CONFFESIONS OF A LONG DISTANT CARP ANGLER
PART 3
TRAVELS ABROAD.
THE MONK
A number of years ago I had a few spare weeks in which to holiday. For my sins, I’m also a casual wedding photographer, and business on that side was a little slow. Wifey number 3 was pushing for a couple of months out at her sisters on Majorca, while I fancied a few trips to more distant parts of the globe. To keep the little lady happy however, we had the usual two-week in Spain, but for latter part of the year, I managed to book at couple of weeks, first in Bulgaria and later in Cyprus. Having read of Andy Littles adventures in Bulgaria, we flew out to Bourgas to tackle the waters in question, this was however a family holiday, so it was a case of hiding as much tackle as possible, in every conceivable areas of luggage. The two telescopic rods I could carry in an extra tripod case, reels were hidden in my photographic bags, buzzers, bite indicators and bait stored away in the suitcases, and the rod pod fit neatly into the hand luggage. We arrived at Bourgas airport late on the Friday evening and were transferred to a coach, which took us North up the Black Sea coast to a resort called Slachen Briag. The hotel looked like something from a Michael Cane movie, typical of a communist regime, with long low corridors, dim lighting and lots of uniform doorways, while the staff was definitely KGB. The following morning I managed to get up before the wife and escaped into the area behind the hotel in search of water, and within the hour I had found some. I found two beautiful lakes that a local farmer informed me were inhabited with 20KG carp, wow, I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and get my gear out (unfortunately the wife had an headache, so I got the fishing tackle out instead). Having been granted permission from dearly beloved, I was allowed every third day to fish these fine and enchanting waters.
To arrive at the lakes, these by the way were old mineral extraction quarries, meant that I had to walk over around a mile of scrub land and climb over some very dodgy hills, to gain access, to arrive at the second pit required crossing a fallen pylon on hands and knees and being careful not to fall off, as it was quite high. I persevered however and managed to blank on every visit. As if the blanks were not enough, on my second trip out, I felt like an hammering sensation against my ankle and noted two small holes in my foot, looking down into the thick grass, I just managed to catch sight of what appeared to be a Balkan Viper making a quick escape, I had been bitten by a bloody snake, which resulted in an afternoon in the medical centre trying to communicate with a Bulgaria doctor. On another occasion I arrived at the main pit just before first light and set up the rods in one of the few available areas between the beds of rushes. Just as the distant light was breaking over the hills, I heard the sound of stampeding animals to my rear, turning round I came face to face with an heard of stampeding boar, grabbing the tackle in a total state of panic I dived to one side of the clearing and the boar dived into the water in front of me, followed by a local farmer who was taking these hairy little pigs for a drink. The rest of the holiday was relatively quiet; apart from getting chased by the Bulgarian railway police in Verna for taking photographs were apparently I shouldn’t have?