As an obsessive angler it is fair to say that time is your enemy. If like me your week revolves around actually fishing or planning/prepping future fishing then it can be hard to keep up with the pace that things unfold at. Throw into the mix "real world" stuff and it can seem like there's never enough hours in the day to get it all done. I guess it's fair to say I've been busy, never a dull moment and all that. In between my English fishing I of course love my European fishing which for one reason or another has been on the back burner for the past few years. Well that burner has been well and truly turned back up to full this year and my enthusiasm is back with a vengeance.
This is partly due to the fact that I have a wealth of new fishing lined up for the next few years at least. You see my sister now lives in central Italy and it was while chatting to her she asked why I didn't just send some tackle over and then fly over and rent a car when I wanted to fish, as it would be surely much cheaper than driving over. At first I didn't think much of it but one evening I was sat on Google Earth looking at waters far and wide that the penny dropped. Now, if I were to drive to fish in central or southern Italy, Austria, Slovenia and beyond it entails a big drive. Big drives I'm used to but the cost of these trips when you factor in fuel, tolls, crossings etc mean that they become financially unviable if you are looking to go multiple times a year. However, flying is becoming ever cheaper and flights to anywhere in Europe are dirt cheap by comparison. Buoyed by the possibilities in Italy and beyond I started to check distances and driving times and was shocked to find that I could drive to Slovenia from my sisters in a little over three hours – it was then that the penny really dropped.
After a little research online I worked out that by flying and renting a car I could afford to have more trips as well as get to explore and fish places that would be simply out of realistic range when driving. What's more I found out that to send a pallet out to Italy was cheap!. Two complete sets of kit in Italy and all I had to do was fly out, pick up the car from the airport and drive to my sisters to load up and head off – freedom.
It's fair to say I'm excited for what lies ahead but I'm going to leave it until the cooler Autumn weather before I head over on my first recce to the Italian side of the Alps (for starters). Of course until that time I’ll be fishing nearer to home,although not always much nearer. My most recent trip was still over 2,000 miles.
I left home headed to the south of France, I was in real need of a break and a little sun to recharge the batteries so my mate Jon and I loaded the car to the hilt and set off one Friday afternoon with no expectations other than to have a lovely time. By the time the light started to fade I was charging along toward Reims with the tunes thumping and a hefty dose of caffeine coursing around my body to keep me going through the first leg of the journey. I planned, as I always do when heading south, to get myself within an hour of Lyon where I'd stop by the river Saone and get a few hours’ kip before hitting it hard again early the following morning as I had done so many times in the past. I reckoned it would be close to 3am by the time I stopped at the river and my guesstimate was pretty much bang on and I pulled up at a familiar spot by a big barrage absolutely wired on coffee and exhausted. I literally pulled the bed out of the car, got in it and pulled the bag over my head after setting the alarm for 7am.
I didn't really sleep as such, more of a standby mode, but it seemed like barely a couple of minutes passed before the alarm sounded and I forced myself up and moving, not least because it was blooming freezing. The temperature on the dashboard in the car showed 2 degrees and it bloody felt like it. John was a bit slower to get going and by the time he got into the passenger seat it was nice and warm in the car. It was then I realised just how close to disaster we had been when we pulled up by the river. In the pitch black misty night I'd parked up where I had so many times in the past, but hadn't realised how flooded the river was – I kid you not when I say the front of the car was within a rod length of the swollen river which was at least ten feet higher than I'd ever seen it, Oops.
Anyway, we set off with renewed vigour on the look out for a petrol station and the first caffeine hit of the day. We soon passed Lyon and continued on south on the ‘route to the sun’. John had never been to Cassien so it was decided that we would go there for a look first. Now the fishing at the lake is never easy, not least because you can only fish the days, and it's a big lake. However, this is offset by the fact that it is a fantastically beautiful lake in a lovely part of the world. You cannot stay on the lake at night though and because of this you need somewhere to stay. I had fished the lake before many times so knew the drill well and did my best to explain to John the difficulties, not least the heat, you need cold drinks and to keep food cold so you need access to a fridge. In the past I'd stayed on the campsite and rented a fridge to put in the tent but this year I'd be staying with Dave Hyam who runs Cassien Carp Tours. I'd arranged lodgings at his base camp near the lake which gave us access to everything we needed and we could come and go as we pleased, keep batteries charged, store kit etc – a godsend really and I can't recommend him enough. We arrived to a scorching hot and beautiful lake early afternoon. It was full to the brim and looking incredible with an azure blue tinge to the water, it really is a magnificent place and somewhere I don't think I’ll ever tire of. It seems you take your chances when you head there and on this occasion it looked good as there were hardly any anglers to be seen around the lake, except in the popular areas in the west arm, close to the start of the reserve.
With both of us there to chill out first and foremost we were in no real rush to get fishing, so I spent a relaxing afternoon with Dave unwinding from the long journey with a few beers and a pizza. We would get sorted the following day, get our permits and some food from the supermarket, and in the evening get the rods and boat kit ready for our first dabble the morning after, like I said, no rush.
We spent the first day looking around the central basin area and fished several spots with no sign of carp whatsoever and no bites. Naturally this didn't dampen our spirits and we decided to fish the following morning in the west arm, the last place that had done any bites over the previous week or so. With anglers on Ellis point as there usually is, we settled on the Aviron swim opposite. As I was getting my first rod ready to boat out I saw a fish roll, maybe two hundred yards in to the reserve shortly followed by another closer to blue boat point. Now I've been here before and although there was a chance I never felt a bite looked likely at any point during the day and we left as the light faded with no more sightings. The fish we had seen in the morning were no doubt heading back into the reserve after a nights feeding while they were safe. The following day we didn't get up early and went for a good boat about the lake. I'd borrowed a ridiculously powerful electric motor from my mate Mike and we hurtled off up the north arm from the mooring at the top of the south, laughing and joking as we went. I must admit we got some funny looks from the pecheurs in their boats. The big electric was easily twice as powerful as my big Minn Kota outboard and before we knew it we were at the top of the north arm, a journey that normally takes the best part of an hour. There was not a single angler anywhere in the north and we didn't see a thing, it was becoming clearer by the minute that the bulk of the fish were still held up in the west arm reserve, a huge piece of water where they are safe from angling pressure until July when the reserve boundary is removed, and if the fish haven't left by then, they soon do, and spread out around the lake. Obviously to me the next port of call would be the bottom of the south arm as the year before I'd fished for a few days at around the same time and things were very similar with the bulk of the fish plugged deep in the reserve – very few fish to be found out in the main lake anywhere. One place we did find a few however was right at the bottom of the south arm where there is another smaller reserve, where a few fish were spawning the previous year. We were launching from the top of the south which is a long old trot by boat, unless of course you have a Torqueedo…
Like a pair of boy racers we roared off down the arm the following morning, the novelty hadn't worn off at all and the high pitch howl of the motor and our speed kept me chuckling the whole way. We stopped at he famous banana swim at the bottom basin of the arm and I soon had the rods out, spread wide, in various depths up to 18 feet . To be honest it looked good, there was a couple of French anglers tucked away opposite, a sure sign that there was a few fish about, indeed the sounder was alive with small fish and there was plenty of bass active on the surface. The day soon got warmer and by mid morning I was desperately seeking shade as the temperature soared. Again, we saw out the day with nothing to go on and no sightings, so it was back to base camp and a new plan.
The previous year when I fished with my mates Trev and Lee we went to check out a lake further down the coast that I had been keen to return to fish as it was beautiful. Of course the fact that we had seen countless fish jumping on our recce also had something to do with it. Good intentions and all that, we had meant to get up early but had a lie in after a late one the previous evening. Unusually for me I'd drunk some red wine as you do when you’re in the sunny south of France and knew all about it when the alarm went off at 4.30 am. I did no more than roll over and turn it off and fell straight back to sleep. Because of this it was lunchtime by the time we rolled into the parks car park. Being a scorching hot Saturday the lake was alive with people and there were clearly several carpistes trying their luck, I counted maybe half a dozen dotted around the banks. There was a big mistral wind blowing, sending white caps rolling off toward the far end of the big lake so we set off on the long walk away from the throngs of bbq’s. Half an hour later we were standing on a point in the teeth of the wind, and my did it look good. Within another thirty minutes we had seen a few show at range so I had a lead about. It was all deep and weedy and the water like gin. It was also bizarrely cold for the time of year and I guessed it must somehow be fed by the nearby river with snowmelt water.
The sun was high in the sky and I was sure I could make out what looked like a pale strip about 80 yards out so I had a little lead around and got a superb hard drop in what I guessed to be 25 foot of water. The fact that I could see the spot illustrates perfectly just how clear the water is at the mountain lake. I put out a few spombs of cod balls in the general area and sat back with a cold drink in the shade to watch the water.
I guess it was a couple of hours later when a fish showed closer to where I was fishing so I made my way precariously in flip flops down the steep rocky bank to the rods to line up where the fish jumped in relation to my lines. As I looked out a fish showed again in the same area so I picked up the rod and went to turn off the buzzer when the braid ripped out of my hand and I was in to a very powerful fish that ran hard for a good twenty seconds or so taking lots of line. A slow and steady fight ensued but after twenty minutes a big stout golden mirror rolled into the net, lovely.
I was keen to get the rod back out so I left the fish in the net while I re-baited and recast, and then did a few shots of my first carp from the lake, I was as pleased as punch. Roughly an hour later the same rod was away again and another lovely carp was soon being photographed and released. With a couple of bites to show for our afternoons fishing, a return was guaranteed as I could see opportunity for sure, and the chance of more bites. With an hour journey ahead of us we decided to head back to base camp and stop to eat on the way, and it's a good job we left when we did as the park warden was just locking the gates as we left. Of course we returned for a full day on the lake at the start of the following week and this time it was John who caught a couple including a big fat pig of a fish that made his trip. Cassien however was still as dead as a door nail. Several more anglers had arrived and nothing was being caught anywhere so we decided to head back up country and use the remaining couple of nights to stop at a few lakes on the way home, check out a couple of spots on the river as well as a few old haunts. They say time flies when your having fun and it is very true, the days just slip by. I was looking forward to a return to the Great Lake within the next month or two when hopefully the fish will be well spread around the lake and it will be game on – just book a flight and go, I literally can't wait.
In the meantime though, I'm off again in a few days time to Belgium and maybe do a bit in Northern France while I'm there, maybe not. I have a week on my own and I'm buzzing. I intend to tie up with a couple of friends while I'm there for the odd social night but beyond that I have no idea where I'm headed and I love it like that, a proper adventure. I have plenty of go pro kit that I've been trying to use a little more so I’ll film bits as I go. As I've said I have nothing planned so I could end up on a big lake, a bit of canal somewhere or maybe even a river, who knows?
Of course while I'm in England I'm always fishing, I have a ticket for the old Fox Pool syndicate and a few mates from the Horton days have also got tickets which meant lots of bbq’s and socials through the summer which I am all for. I missed the start of the season on Fox as I had my little girl for that week so it was the second week by the time we had planned our first social trip where we could all get together and have a bit of a party. We set up in the ‘Noddies’ (very apt), Kev on the left, me piggy in the middle and Stu on the right. Behind us we had a purpose built bbq area with gas bbq, lodge and fire pit. It felt good to have a night with the lads, fishing hard is not the be all and end all, it's so important to enjoy the good times and if a fish comes your way then all the better, in fact it doesn't matter who catches.
Well, a fish did come my way the following morning, in fact two fish came in short order either side of first light. The first a scaly mid double and the next a very angry old common of 26+. When the third bite came shortly after, Stu caught a nice double, I couldn't believe it. I felt exactly the same when it fell off twenty minutes later after I'd seen it was a monster, oh well some you win....
I really enjoyed the following week or so over Fox, I'd got into wandering around with my go pro trying to get bits of footage. All the fish were waiting to spawn and were all sat around under the snags during the day lazing around and I got some amazing footage which I was really pleased with.
I guess that brings me up to this evening. I'm sat beneath the brolly on the end of a hearty westerly blow on a big old reservoir in the south of England. I'm the only one here which is nice as it looks superb with a big full strawberry moon just showing itself above the horizon, it's a good night to be angling for sure. I'd forgot to mention that I caught one last week from here on my first night . I'd turned up late in the afternoon for a look and found the fish on the shallows looking lively. In fact, while I watched I saw a fish show so pushed my barrow all the way round to the nearest fishable area. Of course, I decided to stay for the night and settled into a swim that covered the bulk of the shallow water. I sort of expected the fish to exit the bay as the light faded which they did but I hoped with warm weather forecast that they would return the following morning.
As I'd hoped, I'd not long made the first coffee the following morning when a group of four fish swam lazily past me a couple of feet from the bank. Over the next hour I saw more and more fish turn up and my little pop ups were near to useless, as although the fish were only in shallow water of a few feet, they were swimming around just under the surface. With this in mind I tied up a couple of zigs on stout kit and cast a couple of three footers down to my right where the fish were swimming around in the bottom of the bay. I sat down and put on the kettle and looked at the time, it was 8.45. I was just thinking to myself that I'd give it until ten, then pack up and head to Fox Pool when the tip yanked round and I was into a fish. The rod was flattened for thirty seconds or so as the carp bolted out of the shallows through the weed, the line still entering the water where I'd hooked it yet the fish was going berserk thirty yards to the right, not good. I took my time, I'm used to hairy battles and the key is to never rush, so I didn't. Gradually I regained line until the fish was swirling on the surface close to where I'd hooked it, and then it was free and I was back in direct contact. From here on in it was just a case of playing the game and soon enough a long mirror was wallowing ready for netting. There was however one problem, and that was that I was about fifteen feet above the water, too far away to net it from where I was standing so I had to kick off my shoes, throw the net down, and clamber my way down the wall using one hand while holding the rod in the other. It was much harder than I make it sound I can assure you, but soon enough once I'd got a decent footing I grabbed for the net and the long old mirror folded over the net cord and I'd got it, result. It lay there defiantly with the cork ball hanging from its lip in the gin clear margins, it looked so good in fact I felt spurred into getting the camera out and taking a few shots. Luckily I managed to get hold of the bailiff who popped down and did me a few nice pics to remember the occasion by.
I guess that's a good place to end this time around. I’ll spend the rest of the week sorting out the last few bits for my Belgian trip next week, charge all the batteries and get everything ready to go, wish me luck and I’ll fill you in on how I get on. Be lucky, Nick.
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