Second Session: One of Those Things 

I’d planned to arrive at the lake early on Friday morning, but as usual, chores and traffic had other ideas. By the time I reached the syndicate and got myself set up, I was once again putting the rods out in the dark.

I wasn’t expecting much from this trip. The lake is big, and at this time of year the fish don’t give themselves away easily. You have to trust your gut, pick a spot, and hope they pass through.

Saturday morning started with a liner on the right-hand rod that dragged me out of my bedchair and into the cold air. Whether it was a fish or a coot that had dived down and brushed the line, I’ll never know. Either way, I decided to wind all three rods in, refresh the baits, and start again.

All three rods went back out to an area that had produced a fish or two for me this time last year, at around 25½ wraps. I followed up with two spombs of bait flaked maize, micro pellets, and a bit of groundbait mix. It’s a simple, cheap combination that’s worked well for me, so I’ve stuck with it. I also find that because it’s made up of tiny food items, the coots and tufties soon lose interest not much reward for the effort.

As darkness fell, I settled down to watch the snooker on my iPad and get some dinner on the go. It was around half eight, and I was halfway through a bowl of pasta when the right-hand rod gave a few beeps. I poked my head out of the bivvy to see the bobbin had dropped back slightly.

I sat perched on the edge of the bedchair, fully prepared to sprint out into the mud if anything else happened. Moments later, the bobbin slammed into the rod, the alarm burst into life, and the reel started spinning.

I rushed out, grabbed the rod, and leaned into what felt like a decent fish. I flicked on my head torch and reached for the net and just like that, it came off.

I pulled the rod in, checked the hook point still razor sharp rewrapped, and cast straight back onto the spot. A missed opportunity, and one that stung.

I don’t lose fish often, but when I do, I tend to sulk and replay everything in my head, trying to work out what went wrong. With this one, though, I think it was simply one of those things

.

Sunday morning came and went with nothing but rain. I pulled the rods in, packed up, and headed home.

Sometimes the lake gives you answers.

Sometimes it just gives you time to think.