But, I just couldn't resist rushing to the creek because it had come the most wonderful rain shower a couple of hours earlier. Normally after a rain shower, Charlie or me can almost always count on the carp being in the shallows foraging.
Today that wasn't the case. At the upper shallows of the pasture Honey Hole there wasn't a single carp. The water here was remarkably clear, which I don't know if that's such a good thing or not. Sure, it's perfect for sight fishing, but not so perfect from trying to stay undetected from the carp.
Downstream there was another set of shallows that were totally different. In this small section of the larger pasture, a canopy of trees shades the water all day long. Hardly any direct sunlight gets to the water. The water here today was dingy... quite dingy. I knew I was left to blind casting and hope.
At this place I tie on one of Charlie's worm patterns. This would be the first time to use this pattern after Charlie give it to me almost two months ago. The worm went out into the dingy deep and the hope begin.
Employing a excruciatingly slow strip there was a tug followed by that now natural instinct of rod tip up and stripping hand down and back. The hook set felt solid and the battle begin.
This carp peeled line off with ease. Twice I brought him back downstream only to have the fish fight off my effort and peel more line going back upstream. With the ease this fish was peeling line and the hard time I was having in managing the fish, I honestly thought I'd foul hooked this fish, which is always a crappy feeling.
Finally I was able to work the fish into water that was about eight inches deep and I could see that the hook was undoubtedly in his mouth. As a matter of fact it was deeper in his mouth than I like.
For a carp this length, I was surprised at how hard this guy fought. At best this carp measured maybe 22 inches. But, was he ever a chunk! I mean this fish was thick, with broad shoulders. I decided to name this carp Fat Ass. He just seemed to fit.
At my workplace I lift poundage all day and have been doing so for twenty-five years now. I have a pretty good sense for how much something weighs. As I carried the carp back upstream to deeper water to let him return to his deeper dominion, the fish felt remarkably like a 10 pound bag of potatoes. He wasn't a big or heavy fish by carp means, but he was a heavy fish for no longer than he was.
I knelt and let Fat Ass gently sway back and forth from my grip and then he slowly returned home.
The pork roast at home was requiring my attention, so I left the banks of the creek.