Kieran Hopkinson relives his journey of tracking down Scotland’s largest, and most elusive mirror carp.
Question 5
You've said "really special" and "serious" fish and I'm keen to know more. Can you share some of your more memorable captures whilst fishing the sailing pit?
The first would have to be from one spring and although I was not seeing any actual fish, but it was clear to see they'd started hitting the natural spring larders with the classic spring signs of 4-6 inch sections of fresh green Canadian drifting in on the windward bank. The wind had started to blow a good westerly, so I checked all the margins of the windward bank, deciding on the swim with the most fresh weed in it, hedging my bets that this must be where the bulk of the fish were tearing it up. Plus, with the wind blowing into me, you could actually smell carp in the air!
Like virtually every swim on the lake, all the casting had to be done in waders out in the lake and the water level was still high from the wet winter we’d had. I absolutely leathered a bare lead out into the abyss, then I suddenly thought "s**t how am I going to get a Spomb out there in this wind" so quickly clamped down on the spool. Now most people that fish these demanding pits know, nothing comes easy, but for once it did! Feeling the lead down through the depths it was met with the mother of all crack downs. A quick pull on the leading rod was met with zero resistance, with it feeling like glass. After casting far left and right of the spot, I found it was surrounded by the fresh green Canadian that was filling my margins in abundance; this had to be the zone!
Three balanced hinges were deployed, followed by a light scattering of boilie with the Spomb. It was fairly straight forward stuff to be honest.
First light the following morning was another quiet affair, when out the blue, the middle rod churned off at 9am.After a bit of drama with it kiting on a mega long line towards a bay to my left, and having to shuffle down the marginal tree line at max wader depth, I soon had the sickest of zip linears in my net. Although not a giant, her dark purply flanks, perfect over slung mouth and mega long barbs are the sort of reasons I love fishing those kind of lakes.
Having just caught one I decided there was a really good opportunity to be had, seeing all the fresh weed coming in, so I decided to do the work night on the Sunday.
Having to reel in because of the boats and having caught one, I thought I would up the level of bait. In amongst the never-ending chaos of boats on regatta day (or better known as "hell day") I set about Spombing a bucket of bait out to the newfound zone! By early evening time I managed to get the rods back out there with a good strong westerly still blowing – it was looking bang on for another bite.
Having work in the morning, I got my head down and in the early hours was woken to the typical braid bite savagery. Quickly scrambling into my waders, I got out to the rods and leant into a powerful fish, that kited left and taking trook line until it hit a weedbed. With a bit of coaxing, I managed to get it out the weed and start teasing it back with weed on its head. All was going well when suddenly my middle rod started ripping off at an alarming rate too! Typically, the first bite that was in weed broke free and then decided to kite right, going through the rod that was still ripping off.... bloody seriously!!? With the only other person on the lake 400 yards away, I had no choice but to open the bail arm on the middle rod and somehow try and tease the first fish in, that was now caught on my other line.
Eventually, at maximum wader depth and at full stretch, I somehow managed to get it in the net. Looking in, I could see it was one of the special ones, The Ivy Common, a wide bronze beast of a common.... "F**KING COME ON" bellowed through the valley – the buzz, combined with the relief of somehow landing this with my other line caught around it was immense!
Question 5
You've said "really special" and "serious" fish and I'm keen to know more. Can you share some of your more memorable captures whilst fishing the sailing pit?
The first would have to be from one spring and although I was not seeing any actual fish, but it was clear to see they'd started hitting the natural spring larders with the classic spring signs of 4-6 inch sections of fresh green Canadian drifting in on the windward bank. The wind had started to blow a good westerly, so I checked all the margins of the windward bank, deciding on the swim with the most fresh weed in it, hedging my bets that this must be where the bulk of the fish were tearing it up. Plus, with the wind blowing into me, you could actually smell carp in the air!
Like virtually every swim on the lake, all the casting had to be done in waders out in the lake and the water level was still high from the wet winter we’d had. I absolutely leathered a bare lead out into the abyss, then I suddenly thought "s**t how am I going to get a Spomb out there in this wind" so quickly clamped down on the spool. Now most people that fish these demanding pits know, nothing comes easy, but for once it did! Feeling the lead down through the depths it was met with the mother of all crack downs. A quick pull on the leading rod was met with zero resistance, with it feeling like glass. After casting far left and right of the spot, I found it was surrounded by the fresh green Canadian that was filling my margins in abundance; this had to be the zone!
Three balanced hinges were deployed, followed by a light scattering of boilie with the Spomb. It was fairly straight forward stuff to be honest.
First light the following morning was another quiet affair, when out the blue, the middle rod churned off at 9am.After a bit of drama with it kiting on a mega long line towards a bay to my left, and having to shuffle down the marginal tree line at max wader depth, I soon had the sickest of zip linears in my net. Although not a giant, her dark purply flanks, perfect over slung mouth and mega long barbs are the sort of reasons I love fishing those kind of lakes.
Having just caught one I decided there was a really good opportunity to be had, seeing all the fresh weed coming in, so I decided to do the work night on the Sunday.
Having to reel in because of the boats and having caught one, I thought I would up the level of bait. In amongst the never-ending chaos of boats on regatta day (or better known as "hell day") I set about Spombing a bucket of bait out to the newfound zone! By early evening time I managed to get the rods back out there with a good strong westerly still blowing – it was looking bang on for another bite.
Having work in the morning, I got my head down and in the early hours was woken to the typical braid bite savagery. Quickly scrambling into my waders, I got out to the rods and leant into a powerful fish, that kited left and taking trook line until it hit a weedbed. With a bit of coaxing, I managed to get it out the weed and start teasing it back with weed on its head. All was going well when suddenly my middle rod started ripping off at an alarming rate too! Typically, the first bite that was in weed broke free and then decided to kite right, going through the rod that was still ripping off.... bloody seriously!!? With the only other person on the lake 400 yards away, I had no choice but to open the bail arm on the middle rod and somehow try and tease the first fish in, that was now caught on my other line.
Eventually, at maximum wader depth and at full stretch, I somehow managed to get it in the net. Looking in, I could see it was one of the special ones, The Ivy Common, a wide bronze beast of a common.... "F**KING COME ON" bellowed through the valley – the buzz, combined with the relief of somehow landing this with my other line caught around it was immense!
Quickly putting it in a retainer, I set about dealing with the other fish, which due to ‘braid carnage’ I had to handline in from about 190 yards. Amazingly it was still on, nodding all the way back in, when about halfway back it ended up falling off! Oh well, you can't win them all, but the main thing was I managed to get my line and rig back.
Whilst playing the Ivy Common, I did hear them showing at range over my spot in the flat calm of the early hours, so decided to sort the complete carnage that was my rods back out. The braid on the handlined rod was a write off, so I just re-wrapped two rods, put fresh hook sections on, and rebaited each rod with fresh hook baits. As luck would have it, each rod cracked down on the dancefloor at the first time of asking. Once I had tightened the lines down, I grabbed both rod tips together, shining the torch on them and could see the lines were pointing to the right horizon markers, happy days!
With work getting closer I tried getting a bit more sleep before first light, which was a waste of time with me still buzzing from the capture, so I gave up and fired the kettle on. As I was sat there watching and listening to the world coming to life, one of the recast rods absolutely churned off. Jumping back in the waders and legging it out into the pond I could see the offending rod had been pulled from the alarm – this fish was adamant where it wanted to go, flat rodding me until it powered through a weedbed. Once her head was buried and after a bit of steady pressure, I managed to unplug the fish. It started kiting left on a long line, doing its best to get in a big bay to my left. Wading down the margins at maximum wader depth, I managed to swing it back round. After plodding up and down the margins for 10 minutes, it then decided to beach itself at the base of the marginal shelf, which when you're on braid at close quarters, having to give it maximum boost, is pretty cringey stuff! As luck would have it, she slowly bobbed to the surface with a ball of weed on her head and I shuffled it into the confines of my net.
Once back in the swim and having cleared the weed, I was met with an absolute breeze block of a carp, wide dark grey shoulders, plump creamy flanks and a little scattering of scales. It was a fish unfortunately named as The King T**t, but aside from its name it looked lush!
My mate Kinger came down for first light to do pictures and saw me standing in the water, keeping an eye on the fish in the net. He said “so you haven’t even sacked it then mate?” I just looked back at him beaming from ear to ear and nodded to the retention sling bobbing out in the margin. He then peered in the net again, looked at me still grinning and was like “s**t, that’s huge too”!!
We found a little break between the trees where the light was better and did the weighing and pictures of the King T**t first as it was in the net. Kinger was reading the scales, so when I saw the grin on his face, I knew it was going to be big, which was confirmed when he called out 40lb 9oz! Buzzing was an understatement, as we knew The Ivy common was a goodun’. Anyhow when we finally came to weighing her, I was on cloud nine already, but then the scales spun round to 44lb 12oz. What a Monday morning that was, one that I will cherish forever!
The second of those real memorable captures came during a tough period of angling and after weeks of struggling to keep rods in the water due to the giant ‘weedbergs’ drifting around the lake, most anglers had given up. To sum up how bad it got, even the sailing club couldn’t use the lake until they got a weed boat in to clear most of it. Unfortunately for the fish I’m a stubborn t**t and despite the endless torture I still had to be there!
For the first time in weeks, I rocked up to find that there was a light north westerly wind pushing down the other end of the lake! I was buzzing, as this hopefully would give me a window of opportunity to get the rods out and lines pinned down with big 4 oz captive backleads.
Even though I had been struggling to fish, I had religiously been coming down on a Tuesday night to bait up, sticking out 3kg of boilie. Even when I tried fishing, I just couldn’t keep the rods out for more than a couple of hours, and each time I made sure to stick out what bait I had left before I went. The area had barely seen any lines, but a steady flow of bait by now.
Getting the rods out was a simple case of wading out the swim round the corner onto a bit of the bank the sailing club owned and sending them towards an area I had found and marked up earlier on in the year. Once my hinge rigs were deployed, I just had to walk them back to the buzzers that were out in the water on storm poles. Once dusk started setting in (and I knew the seagulls wouldn’t be an issue), I walked down to one of the slipways to bait up. Having already lined up my marker from the corner of the concrete slipway with a horizon marker, it was just a case of spreading fifty 20mm baits over the three rods. Nice simple stuff really.
All was quiet at first light the following morning, but on a positive note I had managed to keep the rods out all night with no dramas. When the boats started to come out, I took a gamble and left them in place, confident the line was laying fairly low in the water column. The day passed and the rods remained in place, which on a sailing lake is always a buzz in itself!
On the second and final morning of the trip I was up early doors and saw a few really subtle signs that almost looked like roach. I’d seen them do this before at close quarters in the same area, almost rolling under the surface, with just a little flick of the tail being the only thing breaking the surface, so I read the almost ‘roach-like’ splashes as possible carp shows.
At about 8.30am, the boat brigade started their normal morning clatter, which started to fill me with dread. I was in clock watch mode and by about 9.30am was almost packed down, when the right-hand rod absolutely busted off. Wading out to the rod, I did the usual procedure of getting past the near jetty with the landing net over my head. I remember walking past all the sailors setting their boats up, smiling at them mid-battle and said “don’t mind me” pissing myself as I sloshed through the margins past them! Just another local loon they probably thought! After a good old ruck in the deep water and after the standard weed dramas, where I had to drop the rod to rip off endless weed, I finally managed to net what is one of the coolest looking carp I have caught. It was a fish called Special K and as you can see, special by name, special by nature. After chatting with mates, we think it was possibly only it’s 5th or 6th ever capture that we know of, so a mega, mega fish!
Question 6
I see what you mean by serious carp - and I'm sure you have plenty more stories of special fish (I've seen the album!) but with the word count climbing fast I'm keen to know where the nickname Jester comes from?
Haha, this probably isn’t as enthralling a story as you may think, but it was back when I was 14 years old chasing the Nutsey Mirror, (so around 1998). This was a serious sized fish then too, it still is now! Even back then we used to fish through the winters fully ill-equipped, as the buzz to go fishing was always so strong. The freezing temperatures and lack of winter clothing never phased us.
Due to fishing through the winters, it sort of became weirdly customary to wear a stupid hat for any fish caught, so you can guess where this is probably going! I managed to find the most garish, horrendous hat my paper round money could buy; a multicoloured jester’s hat with the added extra nausea of jingling bells on the tips of the hat. I managed to catch the Half Lin from Nutsey in freezing temps of -4 in about 2.5ft of water and as the lake started to freeze, so out came the jester’s hat and the nickname was born and has never left!
Question 6
I see what you mean by serious carp - and I'm sure you have plenty more stories of special fish (I've seen the album!) but with the word count climbing fast I'm keen to know where the nickname Jester comes from?
Haha, this probably isn’t as enthralling a story as you may think, but it was back when I was 14 years old chasing the Nutsey Mirror, (so around 1998). This was a serious sized fish then too, it still is now! Even back then we used to fish through the winters fully ill-equipped, as the buzz to go fishing was always so strong. The freezing temperatures and lack of winter clothing never phased us.
Due to fishing through the winters, it sort of became weirdly customary to wear a stupid hat for any fish caught, so you can guess where this is probably going! I managed to find the most garish, horrendous hat my paper round money could buy; a multicoloured jester’s hat with the added extra nausea of jingling bells on the tips of the hat. I managed to catch the Half Lin from Nutsey in freezing temps of -4 in about 2.5ft of water and as the lake started to freeze, so out came the jester’s hat and the nickname was born and has never left!
Question 7
What was it like fishing a lake which attracted some rather big names for the time and how did that play out for a 14-year-old Jester?
I was quite fortunate in the fact that the big names hadn’t quite descended yet, as that all came about a couple of years after I left. Looking back though, at 14 Jester was having the time of his life. It really was the perfect place for a young carp angler to learn, as it was a fairly intimate venue with an abundance of mega climbing trees which meant you could observe their feeding spots and work out patrol routes etc to set little traps. Most of it over there was all margin work, or simply fishing into the holes in the weed, no more than 30 or 40 yards out. You’d be up the tree watching the fish, waiting for them to leave, throw a pop up on top of the hole in the weed, leg it down the tree and flick your marker out next to it. Then you’d be back up the tree making sure it was bang on the spot, get back down, cast a rod next to the float feeling for that crisp drop. Once happy with that, it was back up the tree to throw 5 or 10 baits out. Once you had traps set, you’d be baiting little margin spots in the swim next door, climbing to the tops of trees, searching for the A-Team. It really was epic fishing knowing there was a mid-forty mirror and an equally impressive mid to upper-thirty black common potentially there to be caught.
The first season was all about getting bites, slowly working my way through all the other back up fish, catching a few of the big fully’s, the Strawberry Fish, Stocky, Two Tone and the Half Lin etc. By the second season I was starting to get a lot of repeats and came close to catching the big common in particular quite a few times. I had a good chance with the mirror too. My ticket was getting close to renewal at this point, and it was half term, so I was doing a 7-nighter. I managed a small common on my first night then blanked a further 4 nights; it was time for a move. The angler that was in the Bridge Swim was packing up and the fish had been getting in the Finger Bay a lot over the previous few days, so in the pouring down rain I walked all my gear round to the bridge swim, getting absolutely soaked in the process.
To cut a long story short, I managed three bites that first night, all on my right-hand rod, so the move paid off big style. The beauty of the Bridge Swim was, you could sneak into the back of the finger bay and climb a good tree to check what was in there milling about in amongst the reedbed. Upon climbing the tree, I could see a couple of small ones in the reeds themselves. Then they drifted under the outer tree branches, under the canopy of the tree I was stood in. Looking down to have a closer look, I saw the two smaller fish and then all of a sudden, the massive girth of the Big Mirror glided into view. I sat watching her for a good 45 minutes, and she seemed pretty happy in her little snaggy home. As slowly and stealthily as I could, I shimmied down the tree back to the brolly. It was back when Rod Hutchinson used to make small packs of prepared peanuts, so I grabbed a packet of them and managed to sneak back up the tree without causing any disturbance. Once up the tree I started to flick the odd half peanut onto the gravel that was to the side of her. At first, she did nothing, then after a couple more peanuts, you could suddenly see her fins starting to twist and roll. In a controlled manner, she turned and dropped down and started grazing over the gravel where my bait was. Well as you can imagine, I stayed up the tree all day flicking bait in for her, and she just kept on dropping back down for them.
Evening was approaching and I felt I had a mega chance of tripping her up, so it was back to the swim to set a trap for the hours of darkness (when most the bites seemed to be). It was a simple case of flicking the rod onto the dam wall, walking across the bridge and finding your lead. Once I found it, I clipped a backlead on and slid it to the outer edges of the nearside tree, to get my line down. Then I tied a fresh rig onto the running lead setup (which I used a lot back then) and lowered it off the bridge onto the cleanest bit of bottom I could see. Grabbing a bit of willow branch, I then hung over the bridge and made sure I straightened all my rig and leadcore out, so it was perfect. Lastly, it was a simple case of giving the rig a sprinkle of hemp, chopping 5 boilies in half, and pouring all the hemp juice over my rig and wafting it under the bridge in the direction of the Big Mirror. On dark she was still in the tree, so I put a few more nuts in the snag tree then did a trail of them to my hookbait to see if I could lure her out.
Well at around midnight my single locked up rod, let out a few beeps and I was on it in a flash. It was already in full battle curve when I picked it up, so all I could do was keep the rod sunk and hold on for dear life. Luckily, after 20 seconds of absolute savagery, I somehow managed to stop a powerful fish from making it the other side of the bridge and got it back out in front of the small swim. A chap next door called Steph had heard the bite and came down to see what was going on, with the fish all the while plodding around deep in front of me. As Steph turned his headtorch on we both saw this massive creamy submarine glide past the front of the swim… Steph said “It’s the f**king mirror mate!!”. Inside I was thinking ‘No s**t!’, but now concentration levels went through the roof and I was making sure I just kept steering it away from the nearside bushes. As I did so, her head briefly bobbed up and she momentarily wallowed on the surface. Fair play to Steph he didn’t mess around and instantly scooped her up! As you can imagine as a 15-year-old nipper, it was like a blur to be honest, especially when we hoisted her up on the scales and she went 44lb 10oz. I was literally on cloud nine!!! After all the pics were done and everyone drifted off, I wasn’t going to redo the rod but I couldn’t sleep because I was buzzing, so thought sod it I may as well reset the trap. A few hours later and I managed another one. When your luck’s in and all that!
Question 7
What was it like fishing a lake which attracted some rather big names for the time and how did that play out for a 14-year-old Jester?
I was quite fortunate in the fact that the big names hadn’t quite descended yet, as that all came about a couple of years after I left. Looking back though, at 14 Jester was having the time of his life. It really was the perfect place for a young carp angler to learn, as it was a fairly intimate venue with an abundance of mega climbing trees which meant you could observe their feeding spots and work out patrol routes etc to set little traps. Most of it over there was all margin work, or simply fishing into the holes in the weed, no more than 30 or 40 yards out. You’d be up the tree watching the fish, waiting for them to leave, throw a pop up on top of the hole in the weed, leg it down the tree and flick your marker out next to it. Then you’d be back up the tree making sure it was bang on the spot, get back down, cast a rod next to the float feeling for that crisp drop. Once happy with that, it was back up the tree to throw 5 or 10 baits out. Once you had traps set, you’d be baiting little margin spots in the swim next door, climbing to the tops of trees, searching for the A-Team. It really was epic fishing knowing there was a mid-forty mirror and an equally impressive mid to upper-thirty black common potentially there to be caught.
The first season was all about getting bites, slowly working my way through all the other back up fish, catching a few of the big fully’s, the Strawberry Fish, Stocky, Two Tone and the Half Lin etc. By the second season I was starting to get a lot of repeats and came close to catching the big common in particular quite a few times. I had a good chance with the mirror too. My ticket was getting close to renewal at this point, and it was half term, so I was doing a 7-nighter. I managed a small common on my first night then blanked a further 4 nights; it was time for a move. The angler that was in the Bridge Swim was packing up and the fish had been getting in the Finger Bay a lot over the previous few days, so in the pouring down rain I walked all my gear round to the bridge swim, getting absolutely soaked in the process.
To cut a long story short, I managed three bites that first night, all on my right-hand rod, so the move paid off big style. The beauty of the Bridge Swim was, you could sneak into the back of the finger bay and climb a good tree to check what was in there milling about in amongst the reedbed. Upon climbing the tree, I could see a couple of small ones in the reeds themselves. Then they drifted under the outer tree branches, under the canopy of the tree I was stood in. Looking down to have a closer look, I saw the two smaller fish and then all of a sudden, the massive girth of the Big Mirror glided into view. I sat watching her for a good 45 minutes, and she seemed pretty happy in her little snaggy home. As slowly and stealthily as I could, I shimmied down the tree back to the brolly. It was back when Rod Hutchinson used to make small packs of prepared peanuts, so I grabbed a packet of them and managed to sneak back up the tree without causing any disturbance. Once up the tree I started to flick the odd half peanut onto the gravel that was to the side of her. At first, she did nothing, then after a couple more peanuts, you could suddenly see her fins starting to twist and roll. In a controlled manner, she turned and dropped down and started grazing over the gravel where my bait was. Well as you can imagine, I stayed up the tree all day flicking bait in for her, and she just kept on dropping back down for them.
Evening was approaching and I felt I had a mega chance of tripping her up, so it was back to the swim to set a trap for the hours of darkness (when most the bites seemed to be). It was a simple case of flicking the rod onto the dam wall, walking across the bridge and finding your lead. Once I found it, I clipped a backlead on and slid it to the outer edges of the nearside tree, to get my line down. Then I tied a fresh rig onto the running lead setup (which I used a lot back then) and lowered it off the bridge onto the cleanest bit of bottom I could see. Grabbing a bit of willow branch, I then hung over the bridge and made sure I straightened all my rig and leadcore out, so it was perfect. Lastly, it was a simple case of giving the rig a sprinkle of hemp, chopping 5 boilies in half, and pouring all the hemp juice over my rig and wafting it under the bridge in the direction of the Big Mirror. On dark she was still in the tree, so I put a few more nuts in the snag tree then did a trail of them to my hookbait to see if I could lure her out.
Well at around midnight my single locked up rod, let out a few beeps and I was on it in a flash. It was already in full battle curve when I picked it up, so all I could do was keep the rod sunk and hold on for dear life. Luckily, after 20 seconds of absolute savagery, I somehow managed to stop a powerful fish from making it the other side of the bridge and got it back out in front of the small swim. A chap next door called Steph had heard the bite and came down to see what was going on, with the fish all the while plodding around deep in front of me. As Steph turned his headtorch on we both saw this massive creamy submarine glide past the front of the swim… Steph said “It’s the f**king mirror mate!!”. Inside I was thinking ‘No s**t!’, but now concentration levels went through the roof and I was making sure I just kept steering it away from the nearside bushes. As I did so, her head briefly bobbed up and she momentarily wallowed on the surface. Fair play to Steph he didn’t mess around and instantly scooped her up! As you can imagine as a 15-year-old nipper, it was like a blur to be honest, especially when we hoisted her up on the scales and she went 44lb 10oz. I was literally on cloud nine!!! After all the pics were done and everyone drifted off, I wasn’t going to redo the rod but I couldn’t sleep because I was buzzing, so thought sod it I may as well reset the trap. A few hours later and I managed another one. When your luck’s in and all that!
Final Words
Mate, it has been an absolute pleasure talking to you, really appreciate the time. I know you're just about to embark on a new adventure so hopefully we can catch up with you again at some point and see how that's going!
No worries at all mate, it's been good reminiscing and I'm buzzing for the new adventure, it's what fishing is all about!
Final Words
Mate, it has been an absolute pleasure talking to you, really appreciate the time. I know you're just about to embark on a new adventure so hopefully we can catch up with you again at some point and see how that's going!
No worries at all mate, it's been good reminiscing and I'm buzzing for the new adventure, it's what fishing is all about!
