It’s ‘that time’ again; when a certain stripe of thrice-yearly carper emerges from his (or her – sexist!) winter torpor; taking e’er more hopefully to the banks of the Road Lake in the misguided belief that “this year it will be different”. Bad news, chaps: chances are, it won’t. And here’s why.
Because, frankly, you seldom listen to – and even less often heed – the advice you ostensibly solicit. Which would be absolutely fine, if you were content simply to stare at your flawlessly engineered, likely overpriced (not to say, stubbornly silent) alarms for the duration of your stay.
But for the love of all that’s holy: don’t then tell me, having spent two days alongside a pond of less than an acre (and containing almost 80 carp) that “We’ve tried everything and not had a touch.”
Because, invariably, the first in a long list of things you won’t have tried is… everything you were advised to do when you arrived.
“Trying everything” does not mean chopping and changing myriad colours and flavours of 15mm round balls.
It means using your watercraft, to locate fish feeding areas.
Baiting halfway intelligently – leaving the spod rod in the car (you really don’t need one on a lake of this size); and heeding the maxim: you can put it in; but you can’t take it out.
Trying something a little different – small method feeders, for example, or zigs; naturals and tiny bits-baits.
Sight fishing: stalking them in the edge with a lobworm, or a bunch of maggots, and a float.
And being just the weensiest bit… stealthy. Staying off the skyline. Lifting your size 12s when you walk the banks. Keeping the chatter to a sensible volume.
Oh, and – critically – resisting the urge to recast every 20 minutes; in so doing, spooking every carp within a half mile of your swim.
Again, and for the avoidance of any doubt: because we only allow a couple of angling guests at any given time, you’re at liberty to ‘fish’ any way you choose. You won’t be disturbing anyone, after all.
And if your idea of a good time is just chilling by the pond: all power to you. I absolutely get it.
But if, however, you’re disgruntled with your results – muttering dejectedly “that’s why they call it fishing, not catching” on your slow walk back to the car… well, that’s a different discussion.
In which case my advice would be: book a cabin on The Moat – the population of which is an order of magnitude more obliging.
Because, fact is, I can explain basic watercraft. But I can’t understand it for you. And if you choose not to adapt your approach in line with the advice you receive… your results, likewise, will most likely remain unchanged.
And here endeth today’s lesson. Which I thought went rather well: as rants go, I was, I felt, quite measured; diplomatic even.
Come to think of it, I didn’t use the word ‘cock’ even once.
