Those of you who are regular readers of this blog will remember that last year I spent a lot of time fishing a public lake, where I had several small carp and a couple of high doubles. At the time I remember the euphoria surround the capture of these ‘wild’ carp, and looking back I regard them as some of my best fishing achievements of 2007, largely because they were the result of a plan which was considered and executed, and ultimately worked. Though the fish weren’t large by most standards, there were undoubtedly uncaught and very pretty.

Over the winter I was discouraged to hear that the lake was being drained, as is the the way with many French lakes. I’m not entirely sure why they do this: maintenance of the dams and monks is probably one of the principal reasons, along with management of the trout population. I was disappointed to hear the news of the impending ‘vidange’ for a number of reasons, the largest of which was that the carp may not be replaced. Officially, everything would go back in, but I had my doubts that the larger specimens I was certain resided within would make their way back. Other lakes I’ve heard of being drained have had their carp moved off to private waters or other public lakes without explanation.

Even so, I took advantage of the drain-down to go along and see exactly what the lake looked like empty. I knew it was snaggy, and full of stumps, but the extent of this blew me away. I had been fishing in a jungle! Obviously this wasn’t something I was exactly proud of, but I can say that I never lost a fish in these sngas - leads aplenty, but never a fish. In truth, what the photos below don’t show is the old river bed that I was fishing into, which remained relatively clear. This explained why most of the snags I hit were on the retrieve.

Anyway, I spied a few areas that were clear enough to fish, in particular, the area I had fished last November and managed one small carp from. So with a few photos as reference I was looking forward to another crack at the lake this season - whether or not the best of the stock would still exist was another matter. The facts are that this is a beautful lake, largely deserted and the only place I can legally night fish within an hour’s drive, so I was going to give it a go.

Following my early retreat from the river, as detailed in ‘A Tale of Two Rivers… Part II’, I had a night free to fish somewhere - so the Grand Etang was the obvious choice. After getting freshened up and licking my wounds after the flooded river, I packed up some food and headed out. My plan wasn’t exactly subtle, but it had worked last year and I had no reason to think it wouldn’t work again: pick a mark on the silty river bed and bait it heavily.

I arrived at the lake and immediately saw some changes. The old access road I had used to fish in ‘the jungle’ was now barred off with a big ‘Private’ sign. Ignoring that (when in Rome…), I fought my way on foot to the water’s edge and tried to complete a lap of the lake to get a feel for it. This proved to be pointless and impossible since the track had overgrown to the extent that it was neither comfortable to walk, nor offered much of a view of the water. So I returned to the main car park and began to unpack where I had planned to fish.

The marker went out and the silty bottom was easy to feel against the gravelly slopes, so I clipped up and marked both my other lines at the same distance. By this time, French anglers were returning from their lunch and beginning to surround me, and upon seeing my carp tackle started grumbling to each other in words that I only learned whilst playing footie for the local French side! Ignoring that, I finished spodding out a couple of kgs of pellet and boillies, and got the rod on the mark with a tiny PVA bag on each.

The afternoon was hot and clear, and my rods remained motionless until dusk when I recast for the night. By this time most of the locals had disappeared and I began to relax for the first time - I’m not a sociable angler at the best of times, but when you’re surrounded by rude idiots it’s even less bearable. Anyway, as darkness fell the clouds gathered and huge storms began to rumble all around. This continued into darkness and I was lucky that most seemed to pass me by, whilst still allowing the spectacular views of fork lightening.

The night passed with only a single bleep to one rod, and consistent and at times torrential, rain. Still, I was warm and dry and enjoying being back out on this lovely lake. I packed up in the morning a little surprised that I hadn’t seen any action at all, I felt I should have had something, but I suppose that’s fishing - and given my luck so far that weekend I couldn’t be too shocked!

On the way home I called in at another lake I’ve been eyeing up with a view to fishing, because there had been a one-off carp ‘Enduro’ there and I was very interested to find out the results. Luckily I spotted a carp angler on his way back to the car park and had a little chat. I mentioned where I fished last night, and spotted something flash behind his eyes…

“The Grand Etang?”

“Shit.”

Oh well, I had had my doubts, but there was no denying I was pretty gutted. Not because I had been fishing a lake with no carp in for the last 24 hours, but because my time on there had been brought to an end. I know the source isn’t 100% official, but the news tied in with both the total absence of any activity the night before and ,thinking about it in retrospect, the shifty attitude of the locals when I asked about the vidange (drainage). It makes me angry that this all happened in secret, and that the lake is still listed as a ‘Carp’ venue in all the yearly publications you receive when buying your carte de peche. I have no reason to really doubt what the guy was saying, after all it’s not as if anyone else ever fished there and wanted to put me off.

I’ll probably still fish it again some time, just to make sure, and because if diesel keps going up I won’t be able to drive any further to fin somewhere I can night fish!

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