25th June.

During the week before fishing, I spent time making and tying dry, PVA bags ready for the Tuesday. The large tub of ‘groundbait’ that we had, consisting of boilie crush, two colours of groundbait, bird seed, sweetcorn and various flavourings were used to make up twelve bags. My idea was to divide the time fishing by six and use two an hour on two rods, Wil having said he’d stick to his tried and tested method feeder system with sticky pellets and banded pink wafters, all covered in pink haze.

I’ve never challenged Wil’s idea of not changing a system that ain’t broke because it’s always a standard to judge my experimentation against.

I had decided to beef things up within the dry bags. Hook lengths were size 14 KKH-B (knotless knot, heavy, barbless) banded hooks, on 0.21mm four-inch mono, with one of two wafters banded on. The wafters were either pink 10mm Sticky buchu-berry dumbells, or yellow 10mm Sticky pineapple ‘n n’butyric dumbells.

The forecast was for a continuation of the rain we were experiencing to clear up at around ten in the morning on fishing day as it was pushed away by high winds. In reality the rain or drizzle stayed with us, on and off all day, the wind was non-existent leaving the lake looking like a mirror with no ripples, but the daffodil wind-turbine on the hill hummed loudly all day as its blades turned rapidly.

Wil had chosen to fish Mallard Lake at Tri-Nant Fishery and as we walked the lake looking for the best spot, we chatted about things changing in the coming weeks, the long school holidays starting, and this being maybe the last time we had the lake to ourselves for a while.

Two things became obvious as we circled the lake. The deep end seemed devoid of action, and the shallow end had bubbles fizzing everywhere between the gate end and the island, also, as a left over from the weekend, someone had fished for squirrels with something like fifteen-pound line which went through a tree and down into the water. We decided to fish the shallow end, both from the same peg, on the right-hand side of the lake from the gate, the umbrella, and the rain behind us, and the two rod pods sat on the concrete peg.

As we were carrying everything (everything except my pole and all my pole gear in the large black storage box that I sit on while pole fishing) Jonco arrived and as we were paying, he said he could see the rogue line from his pickup in the car park. I told him I’d have a go at it and we carried on offloading the car.

I had placed all my pre-tied PVA bags into a sealed plastic bag to keep moisture away, however, it quickly transpired that the additives in my groundbait mix and maybe the wet sweetcorn, were having an effect on the bags and some holes had appeared. We cast the four rods out in a fan shape, me tentatively casting mine as the bags were no longer tight and the two-ounce weights had come to the top of the bags. Then we sat in our two chairs, under the umbrella, Wil with his phone, me studying nature and the occasional robin looking to be fed.

My alarm screamed off first, and because it was from the pink wafter and PVA bag on the left, it meant that I had to steer the fish away from the lily pads to its right and then had to stop it going under an overhanging tree that probably had roots going out into the water. I talked it in and it was a fighter, so when it saw that Wil was ready with the landing net, it shot off again and the fight resumed. Eventually Wil scooped up a six-pound-twelve-ounce common, not huge but importantly my first ever fish on a PVA bag.

I thought that PVA bags were obviously the winning formulae that day but Wil is always there to prove me wrong. His rods, cast out to the right of us and towards the island, produced a two-pound-eight-ounce bream, quickly followed by a six and a half pound common.

Wil then seemed to have targeted something on the large size, very close to the island. The bite alarms (plural) were loud and continuous, Wil picked up the rod quickly each time, the rod bent into the fish and the hook length snapped on both occasions. We knew that Wil was doing nothing wrong and the hook lengths that he’d always used in the past were now insufficient for whatever was out there. As my dry bags were coming in, with their 0.21 mm line on them, fresh bags were sent out and the used hook lengths sat on our table. Wil tied the stronger hook lengths to his method feeder and tried again for what we were calling ‘the monster.’

The alarm from the rod cast to the island went off again, Wil lifted his rod again, and this time the fight lasted thirty seconds before it seemed that yet another hook length had broken. We were wrong though and the mono was intact but the barbless hook was bent almost straight.

‘The Monster’ presumably gave up after three hookings and left to feed somewhere safer. It didn’t stop Wil catching though as a five and a half pounder and a six and a quarter fish, both commons, came to his net.

I took a time out then and wandered off with the landing net with its 4m handle. Wrapping the net around the thick line between the water and the tree, I brought it slowly down from the tree and in from the water, and it turned out to be around thirty metres of line. There is a bin in the toilets at this venue and that’s where the line ended up. For doing that good deed for the day I inherited a two-ounce lead on a swivel that had once been attached to that line.

For the last hour of the session, bubbles came closer to us as if the fish were looking for wasted groundbait thrown in as anglers left the lake. I threw some in and placed carefully my PVA bags in the margin to my left. It became obvious that the groundbait and the contents of the PVA bags combined, had brought lots of fish in but none were interested in my wafters and didn’t get spooked as the bumped my line over and over.

At one point, the carp were a foot or so from the concrete of our peg and showing their dorsal fins above the water line. The last of the PVA bags were placed there but still with no wafter interest. I knew that a pellet on my top two pole kit would have caught a carp but this was supposed to be a sit and wait for a bite day, and my pole was at home in the garage.

We packed up later and managed to just about get out by seven so that Jonco could shut the gates.

Learnings from the day? There were many.

My PVA bags had caught the biggest carp of the day, but only by four-ounces, and anyway, I’d caught just the one while Wil had caught three carp and a bream and had interest from a much larger fish. Me leaving my pole in the garage had led to a much more peaceful day but it was frustrating that I couldn’t ship out to where bubbles were close in, or use a top-two kit for the showing fish. Maybe my five-metre whip could be left in the car for such occasions, but then I’m sure I’d be tempted to use it through the day and not just when carp came close into the peg for the last hour.

Another finding or learning didn’t come until the following day and as I write. The cancer diary that I keep for my oncologist, shows that every time, and I mean every time, I go fishing, my resting pulse the following morning is two or three points higher. The day after this session, it remained steady. Food for thought.