I wasn’t planning to arrive at the lake on a Monday night—not originally. But sometimes the stars align, or in this case, a shift in the weather, an open diary, and a nagging sense of timing all came together. I’ve learnt over the years not to ignore that instinct.

A large southwesterly weather front was sweeping through, bringing cloud cover, warmth, and that rolling, humid air pressure that often gets the carp on the move. If that wind hadn’t started hacking into the Airfield Lake, I probably would’ve stuck to the club water. Meadow hadn’t been producing much lately, despite that recent capture of the 50lber that caused a frenzy of activity down there. But realistically, it was only the stockies that had been coming out, and I had my theories as to why.

Some thought they hadn’t spawned yet; I wasn’t convinced. To me, it was more likely the lake was suffering from a nutritional imbalance—namely, a tidal wave of tiger nuts. Don’t get me wrong, carp love them. Love them a bit too much. The trouble is, they’re addictive but hard to digest. It can take three, even four cycles through a carp’s gut before they actually break them down, and in the meantime, the lake becomes one big recycling bin of tiger nuts. They’re being eaten, crapped out, and eaten again until eventually digested—if not by the same fish, then by another. While this is happening, the carp can end up losing condition. So no, Meadow wasn’t for me right now.

I needed somewhere I could build on something - a spot, a pattern, a little piece of rhythm with the lake. August was nearly upon us, and over the years, it had been a kind month on the Airfield. It was time to prep a couple of areas, see how the fish were behaving, and maybe carve out a session or two that could set me up for the rest of the summer.

I arrived at the Airfield Lake just before 1900 hours. The drive in along the east bank offered early signs of promise: several carp topping mid-water, rolling just beneath the ripple. And to my relief, no one was in the southwest corner swim—the exact spot I had in mind.

With four nights ahead of me, I had options. If it didn’t pan out in 48 hours, I could up sticks and try elsewhere, but I felt quietly confident. Everything about the air, the lake, the light… it just had that feeling.