Andy Bradnock: The Hunt for a Frimley Mirror

Andy continues from where he left us in his last article (in some soggy waders with bark stuck to his feet!), detailing his latest pursuit of Frimley carp. On this occasion, it was the mirrors that tried their best to elude him…

 

Frimley Pits – A Mirror a Mirror my Kingdom for a Mirror

 

After the last session my feet had recovered quickly enough that the pain had become but a distant memory and my recall was just focused on the plethora of scales that had momentarily resided in the outsized landing net.

I was a little obsessed and wanted more. I needed to be at the lake as much as possible, the glassy-eyed vacant expression I was mournfully wearing whenever I looked through the window (I must get them cleaned they are filthy) at perfect weather conditions for Frimley was annoying for those around me.

I was therefore on the road Hampshire bound the following Sunday afternoon; my long-suffering wife abandoned yet again with only the Sunday papers for company.

The lovely Natasha opened the crossing for me at 2.00pm and I was soon pulling into the chaotic car park of pit 3.

Somehow Mark had managed to fill the car park with enough hard-core to fill a crater on the moon. This is supposedly destined to become the firm base on the long-promised upgrade to the quagmire paths around the lakes. This project if all goes to the normal timescale of Mark based works will see the paths completed at the same time as the first HS-2 train shaves an all-important 20 minutes off a trip from London to Birmingham…

Mark loves to start a project but soon gets distracted when he spies something else that he could employ his chainsaw or digger in. His woodpile though is a thing of beauty stacked perfectly.

Our good friend Dave Ball, while fishing for Dace with me on a small carrier stream of the Kennet commented, just as I was about to start a trot through the swim that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he shots his float. To this day I am unsure if, to his exacting standards I passed muster. I would also extend this caveat to ‘you can tell a lot about a man by the way he stacks his woodpile’.

I have just finished Tom Bankes’ third book, I was planning on saving it for an upcoming French trip but every time I walked past it on the kitchen table it shouted ‘read me now’ in my ear. What a fantastic read, from the first to the last page I was completely hooked.

Tom is an iconic member of our angling brotherhood who has created numerous fisheries and caught so many huge carp that he has had to write 3 books just to get it all in. He writes beautifully with an elegance I could only dream to emulate, conjuring images in the mind’s eye as he details his fishing obsession.

The final chapter documents his battle with HS-2 as being the owner of Savay Lake he suffered the prospect; which became a reality of a viaduct passing over the lake.

The amount destruction he witnessed as ancient woodland was felled and concrete pilings to support the viaduct violated his land is described in such clarity, I could feel my outrage increasing with every page. The almost physical pain he suffered as he lost ancient oak trees in the way of progress leached from the page, his distress clearly evident. An utterly incredible book I highly recommend you get yourself a copy of all three.

Once a precarious spot in the car-park was secured, I went on my normal walk around the venue and to check the catch diary.

The circumnavigation took a little over an hour as little was seen so, as is often the case, swim choice became a bit of a punt.

Many people talk about walking for hours looking for a subtle show to drop onto, however, Frimley is busy and also heavily stocked. If you wait too long the swim you fancied will be taken by one of the super keen overnight boys that all seem to have started fishing on my Sunday nights.

I decided to start in The Lawns – put a little bit of bait in and sat watching as the light began to fade, hoping to see a clue that would show me somewhere better to be.

Those clues finally became evident the following morning when it was clear that the water in front of Fallen Tree was the preferred ‘playground de jour’ of the frolicking, bubbling and leaping carp of pit 3. A rapid early morning pack down and move was performed before some other bright eyed keenie beat me to it.

I then carefully lined up the shadows of where the majority of fish in the swim were making their presence known.

Once the activity for the day had subsided, two spots were selected for bait.

The left-hand side seemed a larger area so two baits were destined for here and one was placed out to the right. My latest order from Dynamite’s warehouse had arrived before I left home, I had exchanged hard earned cash for some Amino Original Pellets. This was going to be the first time I had employed these pellets in their fish attracting duties.

A kilo was mixed in with my usual Frenzied Particles, Crab Extract, Shrimp Extract, Fish Gutz and Margin Mix ground-bait.

When discussing groundbait (which they really understand) with the match boys, they were extolling the virtues of a mix of different types to create a variety of particle sizes and densities.

As a nod to their expertise, the Swim Stim Margin Mix groundbait which is phenomenal was cut with the Big Fish Explosive Caster groundbait that Dynamite produce.

All this was balled up as usual and a 10l bucket was deposited between the two areas. A quite afternoon and evening pointed to the fact that yet again the Frimley fish refused to do the same thing two days on the bounce. At this point the rain started, and within a short period of time became classified as a deluge as it crashed into the protective canopy of my ageing tempest.

The Nikwax waterproofing I had liberally applied to the bivvy was found wanting as rivulets of water bled through the nylon. It looked like I was in for a miserable night.

As Fallen Tree is an open water, snag free swim, you have the luxury of a slightly looser set bait-runner than the normally screwed down tight Frimley affair, so it was a surprise when the initial couple of beeps from the Delkim became a full-on howling scream at midnight as one of the baits on the left-hand spot was taken.

Yet again I was subjected to a proper beating from this fish as what turned out to be a protracted battle was fought out in the dark of the night.

Eventually the prize of a 32lb 12oz common slipped into the grateful embrace of a Frimley net.

The rod was re-wrapped and slung back out towards the treeline hump that marked its position and the lovely fish was reduced to pixels on a screen, there to be admired later.

The following morning, some subtle patches of fizz erupted over the left-hand side of the swim.

Fallen Tree is widely considered to be a night time area so it was unlikely, now that first light was but a distant memory, that I would be receiving any further action.

I was as surprised as anyone when at 08.30am the recast rod was away and with very little drama, an 18lb common was being unhooked and released.

At 09.30am, Adam and I were ridiculing Andy as for some reason while away in Ireland, he had decided that a white donkey called Snowflake needed adopting. He even got a little certificate and picture.

It’s not like he hasn’t given us loads of ammunition anyway what with the endless crocheting, non-functioning knees and a missing middle tooth, this however is another step down the road that leads to him becoming a smelly old cat lady.

A bottle of immac and a pint of cat pee and he is about there already.

At the peak of the insults the left-hand rod was pulled up tight politely requesting some attention as long as you aren’t too busy. As soon as the rod was in hand, it felt wrong – an erratic jagging type sensation being transmitted through the tight nylon.

Before I managed to come up with a strategy to subdue the beast, it promptly fell off.

I re-rigged the rod and put it back out on its spot where, after a couple of hours, the same alarm got all shouty and belligerent.

This preceded a pleasant gentle battle that resulted in another 18lber getting its photograph taken in the net.

At midday, the right spot that had produced nothing at this point decided to join the party as subtle bubbling had begun to pepper the surface.

Just as I was stood thinking ‘why hasn’t that been taken’, an explosion of LEDs and sound confirmed that a 23lb 8oz common had made a mistake and stolen a hookbait.

 

This was ridiculous for Frimley, I had never experienced this amount of action in such a short period of time, and the rain continued to fall.

I had to get the rod back out and I was waiting for a lull in the bubbling so I could get the bait back in position, hopefully not scaring to much in the process.

After 10 minutes without any sign of a break in the activity, I decided to chuck out anyway.

This would normally be the kiss of death to a swim full of the paranoid pit 3 residents but within half an hour and before I had even managed to get set up to take pictures of the 23lber, the right-hand rod again burst into a glorious high-pitched scream.

Another bout of push me pull you and I had a 28lb 5oz common bundled into the mesh of the overworked Frimley net.

I now had one in the sling and the other in Double Boards sling waiting for photos. The camera was all set up for the self takes but with the constant rain, I was having to keep it covered up so the lens steamed up un-noticed ruining the pictures of the 23.

By the time I got the 28 out, luckily it had demisted and despite the conditions, the pictures were ok.

I still hadn’t managed to drink the tea I had made best part of an hour ago. I was just about to check it to see if my ageing thermal mug had kept the contents warm enough to be enjoyable when, an insistent alarm called me to arms yet again.

This fight was now conducted with a right arm that was a bit perturbed at having to do a season’s worth of carp fighting in an extended morning period.

The slightly heavier feeling presence hanging on the end was finally subdued after another fifteen minutes of shoulder pain. The celebratory cry of ‘beard on’ was a strange mix of elation and pain all at the same time.

The 31lb 4oz common was a short fat example of the Frimley strain, scale perfect and a joy to behold.

I had by now had a fair few fish this season, far from exceptional but a few and I was well overdue a mirror.

It was then, in the middle of another torrential downpour, while I was trying to get packed away, the right-hand rod yet again burst into life the line leaving my Daiwa infinity spool in a blur.

I was in chesties more for waterproofing reasons than in an act of readiness.

As I had inadvertently discovered a spit of shallower ground to the right of the swim, I paddled out into the wet with the net in tow. This one felt heavier than the previous fish and was making life difficult for me around the sparse pads that litter the swim.

I eventually had the beast on a short tether and could see flashes of pale flank as it twisted and turned a few precious feet away from the net.

Just as the thought that it looked quite big popped into my rain-soaked head, the damned thing surged hard to the right rolling at the same time flashing a broad white belly at me, this was my last vision of the fish as the hook popped out under the strain…

I hate losing carp at the best of times, you have done all the hard work getting the bite but, stood in the rain, soaking wet, out in the pond a leaking bivvy behind me and with what looked like a good fish, that loss really did hurt.

These days of gay abandon occur so infrequently it is a gut-wrenching frustration that some escape without getting their photos taken (we are a strange bunch us carp anglers collecting our mementos like benevolent serial killers).

I was to dwell on this loss over the next few weeks when Adam went on a spree of giant slaying, van winning and general good fortune while I slowly disappeared up my own arse losing confidence unsure if I would ever catch another carp.

***

The next week saw me on the bank again with very little to go on as far as sightings were concerned.

Adam had fished and baited the same marks in Fallen Tree after I had left but his 2 nights of effort had failed to elicit a response from the cantankerous inhabitants of Frimley pit 3.

As Fallen tree was now heavily baited and vacant and I had seen nothing to sway my swim decision, I elected to spend the first night at least in the scene of my previous success.

The next 2 nights were quiet – nothing was seen to encourage a move and I had a single bite in the 48hrs that resulted in a double figure bream.

There are only a few bream present in the lake, I would guess less than twenty, so catching one is against the odds, especially considering that the lake holds at least 200 carp.

So, with my tail firmly between my legs, I left the lake after my 2 nights had elapsed.

Before closing the gate, I baited the Back Bay really heavily again. I had seen nothing to go on this week so if the situation was the same next week, at least I had some pre-bait to drop on.

The following weeks session was going to be slightly disrupted as I had agreed to see a koi for a friend of Glen’s that had a bleeding tumour on its flank. The first visit was just to check the fish and pond to see if there was anything I could do.

With nothing seen, I dropped into the pre-baited spots in the Back Bay for what turned out to be a night of absolutely not a bloody thing.

However, the following morning I was stood on the lawn with the bee-hives slowly waking up behind me at 05.00am drinking tea when, in front of the empty Single Boards swim at the opposite end of the lake, a show of biblical proportions started.

I reeled in and walked up for a closer look. The swim consists of a tree line to the left and an open expanse of deep water to the right.

From about a rod length off the trees for about 30m out into the lake the surface was covered in patches of frothy bubbles. These were coming up in huge lines and swathes as fish rolled and flanked on the bottom, interspersed by slowly emerging patches as fish dug around in the bounty of food they had discovered.

To heighten the tension, fish were rolling and head and shouldering in amongst the plethora of bubbles. This was therefore a prelude to another gut busting race to get back to my swim, load up the barrow and be in Single Boards before anyone else beat me to it.

Forty minutes later a sweaty, dribbling mass of humanity collapsed heaving into the thankfully still vacant swim.

As Glen was due to pick me up shortly for the drive to his friend’s house, I got everything ready for when I got back. The mass on the koi looked benign and after a quick examination I decided that it shouldn’t be too much of a drama to remove under some local anaesthetic. We therefore made plans to return the following week with surgical kit and drugs.

 

Once back at the lake there was no evidence of the feeding I had witnessed that morning so, I got the rods out onto spots I had earmarked as having the most feeding activity present earlier in the day.

Two of these were soft and covered in dead leaves but as the baits were in bags and this is where the fish were feeding earlier, I was happy to leave them there.

They remained un-molested overnight but, the following morning evidence started to emerge that the fish had returned to continue their party.

The activity was only half as intense as the day before but a number of fish were sending up plumes of bubbles as they rooted around in the sediment. I assume they were feeding on a glut of naturals as they were no longer using the same areas as yesterday; the areas I baited, but subtly different bait free spots.

While on the phone to Tom at 06.00am, I had a sudden sharp indication on the left rod that bounced the bobbin into the blank then dropped back.

I assumed this was a liner but on reeling that rod in when packing up a few hours later, a tell-tale had moved so was actually probably a take and the fish had got away with it.

The feeding activity slowly reduced through the morning but at 11.30am finally, a slow take developed on the right-hand rod.

As soon as I had the rod in hand it didn’t feel like a carp. A few minutes later this was confirmed when a red-eyed tinca was dragged over the net cord.

How with all that carp activity, I had managed to extract one of the very small number of tench in the pit is beyond me. This was the last of the action and I packed away with yet another Frimley blank marked in my copy book.

I was back for more punishment the following week and without any obvious signs to go on, I dropped back into Single Boards with the hope of extracting revenge.

It was a fairly miserable two nights with heavy rain throughout.

The only plus point to this was that my now heavily Fabsil’d bivvy didn’t let a drop of rain through. If you need to re-waterproof any shelter, I suggest the paint on Fabsil Gold – it worked perfectly.

The feeding in front of me for this whole session was sporadic but something was going on for the entire time I was there.

Not a single beep did I receive, I think I may have made a mistake hookbait wise as with lots of bottom leaf debris, my heavy paste wrapped bottom baits may have been obscured.

As these fish were digging in this sediment, I think that my baits should have been at the perfect level as it’s where the food is, where they were feeding. However, Adam went and caught from this swim with wafty type hook-baits so maybe he has a point.

The next time I fish this area I will be doing so with at least one balanced bait.

I reeled in at lunch time on my first day, collected the sharp shiny surgical kit from my car and walked over the crossing to be collected by Glen.

He drove me back to his friend’s house where after a bit of chasing around with a net we managed to catch the Koi with the lump and set to work. The mass was fragile and vascular so every time the fish knocked it, it bled.

Where it had grown it had pushed up scales and dislodged a couple. However, with some local anaesthetic instilled, Glen did a sterling job keeping the net and fish in such a position that I could work but the fishes head was kept underwater so water was flowing over its gills for the entire procedure.

I managed to get the lump cut out with minimal fuss then sealed down the wound without the fish getting too stressed.

Sadly, poor Glen on the way back was discussing his lack of success with women, it turns out that even just his name puts them off, on many websites it is reported that they won’t even look at a profile with names like Chad, Hank and Glen.

Being as Glen is a really good friend, I thought I would be helpful and try to get him to expand his horizons. I have signed him up to a little niche dating website I have found called Grinder. I really hope that this comes to fruition for him he deserves some happiness, I won’t even ask him to pay me back for the subscription. Best of luck mate…

Back at the lake nothing changed and the Koi was the only fish I managed to get my hands on that session.

The following week was due to be my last trip for a few weeks as yet again I was working extra shifts to pay for my carping obsession. This meant the pressure was on, I desperately wanted to catch to sustain me through the weeks working flat out.

Adam had arrived a day before me and promptly caught a monster, then moved swims as he had seen lots of activity in the water at the western end of the lake covered by the swim called Deep Point.

The number of giants he had caught in the previous few weeks was astounding and it wasn’t to end there. He has fished incredibly well all year and yet again he was well ahead of me in the catching stakes. Even taking into account his happy scales the size of the fish he has caught has been something else, it’s like he is working through a tick list.

To put this into perspective though, he is disgusting to look at, poos himself on a regular basis and has suspiciously dark hair for a man of his advanced years.

In the grand scheme of things, letting him catch more than me is a small sacrifice to make.

As he had seen a few fish in and around Daisy Bay and the swim was next door, I dropped in there for the night.

We had a good catch up but apart from that there was little to report through the dark hours.

As it got light, things started to change as fish started to crash and bubble between Adam and the Secret swim on the far bank.

Just to the right of this area sits the Back Bay which I have mentioned many times, and for the first time in ages we saw signs of fish rolling and crashing in this bay.

When they are clearly in the bay, the chance of a bite is high as they only seem to go in there to feed since the snags have been removed.

Daisy Bay is always good for a day bite so I was quite content to sit it out for the day, no-one fishes the Back Bay so should remain free for me to move into later in the day.

That was before ‘Upside Down Head’ arrived.

He is one of the most switched on, capable, super keen carpers I have ever met.

He had seen the cavorting carp in the Back Bay so I started to get all twitchy and restless worried that I should be moving now before he beat me to it.

He is one of the nicest blokes you are ever likely to meet and I must confess to actually liking him, which is really unusual for me as I am profoundly antisocial.

At this point though, I would of happily despatched him and fed him to the ever-hungry macerator in the swim if he got there before me.

I was about half an hour into my, ‘shall I shan’t I’ dilemma when my middle rod let out a triumphant yodel which had me scrambling through the woodchip to tear the rod from the rests.

Once I had yelled ‘Beard on’ at Adam, I concentrated on drawing the fish away from the far bank lilies.

There is a deep channel that runs through the middle of the bay, once the fish is in this there is a degree of safety which allows you time to clamber into chesties.

After this it is just a matter of paddling out through the shallow knee-deep water of the margins to continue the battle in the deeper water.

The fight was gratefully not one of the protracted affairs I had experienced of late but, the sight of mirror scales in the latter half of the fight got the nerves jangling.

The great big apple slice scales peppering the chocolate brown flanks of the 26lb mirror looked amazing in the late morning sun.

Once the photo session was completed, Adam decided to go on a fish catching spree landing 3 in the next couple of hours.

By this point I had everything on the barrow and was bidding him ‘adieu’ as I made my way round to the Back Bay.

I was greeted by the never-ending hum of the macerator as it slowly stirred its evil brew pulverising countless carpers turds.

Setting the bivvy next to the witches’ cauldron is always done with some trepidation but the sight of fish leaving the water within the confines of the bay was enough distraction to make me forget about how close to untold horrors my head would be as I slept.

The rods were all positioned in their usual positions along the far bank tree line using my usual 3-rod trick, the same method employed as in Daisy Bay but technically a little more difficult to do due to the over-hanging trees.

With fish in the bay already, this allows me to get baits into position with as little disturbance as possible.

Despite this the aerial displays stopped and not a sign of a carp was seen before daylight faded from the sky.

I sent a message to the ‘wrong uns’ bemoaning that all the fish had left and I was wasting my time as the fish were in evidence in front of the occupied Double Boards.

It was just before 9.00pm with me fed, watered and relaxed that the right-hand rod blitzed off.

On picking up the rod a heavy weight rolled and pulled back from the middle of the bay. It was on for a few seconds when suddenly the life left the carbon and I reeled in a fishless rig as the hook had lost purchase.

I turned around and leant the rod against the bivvy utterly despondent. All the effort for nought.

It was less than five minutes later that the middle buzzer screeched its battle cry and I was again jumping down the ledge to stop the fish from heading down the channel.

I was nervous after the first loss but as the fight progressed, I became more confident in the hook-hold.

This confidence was short lived as the remaining buzzer started to warble as the fish managed to collect this line from the lake bed and pop it into the handbag it was obviously carrying.

I opened the bail arm so at least the line could be taken freely but this fish decided that going up and down the margin wrapping itself in more nylon was the order for the day.

It surfaced a few times and in the light of my head-torch, a substantial amount of common was seen festooned in line.

It was therefore another fraught and miserable altercation that ensued; this is supposed to be this bit that we enjoy the most, but all the time while victory can so easily be snatched away it’s horrible.

After another 10 minutes of to and fro, my stress levels continuing to rise with great relief the net became home to 37lb of common carp.

The two lines where so tightly tangled that I had to cut them and hand line the left-hand end tackle in.

It didn’t matter though as I had my prize.

If the first fish hadn’t fallen off, I would have lost this second fish for sure as it would have made its way down the channel and out of the bay. The question is which one was the bigger fish…

Getting the rods back out in the pitch dark was much more difficult than I ever imagined but eventually photos were done and all three rods were in the pond accompanied by a couple of handfuls of Dynamite’s finest.

At 01.30am, I was speed egressing from the sleeping bag as I was called to action by a shouty middle Delkim.

The resistance on the end felt suspiciously breamy and this was soon confirmed when a double figure fish was engulfed in the net.

That was the last action of the trip so after a slow pack down at lunch time the following day I was heading back over the crossing, already planning my next assault on the lake.

Sadly, it would be 3 weeks before I got to cast in anger again…

-Andy

The post Andy Bradnock: The Hunt for a Frimley Mirror first appeared on Dynamite Baits.

The post Andy Bradnock: The Hunt for a Frimley Mirror appeared first on Dynamite Baits.

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