On a busy club water in the countryside of Essex lies a lovely, picturesque gravel pit, home to some of the best commons I have caught. I’d had the ticket for this club water for a few years before even casting a rod in the waters of this particular lake. I’d been on many reccies around the lake and, seeing the crowds of anglers swarming the banks when the open season starts in May, I thought I’d bide my time and wait to fish it in winter.
Summer was busy anyway, rolling bait most days and only getting the odd quick overnighter in. I think I only did about eight nights through the summer altogether. These nights were literally all about turning up as the light was fading, getting the rods out with minimal disturbance, getting my head down to sleep, then back up again early morning to get myself back to the factory for more bait rolling. I quickly accepted that this might be more of a winter water and would suit targeting one of the 40s from this busy lake.
It’s funny because, in those eight or so nights, I didn’t really meet or talk to any of the other anglers unless I bumped into them in the car park due to late nights and early morning pack-downs. Through those sessions I had a couple of mid-double commons and a few low 20s, but nothing like one of those special old big commons that I wanted in my photo album. I gave it May to August doing little reccie trips, then soon knocked it on the head.
If I was going to trick one of the old mega commons into the net, I had to be putting in daylight hours and finding spots and areas I believed they would feed on. It was a funny summer on there and not much really happened, but I suppose this is a good time to say it turned out to be more of a winter campaign, be a bit of a terrible story otherwise.
Anyway, as summer turned to autumn and October was nearing, I was keen as mustard and started tying rigs and chopping and changing ideas over and over in my head about how I was going to tackle this campaign. You know how it is, you get down to the lake and think, yeah, I’m confident I’ll have a couple out this month. Oh, how wrong I was.
The first session down there I aimed for the deep-water pegs and packed my barrow, almost running around the lake with it, that’s how buzzing I was to officially start. I soon found a deep silty area, but that nice firm silt where you’d expect carp to be rooting around. Two single choddies cast out: a Cherry Bakewell pink on one rod and a White Cheese & Garlic on the other.
As night drew in, I was expecting a run. I had carp showing over me all night, so many topping that I genuinely couldn’t sleep. I eventually drifted off in the early hours, only for a couple of bleeps on the left-hand rod to wake me. The Bakewell rod was away. The fish took line immediately and felt decent, staying deep and slowly ticking mono off the clutch. I don’t think it was on for more than 30 seconds before PING I was cut off. Absolutely gutted to lose one that felt like a good fish.
Not what you want on your first session back, but I was thankful the Bakewells were working their magic. They’ve always done me well in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, so I knew they’d play a key part in this campaign. After speaking to a couple of anglers, they told me there was a big sharp gravel bar running along the deep corner. Valuable information. Mono spools were packed away and braid was going on.
I returned to the same spot for the next couple of sessions, doing 48-hour stints, but the spot died a death. No shows, no bites, no liners. The carp had clearly done the off. By late November, I hadn’t had a single fish out. Speaking to other anglers, it had been a terrible month all round, with only the odd carp showing and none of the named ones coming out.
I started December in the deep end again but favoured a different corner, away from where I’d lost the early fish. A south-westerly was forecast, low pressure, and temperatures up to 12°C bang on. Wind direction played a massive part in this mission going forward, but I’ll touch on that later.
As luck would have it, an angler was just finishing his session as I arrived, 48-hour limit on the lake, which I actually like as it keeps things fair. I jumped straight in, had a quick walk around, but knew in my mind I was staying put.
It was warm enough to be walking around in trousers and a T-shirt. My tactics changed from single choddies to solid bags, which proved crucial. I dropped a Butter Crunch Eruption Mix solid bag down a deep channel, paired with a trimmed-down Bakewell hookbait, fished KD-style on a size 6 ESP Clawhammer. These have always been my favourite hook pattern. There like a wide gape, beaked point, and ridiculously sharp.
The bite came the next morning out of the blue. A couple of bleeps, then a drop-back. I struck into the fish and it powered off toward a bay to my right. With braid ticking off a tight clutch and an overhanging tree making things awkward, I kicked my trainers off and waded in up to my knees. That gave me just enough room to guide it past the branches.
As I stretched the net out, the carp twisted and turned. My first winter 30lb common was in the net. Cherry Bakewell and Butter Crunch doing the business. A few quick self-takes and she was slipped back, as I felt there was more to be had.
A week later I returned to the same corner and banked another, this one at 22lb. After that, the spot completely died again, so it was time to rethink.
Some research on YouTube and Google revealed valuable information: January was the month. The big girl had a habit of showing herself, and the previous year she’d topped 50lb. No wonder the banks were busy, even in winter. Familiar faces, regular updates, and talk of which of the five special 40s had been out.
After a brief freeze following New Year, I was back down. New spot, same solid bags. I found a mega smooth silty zone to the right and a firmer gravel spot to the left. At 1:30am, a couple of bleeps woke me on a bitterly cold night, so cold I was sleeping in a thermal woolly hat, essential for a baldy like me.
A fairly tame fight followed, and within minutes a classic dark winter common lay in the net at just over 27lb. A welcome bite, but things went quiet again for a few sessions, apart from the odd liner.
A cold south-easterly arrived, and after a walk around the lake I decided to fish just off the back of the wind, tucked into a sheltered swim with tree cover. Something in my gut told me to stay put. I fished both rods into silt, solid bag and Bakewell on one, and a new fishmeal single on the other. (This fish meal will be coming out spring time)
That night felt special. Rumours of a special common being caught days before lifted everyone’s spirits. I nodded off around 11:30pm. What felt like seconds later, the right-hand rod was away.
As I approached, the left rod tightened and started slowly bending round. I picked it up, convinced I’d lost it, until a twitch in the braid and absolute meltdown. The fish powered along the margin, staying deep. A proper battle.
Eventually, she was mine. One look in the net and I said to myself, “that’s a 40, easy”. The Wide back, massive frame. The scales settled at 48lb 6oz. Mission complete.
I woke another angler a few pegs up for photos. A top bloke, happy to help, reminding me this was a moment to savour. After photos and recovery, she was sent back home. Heart Tail, one of the A-team. Ticked off the list of these specia commons.
After all that chaos, I didn’t expect another, but the right-hand rod was away again. A mid-30 common followed to cap off an unforgettable brace.
A mega experience and the journey continues as I chase another one of those big, old, special dark commons through the winter months.
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