Choose life. Choose a lake. Choose a swim. Choose a bait. Choose a rig. Choose sleepless nights under the stars. Choose the nocturnal music of branches creaking in the wind, leaves whispering, and the eerie night-calls of owls and wildfowl. Choose bright moons shattered in the rippling surface of lakes, and purple skies at sunset perfectly mirrored. Choose silent mist-shrouded pools at dawn. Choose visions of white-flowering waterlilies turning green-gold in the half-light. Choose the flashing bronze flanks of carp, twisting below the surface, on the edge of visibility. Choose a heightened heart-rate. Choose an emotional rollercoaster. Choose the psychological assault-course of planning, watching, locating, preparing, casting and waiting. Choose the endless hours of strung-out anticipation. Choose the rush of striking, hooking, fighting, and landing (or losing) the fish. Choose to walk the tightrope between desperate failure and the adrenaline-inducing, life-enhancing triumphant high of success. Choose life. Choose obsession. Choose Carp Fishing.
"Greg Freestone, Carpspotting 2011"

Monday, 26 May 2014

Don't forget the margins

Special fish this one.
I set up in a swim called the bog and found a nice small spot to my left which you couldn't cast to, So on went the shorts and into the water I went.
A tricky wade round with my rod to a small clear spot under a tree. Just felt right to get a rig on it.
With a hand full of bait and my rig set it was a waiting game till morning as you can set your clock to the feeding times as at 5am it ripped off


Few weeks later my mate andy fished the same swim and as it being his first time on the lake I pointed out a spot to him for a backup if he wasn't catching, and after two nights of blanking he took my advice and waded round to the spot and at 2am he was buzzing with a new PB 37lb 12oz common

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