvy and after a thorough towel down and a change of clothes plus two cups of brandy-laced coffee I began to feel human again.
Early morning and the wind died down and the rain stopped. Peeping out of the bivvy door I saw a sky ablaze with stars. What a transformation. Were the carp still around? Yes, they were...As the dawn broke I had another take from a carp that fought like crazy all the way to the net. It was one of the strongest carp I've ever played taking me over thirty minutes to overcome its powerful struggles. The scales presented me with yet another biggie, a humpty-backed mirror of just over thirty three pounds...Pinch me, someone!
Though it was still early this called for a beer! Another celebratory 1664 slipped down my throat; what a nice breakfast! And it wasn't over yet by any means! Mid-morning I caught a small mirror and just as I was thinking about lunch another big carp took a bait off the big hump to the right of the east pontoon. It was yet another thirty and no sooner had I done the pix of that one that the other rod on the east pontoon went off...!
I was due to pack up fishing at midday but the temptation to stay for one more night was nagging at my brain. I was probably overstaying my welcome and pushing my luck to the limit but I just couldn't bring myself to leave!
At six in the evening I was very glad I stayed! I was sitting on the pontoon as the sun went down, watching the world go by, when the tip of the one of the rods cast into the channel pulled slowly round. The buzzer gave a couple of bleeps, then broke into its full battle cry as a carp took off with the bait. Although the carp had picked up a bait cast well off to the right, all it wanted to do was go left, left, left all the time until it went around the back of the island. I had no choice but to strip off my trousers and T-shirt and go in after it.
What a performance. From snag to snag, tree branch to tree branch. Eventually I managed to get the snag leader onto the reel and I led the carp like a dog on a leash through the snags back to the pontoon. I climbed out onto the boards and eventually landed the fish after about thirty minutes of unarmed combat! Bugger me if it wasn't another thirty. Was I dreaming? I'd never seen such a magnificent fish and after such an amazing fight the memories of that carp will stay with me for a very long time indeed.
The night was quiet until the early hours of the morning. At just after five o' clock I had yet another run on one of the rods cast to my left into the channel. Another fabulous fight from a very strong fish and yes, you guessed it, another thirty.
Suddenly it was over. The dawn broke over the eastern end of the lake and as it the sun rose the wind once again switched direction back towards the south west. The carp moved with it almost immediately and soon I could see them jumping way off in the bay once again. It was time to go, time to bid farewell to this amazing lake. The sun beamed down on the lake and the tranquillity of the surroundings made me sad that I was leaving but I would be back!
In reply to Post #391
Postscript: As it turns out the fish that beat me up so badly thqat night was in all probability one of only two catfish in the Chat. One was an albino that was only ever seen once when the lake was drained for work to be done on the sluice. It was not weighed at the time but those who saw it reckoned it was close to two meters long! That would make it around 250lb.
The other cat was caught many years later by well-known home counties angler Stuart 'Lilo' Gillam, now living the high life in Thailand with Sean his son, both running the hugely successful Gillam's Fishing Resort in Karabi. Tat and I had met the pair in what was, I believe, their final carping trip in Europe when they visited the Chat before heading out east. We shared a great week with them and enjoyed more than a few beers together. Stuart caught the other catfish on a return visit to finalise details of the Resort and while 'home' he found time to fit in a visit to the Chat where he caught this huge fish (Stuart is on the left). He didn't weigh it, but as you can see, it's a beast, probably well over a hundred pounds. Was it this huge creature that had caused me so much grief in the wind and rain of a hideous night marooned on the island?
So ended the trip. It had been hugely successful from both a personal and a commercial point of view (remember, the whole point of the trip was to gather material to publicise the lake). One thing was for sure: I'd be returning to the Château Lake!
Postscript: As it turns out the fish that beat me up so badly thqat night was in all probability one of only two catfish in the Chat. One was an albino that was only ever seen once when the lake was drained for work to be done on the sluice. It was not weighed at the time but those who saw it reckoned it was close to two meters long! That would make it around 250lb.
The other cat was caught many years later by well-known home counties angler Stuart 'Lilo' Gillam, now living the high life in Thailand with Sean his son, both running the hugely successful Gillam's Fishing Resort in Karabi. Tat and I had met the pair in what was, I believe, their final carping trip in Europe when they visited the Chat before heading out east. We shared a great week with them and enjoyed more than a few beers together. Stuart caught the other catfish on a return visit to finalise details of the Resort and while 'home' he found time to fit in a visit to the Chat where he caught this huge fish (Stuart is on the left). He didn't weigh it, but as you can see, it's a beast, probably well over a hundred pounds. Was it this huge creature that had caused me so much grief in the wind and rain of a hideous night marooned on the island?
So ended the trip. It had been hugely successful from both a personal and a commercial point of view (remember, the whole point of the trip was to gather material to publicise the lake). One thing was for sure: I'd be returning to the Château Lake!