Crucian Carp — After Noon

Crucian carp are one of those fish that are fairly easy to find round here. Perhaps I should say that fisheries that contain them are not that uncommon. They live in many local ponds and lakes. Catching them however, is another matter. These venues are not at all like Harris Lake at Marsh Farm where you can fish for crucians specifically. Their bites being very easy to differentiate from those arriving from their main competition, which is tench. All you have to do there is strike at every little indication — tench will pull the float straight under. There's no problem seeing which is which.

A tip off from a local angler fishing the canal put me onto a new prospect. A local free pond where just because it looks as if it should hold them I've tried for them once or twice, but unsuccessfully. He mentioned having caught one to his surprise whilst enjoying a day's general fishing. Asking what kind of size it was he opened his hands and indicated a length that I reckon would be about 2lb, depending on body shape. 

So I went over with a rod hoping to find one for myself. Unfortunately, because the venue is free to fish, not cared for as a fishery should be, and not fished very often, it was choked with weed and so there were just two viable swims open. Before setting off I'd noticed a wind knot in the hook length but forgot all about retying before commencing fishing. It cost me the only bite of the short session when what was certainly a small carp pulled the float straight under, snapping the weak spot under little strain.

I do think it worth a very early morning return soon, and to a swim prebaited the night beforehand to get the fish out of that weed and into the clear. Seems like a plan to me.

My next effort was at Monks Pool in Bulkington. This would be an entirely different prospect. I have caught a crucian there but just the one. It was taken on a prawn intended for perch in early springtime. They are rarely caught because no-one ever tries for them at Monks. All anyone seems to care for are its king carp. It is full of all kinds of species, though. Millions of individuals. Most present in every swim. And therefore crucian bites are impossible to tell from any other. 

I don't think I arrived quite early enough. It was a warm morning and bound to get even warmer later. That would mean after noon it would probably turn into an endless round of arm wrenching tussles with sub double-figure carp. I was not to be proven wrong... 

First swim I managed small rudd and roach, hybrids, perch and bream on both prawn and corn. Moving about I caught more of the same and gudgeon too. No crucians though, and no signs of them either. Of course I knew at some point there'd be carp crashing the party. So I rigged up a barbel rod and flicked out a piece of free-lined crust just to have the first caught by design. It wasn't in the water longer than three minutes before it was engulfed by a pair of rubbery lips attached to 8 pounds of muscle. 

After that three minute knockabout I went back to my float fishing. I'm thinking 8lb would suffice for still-water carp points — I'm probably not going to camp out in hope of a twenty at any point unless it be down the river or the cut. But carp were beginning to show themselves all round the lake by eleven and I just dreaded the thought of getting attached to an endless series of them on a three-pound bottom with all the attendant hassle of re-tying new hook lengths. Then of course, the float zipped away and a small carp stripped twenty yards of line from the spool in seconds. 

Here we go...

It took a little while to tame but was netted and without breakage. Clearly the old bulk spool of 3lb Sensor in my bag was still serviceable and my tying of the spade-end fine-wire B911 up to scratch. But then a swim move brought a proper problem. I'd trickled mashed prawn into the reedy margins of a quiet corner where I'd not seen carp movement, then plopped the baited hook amongst it hoping for a delicate little lift of the antennae to strike at. 

Which I got...

At first I really did think I'd hooked my target because it felt like a two-pounder of one species or another. But then the fish, that clearly had no idea it was actually hooked, became heavier and heavier and heavier. After about fifteen minutes of guiding the fish around in circles in an attempt to tire it, the float appeared and then the shot, and then the huge tail paddle of a carp the like of which I'd thought this lake did not hold. For a while I really thought it was a twenty-pounder. But in the murky water I wasn't sure. 

Very risky short line hook and hold tactics in play. Kept it out of the reeds though...

I didn't see it again for another twenty minutes. I don't think I'd actually tired it much — bored it more likely — but it had begun wallowing. Which was a good sign. I thought I might actually net it eventually if the hook-length could stand the strain of my trying to get it up in the water more often than it was down on the deck.

When I'd managed that I began to see the fish more frequently and it was clear it wasn't quite so large as thought, but still, it was obviously into double-figures so it was well worth being careful with. I netted it (and it only just fitted in the frame) only when I had it make the mistake of coming in close and high at the same time. If I hadn't teased the lump into that position, I might have been at it all day long! 

It was thirteen-pounds nine-ounces and quite a handsome mirror. But was nigh an hour in the beating! 

Because I rarely fish for carp specifically these days, it is the largest I have caught since August 2008 when I was lucky enough to catch a 15lb river fish. I was dead chuffed with this capture. Really pleased. And very impressed with my entire outfit which had coped with a fish it wasn't really built to tame without ever feeling near breaking point. It feels balanced and correct. Forgiving but man enough to fight well above its weight. And that's nice to know when I might encounter a canal carp I cannot afford to lose when fishing for silver bream or roach.

And therefore I'll do something I have never done before and endorse the lot...

Rod: Korum Neoteric XS 11ft Power Float — Feels capable, absorbs lunges perfectly. First proper test of this rod.

Reel: Korum CS 3000 — Predictable smooth clutch without sticky spots, Again, performance when it really mattered.

Main line: Daiwa Sensor 5lb — Cheap and reliable. Doesn't seem to go off with age if kept in the dark.

Hook length: Daiwa Sensor 3lb — Ditto

Float: Drennan Glow Tip Antennae (2 No1) — A peerless float without equal for the lift bite method. Think the larger sizes better for general use. This was the smallest version I think. 

Shot: Dinsmores Super Soft — Does not damage light lines.

Hook: Kamasan B911 (barb-less spade-end fine-wire) size 12 — Holds fish of all sizes without complaint. Surprisingly strong for such a lightweight hook.
Hook tying tool: Stonfo. — Ties super strong knots to spade ends with little effort once the technique is learned. Five turns is best. More or less than five makes for a weaker knot. 

One of the uncommonly encountered  fully-scaled mirrors. Lean and wiry. Like a wildy in many ways.
By far the toughest scrapper I encountered through the day and actually the fairest test of the tackle

After that it was one carp after another and wherever I tried I simply could not avoid them. I think I banked another five or seven. I can't remember quite. I got so used to playing these fish in by degree that I entertained myself by taking selfies mid-fight. Not something I would attempt when playing barbel!

My day concluded with earnings of forty odd points and a climb of another couple of notches up the scoreboard into a comfortable 7th place. Not bad work. I only got my license a month ago and was at the very bottom in last place not so very long before. More importantly, though, this challenge sees me fish with burning desire, zeal and passion. I really do want to do well at it. It feels good to try hard but work harder.

It even feels good to catch carp again...

Every now and then, I might add!

The Hatt Standard Perch

It's been quite a while since I last went to a proper commercial fishery. A year I reckon. It must be because in my right mind I never bother at any other time of the year but this, and for two good reasons. The first is that before March 15th I've better things to do with my time than sit immobilised at an ugly half frozen puddle for the outside chance of a large perch, and the second is that by April 15th I've better things to do with my time than have my right arm wrenched off by an endless succession of hyperactive carp. Between times it seems worthwhile.

It was blowing hard when we arrived but luckily it was blowing hard in just the right direction and slap into the backside of a screen of dense conifers along our preferred bank. We had shelter. I hate windy fishing more than anything because it gradually wears me down. I'll do most anything to avoid it.

I have a terrible track record of ignominious perch fishing failure. I wrote about this in Fallon's Angler just recently and I'm proud to have admitted it for all the world to read. You see, I cannot catch perch much over a pound and a half under my own steam while those around me achieve two, three and even four pound fish with ease. And no matter what I do to dodge it, this is a hex that dogs me.

About an hour or so in Martin had a small perch. I was contending with graceful lifts of the float followed by plain sail-aways to which I could not connect and when I finally did, and to a good sized perch, bumped it. And then a little while later Martin had a fat two and a half pounder to his credit.

Things were starting to pan out just as they always had...

The hook seemed sharp enough, but I changed it anyhow. It made a great difference. Now I connected cleanly with a bite but the big perch I hoped it might be turned out to be one of those worthless F1 carp thingies that match anglers adore, but I can't fathom any earthly reason for. Nevertheless, it seemed that a nice perch would surely come and snaffle my prawn at some point, because bites had been regular till now and looked to continue whilest skies remained overcast.

Just as it began to rain I banked a perch of my own. A small one about half a pound in weight, and then ten minutes later a better fish that would be a great disappointment should she remain my best of day, because she pulled the pointer of the scales down to a little under half a pound over the bloody inevitable.

The Hatt Standard Perch.

Of course that's when things got tough. The rain stopped and perch stopped biting. The float dithered about for a good two hours longer as the prawn got knocked about by the lake's hoards of tiny gudgeon all too small to swallow even the tail end. Then as the sun warmed the margins we were truly crapped out by F1 carp, who came one after another. The damned things!

Only at the bitter end did I finally hook a proper carp, and actually the fight I had against the fish with the tip of a fourteen foot float rod bent seven feet distant from my nose was quite entertaining, but in the end Martin got the net under and we banked it. A very pretty fish. If only it had been a perch the same weight...eh?

You know, that's probably what will happen when my hex finally breaks...

All the way from poky pounds and piddling ounces to a high five in one fell swoop.

Summer Carp — One, Two, Three Nil!

After the long heat of the day, in the cool of evening what's more certain to re-invigorate the sluggish, reluctant reflexes than winding yourself into a tight knot of intense anticipation watching a speck of drifting crust? 

Martin walked around the lake dosing every likely holt with chum mixers expecting a free for all within the hour. They didn't show for two hours, and of course, when they did only in the tightest snag swim on the water. Hearing a few slurps, those tell-tale ripples spreading through the blocking submerged tree filling the space between my peg and that peg, I went around to take a look only to be confronted with five carp all happily plucking morsels from the surface film.

I thought they'd be a push over...

An error. That heavy footfall on arrival. Too early a cast, too much of a splash. Selecting the biggest fish of all...?

I don't know exactly what it was that gave me away but within a minute of settling in those carp were wise to my presence. Then what had once seemed easy enough, became tough, when they drifted to the safety of the heaviest snags and sank from sight.

They were still there though. Active carp can't hide themselves away from sight even when they might imagine they have. Tail wash patterns gave them away and the clipped on controller necessary to lend weight enough to swing the bait under the thick cover shifting on its plane showed interest in that attached crust, even if they were sure it was dangerous.

They just can't resist their own instincts with food overhead, can they? They're going to come for it — it's only a matter of when and where. And then, out of the blue comes a mouth... the crust vanishing down a swirling vortex, the line tightening, a strike made, the hook fails to hit home...

Take one.

A new crust is returned but further, deeper, till it's teased more in the snag than out. The plan is to hold my fish, play a crucial first move before it knows what's happened, and have it bolt into the clear. Half an hour later Martin appears on the far bank calling across for reports.

Replying by hand signal, I daren't speak a word...

Returning to his swim a hundred yards away, I can hear him talking quite clearly to Dave Fowler, up from Banbury for the evening, who's fishing an adjacent peg. It would appear there's no carp showing their end!

Earlier in the day, Andy Johnson, down from Bedworth had taken two carp off the top by baiting swims and wandering the banks in search of fish feeding. Alone, the lake to himself before our noisy arrival, working methodically and stealthily I know exactly why he succeeded then. These carp are well aware of anglers about and respond accordingly. Our plan, which would have gone without a hitch on any hungry commercial fishery wouldn't come together here. They were too cute by half.

The crust begins to sink very slowly under its own saturated weight but it's lost from sight before time. An oily swirl is seen and the controller begins to move... not quite sure if the bait has been taken or not, I wait and watch the line exiting the tip ring. Slowly it tightens, then the controller zips under out the corner of my eye — strike, swirl, nothing!

Take two.

As the sun sets I'm sure should I hide myself better than the carp, who are still visible by way of water movements, I'll have one yet. Pitching the bait under that snag though, that's becoming more and more difficult to achieve in the failing light. It's a wind up to the rod top, swing low and sideways under the trailing branches kind of cast — one wrong move and its hung up, a pull for release or break, and curtains for my one remaining chance.

Overcasting, I pull the line back manually to have the the tackle drift as close as I dare near bank and as far under that snag as possible. I can only just see the bread now — flecks of this and that confuse things further. Which is hooked crust, or stray? I can hardly tell the difference...

I give the line a sharp tug — the hooked crust moves an inch and it's clear which is which, and for just long enough.

Peering into the gloom below the bush, lips emerge, suck it down, when...

It's spat back up before I've time to even think let alone move a hand to strike.

Take that, Jeff Hatt!

Cute carp, three nil...

Reservoir Mutts — Smashing Stuff (Pt1)

Second stint at the ressy started off just exactly where I left off last weekend. Same swim, same line, same bait, same plethora of bites. Those silvers do love their bread...

When I'd sorted my tackle about me and got around to actually striking bites rather than enjoying out of the corner of my eye the spectacle of a float plunging up and down like a misfiring piston, in they came one after the other, just as before, only this time the difference was the stamp of them. All little fish these and some greedy urchins with heads smaller than the bait they'd gobbled!

Reservoir Mutts — Equally Smashing Stuff (Pt 2)

Sorry for my sad broken rod, its tip dangling uselessly jammed against the float, I pushed the glass splint back in the splintered carbon socket and retired it to the quiver, perhaps for ever.

A Quest for Canal Carp - 10,000th Cast

It's three-thirty in the morning and I've been home an hour. The first blackbird calls from the top of a nearby holly, the air is cool and still, and the distant motorway is as hushed as I have ever known. My trousers are sopping wet from the knee down from kneeling down on dew-soaked grass, my eyes are gritty, my scalp is itchy, and my body needs a bed. My head however, seeks no pillow, my fingers seek out keys, and while you sleep, I'm going to write this down, and kick it out the door, before I lose the moment to dreams.

Crucian Carp - Cash Cows

A few recent trips after crucians and earlier season trips after Perch have taught me one thing -- there's an awful lot of carp out there in commercial land. There's lots of local places where both the first mentioned worthy targets are available, but the problem is that they are available amongst a ton of carp flesh, who like every bait that both like as much, if not more than they do. Prawns are an excellent bait for margin fishing because perch and crucians love them, unfortunately carp home in on prawns like a randy dog sniffing upwind to a bitch on heat. You don't even need ground-bait to attract them, they will find even a single one, and fast.

Carp & Tench - More Spouting...

Following up on one of the weekend's leads, I decided to pay the lake, where I'd seen a group of what I hoped might be rudd swimming in the surface layers of the water, a visit. On arrival it was clear that I'd not find them easily because the entire Northern end of the lake was alive with fish moving around, and in the reeds and rushes, busy spawning. I couldn't say for sure which fish were spawning and which fish were eating the same. Some fish were in the throng were very small, some much larger, though I fancied I saw the green flank of a tench amongst them all.

Stillwater Roach - Bait Your Hook with Love

I don't quite know where I came across that expression, and have always wondered what the hell it could mean. I'm sure it's quoted somewhere in a fishing book of mine, but I don't remember where. Perhaps it means that you must bait your hook with bait lovingly applied ? But that makes no sense to me. What is there to love about baiting a hook? And what fish could tell the difference, if you did?

Stillwater Roach and Perch - Lemington Lakes

Lemington Lakes in the Cotswolds was our venue for the day. A complex of five or six lakes all carefully manicured and just as carefully stocked. We chose Abbey Lake because of its potential for a sizeable roach and I believe they have been caught well over two pounds there so I was raring to have a go for them and try, for once, to at least break what has been a paltry one-pound personal best in the category of 'stillwater roach' (ponds and lakes, but not canals. They're not still waters to my mind) that's been hanging around unbeaten for far too long.

Confounded Fish! - Crucian Carp, Carp, Brown Goldfish and their Mongrels

When it comes to crucian 'carp,' the whole world of certainty concerning fish and their genetic purity turns turtle and stands upon its own head. Here is a fish that rivals the roach for sheer uncertainty when it comes to record claims.  Every year fish are disallowed as candidates to beat the existing record set by Martin Bowler, indeed, Duncan Charman's dad has just had one that would have surpassed the British record, had it been true, pronounced as nothing more than a common or garden F1 hybrid by the fish scientist who ran conclusive DNA tests upon a scale sent in for analysis.

Canal Carp - Twenty Four Hours

The sixth four hour session after the canal carp and it would be the last whether I caught or not. I should have tried in summer when the fish would have been very active, as now winter approaches, warm weather or not the fish are in transition, assuming their winter habits and lying up in their cold weather habitats.

Canal Carp - Gutted

Another crack at those canal carp seemed a good idea yesterday evening. Warm and pleasant for the time of year and with a little light rain forecast just after dark, not windy, overcast and the moon on my moon-phase widget a neat half-pie, I really thought that tonight would be the night. I had hemp to tempt the fish to get their heads down and stop giving me endless liners and a pocket full of Quality Street trick or treat left-overs from Halloween to make myself queasy on. Molly was up for it, I was up for it, and hopefully the carp were up for it too.

Canal Carp - Hard Liners & The Slip-Shot Rig

Another two four hour sessions after the Cov Canal carp come to a close without result. The first was a late afternoon into darkness affair and was interesting in that there were no indications of fish at all the two hours before dusk and then as soon as the auto night-lights on the indicators turned on in the half light, the bobbins started to twitch every now and then and the frequency of these 'signs' rose as night came, culminating in an seemingly endless series of full scale liners. One of the baits was brought back into the boat channel where the liners were obviously coming from and then just before I had to go home, a had a three inch twitch on that rod that on examination of the slip-shot behind the lead was seen to have been a real pickup

Canal Carp - A Broken Crock

I had to go back. That single dropped run I had was enough to inspire a foray even if the lovely sunny day ahead couldn't tempt me out.

This time I took a trio of straightforward baits, pellets and meat and corn, and decided that one rod would be the corn rod and the other the trial rod and the logic being that the carp here would have seen more corn than any other type of bait other than maggots - corn being one of the standard baits that people chuck in after canal fish of all kinds and one that these carp would be well used to mopping up after dark.

Canal Carp - Delving a Pot of Gold

As it was such a warm day yesterday I thought I'd have a crack at some carp that have been reported out of a notorious local canal peg over the summer months. The towpath grapevine throws up these tales from time to time but as I threaded my way back from the succulent bunches of sweet grapes I was being fed by those who had only heard of these carp and eventually found my way all the way down to the root of the vine and the actual captor, the top weight fish had shrunk somewhat, from twenty five pounds to eighteen and the quantity too. It turned out that he has had eight fish over eight trips since May, not ten fish in two or three over the last weeks ...

Summer Carp - Monk's Pool Revisited

We were after grass carp and a pleasant day spent fishing floaters for them but an hour spent on the chosen water observing fish rise to a stream of wind blown chum mixers revealed that the carp were a fraction of the size we'd been led to believe and that grass carp were not amongst them. So much for fishery puff. So, it was decided that a swift move was in order before we got caught for a day ticket, the destination, a venue where grass carp were not but floater fun was pretty much guaranteed and with the half chance of a half decent carp.

Gravel Pit Bream - A Sniff of the Slimies

In my new found enthusiasm for figuring out the foibles of large stillwater bream I decided that I'd need to have at least two waters to fling a feeder at in order to be able to compare and contrast data sets. With a little googling I found one not too distant that contained them in small numbers of the required size. Also, I had it on an eyeball from Lee that the other pit was still choked with its current algae bloom and showed no signs of a pending die back, so having suffered an eerily silent blank there I wasn't about to suffer another.

Summer Carp - A Hard One Off The Top

We went on a long, long walk last Sunday, Judy, the dog and I. A nice Sunday morning stroll that then became a hike and later a near marathon when we decided, with good reason, to take a trip up the Ashby canal as far as the Lime Kiln pub on the A5 and then turn about on ourselves after a pint (me, two) of cool beer. What we hadn't bargained for was the incredible inaccuracy of canal-side visitor maps that contract and compress the canal into an illustration comprising of mostly bridges and other landmarks but without any true indication of distance between each - so what we thought was a couple of extra easy miles turned out to be a further arduous five

Big Perch Quest - A Reason to be Cheerful

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