While the majority of the country are sleeping in their homes, a small but significant minority are preparing for another night under the stars.

It would be easy to miss them; most are holed up on private land, camouflaged to the untrained eye. But, increasingly members of this vague association of individuals are appearing in concreted city parks, beside urban canals and in shadows under bridges.

Indeed, such is the growth in popularity of carp angling, that you might find a furtive angler lurking anywhere there is water.

The 1990s changed the face of fishing. The pursuit of carp, one of the biggest and most widespread fish in the country, replaced the stale and outdated tradition of fishing competitively for smaller species

Heron bite alarms, Gardner monkey climbers, Tutti Frutti boilies: all part of a wave of new technology to appear in shops that made catching carp more accessible to the average angler.

A few small companies cashed in on the angler’s desire to hold up a monster for the camera by commercialising decades of know-how, hard-won by a core of pioneering carp fisherman.

Fast-forward to the present and abandon the image you may have of fishermen; tins of worms and soggy roll-ups are nowhere in sight.

Upon glistening stainless steel stands sit rods and reels worth thousands of pounds. Behind, anglers relax upon portable beds inside drab-green tents waiting for the electronic squeal that will alert them that a fish has taken the bait.

That bleep could come at any time, night or day - it might never come at all. That depends on the angler.

This encapsulates one of the most fascinating aspects of the modern carp fishing phenomenon. While the tens of thousands who participate in the sport might seem to have much in common, the opposite is often true.

Some choose to dedicate months, and even years, to catching a handful of fish from vast inland seas; relishing the accompanying solitude. Other seek a quicker catch from smaller, busier lakes where socialising is an equal part of the experience. The majority fall somewhere in the middle, balancing time and money constraints with the desire to taste success.

The carp fishing fraternity is as broad and diverse a group of people as you could hope to find. ‘Carpers’ come from all backgrounds, and beside a lake is one of the few places that a company director might speak uninhibited with factory-floor workers.

It might seem a strange goal, to carefully unhook, hold for a photo and release such large fish. But, the appeal comes from deep within, tapping into our most primeval instincts.

The sense that the ‘real world’ does not penetrate into fishing life, and that the bankside is a place to escape to, might also explain why so many spend so much time (and money) in their pursuit. In difficult times, it is hardly surprising to find that carpers end up hidden in the most unlikely of places.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on the articles, photos, links and session blogs on the site. Once I’m back in a position to start fishing again (I can’t imagine i’ll be able to stay away for long!), the site will be updated again.

Tight lines to you all!

My search online brought me to Etang Baudy, owned by English couple Wally and Jan Holder under the name ‘Wallyswaterways‘. From the off, the lake looked unusual - the pictures on the website showed a lake in a relatively urban setting instead of the usual tree-lined banks. Despite this, the owners’ insistence that this wasn’t a runs water and my nagging suspicion that the lake was actually much more mature and secluded than it looked, were enough to persuade me this was the venue for me.

On arrival, the lake looked great and as Wally and Jan walked me round and talked me through each swim I was getting good vibes about the session. The weather was overcast for a change, in fact I had driven through some heavy drizzle to get there, and amongst the lilies and islands I felt sure I’d find a fish or two. Some of the swims looked very ‘carpy’ indeed, but when Wally referred to the unfished end of the lake, my appetite was wet: that instinct to strike out and try new things could be indulged again, and I was soon boating my gear across the lake into swim 2.

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Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, by the time 6pm rolled around the bait wasn’t defrosted. I wasn’t overly concerned, I had put about a kilo of boilies in the night before after packing up, and threw together a mix of large halibut pellets, tigernut boilies and the very last of my pellet and hemp mix from the week before. This was spodded out in a much tighter area than usual, and the rods were cast a couple of yards closer too. My thinking was that the carp always seemed to arrive late in the session, and the more spread out the bait was, the less likely my hookbait was to get picked up.

I settled in and sat back back to watch the lake. The weather had been grey and showery all day, and the wind that was hacking towards me had a distinct nip to it. Despite all that, I felt confident of a bite - or perhaps that should be just ‘hopeful’ of a bite to end my recent dip in form?

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Passing the lake on the way to and from work, I decided to call in at lunchtime to show my Dad exactly where I had been catching these fish from, and just why I always sounded so pleased with myself. Whilst I was there, it seemed foolish not to top up the spot with a little more bait, and 100 boilies were put out in the throwing stick (which i’ve yet to master, but the results are improving…).

Arriving that evening to fish, I quickly had the rods out on their spots and before the third lead had even touched down I was getting attention from the bream on the other rods. I eventually got all three settled and pondered what to do about bait. I had some hemp and pellet ready to spod out, but if fish were already in the swim was it worth it? I mulled it over for a while and decided to go for it, since I didn’t want to be ‘cleaned out’ by the time the carp arrived later on. 15 spods of pellet and hemp later and then each rod recast with a small PVA bag of the same, and I was confident of another bite.

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After one of these visits on monday, when the conditions were perfect and I was really kicking myself for not getting organised in time to take the rods along, I arrived on tuesday evening at about 6pm. By half past i was getting the rods re-rigged with fresh hooks after my exploits elsewhere led me to question the use of a barbless curved shank hook (see here for more info), and by 7pm I was finally cast out and baited up with a few boilies and around 15 spods of pellet and hemp mix.

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After a couple of weekend sessions on the river, and having guests stay for a little while, I was finally able to get back to where I should be: scratching my head by the side of the lake and forcing myself to fish harder and better. I hadn’t been able to keep away from the lake, and even though not fishing it I had been down another four or five times for a look around (guests in tow!). One of these occasions was somewhat surreal, when I arrived to find 14 teams of carp anglers bivvied up and fishing a four-day competition on the lake. I knew the ‘Enduro’ was taking place, but it was hard to imagine the scale of it. I was used to seeing the lake largely deserted, with perhaps an occasional French trout angler. So you can imagine the shock when I walked round to chat to some of the guys - one thing I will say is that ‘Continental Carping’ is a different beast altogether to the sport that I know.

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