Tony's Puddle

Billericay

Travelling from London towards Southend on the A127, leave at the exit signposted for Billericay. After a long sweeping bend you will reach a roundabout. Leave the roundabout at the Billericay / Noak Bridge exit. At the next roundabout go straight across again towards Billericay / Noak Bridge. Follow the road for around 1.5 miles. There are fields on your right, but when houses appear, turn right into a track, which leads you to The Billericay Aquatics Centre. At the rear of the centre is the carp park, and the lake is in front of you.


Pricing

I could not find any official notice board giving prices and concessions, but we were charged £10 for two rods on a day ticket.


Access

The car park is directly behind the South bank and is only a few steps away from the swim there. The walk-ways around the lake are word-chipped, and seem regularly tended. The path along the Western side is quite narrow, but easily navigable with a little care. Access really is no problem at all, and the farthest swim is no more than seventy yards away.


Water Details and Fish Stock

The water is perhaps three quarters of an acre in size – certainly no more than an acre. It is vaguely triangular in shape, with the South bank forming the base. This is approximately Sixty yards wide. The two sides of the triangle trail Northward with a bay forming a bulbous apex. Behind the South bank to the left is a very small pond which is part of the lake but separated by a bridge and seems more used by geese than anglers.

We fished a double swim on the South bank and found that the water was no more than one foot deep immediately beneath our rod tips. To our right was an over-hanging, and partly submerged tree, and it was from this feature that I had three runs, only one of which produced a fish. Also to our right is a pipe which, in the Summer, pumps water into the lake, and I imagine this oxygenating feature will attract fish. We didn't plumb the other margins, which was a mistake. The average depth cannot be much more than four or five feet. We also found that in the Northern bay there is a small depression, which really seems to hold the fish. Whilst we were there, three or four fish were taken from this open water spot, and I would definitely fish there next time.

In the middle of the lake there is a submerged island, which is the only obvious, open water feature, and we saw fish moving around the two stumpy tree trunks which are all that remains of the island. The bottom of the lake is slightly silty, but there are firmer areas should you take the time to find them.

The lake is stocked with carp to over thirty pounds and has (we were told) two Cat Fish over forty pounds. There are Common, Mirror, Koi, and hybrid carp, which look like Ghost Carp but are not. Eels are also present, but we were not bothered by them and I imagine they are a good food source for the “Cats”. From what I could gather there is a very large number of fish for the size of water. We were also told that the Catfish lie up along the Western side of the lake and may be caught using dead baits. As eels form a natural part of their diet, they may also prove useful as a bait.

However, the main problem with the lake is its size. It is very small, and cannot accommodate more than two or three anglers before people start to cast over each other. On the day we fished, there were five anglers and this proved difficult. In the Summer months I imagine it would be either impossible to get a swim, or fish it sensibly if you did. This is great shame as this place could provide some good fishing if numbers were restricted.


Venue Condition

The carp park is approached via a small lane and is gravelled. The swims and walk-ways are all wood chipped and in very good condition. Tony, the owner, comes around twice daily and picks up any litter, and there are rubbish bins provided for those who choose to use them.

Everything is well tended and thoughtfully adorned. We spent ten minutes or so chatting with Tony, who is getting on in years. However, he must be some kind of amateur comedian for I cannot remember when I have laughed so hard and so frequently, as he trotted out a few pages of his eventful and colourful life.


Session Details

Lord G and I fished in Mid-March and we were lucky, as the day was clear and blue. There was a slight but steady breeze from the South West which kept our hats on, and put a ripple on the water. The day was mild and around the 14 degree Centigrade mark. It was perhaps the warmest day of the year so far. The water was still cold, but fish could be seen moving, especially around the Northern depression.

We baited the sunken tree to my right very lightly with pellet and used small pellet PVA bags there and on the farther lines. But this was all at the start, and later, especially towards dusk, when there was much increased fish activity we duly increased our feeding slightly, but failed to temp any “last knockings” fish.

We started fishing about 9AM and ceased only when the light failed. I bagged a 5lb Common from my marginal tree, and was caught up there by two other fish of unknown size. This nook definitely holds fish if things are quiet. His Lordship took a very pretty Mirror from a spot to the left and ten yards beyond the island. We used simple, semi-fixed bolt rigs in tandem with flying and tethered back leads to keep our lines as close to the bottom as possible. This tactic is proving very useful in reducing line bites and, we hope, the number of fish we spook.


Summary

Tony's Pool is a small but interesting venue. There is something about it that makes me want to go back. But I will not do so until next Winter, because if there are more than a few anglers present, the fishing must become intolerable. Tony does a good job in looking after the place, and is one of the wittiest people I have met for some time. I would like to book the whole lake for myself and The Noble Lord in Spring, but I don't see how this would be possible without the continuous presence of a stern bailiff to turn others away; and I would not like to place such a burden on Old Tony.


How Not to Fish

Originally Lord G and I were going to fish Gloucester Park Lake, but we popped into Tony's place as it was on the way, and I had not seen it. As we pulled into the carp park, the lake was calm and the air still, but what impressed itself upon me most was the total absence of humankind. It was mid-week and so I turned to His Lordship and suggested we might be lucky and have the lake to ourselves. He agreed, and shortly thereafter we cast our lines upon the water.

Unhappily for us, another gent arrived after an hour or so; but he settled himself nicely into the North pool swim and disturbed us only because he caught more fish than we did.

But the real event came after a further hour. A white van heaved its way into the carp park behind us (I later concluded that “CHAV 1” would have been a suitable number plate), and out came two occupants. The first was not an unreasonable chap, and he spent most of the day quietly (almost quietly) watching his rods. But the other was a different proposition altogether. He was a being of tremendous girth, with a broad, open face, containing two, unthinking eyes. Clad in a brilliant white, Persil tee-shirt, he had a voice that boomed across the sleeping fields, and a tread of which Godzilla would have been proud. He descended upon us immediately and implored us, with ill-formed words, to tell him what bait we were using, and to give up a full and comprehensive account of our catch figures.

We tried our very best to say nothing without appearing rude, and he quickly realised that we were quiet and uncommunicative creatures in his presence. But this did not deter him. Without any verbal word play to work with, he decided to conduct a conversation on his own. He told us he had a good position in an un-named bank; that he made large sums of money making his own, spectacular boillies; and, when fishing Tony's small lake, if anyone were to cast over his line, he goes to the van, takes out a beach-casting rod (?), loaded with 80lb line and a 1lb lead, and throws it across all the lines within reach. He seemed immensely proud of his achievements.

After what seemed an age, he tired of our silence and stomped off down the left bank and started to set up two rods. He had electronic bite alarms set to “Air Raid Volume”, and played a badly composed concerto whilst connecting them. The very moment his lines were cast (mercifully far from mine), he looked around for other victims. Just then, the gent in the North pool swim had the enormous misfortune to hook a double figure fish, and this drew the monster like nothing else could. He spent thirty eight minutes booming at the poor chap, and we, and I imagine you, heard every word. All the fish in the water must have been wondering at this hollering crescendo.

Next he loped back down the bank and descended upon his friend. Great stamping and belly laughs could be witnessed as he amazed himself with his own wit. At last, after a further twenty minutes, he did take his place behind his own rods. But his was no crouching pose. He took guard on the highest patch of ground and created an enormous, glistening white hole in the sky line – like an over-grown snowman on speed.

Needless to say, the fellow did not stay still for long. His patience was sorely tried after a bite-less ten minutes. And so, he abandoned his swim, climbed into his van, and drove off amid a swirl of gravel, leaving rods and tackle behind; lonely on the waterside. Old Tony came out just then and asked the other fellow where his friend had gone. “To the doctors”, he said!

After an hour the creature returned with the world's largest bag of chips and chomped, stomped, and romped around. He looked hither and thither for new people to harangue; but was foiled, as he had already covered the entire lake. This left him somewhat crestfallen because, after another half an hour, he announced: “Not much 'appenin' ere. I'm goin' 'ome.”

He packed up his gear. Out of the four hours he had spent “fishing”, he had not looked once upon the water, not studied his rods for above half an hour, and had probably spooked every Carp in Essex.

I was not sad to see him go; but I was grateful to him for a supreme lesson in how not to fish.


The Exploits of Lord Grimpenmoor

The day was blue and shining when we took guard on our Southerly pitch. I was armed with my modern equipment and Lord G had his Walker's Wonder split cane device, and his equally ancient centre pin reel. I was fishing ledger style, and His Lordship had a medium quill of red and white.

After a while, and as expected, Lord G touched me on the shoulder and whispered. “I'm off to find some fish old chap!”.

“Right ho!”, I replied and watched as he took up his rod and net, and slowly, and very, very quietly, made his creeping, angular way around the lake. I could occasionally see the bob of his head as he made progress amongst the assorted bark and greenery. He was like some giant, hunched heron, with a keen eye, and pointed beak. Just then I saw him halt and become rigid – he had seen something. Almost imperceptibly, Lord G reversed himself some forty yards back down the lake, all the time with his eyes glued to the same spot.

At last he came to an old Yew tree. The tree was sturdy but made a gentle lean towards the lake, as if in continuous and silent prayer. It had an array of branches that, in the Spring, must have reached out to the water in a glorious mass of green and yellow. He laid his tackle on the ground and patiently (and I imagine noiselessly) climbed up to a stout but bent limb. And there he stayed for thirty minutes or so, submerged and almost a part of his surroundings. Presently he climbed down, took up his gear and made his creaking, bobbing way back up the bank. He found a spot well shielded by reeds, with some sleeping lilies about ten yards from the waterside. I knew he had taken some dog biscuits with him, and I saw him attach one to his hook. His Lordship shuns the use of the hair as “new fangled nonsense”. His method is to take a dog biscuit and, with a small hack-saw blade, he cuts a slight groove. He then puts a small drop of super-glue (a surprisingly modern method for Lord G) into the groove, holds the biscuit there for ten seconds or so and is ready to cast. And cast he did.

My rods were silent and still in front of me, so I watched Lord G closely as he teased and pulled the biscuit around the pads. He is often successful when free-lining a bait on the surface, and success usually comes quite swiftly. But this time it didn't. His Lordship tried time and again with his bait, and dropped it in every conceivable location around the lilly pads. But no action and no take came from his efforts.

Eventually he retreated from his reedy lair, and returned to where I was sitting. “We have a trouble maker David”, he said. “Come with me and I will show you what I mean”.

Lord G directed me to climb up to his branch and watch his bait. This I did, and from my vantage point I had a good view of the lilly pads. They were perhaps twenty yards apart at the furthest extent, and I could make out several dark shapes beneath the water, patrolling around the pads. Lord G threw in three biscuits, waited a moment, then cast his bait onto the pads and expertly drew it back to rest amongst the free offerings. There must have been four or five fish slurping around the lilies, some weighing into the double figure bracket, and it was an easy thing to watch them slowly glide up to the biscuits and suck them off the surface. However, and this amazed me, every time a fish started to approach the baited hook, another fish - a Common Carp of no more than five pounds - would nudge the would be diner out of the way, even if it was a bigger and older fish. I was staggered.

His Lordship beckoned me to descend.

“Did you see the trouble maker?”, he asked.

“I certainly did” I replied, “I've never seen anything like it. That small common is warning them away from the bait”.

“That it is laddie. I've seen it before. Sometimes a shoal gives up a highly intelligent fish which can spot a bait and line a mile off. Usually they just remain happily uncaught all their lives, but very, very occasionally you find one that leads the group and looks out for its safety”.

“What should we do?” I asked, still stupefied by this fishy behaviour.

“We need a pincer movement. Go and get a rod. Take off that blasted tackle of yours, and rig it up to free-line a biscuit. Size 10 hook, and you can use that daft hair thing if you wish”.

I did just as I was bidden, and very soon was back at his side with a rod made up as he had asked.

“Now listen laddie (how old must I be for him to stop calling me that?). We need a spot of teamwork here. We will go at them together. I will put in two biscuits on the left flank, and two to the right. We will both cast, one either side, and with any luck our pincer should be too much for the blighter. The last time I saw the Common it was on the left flank, so I will try and tie him down there, and you can try and land one whilst I have him pinned”.

I could see the sense in His Lordship's directions, and realised the need to act in unison.

“Ready?” he whispered. “”Now”.

We both flicked our baits out; mine to the right, his to the left. I admit my heart was pounding with the fish in such close proximity. I could see them moving around my line, gliding up to the surface to take a casual look at the world. His Lordship was stock still five yards to my left, allowing only his finger to move as he gently tweaked his line. I was waiting for my bait to disappear at any moment. I could not see the small Common, and I imagined Lord G had him occupied. The world stood still, and I almost stared my bait into invisibility. My senses were closed to anything but the line, the bait, and the fish.

Just then a huge dark shape came up close to my trap. He nosed slowly around the surface and sucked in one of the free biscuits – “an appetizer”, I thought – and now for the main course! He sank slowly out of sight, but every muscle in my body was on red alert as I waited for the moment of truth. But then, to my huge disappointment, I saw the Common patrol around my bait. The blasted fish was on my side of the pads!

And then it happened. There was a quick tightening of the line, a rod struck into the air and arched over, and a great swirling splash came from the water. But the rod wasn't mine. It was His Lordship's. He had connected with a fish, and was frantically trying to hold it away from the snags. He held on grimly as the fish pulled with all its might. He put the rod beneath the surface and stood his ground firmly. It was a dual between the two, with the tackle nearing its maximum limits. But slowly, very slowly, the fish seemed to turn away from the pads and into open water.

“That's better” was His Lordship's comment as he raised the rod slightly, “Now I've got you”.

But the fish was far from beaten. He made a surging run and the line screamed off the reel. He must have taken twenty yards of line before Lord G could check him. But check him he did, and he gradually brought him closer to the bank. Another run followed, but this time not so far, and not so furious. Lord G was winning the fight.

“I will play him in open water Laddie. There are no snags out there. When I get him close, I don't suppose he will be pleased to see us and could dash off into the pads again.”

And so, using these tactics, the fish was gradually played to a stop at distance. I could see the logic. Usually when a fish sees us or the net, it gets a new wind and can be difficult to hold.

At last the fish seemed bested. Lord G was making ground easily now, and the moment of truth was approaching.

“The net Laddie. I think we have him”.

“Right ho My Lord”. I moved closer and took up the net. The net in question was His Lordship's ancient, short handled, cane job, so I had to get as close to the lake as possible. The fish was coming in nicely now, most of the fight gone from him.

“OK Laddie, push out the net. I will draw him in”. I did as I was told, and held the net out as far as I could. But it was too short, and I couldn't get it out further than the reeds. I cautiously moved forward holding the pole at maximum length. His Lordship drew the fish in and I could see it was a beautiful Mirror Carp; all bronze down the flank and gold at the tail. But still I couldn't get the net under him. I moved even further forward, testing the ground as I went. And, at last, I had the net in clear water and the fish was drawn into the mesh.

“Well done Laddie. Let's have a look at him”.

I slowly pulled the net towards me. As it came in I tried to lift the mesh out of the reeds so as not to harm the fish. I had him in my arms, and turned to present him to Lord Grimpenmoor.

“It a cracking Mirror Lord G”. I said. But just as I did so my right foot gave way. It started slipping down an incline. I tried to offer the fish higher so Lord G could tale it.

“I have it Laddie”, he said, but this final effort on my part had been too much for my foothold. My right leg spread away from me; I was thrust sideways, and as I turned, my arms flailing in the air, I fell backwards into the reedy, watery gloom.

It was a cold awakening, and not an easy task to get myself on dry land again, which I eventually managed further down the bank.

“Ah, there you are Laddie.” said His Lordship. “We'll weigh this one I think. Twenty two and a half is my guess”.

And, of course, twenty two and a half pounds of beautiful Mirror Carp it was.

“Remember Laddie”, said Lord G. “Some fish are smarter than others. Just like humans.”

I looked down at my soaking form, and then up at the dry Lord. I had to agree with him.


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