After a false start on Wednesday, which saw me heading home just a couple of hours after I arrived, I found myself once again back at the lake. Somehow, I’d gravitated back to the same swim—tucked under the trees, shaded from the harsh sunlight, and blessed with a cool breeze that occasionally drifted across my face like nature’s own sigh of relief. It felt familiar. Safe. A natural corner that always seemed to hold potential.The Fox Voyager tarp giving me shadeBut this session was already different.The carp were twitchy, moody—on the verge of spawning. You could feel it in the air. That thick, humid pressure before a storm. The kind of atmosphere that makes you sweat without moving and question every decision. I was praying that the forecasted weather change due on Friday or Saturday might delay the inevitable. It had originally been predicted for Thursday, but like everything in carp fishing, it had drifted—just like the carp, always unpredictable.I’ve always believed they know what’s coming before we do. Some sixth sense about them. The kind that makes them vanish into snags or appear out of nowhere when you're least expecting them.I wasn’t entirely sure how to approach this trip. With the temperature rising fast, I knew I had a narrow window before the day turned into a furnace. I flicked both rods out to obvious spots just to get something fishing while I set up camp, cracked open a drink, and let the place talk to me.Tight lines and be lucky!