Good Afternoon.

I arrived at my chosen swim on friday afternoon. With a nice westerly breeze pushing down the narrow section I intended on fishing, I suddenly had that rush of excitement that any carp angler would recognise instantly. I heard a couple of fish slap the surface further along to my right as I set up my marker rod, and after finding the river bed, I decided on where to place my rods. Two would go left and right in the margins, and one would smack down in the centre channel of the river bed.

The sun’s intensity was strong as I sat finishing my latest book : The Eleventh Commandment, by Jeffery Archer. As the sun dipped behind some trees I got my dinner ready; a simple pasta dish with tuna tossed through it. I had seen the barometric pressure on the television in the morning and I had a feeling the coming night would be bitten with cold – I was right, and by 10pm a wet dew was coating the ground and my equipment.

Flash loves his Trakker bedding!

Jose, a local friend of mine, was fishing much further along the bank to my left. I heard alarms going off and smiled, wondering when my chance would come. I knew there were plenty of fish in front of me, as occasionally a carp would roll, leaving surging ripples that flickered in the moon’s spotlight. The moon presently is full, and I always like fishing during this period.

Whether it's really responsible for big fish remains another matter, but you can't beat a full moon!

After reading a few more pages, I drifted off to sleep. I woke an hour later, to find my hat and headtorch had slipped off my head in my drowsy slumber! I turned over and nodded off again when suddenly the first take startled me. The margin rod to my right had been taken, and after a short battle, a fat golden common was landed, unhooked, and returned. This fish took a liking for a yellow banana/pineapple pop-up. During the fight the fish had briefly caught one of my other lines. There is plenty of silk weed in the margins, and after yesterday’s breeze, it had caught up on most of my lines. After removing the weed, I decided to reel in the rod in question and switched the purple squid pop-up for a yellow one, before casting it back to its target. A couple of spombs duly followed and the work had been done.

Half and hour later the margin rod to my left took off. Another common put in a brief appearance on the bank, before I ushered him back to his home. I flicked the rod back out, and quickly returned to the welcome warmth of my sleeping bag. The next three hours were undisturbed until 7am, when the rod I had recast, with the now yellow pop-up, beeped a few times, then hit full throttle. The fish took plenty of line to begin with but I was in control all the way to the net. A 10kg common was quickly dealt with, and then left in the landing net in the water; whilst I quickly put a filled pva stocking on, and cast the rod back to the spot. Two spombs rapidly followed, then I photographed the male common, oozing milk, and released him to rejoin his comrades.

One of many in Sierra Brava!

A welcome coffee followed and I sat on my bed watching the day wake up. I had barely put the cup down, when the tip of the rod I had just recast, bounced, nodded, straightened-up, before slowly arching over. It is always a pleasure to watch a take occur, but, I also equally enjoy waking, bleary-eyed, to a blistering run.

The fish kited slowly to my left and took line as it did. I allowed the fish a little headway, and more than I should, before realising the imminent danger. I have never seen this before at Brava; a bottle-marker left in the water by an irresponsible angler, and regretfully the fish had managed to get behind the marker’s line, which I imagined was of the sea-fishing variety! Whenever I used bottle markers in the past, I always used fine match fishing line, which would inevitably break should a fish tangle occur. This was clearly not a good situation and the fish was clearly still on. What was I to do?

I left the rod for a few minutes to see if it came free. After twenty minutes of tugging, and walking left and right, I realised there was only one thing for it – pull for a break, or swim out and cut the bottle-marker’s line. This would then hopefully allow the fish to swim free, and I could possibly have a chance of landing the carp. I stripped off to my boxers and tested the water. Bloody freezing was all my mind screamed at me. I backed off and tried the rod approach again. The fish was definitely still attached as the bottle kept bobbing. “Sod it,” I thought, “It will be like swimming on Boxing Day on Blackpool Beach!” (I would like to clearly emphasise that you please don’t try this at home whatever age. I am slightly nuts, plus I did have help at close hand should I have got into any trouble.)

With a pair of Korda Razorblades in my right hand I waded out, quickly ducked under, let out a gasp of shock from the icy temperature, and then went for it. I am actually a strong swimmer, but I do prefer the warmth of the mediterranean, the beaches at Ibiza, or the heated indoor pool variety. I soon made it to the marker 50 yards out. I cut the thick mono and headed back to shore doing front crawl. I raced back to the rod to find the fish was still on, but sadly still stuck! I now knew the carp had obviously managed to get the marker’s mono attached to the stone or rock, caught up on either my hooklink or the hook. Still not wanting to pull for a break, I donned my waders, and waded out to try to get the whole lot moving. Every so often I made a little gain, but then everything would lock up again. I left the rod in the rests and watched as my kettle boiled for a brew. The tip then suddenly pulled forwards and line was pulled off the baitrunner; could this be it?

I felt something moving as I tightened down and slowly the whole lot seemed to come towards me. I realised by now, that I was reeling in a carp, plus a large rock, dangling several feet below, and after all the effort I had gone to, I dearly wanted to land the fish, and see what it was. A beautiful mirror suddenly surfaced a few feet out, unable to move, due to the tension from all angles. I gently slipped the creature into my net, and then pulled the marker’s mono sharply, so the line broke and the rock fell away. I walked triumphantly back to my unhooking mat. Was it worth the effort – indeed it was!

Worth swimming for? I reckon so!

Not expecting any day-time margin action, I moved the rods to the river bed, in the hope of snaring a passing carp. My theory with river beds, at this particular time of year, is they are used by carp, similar to motorists using motorways – they are the quickest way to navigate. At night, and under the cover of darkness, the carp are more likely to explore the shallows in search for food, but once daylight appears, these familiar patrol routes signal a safer and easier way to travel. At the end of the narrow section I am fishing is an area where the carp spawn, and that is why the fish are present. My theory is they arrive in the day, and move out, whilst feeding, during the night, and the most likely route they will take is the one that holds the most food – the shallows. Hence my two margin carp caught in the night, and the two river bed carp caught at first light. It’s my theory however, so don’t quote me on that one, although Flash does agree with me!

Back tomorrow.

Jake and Flash.