After far too long of not being able to get out and wet a line, I finally managed to escape life's demands and get out.
Now, normally, I'm the embodied antidote to the Kevin Clifford and Terry Hearns of this world, carp don't interest me greatly. In fact, if I'm honest, not at all.
However, after a recent trip up to my Mum's and the subsequent repatriation of my 40 year old Shakey Alpha carp rod, I owed it and my Mum a debt and also wanted to mark the ruby anniversary.
So, a couple of days back, I teamed it with an equally ancient Cardinal 55 and 12lb Stren line, a 5BB Drennan straight waggler down to a Super Specialist size 6.
I opted for my usual local commercial but on the original lake which is not super stocked and, obviously, far more of a challenge than the rest of the complex.
Baits were krill flavoured corn, bacon grill, 16mm halibut pellets and some decent sized prawns. A big pellet was hooked up and preparations were nearly ready.
After cattying in plenty of hemp, I cast some fifteen yards to the edge of a nice lily patch and awaited events. Events that didn't happen - in short.
After nearly an hour, the float danced, slid, jagged and, finally, shot under. I missed it. Cursing made slightly easier by a daytime barn owl, I rebaited and recast to the same spot.
A nearby shrieking grey heron was quickly followed by a Merlin (the RAF version this time) and I reached for the flask, well it usually works doesn't it?
I thought I'd fend off the ennui and opened the bacon grill. Stuff the usual 8mm approach, I carved off a mini housebrick and impaled it, a cube around an inch and a half all round.
Out it went, same spot and the flying circus was joined by an art deco era biplane that looked stylish but so outdated. I was just thinking about this nonogerian performer when the float shot under and the strike brought forth a single expletive on my part - short but very, very Anglo Saxon.
I knew it was fight time, big time. And so it turned out. I knew this was probably the second biggest carp I'd ever hooked. After a hell of a fist fight, dragging and real jungle combat, the rod performed admirably and after twenty minutes of duelling, I slipped the net under what I knew was my biggest landed. A passing carper went scuttling back to his own swim and returned with scales. It went 22lb 7oz. My first ever twenty but I'm in no hurry to add to it, honestly. However, if it had been my first 3 perch or double barbel, I'd still be there now.
Another cube of meat brought a mirror around 7lbs. Then two tinies, between 1 and 2lbs. A much smaller cube brought a bream circa 2lbs and that was it. I felt I used the rod and, hopefully, repaid some of the price my Mum had paid for it so many years previously.
I packed up and drove home no better or more eager a carp angler than I'd set out. A big mug of tea and a crumpet later and I picked up the phone and tried explaining to my Mum, somewhere near as old as the biplane earlier, what halibut pellets were and what a Cardinal 55 was. It wasn't going to be easy. "Mum, 40 years ago you bought me a rod that's never left my thoughts since...."
The carp made even less of an impact than it did with me. All she wanted to know was was I happy, was my job secure, was the house ok and the cat well.
Mums, eh? Bless em. Till the next time, well tomorrow actually......
