Andy Bradnock: In Search of Silverado A | Frimley Pits Blog

15 October, 2025 | Carp | Angler Blogs | Articles

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Andy Bradnock’s latest in his series of Frimley adventures recounts an early summer session where, despite a rather painful wader mishap, luck was certainly on his side…

As usual it had been a couple of weeks since my last fishing trip as a few extra shifts and a bank holiday had seen me confined to barracks.

It was the beginning of June by this point and I was constantly worrying that my planned session for the Sunday and Monday nights, would be cancelled as the Frimley stock had decided to get a communal leg over, and finally get on with the job of spawning.

Fortunately for me, the weather had turned a tad cooler again which seemed to have quelled the sexual appetites of the big females, the males were a bit frisky still but with no chasing or following going on, spawning surely had to be some way off still.

Mark closes the lake for a couple of weeks when they spawn which gives me chance to don the dive gear and do some jobs in the lake for him. It also means the fish get a bit of a rest after the rigours of spawning.

On busy lakes like Frimley this is a good idea but with one caveat – that they are fed. Mark will be chucking in plenty of pellet when the lake is closed as suddenly removing all the food us anglers throw in, just when they need it the most is detrimental.

Let’s also be clear though, no-one catches a spawning carp – ever. When they are spawning, they have no interest in feeding. The issue is idiots fishing amongst spawning carp and inadvertently foul-hooking them.

We cannot get overly precious about closing lakes, going on about respecting the carp etc. as our raison-d’etra is to put hooks in their lips and pull them into landing nets.

However, the less pressure they are put under at a stressful time of year will hopefully make them live longer and healthier.

The other issue I see with closing due to spawning is, if you have a lake where they spawn more than once, you could be in a situation where most of the summer is lost due to multiple closures.

Unless you are thinking it’s ok to catch them when it’s the second spawning of the year?? Mark has a really good attitude to the whole situation, when the majority of the stock start spawning the lake is closed for 2 weeks and during this time he feeds them.

Considering how old the majority of the fish are and how healthy they are, this regime seems to suit the lake perfectly.

Good Omens

So, with no sign of spawning activity by the Sunday afternoon I had the green-light to load up the car for my 48 hours of freedom. The Sunday morning had been spent wandering the Surrey countryside accompanying my wife and dog through lush meadows and river banks.

We were lucky enough to see a Little Owl that perched on a branch above us, on the edge of a small riverside copse. These owls are not native to the UK, but were introduced at the end of the 19^th century by Lord Lilford and Edmund Meade-Waldo in Northampton and Kent respectively.

They did really well until game-keepers worried that they preyed on pheasant chicks. Fortunately, it has been proved that they feed mainly on insects and small rodents.

In Ancient Roman times, they were associated with the Goddess Minerva and appeared on the Greek tetradrachm coin from 500 BCE. A really cool bird to see, our path was also crossed by a pair of magpies later in the walk – at this time of year an incredibly lucky harbinger.

I was soon thinking of nothing but getting fishing as the luck auspices were lining up nicely. Sadly, the moon-phase was terrible which gave me cause for concern for a second or two but I managed to over-ride its magic by stuffing my pants with wild garlic leaves and hopping on one leg thrice across a bridge under which lives a troll.

With the car packed and a hasty kiss goodbye I was clenching my teeth for the cross country run to the land of giant commons.

On a recent visit to the dentist, she had told me I grind my teeth as some have worn enamel.

I know for sure I don’t do this as my wife would be punching me in the ribs all night if I did. I have realised though that I am constantly clenching my jaw when driving to go fishing so maybe that is the issue.

Luckily the grey-brigade were busy eating over-boiled cabbage or some-such as the roads were mercifully free of Honda Jazzes. I arrived in good time and as we are now getting used to organising the crossing by ourselves, I was soon across the tracks and parked up, my jaw finally un-clenched.

Location, Location, Location

I was wandering around the lake in a clockwise direction; all the margins and bays were carefully inspected for carpy inhabitants but nothing was seen. The moderate SW wind was pushing up towards The Pads and I was slowly making my way in that direction.

The weather looked spot on for the rarely fished Fox Corner. For the first time in ages as I rounded the corner onto the Fox Peninsula a bivvy was parked in this swim.

The occupant, Korda Andy is a great fella and very easy going company, he had confirmed the conditions were good for this swim by extracting two 30’s in the last 24hrs.

Fox Point didn’t look that appealing but as I entered The Lawns I was greeted by a common leaving the water at the entrance to the bay on the swims left. I checked further up the lake but with anglers already in The Pads and Catwalk the narrow end of the lake was a bit busy, so I drifted back to The Lawns and spent a bit of time watching.

A few further shows made my mind up for me and I was soon making The Lawns my Pied-à-terre or the night. With fish in-situ I opted to fish carefully and quietly. Rigs were cast onto the far bank and as quietly as possible waded into position.

Each bait lowered via a landing net pole onto their respective spots, accompanying each paste wrapped bottom-bait was a good handful of Dynamites betaine green pellets mixed into Swim Stim margin mix ground-bait with Krill liquid, crab extract and some Fish Gutz.

All this is my usual modus operandi and is a method I have ultimate confidence in, I just need to be putting the bait in the right place to produce a successful result. The right hand rod was waded down to a near margin clear spot that was surrounded by low lying weed.

The spot could be felt with the toe of my boot then the bait lowered onto it. Just after I had got my baits into position I looked back across the peninsula to see Andy with an angrily bent rod trying to steer his adversary away from the pads on the right-hand side of his swim.

I trotted across to help and after an intense battle I lifted the net around a 39lb 5oz male common for him. Three fish in a day – he was having a fantastic session.

After a simple dinner I was sat watching the light fade from the sky as carp started to leap and frolic in an area 50m in-front of me. Many times previously I would have tried to reposition a rod on these showing fish – it has never been successful, always resulting in a mass exodus from the area.

I therefore sat and watched as 100+ shows continued until the last remnant of daylight faded from the now deep purple night sky.

My middle rod the furthest into the pond was only 20-30m from the bulk of the shows, surely it wasn’t too much to ask that one of the plethora of carp could travel that far for some premium grub. Christ I have driven 30 miles before now, just to get a decent bag of chips. I was sound asleep when at 23.30 one of the lakes residents made a mistake and picked up one of my hook-baits.

When I had closed my eyes I was convinced that if I had a bite it would have been on the middle rod – by far the most consistent spot in the swim for Adam and myself over previous sessions.

As I exited the bivvy I almost instinctively picked up the middle rod, fortunately I was just awake enough for it to register in my sleepy brain that it was the left rod into the bay that was demanding attention.

The sparse pads that litter the area gave me a few squeaky bum issues, as the fish locked up behind them. Steady pressure and a calm head slowly decapitated the troublesome leaves, direct contact was established as the fish headed out into open water.

Ouch!

As with many swims on Pit 3 the shallow marginal shelf extends out from The Lawns leaving just a couple of feet of water until about 10yds from the bank. Due to the shallow margins, at this point in the argument I performed the ancient Japanese martial art of speed donning chesties.

The new Fortis waders are incredible and within seconds both feet were securely housed in the boots and I was smoothly pulling the strap up to go over my left shoulder.

I was happily congratulating myself at how seamlessly I had performed the task when I realised, deep down in my psyche beats the heart of an utter moron. I hadn’t placed the shoulder straps correctly when folding down the waders, one was perfectly placed between my legs.

As I dragged the strap over my left shoulder, I became acutely aware of my mistake as this resulted in the right strap attempting to pull my testicles into my throat.

I couldn’t reach the buckle to release the pressure so strode forward with a little whimper, again suffering for my art. Every step I took into the lake bringing me closer to becoming a modern day eunuch, when an elasticated strap is put under pressure they are surprisingly unforgiving on your gentleman area.

Once out in the pond and having become more accustomed to the discomfort in my nethers, the job of drawing the fish into the waiting net was the focus of my attention.

Obviously the beast didn’t want to give in, being a lean fit young male full of testosterone he wanted to ruck forever, eventually the pressure prevailed and 31lbs 5oz of common slipped gratefully over the net cord.

Putting the rod back out in the dark was a little tricky but the process went relatively smoothly and I was soon happily asleep, my achy balls but a distant memory. Very little was on show the following morning, I was expecting some sort of display after the number of carp I had seen the night before.

Not a single fish had been seen in my swim and I was two teas to the good at 06.00 when the right-hand rod on the near margin roared into life.

On picking up the rod a huge bow-wave bulged up onto the surface as the fish made its escape.

After just a few seconds the bend in the carbon was no more, contact was lost. A burred hook-point had not found deep enough purchase, I had trodden on the line while playing the fish in the night so maybe I had bounced the hook-point on the rough gravel.

With the spilt milk well and truly cried over, I waded another bait into position – lamenting what could have been. There was a bit of sploshing in the pads in-front of Fox Point later that morning which was potentially the prequel to the anticipated spawning.

This stopped after a couple of hours, peace and quiet reigned again.

Every Cloud…

The silence was banished kicking and screaming at 10.00 when the recently replaced right rod erupted in what felt like a wall of sound.

What is it that is so addictive about carp fishing, maybe it’s the whole out in nature, camping and eating outdoors – rarely though are we out in the wilds, most of the lakes we fish have a back garden feel to them with woodchip and gravel aplenty.

Playing a fish is exciting but when fishing a lake where every bite is precious the battle is usually a fraught anxious affair. Once victory has been declared the battle seems to be much more fun but during……. I think it’s the bite that is the addictive bit, it is pure innocence, before the battle has commenced where the possibilities are endless, before the reality has been realised.

I was bent into the powerful carp in short order as, to the background musical notes created by a screaming clutch, the fish tried to put as much distance between us as possible. Getting into chesties this time went smoothly so I was luckily already in the pond when the fish started to kite right into the heavy thick pads. My cortisol levels were elevated as the line began to squeak along the outside edge of the pads just getting into the bed, 10m from my position.

Time stood still as the pressure was increased and I tried to wade a little further to change the angle slightly and not allow the fish to get bogged down.

Keeping the tension on, trying to prevent it getting further into the lily bed, I waded into the leaves until I had managed to position the rod tip almost above the fish and then slowly drag it back into open water.

This wasn’t the last time these pads were investigated by the fish but luckily every time slow patient coaxing got everything moving again. I now had it on a short line and a war of attrition began as, the heavy feeling fish refused to come within netting range.

It was at this point I saw it was a mirror and the desire for this fight to be over went up a notch. Eventually, the pressure told and while coughing water a fish called the Silver Mirror was gratefully scooped up.

At 36lb 10oz this renowned battler, that never gives in easily was declared mine. The light was difficult for the photos with shadows but also bright reflective backgrounds, eventually after a little camera trickery I got some pictures of this magnificent mirror.

A Silver Lining

 

The rest of the day saw me happily soaking up the atmosphere of success and by early evening I had all rods back in position and freshly baited. Normally in this swim our most productive spot is the middle rod.

Not a beep had emanated from it so I assumed that maybe there was something wrong, either tangled or the hook-point masked as when the fish are in this area and willing to feed, this is the banker rod.

It all looked perfect so I dropped it back onto its respective spot with another handful of bait to freshen up the area.

That evening a pod of Tench decided that the ideal place for a spot of spawning was underneath my rod tips, I fell asleep to the sound of splashing and cavorting of these randy Tincas.

Double Bubble

A quiet night allowed me one of the best night’s sleep I have ever had on the bank, I was awake and refreshed at 05.00, kettle on and contemplating the day ahead. I had made tea and was just deciding what to have for breakfast when the right-hand close in rod went from 0-100mph in the blink of an eye.

Early on in the battle I had seen the fish which looked like a low 20 common so I took more liberties with it than I would normally, playing it quite hard.

Despite this, 25 minutes had been stolen off my clock before it finally dropped into the net. I quickly unhooked it and slipped it straight into the retainer. The fight had severely twisted up my mainline so I cut off the leader and walked the line 60yds up the bank, reeling it back through a wet sponge to de-twist it.

I had just got back to the swim when the left-hand rod pulled up tight and I was in again.

Another prolonged battle in and out of the sparse, yellow flowered pads that litter the area.

I am looking forward to pulling all the damn things out very soon.

Before long victory was declared and the 25lb 4oz common was put into the retainer from the next-door swim.

As I never retain fish more than for a few minutes to get the camera gear sorted day or night, having a pair of retainers full and sitting ready for my attention was a unique experience for me.

The first fish weighed in at 20lbs 4oz another male all rough skinned and full of testosterone no wonder it fought so hard.

This was the last of the action and before long I was slowly packing down, contemplating the inevitable return to reality. It was one of the most enjoyable sessions I have ever had, it would have deserved the moniker of perfect, just the loss of one fish dulling the patina of the session.

My lucky hat was still performing miracles and it turns out Little Owls are more important to catching fish than moon phases.

All the fish I had caught were males covered in rough tubercles so it cannot be long before spawning starts in earnest. I had two weeks where I couldn’t fish, a weekend away in Northumberland, walking beaches and looking at castles with my wife and dog, then on my return I planned a session on the Kent coast lake as I was sure that Frimley would be closed for spawning by then.