Planes, pains and automobiles

It was my first eagerly awaited session on the square expanse of water known as the back lake. I had been informed of the lovely fish that resided beneath its milky surface and as I stood on the pumping station walkway, looking out into the lake, the cyprinids were putting on a majestic display of aerial breeches for me.

I hadn’t envisaged such activity at this time of year and it made the choosing of swims that bit more awkward as they seemed to be everywhere, but really nowhere. I suppose with the kinds of stocking levels that are reputed to be in there, a fish must be near my bait all the time!

I opted for the North bank as there was a strong ,southerly based wind blowing into it and I hoped the fish would eventually feed there on the foodstuffs being carried on the wind and current.

I was the first hopeful angler of the day to arrive and it meant I could set up in an unhurried manner, and without the gazes and comments that you get from regulars when you are the new kid on the block. I opted for the first swim on the left side of the north bank and it gave me the opportunity to fish in the margins and still have a reasonable chuck to virtually eighty percent of the lake should the fish warrant it.

This place must rank as one of the most unique venues I have fished because, firstly, you cannot really enjoy the ornithological wonders that should be in abundance on a reed lined lake because there hardly seems to be any feathered friends at all. Secondly, my mate Tony explained to me that there is always the constant noise of  jet planes filling the air, due to its proximity to a major international airport.  What he failed to mention was that from 6am until 11pm, there are planes taking off and landing roughly every minute of the day and the noise is ear shattering! The jumbo’s are no more than 150 metres above the lake and they even whip the leaves off the trees with the jet vortex in their wake!

Maybe the birds have got the right idea and this place is best left to the  damn planes, but I would still like to catch one of these carp first!

So it was now around 9am and it was a typical nice bright autumnal morning, with a bit of a chill in the air and the sun made a feeble attempt to counteract the effects of the wind .The leaves were well and truly disappearing from their wooden stays and the fish were almost pagan like in their activities, as if worshipping the solar presence as it changed from the equinox to solstice.

I pitched the Trakker hotel and got the bedroom arranged for maximum comfort and set up the kitchen area in anticipation of the big boy breakfast.

I decided to have a few casts  with the marker rod to try and establish the kind of environment I would be sending my baited rigs into. The bottom was littered with gravel patches and the remains of a lot of old weed beds, but there didn’t appear to be much in the way of leafy detritus, due to the lack of trees, so the presentation wasn’t going to be much of a problem. My left rod was placed in the margin in front of some dying reed beds in 8ft of water. On this rod I used a dynamite stick of crumbed malarkey boilies and a malarkey snowman hook bait set up. I then went round to the margin spot and spooned in around another half kilo of crumbed and chopped baits to complete the mornings gastronomic feast for the lakes residents.

The left rod was placed in between two large gravel patches and it was either on the dying weed bed or in the fine silt .This was fished with an 18mm malarkey bait whittled down to around half the size and again, in conjunction with a crumb stick which was dunked in the malarkey glug along with the lead to boost the attraction.

Finally I was fishing on my new venue and it was time to get cracking with the inaugural opening of the Trakker kitchen for the morning ritual of the 5B’s breakfast (burgers, bacon, beans, bread n butter).

It was during the breakfast preparation that I started to get this stabbing feeling in my lower abdomen occasionally but I thought it might have been a touch of irritable bowel syndrome and just gritted my teeth as it passed. I struggled through brekky and the pain seemed to go away until it was time to “siphon the python“, when the pain returned with a  malevolence more akin to being tortured than emptying ones bladder. I was doubled up in agony and decided to hit the sack and sleep it off if possible but the dull ache remained.

I decided to just carry on regardless and as the day wore on, I had the dubious pleasure of meeting the head bailiff. Now this chap was thoroughly dedicated to the lake and the club but his initial patter could be more likened to the drill sergeants bawling at the start of Full Metal Jacket………..If you can picture this with a shouting American accent:

“You WILL follow the rules, there are only TWO rules you need to know, the first rule is that barbless hooks are a must , the second rule is ….you don’t break any of the rules!, these are your fish……….this is your lake ………..where are you from boy?…… TEXAS !!!!   are you queer?,   the only things that come from Texas are queers and steers and you sure don’t look like no steer!! “

Well you get the gist of it. He was relentless in the pursuit of his own arsehole and I have never come across someone so over zealous in his work. He proceeded to tell me about this bait, that rig, you don’t wanna do it like that……until I could take no more. I kindly asked him to take a look round and asked him if he thought I was some snotty teenager who didn’t have a clue about fishing or did I actually resemble a seasoned carp angler with more than an idea about what is going on?

He eventually changed tack and after seeing the light, he bade me farewell and left me to “enjoy” my fishing in the relative peace of  the lulls in between the landings and take offs of  the jets!

A couple more anglers turned up on the other side and as it was early afternoon, I decided to reel in and have a change of bite zone. Deftly sent the marker out in all directions and settled on some nice spots. The rods were once again armed with their traps and then despatched to the zones and I was just reeling in the marker for the left rod when the right hand Delkim kicked into full battle cry and I pulled into my first back lake carp……

Game on and it felt like a nice fish, as it kited even further right trying to get under this aeration paddle contraption that was floating in the water. I applied even more pressure in order to turn it and the rod tip was sunk almost halfway under water to try and turn this unseen quarry. It was making some feisty manoeuvres to avoid having its picture taken with me and I had some heart stopping moments as the clash of the titans carried on. Eventually my unfair weight advantage got the better of my adversary and the carp came to the surface and imbibed its first gulp of air which further enhanced the bitter taste of defeat for her as she glided over the cord to become my first Back lake carp.

I was well pleased with this fish and it now gave me the opportunity to try out my new camera in self take mode as I didn’t really want the other unknown anglers to mess up the pictures.

I secured the net and set about getting the makeshift studio ready for the shoot. I set the camera up on tripod, positioned the mat, checked the camera settings and went in front of the lens to checkout the framing on the swivel screen. Preparation is paramount and everything was set, a quick test shot was done and the results were fine.

   
Click images to view full size

The fish was weighed using a Fox weigh hook screwed into a sturdy landing net pole and the results are a much more stable reading as all the weight is held by the pole. This cracker weighed 23lb 6zoz and I was happy to have got my first fish. The fish behaved impeccably for the photos and the results were quite good, although I should have sorted out the frown! I was pleased with the remote function and the whole operation was executed with great aplomb, this is definitely the way to go. Even if you have someone else available but are not sure of their photographic prowess, just tell them when to press the remote, carp shots will always be pukka from now on, happy days.

I returned the fish and after re-casting, settled down to relive the fish through the pictures and I was amazed at the unusual scale patterns in the tail area. The fish was a weird shape as well, something that was not immediately apparent when holding it but I can’t moan, there is something special about the first capture.

I got a call from my mate Simon and he was going to be in the area so he said he would pop in and catch up on the recent trips over a cuppa or two. I was looking forward to some sane adult company amidst the din of Rolls Royce’s finest jet turbines  and in light of my brief encounter with the crazed bailiff.

My abdominal pain was ever present now and I thought it may have been  something I had eaten, but my grub thus far had been pretty standard fishing fodder with no delicately spiced chicken phal’s or anything similar to aggravate my internals. Simon turned up and I just carried on regardless as I played host and made the tea as we chatted about all things fishing. After a couple of hours he departed for home and the onset of evening brought the need for a rethink on strategies and I changed the location of the night time traps before retiring to the bivvy as the pain worsened.

The night passed uneventfully and the melodious sounds of the sky continued well past my initial foray into slumber. I was very restless and sweating profusely as what ever was wrong with me was getting dramatically worse. Every which way I lay caused me excruciating discomfort and I prayed the night would pass quickly as I needed to be home and get to the doctors.

The welcoming morning sunshine eventually came and I was feeling on the verge of collapse. I started to pack my stuff away immediately and after nearly 2 hours I was loading up the carp mobile such was the discomfort level now. It was a blessed relief to finally start the engine, safe in the knowledge that home was a mere 35 minute journey away. I was dripping in sweat as I headed for the narrow entrance to the car park and as I got to the opening I misjudged it  totally and rubbed up against the fence post on the offside. Bang! I stopped the car and dragged myself out to see what mayhem awaited me for this atrocious bit of judgement and I was greeted with my indicator dangling from its power cable and my headlamp shattered. “what rotten luck“ I thought, or a similarly phrased comment with the addition of a few expletives anyway! To hell with it, I needed to get home, it will have to wait.

I eventually made it home in one piece, got my gear safely locked away and after a lengthy battle of wills on the phone with the doctors receptionist, I had suitably convinced her of my need for an appointment. It turned out that I had somehow contracted a chronic urinary tract infection and I was put on antibiotics for 10 days to hopefully clear it up before my holiday to Sharm el Sheikh. 

What a session that was, to coin a Latin phrase, Vini Vidi Vici, I came, I saw, I conquered! There were the planes by the hundreds, there were the pains which were relentless and then there was the automobile incident which was just about the straw that broke the camels back!

You could almost have made a film about it…………              

 

Planes, Pains and Automobiles! Now why didn’t I think of that!