THE common carp, when ‘in the pink’ (or, as I should prefer it, ‘the gold’), puzzles some unobservant people why it should be such a powerful fighter. To understand the reason, you should watch big carp on a hot day in summer when they are lying on the surface. If possible, you should be on some eminence above the water where you can look down upon them. There they lie, always in the exact centre of the pool, well out of harm’s way, listlessly lolling sideways as they expose their motionless flanks to the rays of the warming sun. You will notice one thing immediately. The fish (I am speaking of the big ones) are very thick through the shoulders; the body (observed from behind and above) is seen to taper off in a fine ‘stream-line’, more accentuated in the carp perhaps than in any other British fish. Here lies much of the secret; the rest lies in his very large pectoral fins. These, when the fish is ‘lolling’, are set at an angle of about 45° to the body. When the fish is resting on the bottom of the pond, these fins act as props. It is these powerful driving ‘screws’, combined with the broad shoulders and the tapered body, which enable him to drive through the water at a speed which I estimate to be in the region of 40 miles an hour and I am giving a low estimate. Remember, I have been a habitual carp fisher for thirty years so I speak from experience.1 A tench will sometimes display a considerable ‘first run’ when hooked, precisely for the same reason, for that species has powerful spoon-like pectoral fins but not the stream-lined body. Tench, by the way, are very similar to carp in their habits and are sometimes as wily though, when they are on the feed, you may catch large quantities of handsome fish.

But to return to the carp. His eye is small and full of porcine cunning. The tail, unlike that of the tench which is bold and broad, is forked. Carp, like other fish, vary in colour according to their environment. I have seen golden bronze common carp, and dark greeny-bronze specimens, and yet others almost a smoky-black. In my favourite carping pool in Devon, about which I shall have much more to say later on, they are all the latter variety, though I must admit they appear more ‘smoky’ when in the water than when they are on the bank. These particular fish are fighting fit and as bright and perfect as a ‘newly minted’ dace, fresh from a clear stream. Like all fish, carp are darker on the back and pale on the belly. The fins and tails are slightly tinged with bronzey-red in some specimens) but have not the rufus hue of the Crucian. The mirror carp is always of the smoky variety – some are quite slatey-grey in tone.

You may attempt to catch carp in three ways. (I would ask the reader to bear in mind I am only speaking of big carp.) You may ledger for them, usually by far the deadliest method – and you may try to outwit them by floating bread crusts and you may fish for them in mid-water. Any book on coarse fishing will give details of ledgering for carp and it is a straightforward business. Personally, I use no cast whatever. I find that, in most carp water, there are weeds and snags – fallen trees and branches – and, when hooked, your fish will dash straight for these. If you are using a fine gut cast (no self-respecting carp of any size will ever be captured on gut stouter than 3x in clear water) they will invariably break you. You will have had the satisfaction of knowing what the first run of a big carp is like but that is all. The usual tackle recommended by anglers who have not specialized in carp fishing is a 2x cast, dyed to harmonise with the pond bed – a ten or twelve foot rod and a 3½ inch Sheffield reel. Some recommend a No. 8 hook. Albert Buckley caught his twenty-six pounder on roach tackle. But then it must be remembered he had open deep water in which to wage his battle and there were few obstructions. Nevertheless his was a great achievement, only those who have played and lost big carp can know just how notable it was.

If you have a clear open water without obstructions, then I would say, by all means, fish as fine as you can, use roach tackle as Buckley did, but I know of no carp water other than Mapperly where such ideal conditions obtain.

Your average big carp water is large, surrounded or partially surrounded by trees. Old mine shafts and flooded workings are frequently inhabited by carp and trees usually grow round such places after a lapse of time. Again, as the years pass, the trees decay and fall into the pool and, once this happens, the giants are secure against anything the angler can do short of netting and draining the place. A big fish, in his first rush, will take out 100 yards of line. No other coarse fish will do this, save perhaps a barbel which is a very powerful fighter, almost as powerful perhaps as a carp.

So your reel must be a large one. I use a Milward sea reel made of bakelite. This reel, which is fitted with a check and can be used as a spinning reel, holds 200 yards of tapered line. It pays to use good line – the very best quality, with a 9lb breaking strain. I am wholly in agreement with those writers who advocate a strong rod – I use a Wallis Wizard rod – a doughty weapon specially made for me by Allcocks of Redditch. Most important of all, I never use a gut cast. Up to 1946 I always did so and lost every big fish I hooked, due to ‘snaggy’ water, save once, in the case of a 20 lb fish which I lost through a piece of sheer absent-mindedness as will be described later. And then a friend suggested alasticum wire, such as is used in salmon spinning. This wire is made in various sizes and breaking strains. I experimented and found the 8 lb breaking strain alasticum wire was best. To this I attached an eyed hook, number 8, and the best method of attaching it is as follows. (see diagram.)

This attachment ensures that the hook is not flopping awkwardly on the end of the wire cast as it would if simply tied to it. The same method is, of course, employed in fly fishing when a fly is attached to a gut cast.

The smaller the float the better. You can ledger with a floatless line but such a method tries the patience of the most patient habitual carp fisher. If you have a float to gaze at, you have at least some interest; a line descending at an angle into murky waters of great depth is neither an exhilarating sight or one to foster optimism. Indeed there are great psychological deeps to be sounded in the matter of floats.

My favourite carp float is 3½ inches long – a white quill tipped with scarlet, as every self-respecting float should be dressed and, instead of a wire or quill ring at its lower end, it is grooved and twisted so that one has only to wind the line two or three times about the ‘twist’ to make the float secure. The upper end is held in the usual manner by a ring to the line. The advantages of this type of float are obvious, for quick adjustment is useful in carp fishing. The float is, of course, on the line and the sinker, a single shot, is pinched on the alasticum wire at the correct depth. Plumbing your water is very necessary. The float should, of course, be at half cock, and below the shot I have at least 2½ feet of alasticum wire attached to the hook.

When I cast out, which I do by the coiled line method, I let the bait sink and then draw the line towards me for a little way so as to allow the wire to lie along the bottom of the pool. Nothing disturbs a carp more than a perpendicular cast rising direct from the bait to the float. Your bait, needless to say, must lie on the bottom. Alasticum wire is more invisible than gut – it does not glint and is infinitely stronger.

To deal with these immensely powerful fighters, you need strong tackle and even with the above outfit you will be lucky, in a snaggy water, if you bring your fish to bank if it is anything over 8 lbs. An 8 lb carp is not considered any size – certainly not worthy of a glass case, if you care for mounted fish. (I would put the glass case limit at 10 lbs at the very lowest.)

I hope, by the way, I am not boring the reader with all this dry technical detail, but it must be put down in black and white if scientific carp fishing is contemplated. As a matter of fact, interest in the species is growing. The big fellows landed in recent years seem to indicate that magnificent sport may be had if carp breeding is taken seriously. Even whilst I have been writing this chapter, there comes news of a 23 lb carp caught at Dagenham and this Association water bids fair to rival Mapperly since several very heavy fish have been taken there in recent years. I hasten to add that the fishing is, of course, private and is in the hands of an Anglers’ Association.

Carp do not often feed during the day, save on very special occasions (I am speaking still of the ledgering method). I should qualify that statement by saying they will not (as a rule) feed on the bottom after 9 or 10 o’clock in the morning (at midsummer) and you may not expect sport until after 7.30 p.m. B.S.T. in July. The only exception to this habit is during rough and stormy weather when you may be lucky to have bites at prolonged intervals during the day. Some hold the theory that the very big fish will not feed after sunrise, that – at the end of June – they feed almost at daybreak. I am not sure about this. One thing is...