Kevin Nash
Carp fishing legend Kevin Nash has just released his latest book… and just like its famous author it doesn’t pull any punches!
unveils his new book
MEMOIRS of a Carp Fisher: Herman’s Hole is two books in one.
The first part regales the reader with adventures from Kevin’s carp fishing life, including some of the special venues and carp of the 1980s and 1990s, and his take on some of the anglers he met along the way.
In the second part, ‘The Knowledge’, he reveals many of his bait and rig secrets to give the readers an edge on the bank.
As Kevin (62) puts it: “It saddens me when some anglers appear to be bewildered by the success of others. I understand that what seems easy to one might not be so to another; we all have our natural talents, but carp fishing really shouldn’t be the struggle that it seems to be for so many.
“You might not have a natural gift, but you can certainly increase your catch rate dramatically by applying the two crucial rules of successful carp fishing – use your eyes, and get off your arse! It’s as simple as that.”
Here’s a brief insight into just one of the chapters – Nashy’s time on Star Lane…
ONE memorable session took my confidence up to the highest level. I arrived midafternoon to find four anglers already fishing, and that really limited my swim choice; two were on the Brickfield Point, one was on the Barge Point, and another in the Threepenny Bit. I chose to go further down, past the guy in the Threepenny Bit, and fish the Tyre, the last swim before the lake reduces into a narrow bottleneck.
I catapulted out six pouches of my cherry/squid boilies, set up my house, and considered what to do. I really wanted to go on walkabout and I didn’t want to upset the anglers who were on there, but I figured that there were a few areas of the lake that weren’t being covered, where I could discreetly move in without offending anybody. I grabbed two rods and walked up along the channel, but I didn’t fancy it; it felt dead and carp-less, so I dropped into the Hospital, put two rods out, looked at my watch and saw that it was a quarter to three. At five past three, I had a 27lb mirror in the net, and after this fish was slipped back, I walked round and had a chat with the two lads on Brickfield Point who had been there for three days without a fish.
Notwithstanding, they were friendly and good lads, showing no signs of resentment toward my capture so quickly after arriving.
Behind Brickfield Point, the lake goes into a bay, and at the end is a silty area known as the ‘Ant’.
This was in the opposite direction to where the lads’ rods were pointing, so I thought I’d give it a go, again casting two rods out. I settled back and glanced at my watch. It was 3.30pm and at 3.40pm, I had a mirror on the bank that swung the scales around to 23lb.
I pulled my sticks out, intending to fish the Tyre, but on a whim – or more likely instinct because I was so tuned into the lake by now – I walked past the Tyre and dropped into the Bottleneck.
An hour passed with no action, so I decided to get settled for the night in the Tyre. I’d wound in one rod, and pulled out the sticks, when the second rod was away and it turned out to be my old friend, the two-tone common. Quietly, I slipped her back and didn’t mention the capture, because whilst the lads seemed friendly and happy with my success, I didn’t want to push it.
“As I slipped the fish back, I got to thinking; I’d never seen anyone fish where I’d just caught that carp”
Back in the Tyre, I cast my first rod tight into the far margin corner, just managing to miss the lower branches of an overhanging bush. When fishing the swims at the bottom end of the Lane, it was always regarded as absolutely necessary to be pinpoint accurate with your casting. It was all to the far margin, the farmer’s bank, where you couldn’t walk round to fish.
The carp would only accept a bait if it was inch-perfect, in gaps in the reeds, or underneath the bushes – six inches off, and you might as well have cast into the farmer’s field!
It was awkward casting at the best of times, but made worse by my PVA bags. It would have been far easier if I’d put the lead in the bags, but after seeing how the common in the channel had reacted to the dispersed crumb when my bag ruptured, I felt it was an edge worth pursuing. To get three rods on that far margin, tight to the reeds, would normally have cost me eight casts, or to put it another way, four quid in PVA bags, but I had reduced that expense by a fortunate accident. A couple of sessions before, I’d managed to break one of my tips when I was going for a max cast with the heavy PVA bag and 4oz lead in a crosswind. I’d got the line caught around the tip ring, and that was only going to go one way, a smashed rod tip, so I was down to two 12-footers.
I did have a 9ft Pursuit stalking rod in my bag, though, so I rigged that up and couldn’t believe the difference it made to my casting accuracy.
You didn’t have to tell me twice, so I chopped my 12-footers for three 9-footers, but even with the 9-footer, I still managed to make a mess of my second cast, which fell ten feet short, absolutely in noman’s land. If I’d wound it straight back in, I’d be left with hands covered in globules of sticky PVA, yet to melt in the wintry, cold water, so I left it there whilst I set to and attempted a better cast with my third rod. I was just about to make the cast when the second rod shot forward and I was lucky to grab the butt before it disappeared; incredibly, it was another 20, albeit this mirror scraped in by only 2oz.
As I slipped the fish back, I got to thinking; I’d never seen anyone fish where I’d just caught that carp.
In effect, what was deemed as no-man’s land could be a haven. I imagined anglers catapulting their baits, and a number falling short where the carp could find them without fear of being molested. I thought, ‘Why not?’ What did I have to lose? So, the second and third rods were fished ten feet, or so, short of the reeds.
That night, I had another three carp; doubles between 14lb and 19lb 8oz, and all fell to the rods fished short. I’d found an area considered by the carp to be totally safe.
They would only feed within an inch of the reeds, or in the gaps under the bushes, and never up to three feet short where the less capable casters would be fishing.
The other anglers were still blanking when I left for work in the morning so I was buzzing, and that might sound a bit egotistical, but the way to measure your efforts is to compare your results with the others around you.
The end of April was approaching and my final session at Star Lane was on the 27th, my birthday. On this session, I caught my twentieth 20-pounder in under six weeks, and I cannot honestly say that the carp were all different.
Now, some 20 years later, it’s all about 40s and 50s, so my twenty 20s in a little under six weeks might not seem that big a deal, but considering that this was in the mid-1990s and how hard Star Lane was back then with the constant pressure from good anglers – and still is – I class this period as one of my greatest carping successes.