Late Availability

One Lakeside cottage available this week-end - call for details.

Andy, John & Brian

 just a note to thank you for another trip to Lonsdale, relaxing week once again with good company, john and bri giving me a run for my money and catching fish in such wonderful condition each having doubles. my best 14, 15 common, john 12,1 ghostie, bri took the spoils with a wonderful looking classic mirror at 17 lb we had tench, roach, chub and a 7lb 8 oz pike carp just under 10lb also had by all. thank to all, see you in September.

Thanks for taking the time to send us over these photos Andy. Pleased you enjoyed your week & see you again in September.

The Colonel Cracks His Merlin Carp Duck

The Colonel Cracks His Merlin Carp Duck                                   11^th April 2014

‘Come in, let’s have a cuppa and a chat before you start’, were the words that greeted me as I arrived at Willow Pool. Paul was striding towards me from his workshop where he is restoring yet another of his beloved Land Rovers. Although he brushes it off lightly as ‘just like assembling meccano’, I have great respect for the man and his skills in restoration of both Land Rovers and rally spec Porsches. What’s more, he appreciates and makes a fine cup of tea.

Paul had another new loose leaf tea blend that he wanted me to sample, so we supped and set the world to rights for a quarter hour or so. Simple pleasures, tea and good company, for sure. During our conversation, Paul happened to mention the Carp had taken to holing up overnight around the timber platform at the poolside. He hadn’t visited the water’s edge yet, as he’d had other things to do, so they may just still be there even at this late hour. In that case, I’d tackle up the Edward Barder Merlin with a barbless hook only and dunk a piece of crust seductively in the hope of tempting a Golden Scaley One, in true ‘old school’ fashion!!!!!

In eager anticipation, with the tingle of excitement that five plus decades of fishing hasn’t dulled, I assembled the Merlin, a newly serviced Mitchell 410, loaded with 6 lb Maxima and a size 8 barbless hook. Ready in a trice, I crept stealthily down to the poolside with a decent sized lump of Sainsburys ‘Basics’ bread crust impaled on my steel. The pool was flat calm, sun peaking through light sporadic cloud with the evocative mewing of two buzzards in a blue sky the only sounds breaking the peaceful quiet of my day.

To increase the weight for casting, I dipped the crust in the margin on my way to the wooden platform, crouching as low as my gammy old knee permits. Come to think of it, ‘casting’ as such wasn’t actually required; all I did was poke Merlin’s tip a foot beyond the jetty end and backwind the white wonder down to the surface and whatever ‘monsters’ lurked beneath. My mind reversed  some 60 years, to Sunday afternoons with my family, on our Kew Gardens picnics. I used to pocket half my sandwiches and, while my parents and sisters lay back dozing in the sun, I’d creep, crouching low ( without the restriction of a ‘gammy knee’), down to the lakeside, next to a protruding reed bed. There, I’d flick out my dismantled sandwich, to sit seductively by the reed stems. But they did not sit too long, for, from the murky depths, a pair of over large, white, rubbery lips would rise, ghostlike to suck noisily at the fluffy flakes. Eventually they would all disappear, engulfed by those mysterious lips, leaving only telltale vortices and a trembling seven year old in their wake. That sixty year old memory was soon to become a present day reality.

The ever softening crust wavered imperceptibly as the water surface ‘humped’ with the vortex resulting from movement of something unseen, yet of significant size, below. You’ll be aware of that feeling of ‘knowing’, of second guessing something is about to happen; Yatesy calls it ‘sixth sense’, I call it my third eye. From the murk they appeared, those lips from my childhood long past, became an adult, old age even, reality. The ghostly lips apparition, near tennis ball size, confident and fearless, sucked down Sainsburys’ cheapest and my steel with it. Was it my trembling hand causing the line to twitch or the hidden monster as he sank into the gloom with his prize? I got my answer when I wound Mitch’s handle and heaved Merlin skyward.

Merlin arched over through his whole length as my quarry was firmly tethered to me by line and hook, whereupon, somewhat puzzled by this new experience, he allowed his full weight to sink him further towards the bottom of the pool. Puzzlement changed to a degree of concern; he thrashed his mighty tail in an effort to rid himself of this minor irritation, rising up and giving me a good view of his profile. Trembling hands became trembling knees. By George, he was a corker. I clearly saw the swivelling, devilish eye and thought of Walter, the elusive 40!!!! Six pound line………Oh, no, not again. He sensed my mild panic, turned and powered off towards the right and centre of the pool.

This action was the kindest, to me, of all his options and I was able to control my building sense of the inevitable, backwinding the trusty old Mitch but only giving line on condition the beast gave me a goodly portion of his energy. If I could keep him in this ‘open’ area of the pool, I had a small chance and, with luck, he could well end up being mine. I turned my head towards the direction of Paul’s workshop and gave a hearty whistle through drying lips. It was loud and shrill enough but he didn’t hear over the noise of the drill, grinder or whatever machine was in his hands. ‘Yer on yer own with this one, Colonel’, I realised. ‘All the more credit if I do grass this beauty unaided then’, said Mr Positive on my right shoulder, ‘Crikes!!!!!’ came back the voice on my left.

With restored composure and gathering confidence, I stuck pretty much to my plan and the big fella responded in kind. With the longer line, larger snag free area, Merlin handled the fight admirably. Just two minor heartstopping tries for the reeds on either flank were halted with Merlin applying telling side strain and the prize was tantalisingly close. The fish was now sufficiently played out, then the time about which I had most concern approached. My worries increased the first time my prey gulped air; I could clearly see the bronze of the hook just behind the front of the top lip but worse, the bend of the hook was visible, and a goodly portion of it too. ‘That’s gonna fly out any moment!!!’, the voice on my left shoulder squealed. ‘Stay calm and keep a tight line’, my friend on the right whispered.

Twice the fish was wallowing well within the net and twice I didn’t have the strength to lift because I’d had to sink the mesh so deep, being unable to raise the sheer bulk of the beast due to the light line and hook hold. Drastic action was required. Third time, with the fish in the centre of the deeply sunken mesh I’d risked loosening my grasp on Merlin, resulting in a fully slack line, and with both hands heaved the net arms free of the water surface, at the same time securing my precious Merlin to the landing net pole. Despite screams of ‘The hook will fall out and you’ll lose ‘im’, from my left shoulder, the prize was mine, and I was a shattered but happy Colonel.

I secured the fish in the landing net through one of the jetty posts and went in search of Paul. He was in his workshop. His initial concern at seeing me pale and visibly shaken in the doorway soon cleared when he heard of my success with one of Willow Pool’s ‘big’uns’. Such is his concern for all his fish, he then took over the weighing, photographing and return of this lovely specimen. The return was not uneventful either. Paul returned the fish gently via the landing net to keep discomfort to the minimum. Discomfort to the fish that is, not necessarily it’s captor; whilst manoeuvring  the net and pole he swung round and caught me on the back of the head with the end of the handle. I rubbed my bruised bonce while he laughed his socks off!!!!!!

And, oh yes, the fish? A stunning Mirror Carp, a few ounces over the magic ‘20’.

Short Breaks

Limited accommodation available for short breaks.

See booking page at www.lonsdalepark.co.uk