It was the coming of the ‘Super Moon’. A new north-easterly wind beckoned, bringing in low air pressure, driving rain and strong blustery winds. Along with the fact it was the closest full moon perigee in 100 years, the moons gravitational pull strengthened day by day as the earth tilted on its axis.
With my favoured option of the south-side being busy with anglers, I ventured towards quieter waters up North trying to find a quieter corner, when I noticed a carp breaking the surface in the slackest, calmest part of a bay. Overwhelmed with excitement the hairs on my arms stood erect and my toes tapped away with anxiety. I kept watch a little longer when suddenly another fish breached itself within the zone. I now knew where I needed to be…
Escaping the rain showers, I slotted into position. The wind pumped hard, sending white horses rolling through the bay. To be honest the conditions could not get any better and I hurriedly emptied the boat and set up camp, carefully wedging the boat out of the rolling waves to minimise the noise.
Before deciding to get the baits out, I sat back to watch the water for a while. The carp were rolling all over the place and the last thing I wanted to do was to cock it up now, so I slowly mustered a strategic plan. I would get one rod cast and wait an hour before casting the next one to minimise disturbance. Eventually, over the space of five hours all the baits were spot on. In my mind I repeatedly replayed each individual cast, visualising the rig mid-air as it flew away out, how hard the lead dropped onto the rolling surf, the depth of the drop with the critical feeling as the lead hit the bottom. Everything was perfect.
I was up just before dawn and they continued to show. I remained patient, leaving the rods out with no disturbance what so ever, deleting any negative thoughts that randomly run through my mind, or feelings of “de ja’ vu” as there had been many similar occasions when I have been on them for nothing to happen, but that’s Wraysbury. A complete mind boggler.
After sitting on the rods all day, I waited until just after the low point of the moon, after which I felt it necessary to check all the aligned snags and bushes that surrounded the bay. just to see if I was missing out on a trick. Suddenly, my receiver signalled a single bleep on the left-hand rod! “S%*t”…
I sprinted back to find that the bobbin was dangling below the alarm. As I picked up the rod, and to my surprise, the line was now pointing in the opposite direction. I frantically wound down until I managed to connect with something that resembled a carp and threw myself into the boat whist holding the rod and donning the life jacket.
Admittedly, it was all mayhem until we were finally adrift from the bank and now, locked in battle. Luckily enough, the carp hadn’t managed to get too far down in the bay near to the snags, so after continuously pumping the carp soon came into view, as it was lying on its side wallowing yards from the boat, gulping for air. I was praying that she’d stay on, prayers that were answered as she slipped into the mesh, a lovely looking high back common. Adam was delighted as he took the fish from me and started the weighing procedure. I quickly suggested that before we did the photo’s that he shoud go and retrieve his waders from his swim, to do the inevitable return shots, and so I also handily had enough time to get the rod back out in the zone too. The recast was a confidence boosting one, as the lead landed sweetly on the spot, securing the hardest of donks. As Adam returned I immediately mentioned that I was going to have another one. His response was blank! I could tell by the look on his face, “Whatever, this is Wraysbury lets just get on with the photos!”.
With the pictures done I was over the moon, especially as Adam was there and listening to my ever annoying mind, giving me reassurance and self-belief in myself, into leaving my bait’s out for four days then getting a take, now that’s awesome. We sat back and discussed the prior events laughing and joking when again the same rod bleeped again dropping backwards. I hit it immediately and found myself yet again winding down frantically as the carp swam from right to left heading towards me and the snags deep down in the bay. Before I could even grab the net, Adam was there all wader’d up, net in hand stomping out into the margins telling me to guide the fish around the bush that was situated to the right of the swim.
“It’s alright Trev, there’s no snags down our margin, just coax her in I’ll get her for you”… “Net it, net it!” I just shouted, as the carp wallowed at arm’s reach. Sure enough, first time of asking he did me proud as I released another over whelming joyous cry. In fact, I went spastic! Talk about emotions, a new pb common 39lb 6oz!
Wow, a brace of thirty-pound Wraysbury commons in forty-five minutes! Adam and I were totally gob smacked, but had to keep it real, as I was certain that more fish were in the vicinity.
Another rod had to be moved into the zone, so without hesitation another rod was placed 15 yards away from the rod that had done the previous 2 nights, hoping to increase my chances of another take. This was all done and dusted before settling into the evening’s celebrations with the boys. It turned out to be a great evening, certified by how my head felt – a bit like it had been smacked with a scaffold pole – when I managed to open my eyes the following morning.
I glanced over at the rods, they were all poised and were looking good as my mind drifted off, re-living yesterday’s events band ringing a happy smile to my face, when the “other rod” I moved gave three single bleeps. This time the bobbin tightened up by the time I got to it. I struck instantly, and just when I thought I had control of the fish and was thinking about turning it, the rod pulled down hard, actually pulling me forward, and just as I gave an inch the rod flung backwards… “F*** it.”
Gutted was an understatement, and on retrieval I noticed I’d been cut off and there wasn’t anything I could of done about it. Adam decided to pay me a visit and he too was gutted, but he kept his optimism and decided breakfast was the priority of the day and to crack on with it, getting on with life in general and managing to raise my spirits yet again forgetting about it all and kept talking carp. The re-cast rod signalled a single bleep dropping the bobbin slightly followed by another as it lifted an inch, “That’s a take” Adam yelled, and sure enough I was in whilst Adam fell into line carrying out the same procedures as last time. On the first time of asking she was in the net. ‘Paw Print’, and finally I had caught my first English forty and from Wraysbury to boot.
It was mission accomplished and I was totally blown away! Two PB’s, and four takes in nineteen hours, it was certainly a session I’ll never forget. Wraysbury Magic.
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