As I sit with my pen and pad an almost complete waxing gibbous moon is illuminating 65 acres of nature reserve, the clouds that are present struggle to block out its atmospheric white glow and the only noise that greets me is the odd coot in the distance and the scurrying of a timid and wary fox. What swims in front of me is somewhat of a mystery to most, with the rumours and fisherman’s tales surrounding this awesome water it leaves any angler with a sense of curiosity and the urge to explore its gin clear and weed infested aquatic world, hoping that something magical will happen.

Around 8 years ago I was lucky enough to witness some incredible carp grace the banks of this haven, all of them were perfect in every way and six of these being over the 30lb mark, some had deep grey leathery bodies to match there large black paddles, others held a lovely oak colour to them with huge apple slice like mirror scales that would glisten and dance in the raw rays of the sun, and not forgetting the commons with dark backs and not a blemish or mark on them. These creatures of beauty have never really left my mind and it is this day I return to where I first feed my addiction, due to being over powered by the stories of chasing something that is a bit more special that lay in such books as Terry Hearn’s In pursuit of the largest, my brain became almost hypnotized into thinking that the only way to start my carp fishing off would be on a tricky venue, a venue that held those fish that people spoke about but never saw, so that’s what I did, I really did jump in at the deep end.

During Two and a half season of fishless nights, savage and punishing winds, fields of weeds and very few sightings of carp I somehow managed to bank some of the lakes smaller residents but it soon became apparent that I was way out of my depth, even the most seasoned regulars were struggling so for the sake of my own sanity and for the need to actually catch carp I had to move on.

Utilising the waters around me I made it my mission to advance my abilities, gained experiences and deepen my angling intuition, skipping a few years of what can only be described as a colossal learning curve my results were really starting to show, the latest venture was onto a lake called Willen South, known locally for its bit commons in particular The Golden Common! Catch an Release ( Prt1 )

Copious amounts of weed, the ‘non angling’ type hiring out peedlo’s and rowing boats only to struggle and take out your lines, careless dog walkers allowing there soaking wet hounds to cock leg and cause an unstoppable flow of dog wiz on your overall and only being able to fish what we deem as an unfair percentage of the water is all part and parcel of the 80 acre Willen South.

My campaign started at the beginning of the year or should I say end of the floods, my plan from the off was to be mobile, fishing with big beds of boilies, constantly peppering the water with those little round balls of joy, I wanted to be different as I know the majority on their tend to stick to one swim for the year and Spod the granny out of it!

I kick started the campaign with a common known as the small tailed at 31lb 12oz from a known hot spot for that part of the season, putting one up on them scaly warriors also put me in good spirit to dive even deeper into the trap of hunting a swimming hippo but I did not want to stay in this area long as it does receive a lot of pressure so I was soon on the move. Catch an Release ( Prt1 )

After a few mandatory blanks and countless used and abused tea bags that were squeezed to an inch of their life I finally got my second taste of the good stuff banking a lovely dark and long common of 30lb 1oz from the other side of the pond.

Sitting back I saw the plan working and was even more keen than ever to keep putting the hours in, overnighters meant me arriving at the lake 11pm and then a 10 minute walk/run with the barrow but I knew that putting these sessions in was essential especially as I did not need to return to work until early afternoon, this meant I had the best part of the morning to help me locate the fish for the next pot noodle fuelled session.

A constant supply of stocky’s were to grace my net across a few weeks of overnights and most weekends, including a stunning fully and I knew if I kept it up I could see another better sized cypri in the meshy walls of my net, due to my love of surface fishing I make it one of my goals on any lake I target to nail at least on ‘of the top’, so I was pleased to play tug of war and win with a really old original male mirror on my surface gear.

As another weekend drew closer the clock at work signalled it was time to head back to my watery retreat, I hastily rushed to where I have been watching two good mirrors and a common of similar proportion and set up camp for the coming weekend.

On arrival the fish had moved close in but after spending the majority of the day pulling my hair out as my surface baits were refused on to many occasions to count It was time to get all three rods on the spots, armed with confidence and super sharp hooks all the rods were out in 5 cast’s, they were all running behind a fresh weed bed that runs parallel with a set of walking boards that the wake boarders use when the amusingly smashed face first into the water.

I saw no carp in the area for a while but as the early summer sun started to dip and illuminate the candy floss like pollen from the surrounding tree’s there were signs of them coming back in the area.

Come 10 o’clock I felt I should have had a bite, the cogs started turning then right on queue my right hand rod tightened up to a locked up clutch and line started clicking off!

Immediately the rod took an alarming curve for the culprit to find comfort in the weed but carefully I eased her free and continued the battle, thinking there was still weed on the line I dismissed the idea it was a decent one until she made her first big run taking 60 yrds of line hard to my left and then back out to where she was firstly hooked, then repeating this antic but to the right. It seemed like she knew where every possible snag was and she wanted to find home in all of them, now I was certain it was a better fish, the typical slow plodding and steady line taking runs were kept up for a good 15 minutes leaving big oily tail patterns twirling in the blackened water behind her.

Due to the relentless bugs, mossys and moths attacking me kamikaze style I kept the head torch off until the last minute, so as the tail patterns merged closer and closer I decided it was time to see what supercharged carp I was attached to. As the light flicked on my jaw dropped, a big golden side was now glowing in the dark warm water, without a second thought I was in , wellys glugging and gurgling as they filled but that did not matter as my prize was now secure in my trusty and seemingly lucky landing net, c’mon she was mine !!

Hoisting her up on the scales and the needle clarified it was the monster I was after, the ‘golden common’ at a pb, new club record and mammoth proportion of 43lb, her frame was massive, broad as a breeze block and massively deep! As my girlfriend is my photographer of choice I gave her the waders and striped to my colourful boxers and entered the commons domain for some water

shoots, upon doing so I looked up to see a huge blood orange full moon peep over the far tree line. What a moment !

The next day the celebratory Champaign was opened and phone calls were made, happy I have achieved what I set out to do and again learnt something new and to me that was just as important as catching the fish itself. So as I draw that adventure to a close I look out of my overnight brolly to a panoramic view of my new home from home, a thick wall of mist blurs my vision with just the old dead tree I’m fishing to visible, a sense of electricity and mystery if fully heightened as I hear an almighty bosh and the coots screech and scatter in different directions, at that moment I can’t help but think of a very fitting quote by Terry Dempsy from the awesome SubSurface journal;

“I think a lot of fishing is magical, and a lot of the fish we catch aren’t because of science or because of rigs or bait, it is deeper than that… much deeper”.

With one of the best parts of the year at our door step I’m determined to put as much time in as possible on this lake, will I see it through the winter on here?, to be honest I’m not sure, the thought of socials and copious amounts of tea to wash down piping hot take ways on an easier water were a friend is fishing seems very tempting indeed.

Until next time be lucky and don’t give up chasing that target!