I tried to sort through my thoughts over the next few days. Tel's opinion did not help much, cheers mate!
As well as close season fishing there would be night fishing and a new syndicate would start on 15 June. While welcoming the chance to fish at night, I thought about the cost of a potential wild goose chase and wondered how many anglers the new ticket would entice?
Still, I had an eight week head start to catch her, or find her at least. With the weather improving all the time, and Tel off to pastures new, I decided to go for it. I put the doubts out of my mind and got focussed.
That carp, I reasoned (assuming it was in there of course), if not already on the move, soon would be. With little in the way of natural food available to distract her, I thought she'd soon find my baited spots and would welcome the chance to pig-out. I decided to put the bait into three areas and up the amount used. Seemed like a plan; and, it was not too long before events began to confirm my hopes.
One of the most memorable occasions was at dusk as I was baiting up. I was just about to let fly with a pouch full of bait, when a coot emerged from the overhanging trees and shrubs. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if the bird was robbing bait. Suddenly the water erupted, right over the baited spot. The coot flew away screeching in one direction, while in the other a huge v-shaped wave appeared as the fish swam off, leaving a wide wake behind it.
By now, the lake was waking up and I fancied having a go. However, with the May bank holiday underway I thought there might be a few anglers visiting the water and I didn't fancy being among the crowds. Instead, I decided to clear the decks at work and postpone my first session to the middle of the following week when, hopefully, I should have the place to myself.
On the Bank Holiday Monday, I had gone to work as planned but by midday, I'd had enough. It was just too nice a day. Warm and sunny, and all the trees and bushes had that lime green hue that signified spring was definitely in the air. Too nice to be stuck indoors, so I decided to visit the lake and perhaps slip some bait in.
I expected to find people fishing, but I was surprised at the number of anglers there. Most were float anglers. Two of my baited areas were not being fished, and the third had an angler packing up, going home having seen and caught nothing. With so many people about, I was not going to put any bait in. So, after slipping a handful in my pocket, I put the rest back into the car and began to stroll the long way around the lake.
About half way around the lake there is a large, recently excavated, bay. Near this bay is another new bay, which is tiny - about the size of a double garage. This is shallow and, at that time of year, it is one of the most barren, boring and uninteresting spots of the whole lake. I must have walked past it hundreds of times and never stopped to look.
However, that day there were no other anglers nearby; it was quiet and peaceful. So, I decided to stop and have a rest and a cigarette. A warm and relaxing breeze was blowing on my face and I was able to sit, just enjoying the day, mulling over the plans and hopes that were rolling around in my mind. How I wanted to catch that fish!
I was not paying much attention as at first I could not see past the surface glare and the wind rippling the surface. As the wind eased up though, my vision began to clear and I could make out little clear patches of gravel dotted about in the scum, muck and dead leaves. There, right under my feet, one of the gravel patches moved! I blinked and rubbed my eyes; I was nose to nose with a big carp!
As I stared, I could also make out a smaller dark fish swimming below and behind the big pale one. I remembered the boilies in my pocket and after crumbling them up, I slowly leaned out and sprinkled the bait into the water over the fish. As the pieces drew level with them, the pale one became agitated and began to back away.
Then, with a visible lurch, she powered forward sending up a great spew of bubbles, scum and debris. Rocking back gently on my heels and letting out the breath I had been holding, I watched, amazed by the feeding fish that I could almost reach out and touch. I deliberated for a nanosecond!
Forcing myself to walk calmly back to the car to prevent arousing the suspicion of the other anglers I set off to grab what I needed.
Driving home, I went through all sorts of tactics. The thing that was uppermost in my 
mind was the thought that I would only get one chance. I did not want to be striking at a bite, just lifting the rod into a well hooked fish. I decided to use a bolt set up using a braid hook length and long hair to let the fish get a good grip, with a heavy lead to bang the hook in. I would use a length of lead core to pin things down and I'd need to put some new heavy line on the reel. With rod, net, forceps, mat and a pocketful of bits, I was sorted and on my way back to the lake.
There was a real purpose to my stride as walked back around the lake, until, with horror, I spied a bright green brolly perched right on the spot. Damn!
Dreading the reality of finding someone fishing there, I was relieved to find a young pike fisherman facing out into the main lake and unaware of the fish in the puddle behind him. As I walked past we said "hello" and he asked what I was after. "Oh, just some tench or bream," I said, "that'll do me".
I could see by the expression on his face as he stared at the carp rod, big pit reel and outsize net that he thought I was either barking mad or a liar.
After wishing each other luck, I walked over to the puddle to see if the fish were still there. "Bet they have gone," I said to myself as I lowered the gear to the floor. The water had clouded up a bit, and, for a while, I could not make anything out. Then I spotted the pale colour and plump shape of her, sitting in the middle of the small bay. I watched for a couple more moments and then proceeded to put the rod together and get things ready.
Boy, was I excited?
I returned with the rod and net all ready to go, and, after checking where she was, I lowered the bait down the marginal slope onto what looked like a clear spot under the rod tip. I scattered a few bits of bait around it and sat back with the rod across my lap.
I could see her drifting towards me. My heart was thumping as she just remained motionless for ages, floating directly above the hook bait. Then she turned away and moved off. A couple of moments later she came back heading for the hook bait; surely, she would take it this time? No, she backed off again and drifted away. "Blast," I muttered to myself.
Obviously, something was wrong; and, by now, I was a nervous wreck! I slowly slid the rig back out of the water and tried to think about my next move. Perhaps I was just too close and she could sense me watching her intently.
Then I had a little flash of inspiration. I roughly broke a boilie in half, threading the two pieces back to back on the hair. This bait arrangement more closely resembled the bits of boilies I was flicking out as freebies.
Checking again that she wasn't about, I once more lowered the rig in, this time a bit further out, and flicked a few broken boilies at the bubbles that told me where the lead had settled. Then, carefully paying out and mending the line as I went, I walked the rod backwards around the bay until I was some ten yards away from where the hook bait sat. After making sure the line was lying flat, I rested the rod in a convenient little bush, slackened the clutch and settled down on the ground. I could see little bubbles and the odd vortex that showed the fish's progress but she avoided the hook bait.
An hour or so later, having chewed my fingernails to the bone and with my legs numb from the lack of circulation, I
could stand it no longer. I decided to have a peek and began to creep slowly forward.
Edging nearer and nearer I could not see any sign of the fish anywhere. By now, I was peering into the water, on my hands and knees, right over the hook bait, but I could not see anything as the water was so cloudy. I believed that the fish had gone. Staring intently at the spot, I slowly began to rise trying to see into the depths.
Suddenly, there was an eruption directly in front of me!
A huge plated hump rose up from the depths, spraying water everywhere (some of the droplets hitting me in the face) and then the fish charged off along the margins in an awesome explosion of power.
Swearing profusely, I thought for a second I had spooked the fish, until I saw my rod shaking and bucking. Then the reel clutch began screaming. With what must have been three gigantic strides, that seemed to take forever, I was on the rod, sweeping it up, round, and striking into the fish, while cupping the spool hard.
The momentum carried her on for a yard or so, but as the pressure came to bare she slowed. Slowly and majestically, a huge chocolate and orange tail rose up above the water, waving at me as she came to a stop. Keeping the pressure on, backing her slowly towards me, I tried hard not to let that powerful tail gain purchase. I succeeded most of the way then lost the rhythm.
The tail started thrashing the water and she charged away, ripping a few yards of line viciously against the clutch. She seemed confused by the lack of room in the small bay, swimming around in ever decreasing circles, which ended with her wallowing on the surface with her back towards me. I then began to realise and appreciate the size of her.
Once more, she righted herself and began a series of powerful lunges, twisting and turning, yanking the rod down as I hung on. She surfaced again, head towards me; I could see she was a very big fish indeed!
Easing the net into the water, I bent backwards but began to slip in the mud and started to slide. Trying to pull against her weight was not helping me to keep my footing and I thought that for a moment I was going in to join her! Fortunately, I managed to retain my balance and, with a heave, pulled her over the net cord and into the deep mesh. She was mine!
The young piker, who had heard the commotion and had come over, took hold of the rod for me while I popped the hook out and had a proper look. As I gazed down at the width and depth of the fish, it dawned on me that here was a truly enormous carp, but I still hadn't quite realised how special and who she was. While she was still in the net
and in the water, I began to feed her head first into a sack. It was then as I lifted the back of her upwards that the full realisation came rushing in.
I had memorised that unmistakeable wrist and tail from Tel's picture, and I had no doubt that it was she was the fish in the photograph. She did exist, and oh my god, I've caught her!
I needed to get things sorted, so after getting the young piker to keep an eye on her, I set off to get my sling, scales and a very big mat. I also decided to go and fetch a friend, who lived close by, to witness the catch and to take some photos.
For the third time that day, I arrived back at the lake, this time with the friend, John, ruining his bank holiday with the family.
Lugging all the gear round needed to record the moment had attracted the attention of some of the other anglers and bystanders and I had a little panic attack, worrying myself that in my excitement I may have overestimated the weight of the fish. But, as I struggled to lift her from the margins, wrapping my arms around the huge bulk in the sack and staggering to the mat I had no doubt. Opening up the sack, I saw her in full for the first time and I gasped at what lay before me.
Huge great scales adorned a huge dark chestnut back, with others scattered all over her massive body. Looking at that oh so pretty head, I gazed at that cavernous mouth and marvelled at the immaculate and very long sets of barbules. Purple, brown, blue, pink, orange and gold are the colours that stick in my mind. These colours washed together in an iridescent hue that surrounded this creature, leaving no doubt about her perfect health and pristine condition. A few willing hands helped with the weigh in. "Forty eight pounds and 12oz" John called out. I could hardly believe my ears.
As I held her up for the photos, she continually twitched and gulped the air. Occasionally waving that great tail, I was expecting her to go into one, but as a queen among fish, she kept her dignity and held her regal pose.
Photos done, all too soon it was time to let her go, and, I must admit I developed extremely sticky hands as I stood over her in the margins. Increasingly though, she regained her strength and I let her go, watching as that tail serenely propelled her forward, out into the depths and out of my sight.
And, that brings me back to Tel's phone call and almost the end of the story.
Almost!
That same evening after Tel called to congratulate me, I was fired up again and so I nipped down to the lake. I had a quick look in the little bay and soon spotted a tail break the surface. I set a similar trap as I had used earlier and ten minutes later, I slipped the net under another cracking mirror that weighed around 25lb.Two fish in two days, excellent.
A couple of days later I visited the lake again. It took a while to find any this time and I ended up at the tree lined
bay with the little island. In an overgrown corner I saw what I thought was a half decent common nosing around in the surface scum.
I had been fishing for a while when Tel turned up. Shaking my hand, we immediately began a very excited conversation about what she had looked like in the flesh. Suddenly a carp head and shouldered right in front of us and over the rod; five minutes later it did it again. In the middle of my next sentence, the rod was away. The fish went steaming around in circles, shaking what felt like its whole body in anger and frustration - a real tantrum thrower. Tel did the honours with the net and as she went in, he announced: "it's a common." Plump, scale perfect, and weighing almost 34lbs - and almost certainly the one I missed the year before. A case of adding very thick icing on a very fruity cake!
And the final twist in the tale?
Several months later, I was at the lake on a social - visiting Nigel Sharp who was having a go. He had a lengthy conversation with the chap who caught the thirty one pound common. Indeed, he had told Nige all about it. I remember Nige turning to me and saying 'And guess what he caught from the spot a couple of days later...
Glynn Gomersall