Ian Pettitt With the weather dominated by scorching temperatures and high pressure, I arrived at the syndicate knowing it wasn’t going to be straightforward. After a good walk around and chatting with a couple of members, the verdict was the same all round—the lake had been fishing hard but there had been a few out. As I continued my lap, one swim on the end of the south-westerly wind caught my eye. It commanded a good area of water and, more importantly, there was plenty of freshly ripped-up weed in front of it. It looked like fish had been feeding there recently, so the decision was made. For the first night I fished three spots I’d had success on before. Throughout the night I received plenty of liners, which initially filled me with confidence, but by first light it became obvious the carp were much closer in than where I was actually fishing. I left the rods in position until lunchtime before setting about finding some new areas I could present on. While chatting to a couple of mates on the phone, they both mentioned an area to my right that I’d completely overlooked. On their recommendation, I would’ve been daft not to have a proper look. It turned out to be exactly what I was hoping for—a lovely clean spot at the bottom of an island margin, surrounded by fresh weed growth and lily pads on the marginal shelf. For bait, I kept things simple. I crushed up some Cell boilies and mixed them with pellets to create small PVA sticks before casting onto all three spots. I then spread whole Cell boilies over each area with a catapult rather than tightly baiting. There were two reasons for this: firstly, I wanted the fish moving around and grubbing for individual baits rather than feeding in one tight area, and secondly, the resident coots were being an absolute nightmare, making tight baiting almost impossible. That evening and night passed without any action. The next morning, a mate and I had arranged to reel in and head to the local café for breakfast. By the time we returned, the sun was blazing and conditions looked far from ideal, so I decided to leave the swim to rest for a few more hours. Instead, I wandered down to my mate’s swim, enjoyed a couple of cold beers and waited for the evening when I felt my chances would improve. Late that afternoon I returned, repositioned the rods with fresh PVA sticks and Cell Hard Hookers on each rig—just in case another coot fancied investigating—and once again scattered a few catapults of bait over the areas. Just before 9pm, my right-hand rod gave a single bleep. As I looked up, I watched the slack line slowly begin to tighten. I reached the rod just as it bleeped again and the line pulled free from the clip. The fish had already found sanctuary in some light weed to the left of the spot, but steady pressure soon saw it start moving. As I drew it closer, I could see a huge ball of weed coming towards me with an incredibly long carp sticking out behind it. I bundled the whole lot into the net without any drama. As I peeled the weed back from its head and flanks, I instantly recognised one of the lake’s true jewels C-Scale. A magnificent original mirror carp over 40 years old and absolutely stunning without doubt one of my main targets since joining. I quickly got the mat, scales and camera sorted, suspecting it could be lively on the bank after not really having the chance to fight. The scales settled at 34lb 2oz. The first set of photos went smoothly, but when I turned her over to capture her equally stunning other flank, she suddenly came to life. Thankfully I managed to grab a few quick shots before safely slipping it back into the lake, where it powered away strongly. Afterwards I sent the photos over to a few close mates before sitting back and trying to take it all in. If I’m honest, even 24 hours later it still hasn’t fully sunk in. As I sit here writing this, I’m still smiling and can’t quite believe I’ve been fortunate enough to add such an iconic old warrior to my album.