With the new season opening on the 1st of May after being closed since mid-March, I headed down to the club lake on the 3rd which fell on a Sunday, I was expecting it to be fairly busy. Surprisingly, it was quiet. With only three anglers on the lake I had my eye on, and a couple more on the neighbouring water, I knew I had a good chance to move around and find the fish.
This is a day-only venue, and with just a five-hour window ahead of me, I wanted to make every minute count.
After a full lap of the lake, I noticed a warm wind pushing into one end—always a good starting point in spring. The weather was bright with sunshine, though rain was forecast later in the day. I spoke briefly with another angler who hadn’t had any action, but while chatting, we spotted fish showing in the distance and cruising mid-water. Encouraging signs, but something didn’t quite feel right.
With limited time, I made the decision to start on the more prolific front lake—known for holding a higher stock of fish and offering better chances of a quick bite.
I got set up, cast out, and waited.
After around 30–40 minutes with no signs of life, I started watching the adjacent lake behind me more closely. Just a few metres away, it gave me the option to quietly observe while my rods remained in position. In a snaky little corner where I’d previously seen movement, I decided to introduce a small amount of bait—just a handful of chopped and halved boilies.
After leaving it to settle for 10–15 minutes, I returned to find the area alive with activity. The water was clouding up, bubbles were rising, and shadows of carp were clearly visible moving in the edge. That was all the confirmation I needed.
I moved.
Instead of fishing a standard hookbait, I opted for something a little different—two halves of a boilie on the hair. It matched the freebies perfectly but offered something slightly unusual in presentation, which I felt could trip up these often wary fish.
First cast under the snag… and within a minute, the rod hooped over.
No alarms needed—I knew I was in.
After a strong fight, I slipped the net under a stunning 25lb 10oz common carp.
A clean, golden fish and an incredible start—especially on a lake known for being tricky.
I rested the swim for around half an hour, trickled in a bit more bait, and returned once things had settled. Again, the signs were there—clouding water, tails, movement.
Back out went the rods.
An hour later, the left rod produced a bream, followed shortly after by chaos on the right. Another powerful take resulted in a 22lb 3oz common carp.
Two quality fish from the same spot—it was clear I’d found something special.
From there, the pattern continued.
Rest the swim.
Light baiting.
Watch for signs.
Repeat.
A few more nuisance species showed up—a bream and a tench—but it wasn’t long before the carp returned. As the light began to fade, the right rod tore off again, resulting in another beautiful common of 24lb.
With time ticking and the lake closing at 10pm, I pushed on for one last effort. Around 8:30pm, I recast, hoping for a final chance.
Ten minutes later—off it went again.
This time, I landed the jewel of the session: a dark, old-looking, dumpy common carp—an absolute classic Essex fish at 23lb 8oz.
Four carp in just a few hours, from a notoriously tricky venue. It was one of those sessions where everything aligned perfectly.
Looking back, the signs were all there:
- A lake rested for nearly two months
- Warming spring conditions
- A full moon and low pressure
- A steady wind pushing into a productive corner
- Fish actively feeding ahead of spawning
And sometimes, when you read it right and keep things simple, it just happens.
A short session—but one I won’t forget anytime soon.
