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!”.