Boothsmere Uncut: Part 1 - Boothsmere Buses…

We arrived at Boothsmere early on a frosty November morning having checked in through the security offices. First impressions of the lake made us realise the size of the venue. At twelve acres this was to be our first big step onto the typical Cheshire mere. The lake appeared to be an open expanse of featureless water, with marginal reeds and an occasional clump of dying lilies along the meadow bank. With stocking levels of about 40-50 carp this was to provide us with a serious challenge for the coming season. With a long ‘meadow’ stretch, a long reed bed and a wooded ‘back wall’ section there totalled 12 pegs and 7 platforms, these being set amongst the dense south facing reed beds.

We had been shown the lake the week previously and had instantly decided to obtain memberships. The following weekend saw us making the long haul from the car park to the back wall. A walk of about a mile and a half.  Not! We collapsed, two knackered anglers, too knackered to go any further, on ‘tench corner’ realising that a serious overhaul of the kit would be in order for us to get any further round!

Oh Well this looked as good a spot as anywhere. We set up and proceeded to mark out the features of the lake. For the first 5 or so yards the bottom of the lake was clear, after which it was absolutely choked with weed so thick that it was hard to reel in. This weed was hornwort, a rootless, clump forming species that covers the bottoms of the Cheshire meres. It appeared to have about a foot of water above it, all the way out. We checked the area to our left and found no change. Having felt the leads hit the bottom, Peg 2 seemed a little clearer, but trying to find the same spot twice was nigh on impossible. Ritchie got up an oak tree and came down with a glum face, “the whole lake is choked” he groaned. Oh well back to the kit and a rethink.

I tied up three bags of pellet and crumbed boilie’s and launched those skywards 100, 70 and 40 yards. Sorted. Not much more I can do I thought, kit organised and kettle on. After an uneventful night we reeled in heavily weeded rigs and decided a walk round the lake was in order. On the back wall we met a couple of anglers ‘ Potter’, ‘Stoner’ and a couple of bailiffs ‘Bash’ who we would later become good friends with and ‘Stuart’ who we would see little of throughout the year. Potter we immediately noticed had two rods on the rests with unbaited hooks. It turned out he had just returned what he described as a small carp at about 18lb! Well if that’s small I’m going to be a happy chap on here I thought. Bash proceeded to show us pictures of some of the larger residents in the lake. ‘The common’ and two big mirrors ‘Scaley’ and ‘Big scale’ instantly caught the attention of both Ritchie and I.  After a chat with these lads, it turned out that there were some clear spots on tench corner but you had to look hard to find them. That was it, back round we went to start chucking leads again. We did find some clear spots but they were not of any size. Potter caught another fish that weekend and from what we could see, it seemed to be quite sizeable. We caught nothing over the weekend but left happy and full of promise as to how to approach the lake the following week.

It would actually be on a freezing cold mid December night before any fish were to grace the banks to either of us. We had been fishing the back wall since our second weekend much to the annoyance of Potter. The reasons were obvious, he had had success! Plus, the weed problem was nowhere near as bad over this side. I had found a nice clear strip of clay at about 40 yards out and had been feeding these spots for a few weeks. Fish were still gracing the banks for Potter no matter where he fished, but neither Ritchie nor I could buy a take. We were down but not about to give up yet. Just as light was starting to break on the Saturday morning, Ritchie’s right hand rod went off like a rocket. He hit it and the rod went round and kept on going. The fish was going mad. Then ping nothing, it was off. Ritchie’s face said it all, there was nothing I could say, I turned and put the kettle on.

With eyes on the water we sat around glumly for the rest of the day not really saying much, both feeling that we had been cheated. It was obviously a good fish, and a chance missed. The night closed in early but we were adamant we were going to watch the lake for signs of fish activity. The security lights from the offices in the distance enabled us to see right across to the far bank. All night we watched but saw nothing. It went below zero that night and whilst shivering in my bag, eventually sleep came to me. I was blasted out of it in the early hours by the sound of Ritchie shouting my name. “I’ve got another one on” he said. I looked out to see him with rod fully curved into what appeared to be a good fish; it was still taking line and heading towards the snaggy sunken island to the right. He managed to turn it and under steady pressure gradually ease it towards the net; the fight seemed to last a lifetime but eventually it was in the net first time. I lifted it and smiling turned to Ritchie and said “good lad there’s the first 20”

She was near leather, with just a few scales along her dorsal fin, of huge proportions weighing in at just over 24lb. There and then she was sacked up, for the remaining hours of darkness in the peg along from our position, and left to settle in peace. Kettle on, we were buzzing!  The fish, we later found out was known as “No Name”, (stupid really) and was of her standard weight. She was photographed at first light and returned, she bowed out in a big way as she left the swim, straight towards the snag island she had been trying to get to during the fight. We left that morning full of hope and cheer gagging to get back before we had even got our kit to the car park. We fished another couple of weekends right through to the freeze up in mid January, this was to last for about three weeks, and by the time we were able to get back there, Ritchie’s baby was well due and he didn’t want to be that far away, which was fully understandable. It was to be late February when we could make another visit.

Boy was this place hard. We had fished Friday till Sunday morning for the last 10 weekends, for one loss and a twenty, not counting numerous Coots, Grebes and Mallards, what have I got to complain about, well I hadn’t had a touch, yet. Although it was winter I was used to catching carp in the heavily stocked Lymm waters. I got us a guest permit for a day session on Belmont Pool and sneaked us on the evening before, big mistake we got collared, and I was shortly after kicked out of the club, oh well you live and learn but it serves as a lesson to all. However, I guess this was the break away from these pasties waters that I needed. It was Boothsmere or bust from now on.

March came and was nearly over before fish started to get seen and caught, Potter had shown up again and was starting to catch on peg 1 in the shallows, this had to be worth checking out. Seeing as when we plumbed it we found no more than 18 inches of water we had discounted the peg as useless. Big mistake, Potter had 14 fish in a 5 day session! Good angling.  His catch comprised mainly of the newest stockies ‘the Simos’ with a couple of the ‘ocean fish’ and a twenty. We were never sure which one it was, he’s a sly one that lad.

By mid April I was starting to feel like there was something seriously wrong with my rigs, Ritchie had had a good session on the shallows with a few Simo’s and  a heavily plated mirror known as ‘Albert’ at just over 20lb. I had started to fish tench corner again as often as I could get on it as the weed had died off during the winter and hadn’t started growing back just yet. Whilst my rods were out, I got up into the alders at the edge of my swim and had a look about with the polarising glasses on. There was my braid going out to my lead core and rig and bait, all nice and visible. Shit - this was 30 yards out, if I could see it then I’m damn sure the carp could see it too, that would explain the couple of times fish had bowed out from in front of me. Down the tree I went and dragged all the rods in. Gutted, had I been wasting the last 5 months? I went and chatted to Ritchie, telling him of my predicament. Ok, shock leaders on. We had a look at the rigs in the water much better at least the braid stopped 6 yards away from my rigs. After a few other refinements comprising of me coming off braided hook-lengths and going onto combi rigs with 2 inch supple braided hook-lengths, I was reasonably happy to put this set up in the water, it was pretty much invisible from the point where the shock leaders joined the braid, my confidence was back.

A week later saw me back on tench corner, fishing 2 rods at range where we had seen fish regularly show in the last few weeks, brimming with confidence, all rods in, baited and settled. With no other anglers near on this bank, except Ritchie fishing on peg 2, I had quite a large area to myself.  Once the old close season had arrived so had a lot of lads from Redesmere, the lake was very busy with all pegs taken by the Friday evening. Two people we spoke to and got on well with, Chris and Rob, both seemed pretty sound lads. Well between myself and Chris, nobody else had fished tench corner for weeks, he had been catching a few good fish from range and the occasional fish off a small set of reeds next to the peg. This weekend he had seen some fish moving on the far bank and gone round to the back wall. Friday came and went uneventful as usual, this was becoming routine, Mid-day Saturday and I’m lounging in the sun with my chair next to the rods, watching, when a good fish rolled where I was really sure I had a bait. The bobbin hit the rod and went off on one. The line ripping off the spool, I had forgotten what I had to do! Seconds went by when I finally got to grips with rod and fish, this was a lump!

Ritchie had seen what had gone on from his peg, dragged his rods in and arrived before I had the fish under control, with net in the water he crouched patiently for me to tire the fish out, in first time, Yessss! A Boothsmere 20 for sure as my first fish. I lost the plot and Ritchie had to do the weighing and treating, good lad. All I got to do was hold it for the camera. The fish had a huge frame for its weight and had a two tone colouring. It was recognised as ’Scar tail’ and weighed in at a personal best of 22lb exactly.

Elated we slipped her back and watched her swim away unperturbed by what had just happened to her. Me, I was a mess. We sat, and I smoked, and drank coffee. I couldn’t even be bothered to bait up and recast. I said a strange thing to Rich as we sat, “How big are the biggies going to look!” About 40 minutes later as we were still chatting I got a bleep on my other range rod, as I turned to look at the bobbin the whole rod shook and the alarm started to scream and the reel give line, lots of it.

A bow wave cut across the lake heading out towards the centre, I was not ready for this, my arm still hurt. With words of encouragement from Ritchie I made a better job of playing this fish and soon had an enormous fish ploughing up and down the margins in front of us, not wanting to give itself up. Minutes later she rolled into my net, Ritchie lifted and let out a shout, “you got Big scale!” We placed her on the mat and settled her down, gradually pouring water over her, she was long and deep, I had never seen a fish of these proportions outside of magazines.

I trembled so much during the weighing that Ritchie did a proper job and she finally settled the scales round to 29lb exactly, another personal best 40 minutes after the last one...

Boothsmere buses!

Phil Wain