In fishing as in life we never know what lies just around the corner, but as certain as day follows night we can be sure that nothing stays the same for long, we are always moving forward. The difference between the two is that in life we tend to fear change and the unknown yet in fishing we seek just that and what's more we embrace it and thrive off the buzz.
It's real hot as I write this, 28 degrees or so. I've moved several times today and I'm currently parked beneath a shady bridge on the confluence of two canals, I’ll be honest it looks a mega spot for a bite but I'm more here for the shade than anything else although I have of course plopped out a couple of rods while I'm sat here in the mouth of the smaller canal in the welcome shade offered by a road bridge. The bigger, deeper canal of the two is one of the main arterial canals that travel up across the border and into Belgium.
Oh I forgot to say, I'm back in France since yesterday for a month or thereabouts, barely a fortnight after our ‘summer hols’ in the south of France.
It's a bit of a departure for me as I'm actually fishing in the north of the country would you believe, only an hour and a half from Calais which makes a pleasant change it has to be said. Now I've always avoided northern France, saying to myself that there simply isn't much good fishing around which couldn't be further from the truth once you actually start looking. This canal for instance ultimately joins up with the famous Albert canal in Belgium which has produced massive carp yet here it is still seldom fished in this part of France which is madness. I've talked about coming for a recce trip to this area for years but just never got round to it until now, I guess you can't do it all.
I arrived in France yesterday morning after a full on blast from home. The total silence I was met with as I stepped from the car after the club like decibels on the way down was instantly sobering, and with ringing ears, I found myself a shady spot and slowly started to unwind while I analysed my options for the days ahead. I had the intention of staying relatively local as I'm going to go to Belgium later this week, firstly for a night or so with my good friends Wes and Alain and then onto a social with the boys on a syndicate lake they have acquired for the weekend. Several other Belgian and Dutch friends will be coming along as well, all old hand anglers, we’ll have a great time for sure as well as a big bbq and loads and loads of Belgian beer, hurrah.
I may well stay in Belgium a couple of extra days and go to fish on the river Maas with friends Al and Nicky and then I'm off back to France to meet up once more with my friend and fellow freedom fighter Mick Murray. We are going on a big adventure for a couple of weeks to some big mountain lakes as well as a load of new waters I've not even looked at before, super exciting times ahead and a big dose of that magical elixir... freedom!
Anyway, I came here for a look straight from the ferry, I've never fished this canal and have no real info to go on, it's very much a case of turn up and sort it out as I go along, exactly how I like it and of course how it should be where angling is concerned.
Having never fished here I do not know how easy it is to get away with doing the nights. A big English estate car sticks out like a sore thumb so I'm being cautious until I suss it out.
I fished last night on a spot I'd reccced at home on Google Earth, a junction with a dead arm and wider section, a sure spot to find some carp if indeed there were any in the area at all.
On Google I could clearly see weed beds at the mouth of the dead arm so I decided to head there first. Don't get me wrong I wanted to fish the junction but didn't want to be seen there in the day so I went for a look at all the other spots locally that looked likely and baited the best of them. By mid afternoon I'd looked at pretty much everywhere within an hour of my first spot and nothing looked as good but it was still a bit early so I drove up toward the Belgian border to check out a couple of lakes as alternatives should the canal go tits up which was always a possibility when tackling somewhere new.
I got back to the junction as the sun was setting, and as always in France everyone seems to go home for dinner at the same time in the early evening. As if by magic it was soon all quiet. I backed the car down along the canal past my spot to an area where it would be well hidden from anyone driving past opposite behind some trees and set about getting sorted.
My soft rods were still set up from my recent south of France trip so all I did was take off the floats, put on new hook links and I was ready to go.
I use big hook baits in France (24mm) and I like to fish simply. I'd had loads of fish recently using the ESP grippers in a size 4, these match the size of the bait nicely and are more resistant to blunting by small fish as they are a beaked point pattern and super sharp. These were tied to ESP tungsten hook link straight through or Korda’s IQ soft, simple, super strong and mega effective no matter where I end up fishing.
After a little cast around I was happiest fishing in the main boat channel where it is around twelve to fifteen feet deep and rock hard and flat. I did no more than spread the rods across from far bank to near bank and spread a good few of kilos of Sticky Krill baits glugged in liquid Krill over all three rods. For sure if there was any carp about they simply wouldn't be able to resist a snuffle.
As the light went I was my usual twitchy self until it got dark proper and then I started to unwind. Bream had been rolling since dusk and I'd already had sharp rattles on each of the rods and I felt sure they were working their way through the boilies. A short while later one hung itself, how I’ll never know, as it was only small but clearly ravenous so I topped up the swim with another kilo of baits and got myself comfortable. I made something to eat which soon had my eyelids feeling very heavy indeed after the long day as I'd been on the go since the early hours when I'd left home.
I always force myself to stay up as late as possible whenever I'm somewhere new just in case but it was deadly quiet and no one was coming looking for me I was sure of it, as the whole area surrounding me was a maze of lakes and I was very much a needle in a haystack as far as being caught by the guarde was concerned. You see when it's going to come on top I can usually tell, I've been doing this style of angling for a long time and know what signs to look for, I'm observant and always cautious, it pays off.
Once I'd convinced myself that all was good I set up my little Mossi dome and got into bed.
With no traffic noise or any noise for that matter other than the constant splashes of rolling bream I was soon soundly asleep.
Next thing I knew it was 3am and one of the rods absolutely tore off. After finding my flip flops I got to the rod and was bent into what was clearly a very angry carp. I could tell straight away that it wasn't a big one as it charged off flat Rodding me and taking line at mental speed more akin to a Pelagic game fish. Sure enough it tried its best but I soon had it in the net and secured so it couldn't pull the net in and I went for my torch to see what I’d got. Well would you believe it, it was only small but it was a pure leather, I mean a proper pure leather not a single scale anywhere or even any scale indents which they usually display, it also had no dorsal to speak of apart from a little bump on its back that was rounded, it literally reminded me more of a dolphin than a carp, a lovely little chap none the less and a real throwback so I left him in the net with the intention of taking a few pics of his appendages, or rather the lack of them in the morning. Keenly for me I put the rod back out and even keener I put out another half a kilo of baits and then went back to bed and soon drifted off once more to dream of giant canal carp. Well would you believe it, the other rod went at first light, another absolutely screaming take that woke me with a proper start. This one felt a little bigger and gave me a good run around. I wasn't at all surprised to see a 20lb common a few minutes later pop up in front of the waiting net. Wow, what a great first night, it's lovely when it happens like that, especially from somewhere you know absolutely nothing about previously and had never laid eyes on.
The leather had a very distinctive dorsal fin, or lack of one I should say...
As I was up I put on the first coffee of the day and had a celebratory rich tea with it.
While the coffee brewed and filled the air with its rich aroma the first laden barge of the morning slowly and rhythmically chugged through and the sun climbed over the horizon forcing me to reach for my shades, so I took a couple of pics of the fish and the swim and had a slow pack up. There is a chance I may return tonight and didn't want to be noticed there through the day so I drove to check out another spot, on the small canal this time, a little boat yard, always a good place to investigate, as I've said many times ,when fishing otherwise straight and featureless canals, something is everything.
Well the canal at the boatyard was solid with weed to the surface for as far as I could see and I sat there for a while feeding bread to good sized roach in the clear water. A cockerel was doing his thing, as was a donkey, and the church bells were chiming opposite. It occurred to me what a lovely spot it was so I stayed and cooked myself some breakfast and took in my beautiful surroundings, I was in no rush for a change and it felt so good I can't tell you. I put the percolator on and in the ridge monkey I fried some diced pancetta. While it was crisping up I whisked a couple of eggs together with a splash of milk and salt and pepper, check me out. A short while later I sat on the bench with the warm morning sun on my back and my egg and bacon sandwich and fresh coffee, life felt very good indeed and a million miles from an overcrowded pond somewhere in southern England surrounded by bivvies.
And that pretty much leads me to now although there's been a few swims in between and a visit to the cafe for a small cold beer or two at lunchtime to escape the draining heat. Another hour and the sun will begin to drop behind the trees and it will start to cool down. Where to head? I'm not sure yet, common sense tells me that I should go back to last nights spot as, where there's a couple, there will no doubt be more and hopefully a bigger one lurking nearby. Me being me I want to wake up to a different vista in the morning and hopefully a carp to go with it so I’ll probably end up somewhere completely different, we shall see.
Well I drove around and in the death I did go back to the first spot, and to reinforce that I'd made the correct move I caught another, a common, a touch bigger than the first, maybe twenty five pounds, not that it mattered.
Something weird happened while I was there though. Around 10pm I was getting lots of twangs and rattles, the swim was full of bream as it was the previous evening. The moon was coming up to full and the night was well lit yet it didn't seem to bother the fish. As the traffic died away to nothing I became aware of a gushing noise all of a sudden in the distance, there was definitely something pumping in somewhere. Whatever it was (I'm guessing sewage) it literally killed all the activity in the canal, not a single dimple anywhere. It was so obvious the two were linked that I considered packing up and heading to the other junction but then realised that it was at the far end of the stretch downstream and I'd only be moving ahead of it. In the end tiredness got the better of me and I hoped whatever it was it would have flushed through by early hours bite time and I'd still be in with a shout, fingers crossed.
The night passed without a single bleep so it was a real surprise when out of nowhere one of the rods melted off at first light. It was clear that whatever it was had indeed washed through. It was forecast to be a real hot day and rather than sitting around by the canal with little shade I decided to head back to the big lake I'd first looked at an hour or so to the north, so after a leisurely breakfast I packed the car and headed back toward the border. I passed several really lovely looking bits of river, canals and lakes en route and I made a note to mark them all for future reference when I stopped for a coffee at the auto route services.
It was blisteringly hot by the time I arrived at the lake, hardly the time of day to be looking for a chance but I settled myself into shady spot where I could see as much water as possible and watched. There was one carp angler fishing in the middle of the lake, typical French style with a big battery of rods on some outrageous pod, tips pointing skyward. By midday it was savagely hot and I'd seen nothing apart from a couple of bass splosh out in the middle, it was hardly surprising given the temperature, it was looking like a nap in the shade was in order and I'd start looking again as the light faded when hopefully I'd see something within casting range to sling a stringer at. I was just getting myself comfortable with a tin of cold beer when a carp walloped out on the far side of the lake close to some bushes, needless to say I was in the car and round there like a bloody shot in a huge cloud of dust.
I found a little swim, well more of a gap in the trees in the far corner of the lake that looked across to the bushes and I quickly baited a couple of rods and cast them as close to the trailing branches as possible, both went spot on first time clipping the leaves and both felt shallow and suspect, by which I mean soft, probably weed. It was only three feet deep I guessed but I was happy to leave them. Fifty odd krill boilies were soon spread around the rods which were only a rod length or so apart and tight to the branches and I sat back up by the car looking back down the steep bank towards the rods.
A liner a short time later had me slipping down the bank in flip flops and it occurred to me that I really should be sitting as close to them as possible just in case.
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Well it was a bloody good job I did as ten minutes later the buzzer bleeped once and in the split second I saw the tip start to lift the rod was nearly ripped into the lake. Thankfully I have cat like reflexes and just managed to grab it before it was claimed by the carp. The fish was spectacularly powerful and in one lightening movement from grabbing the rod I sunk the tip deep and held on as the carp powered off, the super tight clutch squawking as braid was ripped off. I held as hard as I could, the rod bucking wildly before thankfully the fish turned and dropped down the shelf into deeper water. From here on in it wasn't too much of a drama thankfully but it was still 20 minutes of arm ache as an angry carp fought hard in the clear water to keep away from the bright sunlight. Eventually though he was in the net, a lovely long dark mirror of 33lb, that'll do for me. The hook, despite the incredible pressure, was well seated and still perfect when I popped it out. I was delighted it had stood up to the test of such a brutal fight, the grippers were quickly becoming my go to hook for this sort of fishing. I got a few good self takes in the water and soon sent him on his not so merry way and then got the rod back out. Despite a couple more liners no more bites were forthcoming so I hung it out till dusk and packed up with the intention of having a good look around, hopefully finding a few showing somewhere around the lake to drop on to for the night. The little bay and the bushes looked good but like all bays I knew they wouldn't hang around once evening drew in.
Upon reeling in it was clear to see why I hadn't had another bite, both rods were in thick weed and rendered useless. Before I left I had a little chuck along the tree line and found a clearer bit to the left, I'd be back the next day for another go in the bushes, it was forecast to be warm again and there was every chance that a few fish could turn up back in the swim, seeking shade around the same time if I was lucky.
Just as I was loading the car the guarde pulled up but as he could see I was packed away he never stopped just nodded at me in a ‘I've clocked you garçon’ way and went off on his way around the lake and I went on mine, to McDonald's. A big tasty burger with fries was just the ticket and I felt much better afterwards. Of course leaving the lake was all part of the plan Stan, the guarde had seen I was packed up and watched me leave the park so he would be happy and had probably gone to the bar for a Ricard safe in the knowledge that he had done a good job right? Wrong!
Excitedly I drove through the park and pulled up in the central part of the lake and who was sat there? Yep, monsieur la guarde no less, and he didn't look pleased. Pretending I hadn't seen him I sat for a bit, rolled a fag and then drove off in the opposite direction and he followed me all the way to a dead end, oh no he had me cornered. I swiftly turned round but had to pass him as I went back up the lane and he beckoned me to open my window.
“Bon swar mon sewer”, I said in my best piss take Del Trotter French accent with a big smile. This was met with a torrid of high speed and very cross sounding French, none of which I understood except for the last bit. NON PECHE A NUIT.
I got that bit! Anyway he followed me out of the park and a good way down the road before turning off and I spun around and headed back but this time I realised it was well on top and instead drove to a different lake nearby, a really big lake with lots of places to hide and I found a well hidden spot and I slept there, it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught again, he clearly knew my game and wanted to capture me.
Had I been on more familiar turf I would of course had several other places where I know I can just drop in but not here, not within a couple of hours drive anyway .
And so I'm sat here now in my little Mozzi tent writing this. I forgot, I went back to McDonald's for coffee and to think about my options, it's nearly midnight now and I need to get my head down hence I'm now here. The plan is to grab a few hours of hopefully undisturbed sleep, get up at first light, make coffee then back to the other lake to see if any are showing at dawn, fingers crossed.
I was up before my alarm, the huge bay of the big lake was very shallow, more wetland than anything and I guessed a good half of the worlds entire water bird population must live there, the noise was deafening as they bickered through the night and then all came to life at dawn, the noise was just incredible. I soon packed and off down the bewildering maze of tracks that wound around the park. Was it left here, or right there. I sent myself on several wild goose chases before finally finding my way to the middle of the black lake. It was quiet which seemed odd, I guess it was just like any other Tuesday morning and people were doing their thing. A noisy party of school kids out on a nature walk broke the silence for a few minutes before their noisy chatter and laughter faded away into the trees and I returned to watching the water whilst I made coffee and toasted a croissant, very nice indeed.
I'd seen a few fish show, all at mega range and I was sat as close as I could get to them so I slashed out a couple of paste wrapped krill singles as far toward the activity as I could and sat back to see what happened. A bream is what happened, a proper drop back and a flurry of bleeps and I was all excited and urgent until I picked up the rod and I realised what it was. I put the rod back out and both were getting taps as the Crays plucked at the big hook baits. Well no sooner had the sun crested the treetops than the Crays suddenly realised they were vulnerable to being scoffed and ran for cover and the tapping ebbed away as the sun and temperature rose. With little shade I started looking down the lake to the bushes were I'd caught the day before and decided that I really should fish the afternoon back in the same swim as there was a shout and it was nice and shady so I threw the kit in the car and headed round.
I grabbed one of the rods from the car and whacked it out to the left hand side of the bush with the intention of clipping it up and putting a bag but it went right under the front of the bush and hit the lake bed with a hard donk, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth I left it and stuck thirty or so glugged krill boilies in and around the tree. The other rod I clipped up and cast further to the left with a small bag of crushed krill boilie attached. Due to the floating leaves and scum that had drifted into the bay overnight I sunk the tips deep and clipped them up tight.
It was all quiet for an hour or so until two big cormorants turned up in my bay so I clapped them off loudly and they eventually scarpered off to the other side of the lake. I guess two minutes passed when all of a sudden a big long yellow koi came across the swim on the surface. It's behaviour was erratic and it clearly wasn't happy. I felt sure the pair of cormorants must have chased him all the way down the lake. well at least there was definitely one carp in my swim.
About an hour later the koi swam past me again but this time he had two mirrors in tow and they disappeared down into the reedy corner to my right where there was a set of pads and a few reeds and that was the last I saw of them.
The afternoon drew on and I reckoned I should leave no later than three thirty if I wanted to beat the traffic to Wesleys near Ghent. At ten to three I packed the net away and took out the buzzers, slackened off the clutches and lay the rods on the steep bank while I packed the car. I was just walking down to sit by them for the last couple of minutes when one of the lines jerked savagely and I was on it in a flash and walking backwards up the hill. The fish flattened the rod hard and I held on expecting the hook to straighten at any second as it exploded on the surface beneath the branches sending every coot within a square mile into a panicked frenzy.
Eventually I won the first leg and the fish came away from the tree and I knew it was all over bar the weighing, and it was. After another long battle in the clear water I netted a big, deep mirror with a lovely cluster of scales. A pukka bit of angling and what a prize. I'd had a wash and got changed ready to go to Wesley’s, but after doing the pics I was soaked and covered in slime and sweat all over again. I threw the wet kit in the car and tidied myself up with a towel and sped off bound for Ghent, the time, three thirty, perfect.
