There can be very few anglers who have never wished that they owned their own private lake for the exclusive fishing use of themselves and one or two friends, and even fewer who have been able to realise the dream and take posession of their own corner of nature as an angling playground. However, giving credence to the saying "it's not what you know, it's who you know", I was this evening afforded the opportunity to wet a line in one man's private slice of Arcadia. My friend Matt has an uncle (I realise this is beginning to sound like one of those "friend of a friend of a friend of mine" stories) who owns a handsome property which contains within its grounds a lake dug and stocked for the sole use of himself and a few friends. Matt and I have occasionally fished together in the past (and much more frequently talked about fishing together!) and for some time Matt had promised to take me to his Uncle's lake to pursue some of the rarely fished for inhabitants that swim in its attractively tree fringed depths.
The evening was warm and sultry in the way summer evenings are meant to be, and as we walked round the lake we saw the odd carp basking or patrolling and others giving clues to their whereabouts without necessarily making themselves fully visible. Encouraged by what we'd observed, we set up in adjoining swims and within minutes my bite alarm was indicating a take as a carp powered off towards the middle of the lake. A spirited tussle resulted in defeat for the carp and success for me, and after a few minutes I was admiring a pristene common of around seven pounds.
My banded pellet and Method feeder approach quickly saw two smaller carp follow their larger sibling to the bank before Matt, employing the same tactic, got in on the action with his own hat-trick of carp before the activity subsided and we were able to enjoy and appreciate the serenity of the surroundings without the (admittedly welcome) intrusion of fish.
Matt set up a float rod and managed a couple more carp and a nice ide that would probably have weighed close to two pounds before, and with the light just beginning to fade as the sun sunk lower behind the trees, the screech of my bite alarm indicated that one final common had made a decision it was about to regret and I landed my final carp of the evening.
