Website Updated 11 May 2012

Written by Geoff Rauf

The headlines spoke of hurricane Earl, Cheryl and Ashley divorcing, and of the Pakistani cricket team betting scam. I was fully focused on one thing though… flourocarbon. I was losing faith in my end tackle, and for any man (especially a carp angler) that is detrimental. “Dr, I have an end tackle condition, it’s my hook length you see, it’s not right, and causing me a lot of upset”. Do NHS direct provide support to stressed out carp anglers?

Losing fish in weed, snapped hook lengths, straightened hooks, or the dreaded ‘hook pull’, it’s the biggest fear any angler has. That sickening feeling you have when you lose one isn’t pleasant, and I didn’t want to experience it anymore. Of course if you do lose one its always huge isn’t it.

At the end of this session it was 11 weeks, 22 days, and 528 hours of fishing and Mr Pub Chucker was doing an outstanding job of fishing like a complete loser. I had promised to buy a custom made ‘Pub Chucker’ T shirt if things hadn’t changed. This week I made the effort to do just that, hoping perhaps if the carp gods were looking over me, and would take some form of pity.

Friday afternoon arrived, and I was out of the office faster than a 22mm (air dried) boilie launched by a throwing stick. All the gear was thrown into the car and dressed in the usual camo attire, complete with PCT (Pub Chucker T Shirt) I set off. The sun was out and forecasted to stay out all weekend with temperatures into the twenties; not ideal for deep margin fishing.

By the time I’d reached the Helipad it was around 5pm, the wind direction was easterly which favours the swim. The fact it was a new wind too bolstered my confidence levels. Camp Blanker was assembled inside of the magic fifteen minute course record (set the week before). I had tied some new rigs during the week consisting of a much shorter fluorocarbon hook length, (two to three inches). I feel uneasy about fluorocarbon and thought perhaps shortening the rig may strengthen things up a little - it would also keep the bait presentation top notch and prevent tangles.

Three bright pop ups were hair rigged and held in place by either rubber corn or maggot. I didn’t need to put the marker rod out so masked the hook using a piece of foam and cast each rod out close in. I then proceeded to fire two kg of soaked pellet over the entire area and another few kilos of boilie.

Sitting back in my ‘sitting in the sun (now shade) chair’ I watched the water for signs of fish. My mate Tony turned up and set up next door, then further along to him was another of the guys who fishes this lake week in, week out. The first swim was also occupied, and so was peg two, so it seems the wind changing direction had encouraged a change of tactics for quite a few anglers.

Into Friday night I had a bit of a catch up with the lads next door to me. Top rod was on twenty two fish which still isn’t earth shattering by today’s standards, however if you were to see some photos of these that would change anyone’s perspective. Stunning big English carp, always in pristine condition too, and that’s why we were all here.

I just could not get settled Friday night, and after hitting the sack around 10pm I woke up around 3am (to water a local bush) then sat there wide awake staring at the rods. After putting the kettle on I checked the spools to ensure the batirunners were on, I then flicked the baitrunner over to ensure the clutch was set correctly. Next I checked the rod tips for any sign of movement. A moment later I was checking the pod to ensure it was straight, then after my first cuppa I put the kettle on again. This insane process continued until 5am when I went back to sleep for all of one hour when I got up again, repeating the same process.

Reality was fading into a world of demon snap offs, broken rods, lost fish and blank sessions. The lake was turning me into a possessed zombie, whose aim was to hold just one of its occupants, just for a few minutes.

Breakfast of the cheese toasty variety was distributed along the bank, and the general feedback was that everyone now wanted to buy the ‘toasty pockets’. I knew they would be a hit, and so versatile. Crikey I now sound like an advert for pound land.

My morning stroll confirmed nobody had caught which was surprising considering the new easterly wind. I did have an encounter with a small cat on my stroll back to the swim, it was must have been no more than a year old of the Persian blue variety, meowing at full volume. Perhaps it was trying to tell me I was fishing the wrong swim.

Back at camp blanker all three rods were placed back out on the edge of the drop off very close in. I didn’t expect them to do anything mind you as most of my fish had come during the night. Fishing in deep water as the sun shone through the trees into my swim was probably a waste of time but I was at least trying.

Into Saturday afternoon I had a visit from some friends who had just had a baby. Smudge used to fish another lake not too far from here, and for the best part of 6 years we blanked together, catching the odd fish through hard work pre-baiting and a lot of patience. The wee boy named Tyler was only a scrap of a lad weighing in at 7Ibs. I did ask Smudge if he had taken the compulsory carp photo with his boy to which he replied “of course”!

Tyler didn’t seem interested in the latest lake gossip but instead slept on my sitting in the sun chair. Smudge believed it was good to get him used to the inside of a bivvy. Train em young that’s what I say. After looking at a few new rig ideas and receiving some new pop ups Smudge and his wife Sarah left the swim and it was back to silence apart from the odd goose making the usual row.

By the time Saturday night came around I was shattered having been up so early the previous evening with an over the top analysis of everything in my swim. The three rods were placed back out into deep water and this time I opted for one bottom bait, and two chod rigs. I didn’t bother putting any further bait out as I felt enough had been put in already.

I called it a night at the alarming time of 7pm as I just could not keep my eyes open any further. This time I did actually get a good night’s sleep apart from the twenty minute firework display some bright spark decided to have. I awoke at 6am and listened to Keith Arthur on ‘Fishermans Blues’ through Talk sport. The rods were still sleeping on the pod when I checked to ensure the baitrunners were on (losing the plot). One of the topics of conversation was the river Thames, its increasing popularity, and improvement of fish stocks. Folks were phoning in talking to Keith, and one guy really sounded like someone I knew. As it turns out it was a friend of mine interested in talking about the Chelsea power stations, and the large carp drawn by the warm water pumped out into the river. Perhaps I should buy a heater and cast that out as groundbait eh?

As the sun came up I managed to take some truly stunning photos using my bashed up old mobile phone. I hope you can see why I persevere on this lake. It’s hard going, low stocked, full of naturals, the mozzies are a nightmare, its full of politics, and locating them isn’t easy. On the flipside of the coin its one of the most stunning places I’ve had the pleasure to fish, is peaceful, low pressured, contains some monster carp, all English and in pristine condition, so I cannot give up until I’ve landed some more of those beauties.

Back next week for my final session before my holidays

Pub Chucker       Click Here to visit Geoffs Website

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