After missing out on the lakes entirely last week—bar a few fleeting, frustrating hours by the river—I was itching for a proper session. The river had been enjoyable in its own way, but watching Chub ignore my hookbait for five hours tested my patience more than usual. You can catch up on all the drama from my last blog or video, but suffice to say, I was ready to return to somewhere with a proper bedchair, bivvy, and the solid thump of a big carp.

This week, I’d cleared the decks: three nights at my disposal. I’d planned to arrive at the lake around 2pm on day one, but the weather forecast looked atrocious. Every radar I checked showed a deluge sweeping across the South. So, I took the gamble—called off my gardening jobs and pointed the van towards Ringwood. Looking back now, I probably jumped the gun. The rain just didn’t show up near the lakes. Classic.