Otters & Carp – Nothing Lasts Forever – Mike Holly

In this instalment of the diary, Baitworks consultant Mike Holly shares the highs and lows of his campaign for the elusive big carp of the Crazy Park, alongside a worrying trip to the vet with his dog of 15 years. It’s an honest, emotional watch about obsession, sacrifice and the fish that make it all worthwhile. Full transcript below.

Nothing lasts forever: a trip to the vet’s

There isn’t much I’ve put in front of this campaign so far this year, as you’ve probably seen. The campaign at the Crazy Park has taken a lot of my time and effort, and anyone who chases the odd big carp will know it can be quite a selfish obsession. Things that need priority often get put to one side while you focus on trying to catch a couple of carp, which is crazy when you put it in context. But we’re all mad carp fishermen, and I’m sure many of you can relate.

There’s one thing I’ll never put in front of my carp fishing, and that’s this little fella. Today, unfortunately, I’ve got to take him to the vet, and I’m more than slightly concerned, I’m petrified, because he’s been my companion for the best part of 15 years, and little does he know just how much of a companion he’s been. He’s been there through some of my toughest times. Fifteen years is a long time. Nothing lasts forever, and just like those Crazy Park carp, I guess you could say this little chap is in the last phase of his life, maybe.

He’s helped me, unbeknown to him, through some of my most troubled times. I’ve lost my dad and my mum in the last 15 years, and little does he know how much he helped me through those times, just by being the most committed dog I’ve ever had. He shows unconditional love. He’s the first face I see when I get up and the last before I settle in for the evening, and he’s there when I come home from work, waiting by the door. Anyone who owns a dog will relate, because when you go through stressful times, these fur babies are the most incredible, intuitive animals, a comfort when you really need it.

It breaks my heart to have to take him down, because he’s got a growth on his foot. I’ve owned dogs all my life, and I must admit this growth looks a little suspicious. From an initial glance, it looks like it could be some sort of cancerous growth. Fingers crossed it’s not. The first port of call is the vet. They’ll take a biopsy, test it, do the usual protocols. For now, fishing’s going to have to be parked, because this chap is my number one priority.

The last time I took him to the vet, he decided to take a massive dump in the middle of the floor, so I’m hoping not for a repeat performance. With a heavy heart, I’ve got to get this foot looked at, because the last thing I’d ever want is for him to be in any pain. Do you want to go to the vet? He’s partially deaf, so he definitely can’t hear the word “vet”. I’ll turn off, because it’s never a nice experience getting him through the doors. No pre-baiting tonight, this little chap needs some attention.

A night of two halves

I’m back on the bank, not for long, I’ve got to pack up for work in a minute. I’ve just experienced a night of two completely contrasting halves. Good friend Ben popped in last night to celebrate last week’s capture of that lovely 41lb mirror, which at the moment is the peak of my campaign. I’m still grinning from ear to ear.

Mike: Ben dropped in with a pizza from just up the road, and they are delicious. Let’s have a look, Ben. These are the best pizzas money can buy, highly recommended. That’s about as good as it gets for the bankside.

Benny pops in every now and again on his travels with some culinary delights for me to sample. We chew the fat. As it was getting dark I had a small common, another good sign the area’s still rocking after last week’s pre-baiting.

Then, as I settled in, the park went quiet. I had that little moment I’ve described before, an hour of bliss when everyone goes home and you get the park to yourself, and it actually feels like a normal carp lake. All the wildlife comes alive and you think, this is idyllic. But it never lasts long, because about half past ten, quarter to eleven, the rod ripped off again. Sadly this time it was a repeat capture of that little scaly one with half a tail I’d had a couple of weeks back. But beggars can’t be choosers, and it proved the area is absolutely rocking. I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be catching as many carp as I am right now. I set my stall out at the start of the year to get one bite, and like any campaign, if you get one bite you can work off it.

The key, as I’ve said before, is the baiting. I’m putting bait in every day, just a little, about half a kilo, on my way to work. The regularity is the key. Nobody’s fished this area. But I’m a bit concerned, because if anyone walks the park at the time I do, they’ll see either crazy feeding activity or a couple of carp shuffling out up to their gills, which is a dead giveaway. I don’t own this water, they can come and fish it.

I nearly had to end the campaign last night. I’m smiling about it, a bit of a nervous smile. I got my head down about half eleven, and I woke about half past two feeling a little uneasy. I don’t have a front on the bivvy, and as I opened my eyes I could see a shadow on the rods. I peered around the corner to see three big, burly guys with skinheads, holding cans of lager, just looking at my rods. I shuffled out and said, is everything okay, and in an Eastern European accent they asked if I was carp fishing. We exchanged a few words and they shuffled off into the darkness. I struggled to get back to sleep, as you can probably tell, I’m looking a bit blurry-eyed. Maybe if I’d stayed asleep I’d have woken up with no rods, I don’t know. Definitely a night of two halves.

Before I go to work I’ll put some more bait in. One thing I’ll say, I’ve seen the other big male fish come up right to the wrist of its tail and slide back down this morning at first light, with the mist rolling off. I’ve spotted that fish numerous times. The dead giveaway is the colour, a dark mahogany, and a little white slice on the end of its pelvic fin, maybe an old otter attack. When I see it in the water it stands out like a sore thumb, and I’ve seen it on the spot. Sadly I can’t stay, work has demands today. I might break my habit and come fishing at the weekend, because I’ve seen the one I’d dearly love to have in the album.

The one that got away

Everything happens in life for a reason. Despite all the effort I’ve ploughed into this campaign, the early-morning bait-ups, the late-evening walks, the miles, it’s taken its toll. I looked in my diary last week and I’ve notched up about 6,000 miles in my trusty old Honda in search of this park-lake carp. It’s gone beyond my wildest dreams, I’ve had 17 fish.

I knew something special was about to happen. There are a couple of fish here that epitomise why I’m here, and one especially, which many call the King of the Park. I’d seen it porpoise on the area last Thursday, and I knew there was a little window of opportunity. It’s a wily old character, it doesn’t do many bites, sometimes going a whole year without a capture. I really thought it was on the cards.

So I came back on Saturday, pulled into the car park, and there was somebody in the area for the first time since I’d been fishing it. Some rods and a bivvy set up. My heart sank, knowing how close I was. The wind was trickling in, it looked prime. I said hello, jumped in my car and headed home, dejected. That bite did happen, but not to my rods. Only yesterday, Sunday, the day after, that guy realised his own dream. He had a bite he’ll never forget and landed a carp of epic proportions. He had his moment, and I’m really chuffed for him. For anyone who has the pleasure of holding that carp up, I doff my cap, and I really hope one day it’s me. But for now it’s him.

Anyone who follows this route of big-carp fishing knows not everything goes to plan. I knew I was on a roll, the bites were coming, but I can’t be there all the time, and I’ve missed out by a couple of days. That’s life. A big well done to the captor. There’s no jealousy here, in fact I take comfort knowing I was close. It just wasn’t my time. I need a plan B, to dust myself off, because it’s going to take a lot of energy to build a new area. I’m not going to give up, I’ve sacrificed far too much. What do you reckon, are we going to catch it? I think he’s unsure as well.

A night fishing with my son

Instead of moping around, I’m going fishing today at a different lake, and I’m taking my son. We can’t fail with these superhero powers, the Joker essential items in the bag. The challenge now is to get the little monkey up, because he’s a lazy little bugger. With a bit of luck you might catch your carp.

Mike: Perfect, well done, mate, good cast.

Son: They look like dog food and they smell fishy.

Mike: They look like dog food and smell fishy, yeah. We’ll tie some PVA bags up and put them out. You’re my lucky mascot, aren’t you. What have we caught?

Son: Carp?

Mike: I’m hoping it is. How big is it? Thirty-eight and a half pound. You might need all your Hobnob energy to help me lift this one. Enjoy your cup of tea. Look at that. You’re my lucky mascot. Is that the best cup of tea you’ve ever tasted, on the bank?

Starting again: Dead Body Bay

It feels good to be back. I’m running out of time, it’s quarter to nine, the sun’s dipped and I’m yet to get the rods out. But it’s the first night in a new area I’ve decided to focus on for late summer and early autumn. Since that fish got caught down the other end, I’ve upped sticks and moved to the totally opposite, deeper end of the lake. It’s got a bit of autumn form, and everything a carp wants at this time of year: the late-evening sun, big beds of weed, a lovely bed of Potamogeton off to my right, and a snag tree that may cause me a few issues. The carp love to sit in there and sunbathe. The line I’m fishing isn’t too far out, between two weed beds, an area I’d earmarked since last year when I heard them out here through the late evening and early hours.

The bait’s been going in for weeks and I’ve seen feeding activity. I’ve christened this area Dead Body Bay, for good reason. A few friends said I should look into the history of the lake, because it has a colourful past with criminality. About 30 years ago, a dead body popped up right where I’m fishing, a local criminal wrapped in polythene and weighted down with rocks. I thought they were pulling my leg, but I found the original newspaper cutting online, and it was a big murder scene in its day. Not hoping for a repeat, I’m just here to catch a couple of carp. It’s an interesting swim, I’m up quite high, I have to traipse down the wooden steps to a platform that people like to dive off in the summer. Light’s faded, so let me get these rods out. Which one’s going to be the lucky rod? I think it’s this one.

Well, that didn’t take long. It was the lucky rod, the first one out, only about an hour and a half. From what I can see, it’s the same fish I caught more or less first, from the old swim earlier in the year, that old crusty one called the Struggler. It doesn’t come out often and it’s a beautiful old carp. We’re off and running, that’s a great sign. I’m not going to get him out, I’ll just slip him back and get the rod out again, because you never know.

The mobile office

I’m in my car. I’ve recorded a few of these diary updates in here, it’s like my mobile office. This poor old battle wagon has seen some miles in search of those Crazy Park carp, and it’s beginning to smell a bit fusty. I’ve got leads in the door compartment, spare clothes in the footwell, bags of bait dotted all around, because when I pass the park I’ve usually got a bag to put in. I can’t wait to give it a clean, but I’m not cleaning it until at least the winter, so by then I’ll probably grow some organic mushrooms. It’s so bad my son says, Dad, I’m not getting in your car, it stinks.

Mike: Why don’t you get in my car? Three reasons, go on.

Son: First, it stinks. Of wet fishing stuff.

Mike: I promise, mate, I’ll clean it out soon. He’s right, it does. The journey continues, I’m heading up to the park again at quarter to ten to put some bait in. The regularity of these trips, I say “having to”, but I want to, because this part of the adventure and all the pre-planning is the bit I find most enjoyable. A lot of it you don’t see, all the miles and effort people put in just to hold a carp. I’ll be back at midnight and might not get to sleep past one, but it’s a regular occurrence now, deja vu. I’m so used to it I don’t think about it.

Catching up: commons, repeats and the state of the park

So much has happened since I caught the Struggler. After him, I had another one, a lovely dark common. That was funny, an old dear caught me in the act of a self-take.

Old dear: Can I have a look?

Mike: Yeah, sure. Another classic park-lake moment. Let’s get him back.

I’ve started taking days off work, because I’ve got holiday to use up and the days are still sunny, so the fish are using this area more in the day. During one of those days I had another blistering take, and this carp fought like a demon. Not quite what I was after, but another park-lake carp to add to the tally, not to be sniffed at, especially with how low the stock is. It sums the park up, really: a can of Thatchers smashed up and thrown in the edge, no disregard for nature at all, and amongst that craziness a few carp reside like this. What a yin and yang. You don’t plan on catching the same carp, but in a lake with very few in, the odd repeat is inevitable. He’s a very cool carp, but as you can see, serious tail damage.

The Bondi treasure hunter

I’m more or less up to date on the captures, apart from a monumental 24 hours at the park, which kicked off with the strangest occurrence. I’d never expect at a carp lake to be confronted, while trying to get my rod sorted, by an Australian scuba diver in full kit, who literally popped up right in front of my rods.

Diver: G’day mate, you don’t mind if I just scuba dive along this ledge, do you?

Mike: That’s a terrible Australian accent, but that’s what it sounded like. I didn’t know what to say. I’m looking at this guy thinking it’s a wind-up, Jeremy Beadle’s going to pop out. But he’s a real big deal. From a bit of research, he’s called the Bondi Treasure Hunter, and he travels the world doing this in lakes, rivers and canals, trying to find what he classes as treasure. He had a little floating inflatable table, and anything he found he’d pop up and put on it. Unfortunately, at the Crazy Park, all he had was a table full of three-ounce zip leads and inline leads, which he called “sinkers”, which made me chuckle, some costume jewellery, a few 20ps and old shrapnel.

He moved on down the marginal shelf, and I flipped the rods out. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that these Crazy Park carp aren’t bothered about noise, all the swimming, boating and public using the lake. I’ve seen carp swimming around people on lilos. The rods went out sweet as a nut, the spots are getting so clean, the weed’s pushing back and they’re opening up bigger. What I didn’t plan for was what happened next.

A morning to remember

Oh yes, look at him. That was one of the ones I was desperately wanting to catch. I knew it was in here, a lovely scaly fish. Look at the scales on this side, the huge double plates, they’re incredible, the size of them. Dark, scaly and just amazing. Really pleased with this one. Perfect fins, an absolutely stunning carp, and to catch it with the rods only in an hour, hopefully I’ve got them trained. Every now and again the Crazy Park throws up a bit of a jewel, and this is one of them.

The take from hell

Well, add to that what I can only describe as the take from hell. It was so ferocious it’s ripped the bankstick and back rest clean out of the wood, which came tumbling into the water. The rod literally launched off the platform, and I’m lucky to even have the front rest, that’s on its last thread. But I won the battle, and I’ve got a lovely smallish common. Another park-lake carp, and any park-lake carp is a good result. How I didn’t lose that rod is amazing.

What a beautiful carp. I’m really pleased because I haven’t caught this one before. It looks like a brand-new penny, but it’s definitely an older one. The flank is pristine, tiny, really dark colours. To catch two in a morning proves the new spot, the baiting approach and fish location are spot on. I’m excited about the autumn, though it’s autumn already, you can see the leaves falling, the first frosts are coming. I’m not even going to weigh him, I don’t know how big he is, but I’m just going to get him back.

My rig: keep it simple

Let me get this rod out, I reckon there’s a chance of another. I’ll just stop briefly to talk about rigs, to say I don’t change anything. I keep everything consistently the same, and have done for years. This rig probably hasn’t come off my rods for as long as I can remember. It’s a coated braid with a slip-D, a nice big sharp hook, and clearly a bait they want to eat. As long as it’s got a sharp hook and doesn’t tangle, all my energy goes into getting bait out and established, which allows the carp to become greedy. Once they’re greedy, this little bad boy almost becomes redundant. You need a sharp hook so that when they suck it in with gusto and confidence, it takes hold. Because they really want to seek out the bait, the rig itself just serves a purpose, and that purpose needs to be strong and reliable. The rest usually means the carp’s in the net. That’s about as technical as I get, I don’t change anything apart from the hook every time I catch a fish.

They turn up like buses

Well, they’ve turned up like buses today, I can’t believe my luck. Two this morning, one late morning, and he’s bristling. I don’t think I’ve seen this one before, and I keep saying this, but you just have to look at how clean their mouths are to see these fish very rarely get caught. Look at him, he’s a lovely one. Go and tell your dad I’m on his case.

The weather breaks

I’ve just got some bait out of the freezer for the familiar trip up to the park. The park’s changed over the last couple of weeks since I had those fish. The weather’s broken, a bit of wet and stormy weather, biblical, you could say, for the carp fishing. But there’s an advantage: it keeps the public away. No crazy parties, no lilos, no swimmers. The park feels very different. I’m fishing next week, and the long-term forecast looks wet, but I’m really looking forward to it. There’s definitely more feeding activity on the spot. I can’t wait to get back up to the Crazy Park, or at the moment, with no rubbish and no public, the not-so-crazy park.

A big male in the rain

Apologies, the wind’s whistling around my face. I left home this morning thinking, what am I doing, it’s been torrential. But I set up in the rain, and I’m trying to calm my nerves, because the rods have been out two hours and I’ve got another one, one of those big males, sat patiently in the net. Cameras don’t like rain, so I’m not getting out of the bivvy. I’m going to have a cup of tea to calm my nerves and wait for Josh to turn up in his lunch hour to do the pictures, because I’m blown away. Forty-two pounds four ounces of big male Crazy Park lake carp. I’m so happy. All the hard work, the dedication, the sacrifices, the things I haven’t done at home, the DIY, it all makes it worthwhile when this one comes in the net.

One last look before I get this incredible purple big male back. I’d had a season-maker before, but I’d say this is the cherry on the cake. I’ve got to make hay while the sun shines, and you never know, between now and winter it might get better, but I’d struggle to beat this. All good things come to an end, and he’s going back. He’s clearly been feeding, he’s absolutely huge, everything about him is big, big pecs, big tail wrist. This is the reason these fish have avoided the otters, because I genuinely think the males are stronger than the females. The last of the Mohicans lives on.

Seeing the king feed

Apologies, I’m in the car with this lovely orange glow about my face and an excited tone in my voice, for good reason. I popped into the park this evening to put some bait in, with the intention of fishing in a couple of days. Before I even had a chance to flick a few baits out, I saw the big one, the King of the Park, come up off the spot with his dorsal out, chewing baits, going round in a circle around the weed bed, then making a beeline right back onto the spot, sinking down like a submarine with a few bubbles popping up. Clearly feeding. After ten minutes he came up again, this time with a couple of other fish. That’s an opportunity I cannot miss. I stayed until about half past ten. I’ve come all the way back to grab my rods, my water bottle and a few bits, and I’m going straight back up. I don’t think it’s an opportunity I should let go. If I can get the rods out quietly, I’ve got a great chance.

My eyesight isn’t good at the best of times, and it’s one o’clock, but I just need to get these rods on the spot. I couldn’t not come back after what I saw. The baits are on. Hopefully I get these out first cast and into the bag, because I’m absolutely shattered. I feel close. I’m not sure I’ll sleep very well, the adrenaline’s pumping.

The end of the journey: the king of the park

I’m really apologetic if this camera’s shaky, but today marks the end of my Crazy Park lake journey. I’m sitting on this stage, this board where everyone was jumping off in the summer, shaking like a leaf, because I’ve just had a battle. I knew from the very early stages what fish it was, because it surfaced out in the middle. This is the pinnacle for me. This is the reason I came to the Crazy Park, and it couldn’t have gone any better. I’ve worked from the bottom up, culminating last week in a fish that would have topped my season, but today it’s got even better. I’ve got the one, the King, or the Queen, whichever you want to say. He’s just in the net there. I’m waiting for a couple of friends to turn up so we can all get out together, and I’ll celebrate with a beer or two. In a sad way, this brings me to the end of my journey here, and I’ve loved every single minute. I’m going to sit and take in the ambience, because these moments don’t come along often. I could actually shed a tear, that’s how happy I am.

Mike: I’ve left my good friend Dave on net duty. Don’t move from that net. I’m slightly paranoid that one’s going to have dolphin abilities and jump out. Dave’s doing a grand job. You know where mates are mates, because he’s brought me this bottle of champagne to celebrate, and it will not be touched until we sort this fish out.

Dave: Thanks, mate.

Mike: We’ll have a drink out of cups, no champagne glasses, I’m afraid. Right, gentle, one, go. Steady. Myself and Dave… it’s over 46 — no it’s not — yes it is — [expletive] hell, what is it? Forty-two, six. On his tail, please. It looks amazing.

Friend: If you want to talk, Mike, I’ve got you rolling.

Mike: I wish I could talk, I’m literally exhausted. It’s time to go back. I’m going to celebrate with two bottles of champagne, not all to myself, because Dave and Jose brought some, the other boys brought beers, and that’s big-carp fishing at its best. There we are, the King of the Pond, looking absolutely incredible. Time to go, and make somebody else’s dream come true one day. Avoid those otters. He’s a big male carp. Come on, do your thing, kick away strong. There he is.

Back where it began

I’m back where it all began. At the start of this diary I gave you an update on this little chap, my best mate, and I’ll come to that in a minute, because it’s only fitting I end on him. The events of the last two weeks have blown me away. The Crazy Park campaign has come to an end, and I feel a little lost. Anyone who gets involved in a campaign knows you get into a habit, the baiting, the looking, the driving, and when I was fortunate enough to catch that incredible carp, everything just came to an end. The rods have been put up in the corner of the kitchen.

There’s plenty to get on with, though, a list of DIY and house chores as long as my arm that I’ve parked in search of a carp or two. Those are the things you park, aren’t they. You could question whether the obsessive nature of carp fishing is healthy, and I’ll let you decide. But it’s finished, I’ve had the best of times, and I’ll sincerely miss the Crazy Park. To celebrate that capture with all my friends, no jealousy, handshakes all round, was about as good as it got. That carp is probably up there with the best I’ve ever caught. I’ve got a memento on my desk now, the champagne Dave bought me. I haven’t opened it. He’s written the date and the capture on the box, and it’ll sit there until I feel ready, or I might pass the gauntlet to somebody else if they’re fortunate enough to catch that fish.

For now, the news about this fella. When I first spoke about him, I thought he had a cancerous growth on his foot, but there’s good news. The vet’s done the biopsies and all the tests, and it’s back, and it’s not cancerous. That gives me the best feeling I’ve ever had. I would have given up all the carp I caught this year for this news. It fills me with joy. There’s a few more years left in the tank yet, isn’t there, mate.

Farewell to the crazy carp

I thought it’d be a fitting end to say a big thank you. It’s been raw at times. There are moments when I hand my camera to friends who aren’t professional videographers, and they’re probably just as excited as I am, with a bit of camera shake along the way, but I hope you got to see everything that went on behind the scenes and the dedication it took. What I lacked in angling skill, I always knew I’d make up in determination.

I’m going to take this chap to the Crazy Park and give him his maiden walk, he hasn’t been out for a long time because of his foot. I want to go back for one more walk this afternoon, just to say thank you and to toast those crazy carp, because they really are special fish, the last of the Mohicans. I want to bid them farewell, because they have to run the gauntlet now of otter predation between now and the spring. In winter, when the rivers flood, the otters come into the lakes, and that’s when I saw most of the activity last year. I’ve got my fingers crossed they last another year, but I don’t hold out much hope. In the meantime, we’re going to go for a walk, aren’t we. I hope you enjoyed the diary, and if you’re thinking about your own campaign, give it everything you’ve got, because you just never know what might happen.