When we arrived at Tarn both of our favourite swims were occupied and for a few minutes it seemed as though the session I had planned was not going to happen after all. However the chap in our preferred swim was just packing up, and by coencidence he turned out to be the deputy bailiff and I picked his brains for whatever I could whilst he packed away his gear. His name was Steve and he was very helpful (he had three carp the previous night), which was the second time a bailiff at tarn had given me invaluable local knowledge of the water.
Steve's boilie and crumb
After a couple of hours I had a solid run on my far bank rod and it came in fairly easily, but pulled too violently to be a bream yet was too weak to be a tench. It stayed under right to my feet, at which point a duck shot out of the water! I netted it and covered its eyes with a towel and took the hook out of his beak. I can safely say he was not harmed, just shocked; as I would be if I were him! I returned him and he flapped across the lake back to his friend under the trees, and the two went about their normal business, but didn't nick anymore of my boilies!
The rest of the day passed off uneventfully until night fell and I had a bream on each rod. I recast both and got a night's kip. I was awoken at around half past seven by the chorus of carp acrobatics, and I brought in my open water rod, rebaited and waited the next splash. Sure enough five minutes later a carp rolled under the trees around fifty yards further down the bank than my other rod, so I cast to the splash. Seeing the carp so close to the trees the next thing to do was to bring in my other rod and give another rodlength of line before clipping up. I cast and the weight plopped in gently less than a foot off the tree. The trap was set.
Fifteen minutes later I had a screaming run. The bobbin shot up and I was convinced I had managed my second Tarn carp. The creature put up a hefty fight and I assumed it was a low double due to the spirited battle but lack of any real weight, only for a tench to stick its paddle-like tail out in front of me! I, unlike many other carp anglers, don't mind tench too much as I don't catch many of the green devils and they always give a good account of themselves. Judging by the lack of alarm noise overnight I'd managed more than anyone else, save for the pike angler who caught a jack opposite me. The tench weighed in at six lbs, not bad for a male by any account, and a definite surprise for mid October.
The rest of the day passed off uneventfully, and to my disappointment yet again I failed to catch a carp from Tarn. Tarn is a tricky water by anyone's standards (even in the club newsletter one of the writers has not yet caught one) however I cannot shake the nagging truth in the back of my mind that this is the best time of the year for carping, and winter is fast approaching. My stubbornness will keep me at Tarn until I crack it, but things will definitely get harder between now and then.
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