Fishing the sturgeon moon

It was the beginning of August, and, despite one or two showers, we hadn’t had any proper rain in months. On the flip side, tonight was the full moon and, according to Google, this was supposed to be something called ‘the Sturgeon Moon’.

Myself and Dad arrived at the syndicate lake that I have referred to before as the ‘specimen lake’ at around eight in the morning and, given the moon phase, expected it to be rather busy, particularly given that the other lake on the ticket, the big ‘sandpit’, was rammed. But no, on the full moon, in the height of the summer holidays, there were only two people on, both of whom were thinking of leaving.

We soon discovered why when I bumped into an angler we’ve known from another syndicate several years ago, called David. He said that the water level was worryingly low, which, given the lack of rain and the fact this lake, as well as the one next door, is on the water table, isn’t surprising. However, worryingly, he then went on to say how the lake was suffering a really bad algae bloom, and that nothing had been caught for at least a month. There was some good news in all this, a small glimmer of hope in that at eleven o’clock the previous night, David had lost a carp, so at least something was feeding.

David was fishing the new half of the lake and was in the process of having a steady pack-up, so suggested we jump in after him. However, this wasn’t a usual carp fishing trip, and myself and Dad had a plan, so I politely declined and continued on my way to the old half of the lake.

The Algae was really bad, particularly in the new half

We had the idea that, rather then purely carp fishing, to put a single rod out for, of all things, eels instead. Being someone who tries to be an all-rounder, I try to dedicate one or two nights a year to fishing for eels. Historically we’ve avoided this lake for eels due to the fact it is infested with crayfish but I’d come up with a cunning plan that I hoped would stop them stripping our hooks bare and wanted to give it a go. But I wasn’t so confident as to commit to a full out eel session, so tagged it onto a carp trip instead. But, since nothing happened on the eel front, I’ll not go into two much detail on my plan. I guess it was the right move not going after only eels!

We had already decided the best place to try this out was probably an area of the lake called the ‘deeps’ which, surprise, surprise, is the deepest part of the lake, and nothing we’d been told made us think to change that.

After making the winding journey to the swim, and with Dad talking to the second of the two anglers fishing, who said he’d not had a sniff and was off after lunch, I set about clearing some foliage from the two swims. I took the right-hand swim and Dad the left, and while they’re not quite a double swim, they are quite close together. It was clear from the off they hadn’t been fished for a bit, which the bailiff later confirmed, and with that done, we set about putting the rods out.

Anticipating that the eels would be more active during the night, I decided to put three carp rods out each to begin with. And I soon found out just how low the water was!

The water level was very low!

The deepest part in front of this swim is usually around twelve feet deep, but has been up to as much as fourteen in the past over a wet winter. Today, however, the deepest water in front of me was just nine! Thinking about it in hindsight, the Deeps were probably a good shout, even though we’d not seen carp jumping. Not only was it the only area with any real depth, but for some strange reason, the algae wasn’t as prolific. Add to this that this area of the lake hadn’t seen a line for a month and it’s starting to look more and more attractive.

To begin with, two rods were put out on the bottom: one on the margin to my right where the lake forms a crescent-shaped bay, and one on a spot I’d done well on before near the shelf as the shallow water drops into the Deeps. The last rod was chucked in open water on a zig set to a little over mid-depth at four feet.

Strangely, given the current state of how the lake was fishing, I felt rather confident. I had that feeling that if I wasn’t going to catch, something would have to go wrong. So I sat back to wait.

The bay to my right

By two o’clock in the afternoon, however, my confidence had very much waned. By now, we had the lake to ourselves, and everything was deadly quiet. Swapping things up, just to see if it worked, and since we were both fishing relatively close together, myself and Dad decided to take our end rods (my left and his right) and put them on the same spot and then bait it heavily to see if a good bed might persuade the carp to feed, or at least survive the attentions of the crays and silverfish long enough for a carp to come by. So we popped up a marker float and got to work. And having baited up with pellet and boilie, I was just in the process of changing the zig over to a bottom bait when Chris, the head bailiff, turned up.

We chatted for a bit, and he said that he planned to fish until dark in the car park swim, where David had been fishing, as the wind was hacking into that area of the lake. On the contrary, given the tree position, our bay barely had a ripple. I’ll be honest, the conversation did little to stir my confidence. Still, we ploughed on and, having got my rod on the baited spot, we settled back down for some more quiet waiting.

In this time I prepped my eel rig for the night, which would be a twig rig made of coated braid and some stiff plastic tubing pinched between two sinkers, on a running paternoster. I hoped that this arrangement would present the least resistance possible.

The Eel rig

After a low afternoon and with confidence low, tea having been eaten and having had a conversation with Daz, another bailiff who walks the lakes routinely twice a day, about water quality and the poor fishing, it was time to get the rods out ready for the night.

Winding in my middle rod, I had a realisation that I had missed the spot I intended to fish, by correctly factoring in the lower water levels. This was shown by the thick black chod that coated my entire rig. I find this spot rather small and easily missed, but when you’re on it, I’ve done quite well. I first fished it the previous September, when I cast out to a showing fish following a night without a bleep. I went on to hook two fish in a little over an hour and landed one. Recalculating my spot, I sent my ever-faithful fluorocarbon D-rig back out onto the spot with a double eighteen-mill hook bait. Given the heavily baited area off to the left, I also fancied a change in free bait, opting for a straight boilie approach. It was one of those gut feelings that, when they come along, you’ve just got to listen to.

Then it was a case of putting the eel rod out for the night, which was placed near some overhanging trees in the bay to my right. By this point it was seven in the evening, and, with the slight adjustments and the eel rod now fishing, I was hopeful for what the night might bring.

He had an orange strip on his tail.

As it turned out, I wouldn’t have to wait long at all! Just ten minutes later I received a one-toner with no warning on my middle rod. The fish kited hard right into the bay, but I managed to keep it away from the marginal reeds and overhanging trees. Under the rod tip it put up a good fight but was soon in the net, and immediately it looked like a good fish. However, on the mat it proved even more impressive. A big-framed, deep-bodied fully scaled mirror with a distinctive orange stripe across the top of its tail. I thought I recognised the fish straight away as one that had appeared in a catch report in Total Carp magazine the year before. On the scales he went 23lb 14oz, which was a bit of a surprise given the frame of the fish, but a re-weigh proved it to be. Still, it has to be the best-looking mirror I’ve ever caught.

With the rod back out, I sat down with a celebratory wine and messaged Chris and Daz the news, as both had been worried by the lack of fish being caught. As it transpires, I was wrong about the carp’s identity. The fish had actually been stocked two or three years prior and had been on the missing list ever since! So for me, it’s even better than the fish I thought it was.

Myself and Dad spent the evening sat up drinking wine and chatting as darkness (or semi-darkness anyway) crept in and the big full moon began to shine through the trees behind us. But the night, and its action, was just getting going. At just before ten, my middle rod ripped off in a screaming run again.

23lb 14oz, What a fish!

The fish did the exact same as the one before, kiting hard right and along the bay margin before boiling under the rod tip. In the gloom of the head torch I thought it was only a little common, but clearly what do I know? As on the scales she pulled the weight down to 25lb 08oz, and not only that, but what I didn’t realise at the time—but what was confirmed the next morning—is that this was one of the A-team and a fish right up near the top of my most wanted list (in my defence it was dark!)—a fish called ‘The Outline Common’ due to its pearly white belly and white-tipped fins. Arguably the best-looking common in the lake with her old bronze flanks and big shoulders. She may have been far from her top weight, but I really don’t care when she looks like that!

The rig that did the business.

By now I was on cloud nine. The eels had quiet disappeared from my mind, having had a brace of carp that, on looks, will be incredibly hard to beat. But the night was still young and the moon had yet to make it over the tops of the trees, so an hour later when we decided to head for bed, I had high hopes for more action.

It was all quiet now, bar a few liners, until a little after two in the morning, when I was brought from my sleeping bag by the sound of a few bleeps on Dad’s eel rod. Sadly this didn’t materialise, but it did give me the chance to look out on a rather beautiful landscape. The bright full moon was casting the whole lake in its white light, illuminating it in shades of grey, while the drop in wind had made the lake’s surface appear like glass.

The Outline Common at 25lb 8oz.

I returned to bed, but was soon up and fumbling around for my head torch, while my middle rod was in meltdown. I made it out into the grey, half-asleep, and reached for the rod, but as I did so, I slipped on the small step down to where the rods are and went flying onto the back bank stick and my eel rod, which was thrown from the rests, but thankfully was undamaged.

From here, the calamities just got worse. Rather than kiting right, this fish kited left, and in the confusion and darkness, where I thought the carp was in open water and where it actually was were two completely different places. Beyond my dad’s swim is a small out-jut of bank which has snaggy branches off its end. To get there, the carp had managed to miss my left-hand rod and both Dad’s right and middle rods. In the moonlight I saw the fish boil on the surface just feet from the snags, and that’s when I twigged where it really was. I upped the pressure and managed to turn it away, but in the process pulled it straight into the line from Dad’s middle rod. Dad, who was by now stood behind me, legged it the short distance to his swim to undo the bail arm. By some bizarre miracle, I then managed to bring the fish, plus additional line, back over both Dad’s right rod and my left rod without a single bleep from either. It then boiled just out of netting range in front of me, and suddenly my rig was six feet in the air! The hook had pulled and now all I was attached to was some line.

I’d like to be able to put an estimate on the size, but between the darkness, my half-asleep brain, and the mild throbbing from falling over, all I can say is it was a carp… most likely.

And there was another problem. Between the three bites and the heavy baiting of the shared spot, I was now beginning to run thin on bait. But, looking on the bright side, at least with the moon it was easy to see my far bank marker to get the rod back on the spot!

I’d discover the result of my accident the next morning!

So, with both rods back out, and a quick reposition of Dad’s eel rod, it was back to bed. For about half an hour anyway. I received a few liners, and then the middle rod was ripping off again. This time I didn’t fall over, and when the fish made for the left, I pulled hard from the start, prompting it to swim right, then straight towards me. The carp lunged under the rod tip for a little while before it came into the net.

Another common, this long old fish really was a bit of a relic and at 19lb 10oz, appeared well spawned out from the spring. A welcome fish to make up for the loss.

However, as I put the rod back out, I noticed a layer of mist was beginning to roll over the lake. I’ve never done much good when the lake’s foggy or misty, and I had a feeling that that mist might just signal the end of the action.

The old warrior

And so it proved to be. Nothing else occurred that night, nor into the morning. We planned to leave around midday anyway, but after breakfast the temperature soared and even in the Deeps, a thick layer of algae was beginning to appear under our rod tips, so we decided, with what felt like just about everything running low—including our energy levels—to call it a day. At least Daz was more upbeat than the day before on his morning walk around and I was still on cloud nine of course, and I would be for the rest of the week to be honest.

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