Dancing with carp.
David John Lovell
copyright ©DAVID JOHN LOVELL
5 years before I captured a very hard fighting 26.12lbs common carp from
Combwich Lake, as a member of the Bridgewater angling A.A. This was the biggest
fish in the lake and was rarely both seen or caught. I knew this fish would go
on to be a larger creature and she had been on my mind for a long time, purely
because of the sheer fight and tactics she employed. I don’t know why it is that
most fish tend to flop about with a few lunges but not this one, no sir. The
first time we met she sounded, and by this I mean she stayed close to the bottom
attempting to snag me in one of the many weed beds that exist all over the lake.
On Sunday the 9th of May 04 at 02.30 am the rod 2 alarm screamed, and I mean
really screamed, with no warning, waking me from a deep sleep in an instant.
Fifty yards of line went in a matter of seconds. I quickly lifted the rod and
turned the handle to disengage the bait feeder and switch to main clutch. Then
everything went solid, with the line straining like a guitar string as the light
wind whistled across it.
It flashed into my mind, could it be? I knew the answer. Straight to the bottom,
In pitch darkness there was not a ripple, not a trace of movement. It was she. I
fish alone and in that moment I felt that, no one else to offer words of
encouragement, or to put me off my concentration, because with her you need to
be of clear mind. No alcohol, I don’t drink when fishing, if I want a beer I
will go to the pub and not fish, pure and simple. Fish that perform like this do
not give you a chance to relax, or be half cut.
I knew the weed beds were extensive out there even if this year the water level
had been raised, they were still there. She knew it. She crashed straight
through one of the shorter beds, the line grating and rod juddering. Thank god
for the big game line. I have used others but I am sticking firm on my choice.
Thank you Berkley. Heavy line, heavy weed and definitely a heavy fish. And the
speed! She was obviously fit and knew how to use her weight. The clutch? I
loosened it a touch, no more than that and she turned and ripped it round. I
immediately screwed it back down tight. Right then! If that’s the way she wants
it! Fifty yards out now, weed on the right, surface movement, that’s where she
is. Trying for a bigger bed to get into and lock me up, is she? The line is
whistling so much I reckon I could play a tune on it, perhaps a guitar shaped
rod with frets? No, this is not the time for amusing thoughts. I am in a serious
situation. I pull the rod hard up left. It would not surprise me if all the
rings just suddenly peeled from the rod; there is so much pressure on it. And
there has to be because she is still right down on the bottom, head down and
angry, yes, she is very annoyed at having been tricked into picking up a rig, my
rig. Many anglers fish this water but they don’t get her, and should they trick
her, they don’t get her out. She has probably cost them a pretty penny in
tackle. Personally, I don’t ‘drop’ fish, it cost too much time, money and effort
only to lose them, and this is what I look for in my carp fishing. A crafty
clever fish that when fooled really piles on the pressure. I don’t like to fish
holes in the ground, I don’t like it ‘easy’ because if there is no challenge I
fail to see the reason for taking it on. Big hard fighting fish in snaggy-weeded
waters lights my candle. On Combwich you can catch plenty of twenties, but she
is the one we all really want, and now I am locked into her. She picked up on
the bar in the car park swim and shot over into deeper water straight towards
the nearest weed bed, she knows this lake better than any angler.
Twenty minutes have past and she is now closer, about fifteen yards out on the
edge of the weed bed that lies to my right, this bed divides the car park swim
and a small corner swim also adjacent to the car park, before going around the
corner to the ‘van’ swim. This bed does appear when the water levels fall during
summer. These swims are popular with the many rats that move through during the
night, but they are keeping well away from this argument. I catch a glimpse of
tubing above the surface and the rod is immediately pulled down hard, she knows
she is losing her depth. She turns back to the left and shoots across rod 3,
then immediately turns and, head down, with all her weight, flies back across
towards the weed bed. We are locked into each other, we are one, we are dancing,
and I am dancing with carp.
I pull the rod up hard, quickly wind the tip down and pull the rod up hard
again, The tip rises to acknowledge the night sky with its broken cloud, I never
noticed the light drizzle that had begun to fall, I thought it was sweat that I
was wiping from my eyes.
She knows it is over; I push rod and tackle to its absolute limit and offer her
respite in the shape of mesh. She accepts and turns into its embracing arms. It
is 02.55am. I now have to go to work. The landing net is placed on the swim
railway sleeper with the net submerged in the water holding the prize. The
sleeper is a perfect rest. The rod is placed on a standard rod rest to the right
edge of the swim. Only now do I switch on my headlamp and kneel to unclip the
rig and remove the lead and line, removing rod 2 from the situation altogether.
I am now free to lift her out of the water by the net arms and move backwards to
the waiting trakker deluxe big fish mat. I lower her gently and manoeuvre her
over the cord end with one hand between her flank and net cord for her
protection, the neoprene glove offering coolness and water. Everything is to
hand, forceps, klinik, and scales.
I wash her down and remove a couple of lettuce like bits of weed, and the two
small leeches found. With the aid of the forceps I gently and cleanly reverse
the hook from the lower lip. Upon inspection I see no trace of recent hook
holes, not a pinprick. I do not spare the klinik on the small hole from my mark
of success.
I kneel before her as though in worship. She is in fine fettle. “Hello you” I
say to her, yes, I speak, I talk to this one, “aren’t you gorgeous”. She is a
big girl, but beautiful with it. Perfectly formed with little fat, all muscle,
all fish, and a cracking common carp to honour. I don’t know how old she is,
perhaps 13 years old if I had to guess, but I could not swear to this, and
anyway, the main thing is that she is in peak condition. She has been living on
natural food for some time, of that I am sure. It would be pointless telling you
how I tricked her, she won’t fall for it a second time, and besides, I intend to
keep my secrets for other waters with wary big fish. I zip the weigh mat and
weigh her. She is 28.12lbs. I only have with me my old digital camera and this
limits the focus range in order to get her all in. I will be using my new camera
from now on, and so my apologies for the picture quality. After a number of
self-portraits I carry her to the water. I then press the mat under to allow the
water to flow in. Helping her
to right herself and guide her she slips away to recover her dignity, and avoid
other anglers attempts. I reflect on the capture. It feels as though I had
scored the winning goal for England in the last minute of extra time to lift the
world cup, but no one there to cheer me. A nice cup of tea is required. I take a
second fish at 05.30am, another common at 20lbs. It is in the net within a
couple of minutes, nothing like the earlier battle. It is treated in the same
manner, though this fish has some damage to mouth from mistreatment by some
other guy who purports to be a lover of carp. I treat the fish with care and yet
more klinik, and return it immediately.
I pack up at 09.00 and while loading the car a couple of local lads come up from the corner swim, also packing up, and ask me how I got on. I show them the pictures on the camera and inform them of the fish and details. I ask, “Did you not hear the alarm screaming”? “No”, they reply. Perhaps they had had a couple of beers!
1999 at 26.12lbs 2004 at 28.12lbs
