Within two days I was back down the St Ives complex trudging around its banks, looking for signs and stopping for a chat whenever I could. When I got there mid-morning I had no plan A just a plan B. Plan B was to fish the pump-house swim on the south bank of Reach lake, one that I had kept topped up with bait the previous week whilst fishing the spit. Plan A would have to come together on my walk around the complex. So to give myself plenty of time and opportunity I left the house early enough to spend at least three hours looking. The St Ives complex is large, spread over two sides of Meadow drove it can involve quiet a journey and cover an awful lot of water to get from one bank to the other let alone one lake to another. So I parked up by the banks of Shallow Lake which was pretty full and made my way around to the Stake pit which was empty save for my mate Steve ensconced as usual in the swim by the entrance to the Stake pit from Big Fjords. Most times when I went for a walk around there I would find Steve camped up and a brew was always in the offing too so I would made a point of going there first after the drive down. Steve is an old school angler and loves the solitude and the challenge that St Ives brings and is always welcoming and social so a quick five minute chat would often turn into ten, fifteen, twenty or more. We all know how it feels don't we? You get to a lake and all you want to do is get around and have a look see. Although its pleasant and informative sitting with fellow anglers chatting about this and that you're always looking to leave after that initial greeting, first brew and chat. The urge to just keep moving around the water looking for the fish, trying to judge the conditions is overwhelming and a difficult one to suppress given the rules of hospitality and etiquette, so I eventually said my goodbyes and good luck and went on my way.
Walking back along the bank between Shallow Lake and the Stake pit towards the car I noticed an angler perched precariously up a tree on the far bank of the Stake pit. I wondered what he might be discovering and so I sat down in the long grass opposite and had a look through my binoculars. I trawled the lenses up and down the far bank, back and forth to the angler in the tree and down to the water but saw nothing move so I decided to go around and introduce myself. By the time I got around to the other bank the angler had disappeared and I was stood at the bottom of the tree looking up wondering how in the hell he got up it and how fast he must have come down. As far as I could see there were no branches below eight feet off the ground and even then getting a hold on one and pulling yourself up would have been a feat that Chris Bonington would have been proud of. I looked down into the margins and walked along the bank trying to find a tree that would give me the least resistance to my attempts at conquering it. Actually I am quite proud of my tree climbing skills, like a rat up the proverbial drain pipe so to speak, I just head straight up, not looking down until I reach my perch but this one had me beat. After a while I moved on down to Mozzy Island on Big Fjords and stood surveying the area along Big fjords north bank to the right. I had got my eye on this area from the start and given it a ten out of ten as far as swim choice was concerned and was determined to get into it and discover its secrets at some point.
I walked along and around the Stake pit and Big Fjords for another hour or so looking for signs before I went back to the car and made the drive around to Reach Lake car park. From here I made my way around to the north bank of the lake socialised and then back to the car for the kit. It was looking like plan B was going to be the only plan I had. During the previous three hours I had not seen a single carp or sign of them; it wasn't helped by the wind either which was blowing a right hoolie across the lakes from the west.
Reach lake was dug out the old fashioned way, that's to say they dug out the gravel wherever it occurred leaving the ground around looking like the surface of the moon and the result was one damn fine carp fishery! The bars on Reach lake can be clearly seen and stand out a mile in the satellite map. Many of them have sheer eighteen feet drops offs so cut offs will occur but if that was not enough you also have the Ski boat yahoos and weed that grows like the plague. Given these disadvantages and the sure knowledge that carp are carp wherever they are I decided to fish the margin. The pump house swim lent itself well to the job in hand too as it was little fished and had some great overhanging margins. It was a bit of a slide down to the rods as well which had to be placed in the water but once all was set up I was quite happy. I found the inside slope off the margin to be quite steep and felt the lead roll down on my first exploratory cast. Two or three casts later and I got the hang of it so I put out the marker rod to gauge things a little more accurately. I wanted to put one close up under the bush to my right. The margin here was a slow gradient up to the edge of the overhanging tree but then it dropped off rapidly.
I was well aware that in waters with extensive bars the carp would sometimes graze off the sides of them and I had in the past found depressions in the sides of bars that eluded me to this fact. Often when carp find a spot they like to feed on they will scour it so much that craters form. I have mentioned these in the past as they are one of the first things I look for on many waters as a bait cast into one of them usually results in a bite. I continued to cast my one ounce lead up the right hand side of the margin and let the lead roll looking for a depression where the lead might lodge and stop, the gradient was steep and fell twelve feet over a couple of yards. I had a few false indications with the lead but the marker rod confirmed there was no depression there so in the end I settled for placing one under the tree and one down the at the bottom of the bar. So as not to have my line going straight from the tip across the swim at an angle and then down I opted for another method. Wading along the margin to the tree I cast straight out and dropped the lead down to the bottom of the bar, I then back leaded at that spot and fed the line back to the rod at a right angle parallel to the bank keeping everything nicely pinned down and out of sight.
I stood there for a while trickling in a few handfuls of boilies watching each one as it fell out of sight three or four feet down. Some I tossed gently onto the edge so I could watch them roll, many didn't but I reckoned if a ski boat passed the wash would soon move them. I placed a good two handfuls on the rod under the tree and then sorted out the left hand pair of rods. The position of these would change over the session but I started with one close in at the bottom of the bar and the other half way across to the first bar in twelve feet of water. These too got two handfuls of bait put on top of them. Once everything was set the session turned into a bit of a social with Gordy Howes, Rob Farrent and Martin Lawrence all finding me tucked out of the way in this quiet little swim and depleting my tea bag stock.
I had initially planned to stay in the swim one night, this would give me enough time to learn something about the swim and also look for signs elsewhere on the lake and move if required. I had the intention of keeping my eye on the north bank of Big Fjords and the spit swim behind me and if I felt it was worth it, move there. The next morning I awoke to colder conditions and knew my chance of a warm morning spent on the margin was not going to happen and that catching any fish was going to be a big ask. So with that in mind I set about finding out more about the swim and repositioned my baits. Once lunchtime came around I pulled the rods in and went for a walk around to look for fish. I travelled around Reach Lake and the north bank of Big Fjords as well as the spit before I got back and made a brew. A few days earlier I had pre-baited the spit swim and reach lake and although the fishing in the pump house wasn't working out I felt more confident of the spit since I had fished and baited it the four days prior as well. All in all I reckoned enough bait had gone in to make a difference on that area and since I had already taken a fish off of it I thought it seemed a good bet.
Sitting there mulling over the possibilities I decided that the spit was where I should go. I didn't want to start to fish Reach Lake for a number of reasons not least of all because this session had not produced anything. But fishing it made me realise that I would need to put in a lot of effort trying to track down the fish and in a way I didn't feel like starting all over again. I had learned a lot fishing the spit the last four days and I felt I should continue with that. Of course with the number of anglers fishing Reach lake and the fact that a number of the carp had already been caught I knew I would be up against it as far as the carp and the pressure from other anglers was concerned so it was decided, I would go back to the spit to see if I could winkle out another one.
By four in the afternoon I was all set up again and looking forwards to the fishing. I had yet again brought a tackle shops worth of bait with me. Eight kilos of my Musilli four parts hemp, two parts pigeon mix, one part assorted bird food seed and another ten kilos of my pre-digested fishmeal/salmon oil bait I make myself. As usual I busied myself with sussing the swim and getting out the baits cooking food and drinking tea. The ski boats had returned to Reach Lake making me feel even better about my decision to move off but next year I am determined to give it a right good go, especially after seeing the results that my mates Rob and Mark had. The night passed uneventfully save for a floodlit Fjords courtesy of the full moon. Now there's a topic eh? Does the moon phase affect the fish? Well I don't know but I do know it affects me. I don't mind if its overcast on a full moon but when its not? I can assure you that when I step out into that bright silvery light I get a primeval sense within me that makes me feel quiet uncomfortable. I slept in that morning which isn't something I often do but felt it was needed. I got up at five and stood watching the water for half an hour, it was cold so I got back into the sack and slept. When I did get back on the rods I recast them all and re-baited the spots. The day before the weed rake boat (yes I did say weed rake boat) had been out on Meadow Lake. Now this boat has a bloody great big tow rope attached to it and goodness only knows what's on the other end but the result of this being dragged around Meadow Lake is impressive and rips out massive swaths of weed that floats to the surface. Now you cant get rid of weed by just cutting it, it has to go somewhere and it did. Since the prevailing wind in the summer is a south-westerly it drifted through the gap between Meadow Lake and Big Fjords and right over my swim. The result was that previously clean spots became moving weedbeds. Sometimes you just know things are not going to go according to plan, you put it to the back of your mind but you just get that feeling and sometimes it won't go away. I sat and pondered the weed situation and the outcome wasn't good. If I was a carp I wouldn't be in Big Fjords at the moment I'd be in Meadow lake scoffing like crazy on all the freshly ripped up lake bed. I would at the very least go and have a look to see what all the fuss was about and I wouldn't be sticking my head in a moving weedbed trying to snaffle the odd morsel. Watching the Grebe confirmed some of my suspicions too as it was steadily working its way along the cut out weed channel. I imagined the cyprinids like roach and Rudd going crazy in the soup that was left after such a colossal raking and the Grebe feasting on the easy meal.
A short while later around seven am I heard a heavy roll to my right on Big fjords and quickly waded out to the edge of the reeds to have a look-see. There were some nice heavy rings coming off a flat spot, carp! Ok then perhaps they were still interested, excellent! For the next hour or so I sat and stood and walked up and down by the rods expecting one of them to fire off at any moment. An hour later another fish rolled in front of the swim, they were in the area no doubt about that. I whiled away the next few hours eating, drinking tea and sleeping. When I woke the boats were out on Meadow Lake, I made a cupper and sat back and thought about the morning past. There was obviously carp in and around the area I was fishing but no run was forth-coming which was disappointing. After a while I decided that I needed to go for a walk, so I pulled the rods in grabbed my wading stick and made my way up to the end of the spit to stand and watch the gap for any signs of carp moving through. The wind was blowing a warm strong westerly and the amount of water surrounding me at the end of the spit was awesome giving me a feeling of renewal and harmony. That sense of freedom we get when we go fishing is intensified in such places as these and makes it all the more worthwhile fishing.
I moved down to the hole which is right next to the bar I was fishing and got out the marker rod. If I can get close to an area whilst using a marker rod I will as I find the whole process much easier and informative. With that done and the spots marked I cast out all the rods, re-baited and finally in the early evening sat back feeling once more that I had spent the day productively. Yet again I had been really careful in placing my baits making three or four casts before being completely happy. I always think its best to make three or four casts even if a cast is an absolutely sweet toss. This is because on the pullback with the rod I can feel exactly what its like when its sat right. A couple of casts like that always builds my confidence and leaves me with a satisfied feeling that its all set right. There is nothing worse than sitting there thinking “Have I got it right”. What do they say “Cast in haste, repent at leisure?” In last months mag Chilly was writing about the very same thing, how often, a recast will get a fish and how important it is to say to yourself, I haven't had a run and I should have so I am going to recast.
I understand those that place a bait and leave them there for the duration, I respect the fact that they know what they are doing and I have done it myself. But I think more often than not it works against us and here is why I think that. If you make ten casts in twenty-four hours you have ten chances of that bait being in the right spot and sitting right but if you only make one and its not? Recently I visited a lake down in the Colne valley, now this particular water is well stocked with carp and so I simply set about making recasts every hour or so, changing rigs and bait presentations all the time, my mate who I was a guest of opted to leave his out for longer periods. I had fourteen runs in 40 hours fishing and my mate had one yet we were only a matter of twenty yards apart, I am sure that what helped me get all those runs was the work rate and continual recasting and many of those fish came quickly after a re-cast.
I got into the sack early that night and its just as well because by eleven o'clock the Eels started there nocturnal escapades. I spent the next few hours listening to my alarms going off erratically as they picked up and tried the baits. More often than not they would drop it and I'd recast only to have the same happen as soon as I was back in the sack. One of them did go off on a screaming run and had me launching for the rod but it turned out to be an Eel of around three or four pounds. These bloody things can swim backwards so even though you can get them to the net in double quick time with a carp rod its completely useless to you when you try and net them. In out, in out, so in the end I just hauled and dragged not giving a toss weather it was in or not, it was and so I sacked it for the camera a few hours later and went back to bed. Thankfully the runs from the Eels stopped after that and I got a few hours rest. One thing that night did prove though was that all that bait, four kilos of boilies and four kilos of Musilli that I had put in a few days earlier had gone. My feeling the day before came back to haunt me though when a coot picked up my left hand rod off the bar, the ensuing tussle had me wading out along the spit perilously close to going over chest-wader depth to rescue and release the bloody thing despite my anger at its downright thievery. I decided to stay the last night but never had a touch, not even the Eels bothered me and so when I woke early that next morning I decided to stay in the sack and get as much sleep as a could before the chore of packing away all the kit and ferrying it through the Mississippi swamp that is the path along the spit and back to the car.
That was my two week annual fishing holiday over, Sunday would see me back to work just like all those unfortunates responsible for the rush hour drone from the nearby road. I was pleased with how I had spent the two four-day sessions over that two week period. I had caught my first fish, learned a lot, identified mistakes and had plenty of fun. I had managed to get around the lake and importantly identified my next target swim on the north bank of Big Fjords which I imaginatively named, The end swim.
This swim had really caught my eye and in my estimation had everything I was looking for. I didn't know it then but it was to steal most of my time on Big Fjords and give me another chance at capturing the inhabitants of this wonderful and enigmatic water.
