Yes, the Remy carp are very good looking. Anyone who can supply me with a special, more powerful word. Please do.
Right then, with that little lot off my chest. Lets go back a few stages and allow me to tell the story of Bernard Sissons and myself let loose on holiday.
After a brilliant winter on the in-famous Mangrove Swamp in deepest Shropshire I felt myself in need of a change of scenery. I had a few days off work still owing me, so rather than go through the same motions again on the water I dearly love, I decided to take a break well away from the Mangrove. I felt in need of a holiday, well away from my usual every day life. France, it had to be.
I had spoken to the nice people (again we need another word) at Angling Lines about their latest venues and one that had really stood out to me was Remy. The plain and simple un-known aspect of the venue appealed so much.
Perhaps I didn’t know an awful lot about Remy but I did know about Patrick Bachelier. He is a major French fish farmer and is responsible for the fish in and around the mighty La Foret D’ Orient region including incredible venues like La Horre.
Enter Bernard Sissons. Ruth (my better half) wasn’t up for a French trip. She has a problem with ferries, catamarans, aeroplanes, and tunnels which makes a trip to France rather difficult to say the least. Several times in the past she had conquered this fear but this time it wasn’t going to happen.
Bachelier + Remy + La Horre = Bernard.
Strange equation perhaps, but Bernard has been so successful on La Horre these past few years with commons up to 59lb 14oz that he seemed a natural choice to ask. Besides which. I knew if I got bored during the week I could rip him to pieces, totally take the p*** out of him and he wouldn’t get upset. He’s the only person I know that can laugh at himself as much as he does. Important point this when you are deciding who you are going to go and live with for a week. You may get on well with someone on the bank for a day or two. A week is a different matter. Particularly when you are unlikely to see any other English to talk to.
Bernard has recently retired. He isn’t that old (or so he says) but he has been planning an early retirement for the past twenty or so years I have known him. Despite his age and me recently passing a scary birthday we were like a pair of bloody school kids making plans for our mini expedition. This was going to be our first French session together.
First problem was the argument as to who’s car we were going to travel in. I know it’s quite sad but I absolutely love my Land Rover. It’s the oldest car I ever brought (apart from the first) and it is the longest I have kept one (over ten years now). Quite a few years ago I took Bernard along to Billing Aquadrome (famous for its big carp in the past) for a Land Rover Owner International do. Yes, okay I’m an anorak. I can live with that one though. He sat in the passenger seat whilst I, or should I say ‘YAU Beastie’ (my Land Rover and yes okay, my anorak is massive) performed around the off-road track. He was gobsmacked at what the best of British (mine is British) could perform. The following week Bernard tried to upstage me by going out and buying a Range Rover! I had the last laugh. Have you ever seen a Range Rover off-roading at the side of a proper Land Rover 90?
Anyway, a bit side tracked there. We both wanted to take our own vehicles. Bernard won the case though when he pointed out that his V8 with a gas (LPG) conversion was going to be a fraction of the cost to take to France. Ah well, I would have to lower myself and sit in his Range Rover.
4am on the 8th April 2005 and I’m marching off out of our Crescent, up the side road and out onto the main road. I couldn’t bear waiting any longer so decided to start our French trip on foot. Fortunately the roar of Bernard’s V8 carp mobile could be heard before many paces were made. I opened the passenger door and was greeted by a foot well full of oil, and radiator fluid containers. He hadn’t told me about this. Here we were about to set off on a mini epic and he had oil and radiator problems!
I rolled my eyes, climbed aboard and said ‘go for it, next stop Dover’.
“Well, not quite, I have to fill up with Gas every 120-140 miles”. Was Bernard’s reply. I sensed a long day about to unroll.
We made it to Northampton before we had to fill up the first time. Now that was less than an hour down the motorway.
“Not everywhere sells LPG. We have to fill up when we can”. Bernard cheerfully chirped.
Images of Basil Fawlty with his jacket around his head hopping around in a crouched position came to mind. No, we’re only an hour into our holiday. I must keep calm.
To give Bernard’s motor its due we made excellent progress. Arriving within a few miles of Dover with loads of time to spare. In fact we were talking about the possibility of an earlier ferry. We were climbing one of the hills on the final stages of the English leg when the Range Rover began to splutter and lose power. I looked across at Bernard, wide eyed with my mouth open.
“It’s alright we’re out of gas”!
My mouth dropped even more then Bernard flicked a switch and the engine again roared into life. He had switched over to petrol. We were still running.
“I hope I’ve got enough petrol to get us to Dover, I thought we would have had enough Gas”. Bernard rather embarrassingly said.
“You are joking”! I looked at his petrol gauge - He wasn’t!
“Bernard, why on earth didn’t you fill up with petrol as well if Gas is difficult to find at times” I asked.
“I hardly ever run it on petrol. I only put about a fiver in at a time. It only needs petrol to start it”. He answered.
“You need petrol to run it when you ain’t got any gas left. What’s it do on petrol? About 12 miles to a gallon? You only put £5.00 in the tank. Dover is still a few miles off and”. I was cut short. The engine died!
Great. 10 miles from Dover 3 ½ hours after setting off and we had broken down. We looked at each other and I will not say what I said. I didn’t lay it on big time though. I could see Bernard was clearly mortified that his beloved had let us down.
Ten minutes later and a very nice man from the AA turned up with a petrol can of go-go juice.
“Oh, I didn’t realise it was a V8. There might not be enough petrol to get you to Dover in this can”. By this stage I had finished eating my hand and forearm and had started on my elbow. Surely I was having a last minute nightmare and I was about to wake ready to set off for France. No. This was real alright.
Give him his due the very nice man from the AA followed us to Dover and onto the forecourt of the fuel station.
Bernard started to fill the Gas and soon it cut off. He looked at me.
“That’s strange. We still had ¼ of a tank left”. He put a little more petrol in and we made our way to the P&O sign. My head was in absolute turmoil.
Part 2 - The journey - France
We passed through customs and onto the ferry without a hitch. Perhaps things were starting to look up. Breakfast was collected from the Buffet. There was a little swell on the sea but I managed to walk back to our table without throwing my breakfast over anyone or spilling my tea.
Breakfast over and I needed to change some of my much loved English money for those nasty Euro’s. I had run out of time to do this before the trip so took advantage of the facility on the P&O ferry as there is no charge for doing this. The exchange rate wasn’t quite as good to-day as Bernard had received a couple of weeks before. Ah well, the Orange symbol on my mobile had changed to Bouygtel the French network we were in French waters. Perhaps my luck would start to change. After all. I was on holiday.
Luck change. Ha. Who am I kidding.
“This is your captain speaking. Due to industrial action at Calais we can’t go in to dock. We will ride it out here for a while until we can get in. It is a little too early to say at the moment but I would anticipate a delay of at least an hour”.;
Suddenly I had thoughts of spending a week bobbing around in the English Channel. Me. Paranoid? No, surely not! We went a grabbed a couple of comfy seats whilst we could.
“If we had come in my Land Rover we could have driven off the ferry, driven along the sea bed and up into France” I started to say. Bernard groaned and put his hand to his face. I shut up. I guess the water would have been a little too deep 5 miles off the coast. What with the depth and all the World War II shipwrecks etc and the clarity of the water not being that good. Yeah, I guess I was pushing that thought a little.
After what seemed an age, we started to move again.
Ten miles into France (I can’t get used to those km’s) and Bernard turns to me.
“You’re not going to believe this”. He said.
“Try me”.
“We’re running out of Petrol again. The gas switch is stuck. We’re running on petrol. The switch must be stuck on petrol. That’s why the gas was still in the tank when I thought it had run out. The engine must have just missed a beat when I thought it was running out of gas. It probably didn’t like being switched to petrol at ‘cough’ miles per hour (better not get Bernard stitched up with a speeding fine)”.
This was going to be an expensive trip at 12 miles or whatever to a gallon.
We pulled over and had the customary ‘haven’t got a clue’ look under the bonnet. There was that much gas pipe work jammed in under the bonnet I really didn’t know what I was looking at. I scratched my head and Bernard scratched his and both decided that we ought to conserve as much fuel as possible and take a real slow steady drive to hopefully reach the next fuel station.
He fired the big engine up once again. Flicked the switch to gas and all the lights came on where they should indicating it was now running on gas again.
“That’s strange”. Said Bernard.
“You’ve got a bloomin’ Strange Rover. Not a Range Rover”! I retorted. Bernard groaned.
So much for taking our time and conserving fuel. We were back on gas so it was two feet on the accelerator and roar through France.
100 miles further and the water light came on.
“Not a problem. This is normal. I get through loads of water since I had the gas conversion done.”
Again, Bernard pulled over. Topped the water up and checked the oil whilst he was at it.
“I can’t understand it. We’ve hardly used any oil”. He said climbing back into the drivers seat. I didn’t know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing so I didn’t bother to answer.
A few toll roads and several gas and water top up stops and we were finally at our destination for the first night of our break in France 13 hours after leaving home.
I guess it must be the years rolling by but we had decided back home that it would make more sense to have a leisurely drive through France (how do you snort in print?) the day before we were booked onto Remy and stay overnight in a hotel close by so as to be fresh and raring to go the next morning.
Bernard had stayed at the Poste Hotel and Restaurant at Vitry-le-Francois before. They had a secure lock up facility for the Strange Rover and tackle so we didn’t bother to look any further. We were booked in.
It was with great relief when we finally pulled to a halt outside the hotel. Memories of Rod Hutchinson’s account of his trip with Roger Smith to St Cassien sprang to mind where Roger bounded towards the first bar he saw with a big grin on his face and the words deux bierres s'il vous plait (two beers please - or something like that). Bernard could order his own.
We had a bit of a song and dance getting in the place. We were ringing the bell and couldn’t work out how to open the door as the receptionist looked sorrowfully on to us whilst speaking on the telephone. It was a big double door job. We had been trying the wrong door!
My ego was deflated. The joyful ordering of beers were forgotten, as I walked to the reception with my head hung low and dutifully signed in. We made our way to our adjacent rooms and arranged to be ready for a drink around town and a meal within the hour.
I walked in and collapsed on my temporary bed. What a day. I saw the television in the corner and flicked the remote switch then started to channel hop not understanding a word that came out of the machine. Channel 1, 2, 3, 4 and so on. Channel 13 I stopped flicking. There was a gorgeous brunette in thigh length boots and tight mini skirt. I understood this channel even with the volume down. I shouted through Bernard’s door.
“Channel 13, there’s a bird in high heeled waders and a short skirt”. I heard a bit of fumbling then the answer came back
“Ooh, bless you” I returned back to my room and never saw her again. There were adverts on then another programme started. Just when I thought I could enjoy French television.
I decided to shower. It beat me up! It was a power shower and I couldn’t work out how to turn the pressure down. I had to be careful what I exposed to its full force but came out gleaming none the less.
The evening went well. Lots of grande (large) 1664’s slipped down our necks. At 10 Euro’s 80 for two pints it seemed expensive to me but I couldn’t help converting it into £10.80 for two pints. Still, after a gallon each it didn’t seem to matter. We were on holiday!
It was time to find food. We had been drinking in Vitry’ square. A lovely place. Well worth a look if you are passing through. Soon we were sitting at out first restaurant table of the week. This would become a daily occurrence as I do like to remove all lines from the water for a period each day regardless of where I am fishing.
My French I am ashamed to say is not good. I, like so many other ignorant English rely on others speaking English. I manage to get by though with a phrase book and a smile. Trouble was in the poorly lit restaurant and a few drinks inside me I was struggling to find things in my phrase book so ordered something that looked like it must be fillet steak. It was. But, it was raw. Not rare, Raw! Fortunately I like a bit of blood in my steak but I had never tackled one like that. I think the chef must have picked it up threatened it over a hot frying pan or possibly showed it where he kept the grill then put it onto my plate without actually dropping it in the pan or under the grill. It was delicious!
A couple more beers and a couple of bottles of the obligatory French wine and Bernard was in a right state. Not nasty, not loud. Just out of control of his legs and lips. All he could do was giggle and tell me he couldn’t remember being that drunk before. Ah well, he was on holiday and he had been through a lot that day with me nagging him.
We didn’t need to be at the lake until noon so it was decided we would have a leisurely start to the next day and not to bother leaving our rooms until around 9am.
I was up at 7.30am anyway. I sat at the desk and wrote for a while then sat and read. 9am I hammered on Bernard’s door. “Are you ready”?
The door opened, there was Bernard in his underpants looking 10 years older than he had the last time I’d seen him.
“Can you give me another half hour”. He croaked as he peered up the corridor through slits that used to be his eyes. I laughed and left him to it. Bernard has worked out all his life and is a bit of a health freak. Let this be a warning. Looking after yourself doesn’t combine very well with a night out. I felt great. Even better in fact after seeing the state Bernard was in.
Eventually we were down at the breakfast table. I tipped a bit of food down my neck whilst Bernard struggled with a glass of orange juice. We both fancied the waitress but there was no way we were going to share so we left for the lake.
I would like to get on with describing the fishing from here on but it wouldn’t be a true story if I didn’t mention that we drove in the wrong direction twice and clocked up around 70 miles more than we should have.
Eventually we arrived at Jonchery and were met by Paul Bachelier where we had to sign in and run through the rules making sure we had the right equipment with us.
After the usual pleasantries we were free to drive onto Remy. Yes, we got lost again twice. We were too busy looking at the mighty ‘Lac d’ Orient’ that we missed our turning and ended up at a dead end.
We sorted that one out then missed a turning in a forest to the lake and ended up on a muddy track which must have been a good 12” deep. Fortunately we weren’t in a normal car or else we would have had to get a farmer to drag us out. Bernard impressed me with his off-road manoeuvres and before we knew it we were driving along the dam wall of Remy. It was snowing but at least we had at last arrived.
Part 3 - We’re There!
First impression. Apart from being totally amazed that were we finally at our destination I was totally awe-struck by the raw beauty of the place. Everyone has the tendency to exaggerate a little when describing a water yet I felt Gareth at Angling Lines hadn’t done the place full justice it deserved. Remy is smack in the middle of a forest as he had said but so far away from noise and light pollution that we ended up with the classic library syndrome where it felt wrong to talk at our normal level. It was a case of feeling that you should whisper so as to not disturb the wildlife which would obviously abound.
We stood and listened. All that could be heard was the gentle fall of water over the outflow and the twittering and squawking of the birds.
“I’m going to enjoy this week. Not a sole in sight”.
We did a lap of the pool. Saw no signs of carp. The snow had stopped and every swim on the lake looked inviting.
Remy is basically in two halves. The main body of water as you look up from the dam which is situated more or less on the west side runs into a channel to the left (north) which is probably about 100-110 yards wide. This then opens up again into a large bay that only has access from peg 5. All the swims on Remy are double swims. We decided to start on peg five as the long term weather forecast had said that the weather would be improving over the next couple of days and a warmer wind would be blowing up this end of the lake. Peg 5 gives space to set up with a big gap between the bivvies. This is well worth considering if you snore as much as I do or as much as Bernard does. I don’t worry about my snoring now as I have proven over many years it attracts carp.
We unloaded the gear and I set about the right hand side of the swim with a marker rod. I could find no feature at all. Depth was around 4-5ft all over the swim. Memories of Le Village came back to me. I had failed to find any feature in the swim I was in there so opted to fish to my Mangrove markers as a start. From memory I caught 44 fish to 43lb in three days before moving swim. I had simply created my own feeding area. If it was good enough at Le Village it would be good enough here. I would create my own feeding spot/spots.
I had been informed that there had been very little English attention on Remy in the last couple of years. A few Germans had fished it but the English hadn’t. I’ve never shared a lake with German anglers but gambled on the fact that they would fish very similar to the typical Brit’. At the end of the day, Remy is a commercial water with plenty of carp present. Carp in commercial waters quickly learn where bait can be found. There are few commercial waters around where the carp wont respond to bait positioned at 55-70 yards in line with the tallest tree. I know that this sounds like an obvious sort of spot to fish. Well, yes it is - fortunately. Because of this these areas tend to get the most bait deposited on them. Carp expect food to be there. Wherever you fish. If you are struggling, catapult a few baits out as far as you can comfortably reach in line with a prominent feature on the far bank and chances are you will be fishing a spot that has been pre-baited for years. Give them your food/bait there, present a capable rig and your bobbins will fly.
I baited two areas. One straight in front that I positioned two different presentations over and one to the right on its own.
Before I had set off for France David Keep had asked my if I wanted to use the new Angling Lines Special boilies that had just been released.
This was a bit of a problem for me as I have been sponsored by Nashbait since their inception. Now I like to help people as much as I can so I proposed the following.
I would happily use the bait at the side of my usual bait and give an honest verdict as to how well the fish responded to it, but there was no way I was going to upset the company that had looked after me so well over the years by giving the Angling Lines bait loads of publicity. If you cut me in half my body would probably read Nashbait similar to a broken stick of rock. But, at the same time I was curious about this bait that several of my friends had recently turned to. I would be fishing against it on the Mangrove the following summer and I wanted to know what I would be up against.
David seemed quite happy for me to use it without the hope of any publicity from it. David has known me long enough now to know that I tell it how it is. If something deserves praise I will give it. If I think something can be improved then I will say. I see little point in keeping people happy by saying everything is rosy if it isn’t.
So, here I was with two rods on a bed of hemp, Sticky Baits Bloodworm Pellets (there you are, telling it how it is. I know they aren’t Nashbait but the carp love them both. You won’t brainwash me into thinking only one company’s gear is worth looking at. If I use it I truly think it is good) and a new variant on my much trusted Formula One boilies in three sizes, barrels, 15mm’s and 20mm’s.
The right hand rod had to prove itself. I put the Angling Lines Specials over that and nothing else. As there were no-one else on the lake I kept the two baited patches well apart.
Bernard set up three separate traps with variations on presentation on each. By the time I had finished spodding the light was dropping fast. Then horror of horrors. I was in France without any of those gorgeous little stubby beer bottles. I had forgotten to pick some ‘wind down juice’ up at the supermarket earlier in the day.
Part 4 - We’re fishing!
I was tired by the time I had set the house up and laid back on my bed to reflect what we had been through over the past couple of days. We were still speaking, laughing and joking. I had asked the right person to come away with. I started to doze and begin to relax.
Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I was playing a carp. I was disorientated. I flicked the Petzl from around my neck and onto my head and looked at my watch it was 23:30 hours. I called to Bernard only to find him already stood behind me. The first take had come to the Angling Lines bait on the right hand rod.
“What’s it feel like” He asked.
“Great”. Was my reply.
“No you prat, is it a biggun’”?
“Feels alright”.
I tend to take it pretty easy with the first fish from any venue until I find what the hook hold is like and how tough their lips are. This one just kept going on and on. It seemed an age before I was finally able to draw it over the net held by Bernard. We both peered into the net like a couple of kids looking at their first porn mag’. Well perhaps not but I was letting my writing lead its own course then. It was a common in absolutely stunning condition. You know when you catch these immaculate little commons of around 6-8lb and find yourself commenting along the lines of “can you imagine that 20lb bigger”. Well this was one of those and it was 20lb bigger. 28lb 9oz to be precise. I don’t think I had ever caught a more beautiful carp in my life. Lovely shape and absolutely scale perfect. Its mouth was totally intact complete with a full curtain. It looked as though it had probably hatched from a giant egg only minutes before the take.
We photographed it immediately and I slipped it back muttering “Go fetch me your grandma”.
I was wide awake by this stage and decided to bring my diary up to date whilst Bernard turned the snoring engine back on. At least we wouldn’t be ravaged by any wild animals with that daunting sound going off. Ravaged by wild animals, my mind started to wander back to the TV screen in the hotel room. Mmmmm. Shiney high heeled black waders. Stop it! I’m fishing.
I won’t describe every capture but by first light I had added to my 28lb’er with fish of 17lb 8oz, 23lb 12oz, and 21lb 11oz. Three were on the Angling Lines Specials and one was on my F1’s. Meanwhile Bernard had opened his account with a 26lb’er. Amazingly all the fish so far had been commons.
Day 2
It looked as though the fish were going to be up for a bit of bait so we took the gamble and spent the whole morning filling it in, before winding the baits in at noon to give the swim a rest to go and find a restaurant.
Now I will save you a bit of time if you visit Remy and wish to eat out. It’s all part of the French experience for me. We drove to what appeared to be the nearest town which was Vendeuvre-s Barse. We parked up and failed to find a restaurant which was open. There were kebab houses and the like but personally I don’t choose to go to France for kebabs!
The Strange Rover was losing a lot of water by this stage and we found ourselves having to re-fill it every 20 miles of so. Eventually we found a lovely restaurant that first day which became our main feeding place for the rest of the week although we did try a few others. It was called L’Oree d’ Orient at Mesnil Saint-Pere. Ironically the first thing to greet us as we walked from the bar to the restaurant was a picture of Rod Hutchinson. We were obviously following in the great mans footsteps.
A word here about eating out in France. It would appear that the correct time to go and eat is between 12 noon and 1pm. Bernard has found this in the past after many years of visiting France. The service was noticeably better at this time than if we turned up at say 1.30pm. Worth bearing in mind. Amazingly the French seem unable to speak English after 1.30pm.
We returned to the lake after another steak which was again practically raw. As I have stated, I enjoy my meat with blood but if you don’t make sure you order it well done. This seems to end up similar to if you ordered it medium rare over here. Just a little pointer which may save a ruined meal for you.
Within 20 minutes of re-casting the right hand rod was off again. Finally we had contacted a mirror. Unfortunately not quite as large as we had hoped for. Shortly after another mirror fell to the same rod this one being a low 20.
Six carp so far and only one on my bait. I had baited heavy on the two rods to the left and had put only a moderate baiting of around a kilo on the right hand rod.
Was the right hand bait, the Angling Lines Specials, so much better? Or, had I simply put it in the better area? Had I put too much out over my main two rods? All the usual carp fishing thoughts were going through my mind.
Day 3
01:40 hours. At last, a take on the heavily baited patch, A good scrap unsued with lots of thrashing on the surface. I had my suspicions and yes the torch beam revealed a grass carp. A good one at that - certainly 30lb plus. A lot of carp anglers slate grass carp. Personally I like them. I have never fished anywhere where they have been a particular nuisance. Then again I used to like Sturgeon until I caught 10 x 20’s in a night and found there were only 12 in the lake despite several others being caught around the lake the same night.
Anyway, back to the story. This Grassy managed to get under one of Bernard’s back leaded lines. We started the usual knit one pearl two with the rods and the barbless hook fell out. I was privately gutted. It would have been a personal best Grass Carp had I landed it.
I caught one more fish that night. Another 20lb plus mirror. Bernard had caught two or three as well including a stunning looking common of 35lb. Bernard has been totally spoilt in the past with good French fishing and doesn’t actually get around to weighing many of his fish these days.
Day 4
Again we left the lake to find a restaurant. We were gone longer than before. Filling the motor up with water several times. When on holiday I like to see a bit of the country rather than vegetate on the lake. Besides, I know it definitely helps to let the fish mooch around in the swim with bait there but no lines. The more free bait they get down their necks the more catchable they become.
Upon parking the motor we started to walk back to our swim and was rather shocked to see another vehicle there. I had told Gareth at Angling Lines that if he wanted to bring his TV camera along I would be happy for him to shoot a little footage and hopefully catch him a couple of fish for the Angling Lines promotional DVD. We weren’t expecting him that day but there he was.
We went back to the swim and Gareth followed with camera and big fluffy microphone in tow. If I had known I would have made myself a little more presentable. I hadn’t showered that day and if you have naturally curly hair as I do you will know what a bad hair day is. Still, I’m a carp angler, not a model. So, to hell with it - roll that camera.
We were informed that we had until the following lunch to catch a fish for the camera. I duly obliged with fish of 22lb 8oz, 23lb 15oz, 26lb 8oz (linear), 39lb 14oz and 33lb 8oz! To top it off there was a heavy frost as well. When the pressure is on and the going gets tough……
This nights action had come as a great relief to me. I had decided in the restaurant to semi-abandon the heavily baited two rod area and create another fresh area in a similar fashion to the right hand Angling Lines rod with just boilies in a more realistic amount.
So I had started the night with the left hand rod on the heavily baited patch the mid on a new area and the right hand rod as it had been from the beginning on the AL bait. The new middle rod was baited with three sizes of Formula 1 boilies. About a kilo but nothing else. I spodded these to save time.
The 22.15 common, the 26.08 linear and the 39.14 mirror had all fallen to my beloved Nashbait. The right hand rod had still produced the 22 and 33 but at least it looked as though they were happy to eat my bait too. I simply had to put it in the right place.
The week went on
I see little point in describing every carp I caught. As the week went on my middle rod started to really kick in as the Remy carp tasted the delights of my ever faithful Formula One baits. The right hand rod also carried on producing although the F1’s took over as I ended up abandoning the heavily baited area and put two rods over the F1’s.
To be fair I am sure I would have caught just as many carp had I fished the Angling Lines Specials on all the rods as I would fishing the F1’s on all the rods from the start. It would appear the Remy carp like their food but not a lot at once. Keep it going in and they will keep feeding. I was getting takes shortly after spodding so the baiting doesn’t seem to spook them.
Bernard caught steady through the week as well. Although he had honed his methods to try and select just the larger fish. It’s a gamble that didn’t particularly pay off but he still managed to catch carp each day and they were of a higher than average size compared to mine. So, I guess you could argue it did pay off. Personally I like the bobbins bouncing around too much to try and put the carp off.
The story with the Range Rover continued. We eventually ended up having to be driven off on the back of a low loader to the nearest garage to get a split hose replaced. Another hose blew at another time and we walked several miles for fuel we didn’t need. Land Rovers have character and soul. Bernard had ordered a brand new 4 x 4 just before we set off. That old bloody Range Rover of his knew that.
We drove home without mishap and Bernard commented that it had never run so well. If he had found that split hose a few months earlier he would probably never have ordered a new motor. Such is life.
Until next time - Best fishes from Shaun Harrison.
P.S. our tally for the week was 33 carp to me and 13 to Bernard. Unfortunately we both pulled out of a big fish during the week.
Remy is a marvellous venue. So much so we are both going back a month after returning. It owes us both one of its ‘big’ fish. |
