15 September, 2025 | Carp | Angler Blogs | Articles

Andy Bradnock: Be Careful What You Wish For and Tales of May Fluff – At Frimley Pits

Another brilliant tale from Andy Bradnock – this time casting back to his fishing at Frimley towards the back end of Spring…

After my last visit to Frimley I had a session booked with Chris and the Doc at their lovely little syndicate lake.

I have been on the waiting list for a fair while and it looked like this year, I may be in with a shout of this, much anticipated ticket. The plan for this trip was to meet the owner and try not to make a plonker of myself, thus ruining my chance of a place on the syndicate.

The lake was more beautiful than I imagined with a small herd of Fallow Deer grazing on the far side of the valley in which the lake nestled.

The far side had a herd of Fallow Deer

The silence was almost deafening the only sound in the vicinity was the constant squabbling of a gaggle of Canada geese.

We had the one night available, so we set up in the middle of the lake and despite the freezing temperatures that had characterised this March, a few fish leapt and crashed welcoming us in style.

The Doc as usual managed to completely out-fish me but I did sneak a 25lb common onto the bank in the early evening, just after the sun had set.

I hadn’t fished with the Doc for ages so we shared a double swim, sadly Chris had to cancel on us so it was just the two of us for the night. I used to think I was a bit of an insomniac but the Doc hardly seems to sleep at all – I may need to check that he has a reflection.

The following morning James (the Doc) managed a really significant and long over-due milestone – he landed his first UK forty.

A fin perfect common fulfilled the role spectacularly so it was tea and cuddles all round as we spent a lovely, but freezing cold afternoon re-living his success.

The best news of the day for me was that the owner had decided, I wasn’t too bad an egg and offered me a place for the upcoming season due to start in July.

Long overdue – the Doc’s first UK Forty

Two weeks later my Birthday loomed on the horizon and as I hate birthdays, I was keen to get out for some of the peace and solitude that carp fishing provides.

When I arrived at the Frimley crossing it became apparent that the system to get over the railway line had completely changed.

The gates to the crossing are usually opened by the crossing guard, imagine a lollipop man with less people skills. However, the protocol has changed and the anglers themselves are now in charge of the process – what could possibly go wrong?

What we now have to do is phone through to the Imperial Overlords and ask for permission to open the crossing, then unlock all the gates, drive through and call them back to report the crossing is clear and locked back up.

On my second attempt at this Mark had taken delivery of a road roller, this had been dropped off and needed to be driven across the tracks which I hadn’t realised he was planning to do on this crossing. It took best part of a week for this heavy piece of machinery to lumber across the tracks. The tricky bit was that when I had called in for permission to cross I had estimated that we would need 3 minutes, the roller made Andy Mackie look lively and quick on his toes so I have probably been black listed by the Empire already as we clearly over-ran our time slot.

Finally, I was in the car-park but the fantastic news was that the hard-core for the path had been laid so the roller that was still grumbling over the bridge towards the lake would be employed in flattening the substrate.

We were finally going to be able to negotiate the bottom half of the lake without the risk of a hernia or heart attack!

Once I was locked away from the real world for a couple of days, I set about looking for somewhere suitable for my bivvy.

There wasn’t a sign of a fish anywhere until I reached the top end of the lake, there in the ‘Pads’ swim was the mother-load, the narrow neck of water was black with carp.

Unfortunately, Sam was already set up on these fish and, quite unreasonably I thought, didn’t want to exchange his swim for a bag of Werthers Originals and a mucky mag.

The next swim down was ‘Henry’s’ which was free and a number of fish were evident here as well. My first night would be spent in the familiar embrace of ‘Henry’s’.

I managed to get baits into position without too much disturbance and still saw some fish after they were all in place. Sadly it looked like I had ruined things for both Sam and myself though, as the fish seemed to drift slowly away.

Sam was in a slightly poorer position than me because, I still had a bag of sweets and a mucky mag.

Not a beep emanated from the Delkims overnight but at 05.30 a show started further down the lake.

Fish after fish leapt and cavorted in front of ‘Fox Point’, halfway down the lake to my right.

I was soon packed down and on my toes as the top end of the lake was now pretty convincingly devoid of carp.

After a few hours, I was installed in ‘Fox Point’ and as the early morning display had stopped, I got baits onto areas that have been previously productive.

Hopefully, when the fish decided to feed again it would be where they had demonstrated their presence a few hours earlier.

I sat Gnome-like for the next 24-hrs as not a beep was emitted from the alarms and not a single fish had the decency to betray its presence by breaking the surface.

By 14.00 I was packed away and over the crossing with yet another blank session chalked up on my tally.

A couple of weeks later, I had the green light to head west and spend a couple of nights in my little green dome. Adam was going to be with me this trip but the sneaky little, potato faced git had arrived an hour before our agreed start time, so had jumped across the tracks on the 13.00 crossing.

He had proclaimed ‘The Stick’ his, as the Frimley carp had taken up residence within its sphere of influence.

This swim does plenty of bites through the year but is really popular and therefore rarely empty.

This means the bite:rod hour ratio isn’t that great, neither Adam nor I have ever been overly successful in this swim.

I dropped into the ‘Big Noddy’ a short way to Adam’s left, fishing the middle of the bar that ends in front of the ‘Stick’.

We had a good catch up and did a BBQ that involved duck breasts that, let’s just say we, ‘acquired’.

They tasted lovely with plenty of butter, salad and fresh white buns. On the second morning down to my left in the back-bay, a giant fish had head and shouldered so, I was keeping an eye on this tricky bit of water.

As the sun’s warmth made itself felt in the afternoon between my swim and the back-bay, I found a black snake curled up warming itself.

I initially got a bit excited as I thought it was an Adder and called Adam to come see.

The sight of two heavy-footed morons was too much for the snake and it un-curled and started to move away. This is when it got really cool as it had a yellow ear patch and eye so was actually a dark-form grass snake which we had never seen before and is super rare.

What we thought was an Adder

Fishing wise, the 48-hours passed uneventfully until the 11^th hour when, while sat drinking Adam’s tea I had a flurry of beeps from the middle alarm.

I hot-footed it the short distance to my rods and found the middle bobbin up at the blank, I grabbed the rod and pulled into what I hoped would be a carp.

Just as I passed the point of no-return in this action I saw the culprit of my beeping, a 10lb pike was just pushing my mainline with the tip of its snout, between the rod tip and back-lead – luckily it spooked without clamping on the nylon.

I decided to call it quits at this point and packed down aiming for an earlier crossing than I had originally intended.

While I did this Adam let himself down, in fact he let us all down as, in a fit of madness, he had cast a zig to where the fish were milling about just under the surface.

I told him, in no uncertain terms, he was now technically dead to me and had no more right to be on God’s Green Earth than a weasel.

I bid him good luck and as I made my way down to the car-park with a heavily laden barrow, my phone started to squawk in my pocket.

On the other end was a forlorn Adam, he had gone and lost one on his recently cast zig, there was even an outside chance it was hooked in the mouth. I decided to stay and commiserate with him for a while planning to catch the next crossing, somehow I was still rushing to get there for the allotted time slot.

Remarkably, I managed to wrangle another 48-hr session the following week and after my usual walkabout, dropped back into the familiar ‘Henry’s’, probably my favourite swim on the lake.

I had a rod waded down the tree line and the other two cast to previously successful spots in front and out to my left.

I was back using my normal mix of Swim Stim Margin Mix ground bait with 6mm Betaine Green pellets, Frenzied Particles, Krill Liquid and Crab Extract. Small balls of this pure attraction were deposited on-top of each hookbait.

The first night passed un-eventfully by, but early afternoon heralded Adam’s arrival with his latest acquisition – an all singing all dancing bait-boat.

They are not permitted on Frimley but Adam had cleared it with Mark as we needed some water to set up all the boats plethora of functions – it has more buttons and dials than the Soyuz-11 rocket.

We spent an hour going through the instruction manual working out how each of the advanced functions were calibrated, then settled down to drink tea in my swim. I was parked on a bucket with my back to the rods when the tree line rod erupted into a cacophony of beeps, I turned around to see an alarmingly bent rod, bucking in the rests as the tight clutch refused to relinquish line.

I was soon rod in hand – the well-rehearsed dance of rod plunged to the spigot and maximum side-strain applied had begun.

The branches of the marginal trees were shaking and bouncing and I couldn’t gain any line, it didn’t make any sense though as the branches were moving 3 feet above the water line.

After a few minutes of stalemate, Adam was donning my chesties and clambering about down the margin to wrestle the fish free of the branches.

However, it turned out I was not snagged on the woodwork but tangled in previously un-seen lost tackle that some Muppet had cast into the tree from the far side.

The fish surfaced just to Adam’s left, I was yelling that it was right there, he was trying to tell me that I was tangled in lost tackle and a train was blowing its horn as it rumbled down the track behind the swim.

It was fraught, neither of us could hear the other, but Adam yet again saved my bacon and freed me of the lost tackle – I was back in direct control.

Before long he was at my shoulder net in hand re-living his recent heroics, telling me that the fish had pretty well rolled between his knees and it was a mid-twenty common.

After a bit more wrestling and grunting I managed to steer the fish over the net-cord and she was declared mine. Adam had guessed a weight of 27lb 1oz – up onto the Rueben’s and the digitals indeed confirmed 27lb 10oz on the nose. Impeccable guess work!

27lb 10oz

After doing some magnificent pictures for me, Adam departed for civilisation, leaving me to sort rods for the night.

At 23.30 the left-hand rod roared off and I was scrambling out of a warm sleeping-bag to do battle.

The short-lived fight didn’t ever feel like a carp and within a few minutes, the zippy erratic runs of a tench were subdued long enough to bundle it into the net.

There sat an 8lb 4oz male tench that was the same fish that I had berated myself for not having a proper photo of it when I last caught it.

I therefore rectified this and slipped the fish back with the phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for’ dancing across my subconscious…

Not a carp, but a nice tench of 8lb 4oz

The following morning I packed down early and then spent an hour raking off the tree line spot removing some dead branches and the rest of the lost tackle – or so I thought.

The spot was then liberally baited with a bucket of Dynamite’s finest, providing a free feast whilst I was away.

The following weekend my wife, dog and I spent a couple of lovely days in the wilds of Dartmoor, even managing a few hours across the county line in Cornwall to visit Fowey – one of my favourite places in England.

This cross-border incursion was not without its hazards, you have to cream and jam your scones the ‘correct’ way, depending on which side of the county line you are.

Unflinching stares and copious amounts of tutting are reserved for those who get it wrong.

A couple of days in Devon

Back at work the week turned really stressful with lots going on and some complicated surgeries making my head hurt.

By the time I had finished the Saturday surgery I was a bit frazzled. I wasn’t intending to fish that weekend but other commitments cancelled and while talking to Adam who was lake-bound as we spoke, I thought sod it lets go fishing.

Also I had just received a package containing a new set of chesties. I have written previously about various battles to get into the damn things and, with the repairs I had made in my last pair after a mouse attack now failing, a new pair were required.

Those bloody Frimley mice have cost me two pairs of waders and three bags in the last 2 years!

Adam had bought a pair of Fortis breathable chesties that have magnetic pockets and reflective bits on the rolled down boots but most importantly, wide-necked boots that stay open so jumping into them is almost a joy.

The price tag of £170 demonstrates that we have got a bit bourgeois as we have got older but while writing this I have done a few trips with these and can confirm they are worth every penny.

We did, rightly, get the piss taken out of us when we were stood together in matching waders, I felt bad that Adam was being ridiculed for my copycat actions, so told everyone he copied me the sheepy bugger.

If you are in the market for new chesties they are well worth a look.

I dropped back into ‘Henrys’ as a few fish were about and I wanted to fish my pre-baited spot. Adam was plotted up in the ‘Lawns’ where a large number of fish were making their presence known.

My spots were all baited with my usual ground-bait mix with some CSL and Fish-Gutz added to some Marine Halibut Pellets as the water temperature had risen significantly.

We were still in that pre-spawning period where, they don’t seem to want lots of food so, a dollop on each rod provided plenty of attraction without too much food.

I had a slow pull up on the tree-line rod that I had raked and baited 2 weeks ago.

Sadly, I hadn’t managed to remove all the lost tackle and reeled in some tungsten tubing and a lead clip.

Other than this I didn’t have an indication that there was a carp within a mile of me – Adam though had a session to remember which I am sure he will write about at some point.

I was in his swim at some un-godly hour of the night as his buzzer was so loud when he had a take, it had woken me up probably 70m away!

I nipped down in my nice new chesties and netted the fish for him.

After the photo session was complete, we were wide awake so sat drinking hot-chocolate like a pair of geriatric old farts loving being out catching fish.

The International Space Station even passed over us glowing brightly in the cloudless night sky. Adam sadly lost what looked like a good mirror the next day which put a dampener on the session but, I had really enjoyed what was ultimately unproductive for me but it was great seeing Adam get amongst some of the Frimley fish.

Adam managed to get down weekly for a while extracting giants seemingly every time he cast out – stuck at work I was desperate to get down to the lake as he constantly sent us pictures of his success.

I arrived for my next session on 11^th May and started to look around the lake, trying to find something to cast at.

The lake was busy most areas were covered but ‘Daisy Bay’ was free with a few fish milling around in its clear water. I decided to have a check around the lake before committing to the bay which turned out to be a mistake, as I pushed my barrow into the swim another member had dropped in before me.

I sulked and grumbled a bit but a swim at Frimley is not yours until all your kit is in it, I turned around and dropped into the ‘Back Bay’.

I had been baiting the bay for a few weeks since seeing that giant roll, every time I left all remaining bait was thrown onto the productive spots.

What I didn’t realise at the time was that, plenty of other members did the same. Still hardly a soul fishes this swim as it’s such a miserable place to be, you would think that with all the free bait the fish would be in there constantly.

Sadly this is not the case. However, as I was getting the rods sorted a fish rolled in the bay, I was definitely in with a chance.

The mosquitos in the bay are a squadron of hideous proboscis wielding b@$**#rds, I did find a new use for the empty tins of Frenzied Particles though. Punching a few holes in the bottom with a tent-peg allows you to make a small smoker, don’t put too many holes in it or wood burns rather than just smokes, the oxygen levels have to be kept down.

This smoke kept the evening’s bloodletting to a minimum. A few more fish were heard rolling after dark so I fell asleep expecting to be woken in the night.

The dawn light slowly poked its head through the low cloud, the unruffled lake surface was covered in pollen and May-fluff that reflected the soft light. The inactivity experienced was emphasised by an industrious spider that had set up his ethereal home between my rod tip and mainline.

The spider only evicted when I reeled in to recast later that afternoon. Small sticks were impaled on 2 hooks. This may have happened when reeling in but I worry that I had spent all night with fish in the bay and two ineffectual rigs sat without any chance of hooking a carp. I decided to stay another night but left tail firmly between my legs as nothing came back into the bay.

I think I must have been overly grumpy when I got home as my wife was happy to get rid of me the following Sunday and another trip lake-bound was planned. I arrived to a busy lake yet again, I made it 8 piscators on the Sunday night.

‘Daisy Bay’ was free again and as there were fish milling around in the pads I dropped my barrow straight in there, not wanting a repeat of the mistakes made the previous week. With the swim secured, I went looking for any other signs of carp – none were found so I was happy that ‘Daisy Bay’ would be home for the night.

A large number of carp were milling around the bay, the only down-side being that they all looked around 25lbs, male and commons. I got baits out using my usual 3-rod trick, the fish in the bay didn’t seem to react and continued to happily mill about. On the Saturday I had been down to the beach with my wife and dog, on the way back we always call in to Arundel.

When we arrived in the town, the skyline dominated by its medieval castle, we discovered that we had timed our trip perfectly as the farmers market was in town. We bought some great food and I found a new woolly hat that had been hand knitted by a farmer’s wife, one of a kind and a perfect fit. I was up at 04.30 and really glad for my new hat as it was freezing, how can May be this cold.

With tea made I was sat watching the world wake up when the middle rod’s bobbin hit the blank and the rod jumped and bucked in the rests.

The clutch was screwed up tight so didn’t give any line. I soon had the rod in hand and the fish came back towards me without any dramas, dropping into the deeper channel which runs through the bay. At this point I climbed into the Fortis chesties which was so much easier than normal and was soon wading out throwing the net in front of me.

The small set of pads that occupy the middle of the bay and had cost me dearly last year were up and acting with magnetic like force on the fish I was attached to, before long it was stuck in the middle of these the line squeaking and rubbing through the sparse stems. As the fish kicked and struggled the pads lost their grip and the fish was my side of the pads and soon within netting range.

With no further histrionics the 25.11 common was soon engulfed in the net, while doing the photos the rough dry skin of this male just confirmed that spawning wasn’t a huge time away.

25lb 11oz

I hadn’t realised my new hat was so lucky, I had only had it on for 20 minutes and I had a fish in the net already, I am assuming the hat was knitted on a full moon with a pair of magpie feathers incorporated into the yarn.

I managed to get the rod straight back onto its spot and sat watching the lake wake up. In front of Fallen Tree a display of bubbling and crashing went on for a couple of hours so despite having entrapped the pixels of a carp already that morning, I had decided a move would be needed.

As this decision was being cemented in my mind at 08.00 the right-hand rod leapt into action, I was just making up some rigs for the following night so as I dragged my ageing butt off the floor, I was spraying spools of line and hooks everywhere.

I soon had the fish under control and as it headed out of the bay I kept the line high and out of the grasp of the middle bay pads. I was waded out to the right, on the edge of the drop off and played out my angry adversary in water clearer than we have ever seen at Frimley.

I could see it was a fin bristling, male looking, mid-twenty common again but it refused to give in, repeatedly rolling on the line and powering away from the net cord. Eventually after plenty of swearing the fish allowed me to scoop it up relieving my shoulder of its torment. At 25lb 9oz it suggested I was right and the fish I had seen yesterday were in this weight bracket – the important bit though was another fish for the new hat, this thing is not coming off my head again.

25lb 9oz

I put the rod back out and had a long phone discussion with Adam about moving, there weren’t any fish in evidence in the bay now but, moving off from a swim that has just done two bites seemed reckless, maybe even foolhardy.

However, he convinced me a move was definitely needed so kit on the barrow and by lunch time I was ensconced in ‘Fallen Tree’, as a side note another angler who knows his onions dropped into ‘Daisy Bay’ that night and blanked so at least I felt I had made a good decision.

I soon had baits out on two spots that have done bites for me previously but the fish I had seen that morning were mainly close in so, the third rod was under-armed to the right just over a band of weed in the margins.

The lead was landing firm but not hard and I was able to easily throw balls of ground-bait over the area.

This was an area I have never fished before and hadn’t ever seen anyone else fishing either.

As the light started to fade out of the sky a giant fish rolled right on top of my left hand rod 50m out into the lake, a few shows further left as well showed fish were in the area – I fell asleep quietly confident of action. At 3:30am the in close right hand rod signalled a take and I was soon drawing a double figure bream into the waiting net – Adam had said all I would catch in close was bream and I could feel a bout of ‘I told you so’ coming my way.

I was in for a bout of ‘I told you so’

I swung the rod back into position and hurled a handful of bait into the rings left by the lead.

The lead had landed with a much firmer bump than previously.

Nothing else happened through the night and dawn broke without a sign of a fish breaking the fluff covered flat calm surface of the lake.

As ‘Fallen Tree’ is thought to be mainly a night-bite area, I had pretty well written off my chances of any further action.

I had dragged out the un-hooking mat and laid it down by the rods as it was the only area where a bit of sun was getting through. I then settled down for a bit of a kip in the sun.

At 10.00 the in close right-hand rod which was inches from my left ear screamed off, the fish charging out into the lake.

It was moving at a fair old lick by this point and as I picked up the rod mumbling ‘beard on’ to myself I tried to control the shaking of my knees as this fish, put as much distance between us as possible.

The long kite to the left took the fish over both of the other lines and it started to head into the left margin that is covered in sunken bushes.

Kneeling on the platform, the rod was held down low half under the water as I tried to gain line and keep this fish out of the woodwork. This was slow going with constant pauses, as the rod took on yet more curve as this belligerent beast refused to comply to what I thought were very reasonable terms.

Slowly the power went out of the kicks felt coming up the line and eventually she was back in front of me deep down over the marginal shelf.

At this point the unusually clear waters of Frimley contributed to my anxiety as I could see the twisting form of a substantial common where normally, I would be happily oblivious of what I had managed to hook.

The next 10 minutes were horrible – I was no longer enjoying this, I wanted it over but I couldn’t get the fish to come that final few feet.

Every time I thought ok this time, a new surge of power was found and I was back to trying to regain lost nylon.

With a dry mouth and my heart hammering in my ears its head eventually came up and she coughed some water swinging ever so slowly so her head was coming towards the spreader block.

Then it was suddenly all over as I lifted and shuffled all in one action and I gratefully watched as the carp dropped into the comforting clutches of the Frimley net.

At 37lb 3oz it was such an amazing way to finish the session and as I couldn’t get down for 2wks I thought would be my last fish before the carp of pit 3 spawned and the lake is closed.

The Biggest for the lucky hat so far at 37lb 3oz

I packed down shortly after this and decided to investigate this short area with a marker rod.

I tried to find the slightly firmer drop I had managed on the re-cast in the night but it was nowhere to be seen. I had taken the lucky hat off by this point so maybe that was the problem.