In Conversation With George Benos - Part Two

After your spell of success at St Ives, what came next?
“It’s a little out of character for me, but after a campaign like that, I just wanted to get bites. I won’t lie, those sorts of campaign can take their toll. Although I enjoyed every minute of that one and had caught the Fat Lady fairly quickly, I wanted something a little less intense, so I secured a ticket for Wellington Country Park. The plan was to do one year on there, and like I say, get bites. There are a lot of big fish in there. Granted, they’re not the best lookers, but I had heard plenty of good things about it. ‘Welly’ was a wicked place to fish and I had a cracking year on there, smashing the life out of it in the process!”

Similar tactics again?
“Yes, loads of boilie. I was actually using four different sizes, and out of everywhere I’ve ever fished, that’s where I’ve used the most. I would turn up for a three-night session with 40 kilos, and would use it all! I’d have six or seven bites a trip; it was wicked fun. It was a lake I just clicked with. After my year on there I was off to Roach Pit. Again, what a lake!” 

What was it that initially attracted you to Roach Pit?
“Loads of big ’uns, and some seriously nice-looking ones. It’s probably the best place I’ve fished in terms of stock, and was another lake I seemed to click with. There were seven carp in there that everyone would talk about—the Magnificent Seven, we called them. Of those seven fish, I had five in my two years on there. Hats off to the lads as I was left alone to do my thing. I’d pick an area and load up the bait, week in, week out. You could use a boat on there, which was handy. I’d go round at the start of my trips, flick the marker out, shoot back to the van and boat out buckets and buckets of boilie, hemp and pellet. By the time I’d finished, one particular spot was two feet deeper! I’d put three twenty-litre buckets out in the morning, and by midday I’d have my first bite—utter madness!”

Were you using the Snowman Rig, and do you think that a coloured topper helps to get such quick bites over large amounts of bait? 
“Yes, 100 per cent, and because a Snowman sits slightly higher off the bottom, I think that helps too. Let’s be honest, when a carp comes in and there are 60 or 70 kilos of bait on the spot, it won’t eat it all before it picks your hookbait out. I spoke to Danny Fairbrass about it in depth, on Welly. Dan couldn’t get his head around how I’d use so much bait and still get a quick bite. It’s greed. If you’re using little traps, my thinking is that the fish are on edge. When there is so much bait out there, they might approach slowly and pick the odd bit from around the edges, but as more fish turn up and their confidence grows, greed takes over. This is how people get hits of fish. Because one gets caught, the pack will drift off. They soon return, though, because they are greedy animals and they’re on the look-out for an easy meal. This is what happened on Roach Pit. They are proper carp and they’re no mugs, but I’d have three in an afternoon.”

Had you fished anywhere at this point, where your mass baiting didn’t work?
“Not really, no, but after Roach Pit I went to Vinnetrow in search of the Seaside Simmo, and I’ll be honest, I struggled there, the main reason being that I was using too much bait. It doesn’t work everywhere, but one thing I am is stubborn. I quickly realised that I wasn’t using the right bait, either. They really liked a deep fishmeal on there. I never measured the pH, but I’m sure it would’ve had something to do with it being so close to sea. I went on to have that one the following winter, once I had sussed it. Good job, really, as that’s when a couple of special tickets came up.”

Was Wasing one of those?
“Actually, the first would have been for Burghfield. When fishing ‘Vinny’, our good mate Neil Mundy was on there, and he was doing pretty well. He’d had a few and as we chatted, somehow I managed to worm my way in. I kind of wish I hadn’t now! [laughing]

“I don’t think my name had been on the list for more than a couple of days before I was offered a ticket after my oral interview. I took the ticket before having that big ’un, the intention being to sit on it until I was done on Vinnetrow. If I remember rightly, I did one trip whilst Vinny was shut for spawning and I managed to bank a nice old common of 33lb. I guess with Burghfield, I toyed with it a bit before hitting it properly. 

“I think I’d done a spring on Burghfield when another ticket came up, and that was Wasing. I’d put my name down whilst fishing the Manor and it took a good few years to come up, so I took it without hesitation. In hindsight, it was at the wrong time, because rather than focusing on Burghfield, I went straight over there. It just happened to be the year they opened up Burghfield to bait boats, and sure enough, Scott Lloyd exploited that in fine fashion. That said, if I’d have stayed, I wouldn’t have had a chance at the Parrot, because it died the following year.” 

Wasing was an expensive ticket to sit on, and as you’ve mentioned, the Parrot wasn’t getting any younger, so did the fact that it was a potential British record play a part in your decision? 
“It wasn’t cheap, no, but I’ve always spent a lot on tickets, and sometimes I haven’t even fished them! I’m not as bad nowadays, but then I’d comfortably spend three or four grand on tickets each year.

“I didn’t think too much about the whole record thing, and it certainly didn’t bother me. Don’t get me wrong, it would have been nice, but I would’ve been there regardless. It was a nice-looking fish, and it was big, and that’s what gets me going. I’m a bounty hunter and I wanted that one in my album.” 

How did your time on Wasing play out, then? 
“Again, initially I struggled. I had one of forty-odd pounds fairly quickly—it’s where I met our mutual mate, John Cash, actually, but I’ll get on to that shortly. I’d had an ear operation booked, which meant that I had a lot of time off work. It was another lake with no time limit, back then, but you couldn’t stay in the same swim for more than 48hrs. I spent most of my month off at Wasing, popping home occasionally to restock and grab a shower. Nevertheless, it still took a while for me to get amongst them.

“Terry Hearn was fishing it at the time, and he’d had the Parrot fairly early on in my campaign. That winter, I had it in my head that they would be in the deeper parts of the lake, but I was wrong. Once I’d realised that, I started catching really well. I had a lot of small fish, but also had some lovely looking ones. After Terry’d had it, I was glad to see him out of the way, then it was game on, really. Moving into the spring, I’d really found my feet. I managed to bank Floppy, the second-biggest and a proper cool carp. 

“There were two lads on there at the time: our mate, Cash, and another lad, Craig. Now, these boys were on it, always up early and always looking, and they’d beat me to swims. We were coming into a time of year that had been kind to me, though, one I used to really rinse my annual leave: the month of May. 

“There was an area that the Parrot was renowned for coming out from in the spring. It was between two swims and known as the Shallows. One particular morning, I was gunning for one of these swims when a spanner was thrown into the works. I’d been down the other end of the lake when, as clear as day, I clocked the Parrot come clean out of the water. I was torn. Should I stay where I had just seen her, or move to the other end of the lake as Cash was off the following morning? In the end, I bit the bullet and moved. The weather was getting warmer and I knew there was a good chance of her making a mistake in the Shallows, as she often did. 

“You couldn’t ‘bucket’ swims. Rather, you had to be in a swim with your kit, so I decided to pack up early and get everything round to Cash’s swim. I didn’t hassle him, and as it was still early, I went for a wander. When I came back, he’d had a couple and was unsure whether or not to go home. After a bit of banter with me telling him that he couldn’t start all that, he reluctantly began to pack down. Eventually, he got off. 

“I noticed there were a few fish about, tight to the margin, but I couldn’t see the Parrot amongst them. I climbed a little tree that overlooked the plateau, and I could see them coming down the margin before they then broke off to swim over the area of really shallow ground. I sat there for a while watching them, and eventually settled on an area that they seemed to favour. It glowed that little bit more than everywhere else, in probably only 18-inches of water. I steered the bait boat out, watching it from the tree. I stopped it over the spot and dropped the rig with a little bit of bait. I ran back round to the rod, sorted the line and clipped on the bobbin. Instantly, I started getting liners. I couldn’t sit still. I was up the tree and back down again. Then I’d shimmy back up—it was one of those occasions, you know?

“As I wandered back to the rod once again, I had what turned out to be the liner from hell. Having reeled in with nothing on the end, I thought I’d mucked it up. I redid the rod, but this time I dropped the rig at the side of the spot, in slightly deeper water.

“By this time, the sun had gone down behind the trees. I could see a good fish drifting in, but couldn’t make out which one it was. I returned to the rod, but after having a couple of liners, once again, I couldn’t sit still. Back up the tree I went, and as I neared the top, I heard a single bleep, shortly followed by another. As I then slid back down to see what was going on, the alarm went into absolute meltdown! I sprinted the short distance to the rod, picked it up and leant into it. Instantly I thought, No, it’s done me, as I met with solid resistance that felt just like a weedbed. I wasn’t pulling too hard, just to be safe, but I was convinced that whatever might have been there, had gone. Slowly but surely, as I inched this supposed weedbed back towards me, I felt a kick—it was on!

“I eased off slightly and continued to tease it in. Having managed to get it within 20yds of the bank, it suddenly woke up. It went on a crazy run, stripping line off me at an impressive rate. I had, however, clocked the longest fish I’d ever been attached to, and I knew which one it was. “Another thing about the Parrot that was unmistakable, was its odd habit of, once hooked, smashing face first into the bottom to try and dislodge the hook. I could see it all going on as clear as day, the fish twisting and turning, trying to rid itself of the piece of metal stuck in its lip. The stalemate must have lasted a good five minutes, before eventually, I managed to get it up in the water and slide the net under it. It was mad. There was no mistaking which fish it was, but I still felt the need to check the net three times, just to be sure.”

Cash has never mentioned that story…
“Has he not? [laughing] Yep, I booted him out and then had the Parrot. It’s a shame, really, because it died that year, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he would have had it—he got amongst them, that’s for sure.”

What was the weight?
“It went 62lb 8oz, the exact weight of the Burghfield Common when Scott caught it.”

You’d clocked the Parrot in a completely different part of the lake, so why did you move?
“The weather was due to change, and given what I knew, I just felt like it wouldn’t stay where it was. I anticipated that and tried to plan ahead, and it obviously worked! That’s not always the case, though, trust me. It was a big thing, having to weigh it up at the time. You question every move you make. Sometimes things go as you hope and plan, and this was one of those occasions, thankfully. The other thing was, going back to mass baiting, which we spoke about earlier, it was just a little yellow hookbait and two crumbed boilies!” 

Does that bring us to Burghfield?
“Nope! [laughing] The common had been out and I was paying a lot of money for a Wingham ticket. I planned to see the celebrations out on Wasing before shooting over there the following morning. I wasn’t in any major rush as it was renowned for being a really quiet venue, so I popped home first for a quick shower. 

“When I did eventually get to the lake, it was stacked. Nonetheless, I was there. I went for a little walk and found this tiny little bay at one end. You’re talking only three rod-lengths square, but most of the stock must have been there. I couldn’t believe no one was fishing it. As I walked back past matey next door, I asked whether he’d mind me slotting in. He didn’t, and as soon as I was out of sight, I ran back to the van. 

“I flicked two Snowman Rigs out with 40 or 50 baits around each and carried on the Parrot party there with my good mate, Tinpot. He was a bit merry by the end of it, and before we departed he said, ‘You wait, Georgie, you’ll have Black Spot tonight… it’s written in the stars.’

“I didn’t join that lake for any particular carp, but Black Spot was the biggest in there at the time. Right on cue the following morning, I had the bite on the rod fished to the mouth of the little bay. To be fair, I reeled it straight in, but the margins were deep and the water was gin clear. I looked down and clocked this proper ‘cheese’. It’s bigger than the Parrot! I thought to myself. Darrel, the guy next door, netted it for me. He turned to me and said, ‘George, you’ve got Black Spot!’

“The phone rang, and it was ‘Tinners’. After I’d answered he said, ‘It’s Blackspot, ain’t it?’ 

“I remember giving him a ‘Yeah, boy!’ I couldn’t believe it! Within 48hrs I’d had the Parrot and then this thing at 58lb and some ounces—when your luck’s in, eh?”

That’ll take some beating! Come on then, George, how’s Burghfield treating you?
“I’ve had a lot of carp, well in excess of a hundred, but not her. I’m almost certain I lost her at the net, and that was a bad experience, really bad! I’m not ashamed to admit it, I actually shed a tear over that one. Do you want to hear that story?”

Only if you’re happy to talk about it… 
“Yeah, no worries. One summer, I’d been baiting an area for a bit and had managed to nick a few. The following year it had slowed down, but I persevered. In hindsight, this was good for her. I’d had a couple on one particular trip and I loaded it up with about 60 kilos of seed before I left.

“I turned up a few days later after work and who’s in there? Lewis Read, doing his overnighter. As you’d imagine, I was deflated, but I went round to see him and say hello. He was planning to get off early, so I pushed my gear in behind him before going off for a social with my mate, Gazza, who was set up in the Murders.

“I was up before first light the following morning, on 17 July. It was the day of the full moon and it was hot. It was prime common conditions, and she was due. I stood in the snags that overlooked my area and it was like a cauldron. Lew hadn’t clocked me and I didn’t want him to. You know how it is, when you chat, it takes longer to pack up, and I didn’t want him staying any longer. [laughing] I could see him wrapping up a dry net, and thought, Lovely! 

“Following my previous trip, the rods were wrapped and ready to go as it was the only swim I’d been fishing. After Lew had walked past the snags, I sneaked out. The first bankstick went in the hole left from the week before, and the first rod went out sweetly… crack. That’ll do! 

“As I was about to repeat the process with the second rod, the first was away. I hit into it, and shortly after landed a 27lb mirror, which was a result. After I’d put that rod aside, I got the second one out first chuck, right on the money. I sorted out a fresh rig for the first rod and as I wrapped it, the one I’d just put out was away. This time it was a tench. Great! 

“Once again, I put that rod to one side. I finished wrapping the other one, and again, one cast and donk. I got the other rod sorted, and as I was about to cast that one, the rod on the spot was away again! This is Burghfield, mate… I thought to myself, this sort of stuff just doesn’t happen! As I picked up the rod, I knew it was a cheese. I leant into it as a big set of shoulders broke the surface. I couldn’t make out whether it was a mirror or a common at this point as it was a good few yards out. I could see this carp wallowing near the surface, out in the pond. Then followed 10 or so seconds of nothing… I wasn’t gaining line, but the fish wasn’t taking it. Then, all of a sudden, this thing decided to kite hard left, and that meant that I was in trouble. 

“Luckily, I had my waders on, but as I jumped in to straighten the line on it, it turned on a sixpence. It then kited hard right, stripping a good 60yds of line off me. This was good news, though, as it was running into deeper water and away from danger. As it started to ease up, I managed to gain on it, before it went on another kite right. There was a bar between me and the fish, and it was choked with weed. I remember thinking, If it makes it behind the bar, I’m done. 

“As it was kited, I gained a few turns. The fish, which by this time was up on the surface, just kissed my side of the bar—I mean there were just inches in it! It then tried to make the island to my right, but fortunately there was a bank of weed in front of it. As the fish approached the weed, it turned again and kited left. I’d managed to gain a lot of ground and the fish was on a 15- to 20-yard line. For it to cause me more issues, it would need another 40 yds, so it was happy days. 

“I continued to play the fish out in front of me. It was just below the surface, but I could see that it was a common. I could also see that it was the longest carp I’d seen after the Parrot. There was no mistaking it. The first thing that went through my mind was that I was free. I kid you not, I wasn’t panicking. It was strange, but I felt at peace. I thought to myself, That’s it. Just scoop her up and you’re done! Down to the left it went. I turned it, but it found a little bit of weed. Again, there was no panic, I just lifted into it a bit harder and up it popped up, right in front of me. I was in the water with the net in place, and all I remember is seeing these big white lips break the surface. At that point I clocked my rig in its left scissor and could see that it was barely hooked. Just as I was about to scoop the net under it, it turned its head… pop, out came the hook! 

“Let’s be honest, unless you get these fish in the net, you can never be 100 per cent certain. I’ve studied that carp, though, and when you compare it to the other big ’un in there, Patch, their mouths are completely different. The Common has perfect white lips. Not only that, the way it fights is very different, too. It’s well known for kiting. I spoke with Tom Stokes, and his fight mirrored mine, that morning. Also, it didn’t come out that year. Everything indicates that I lost the Burghfield Common, but as I say, you can never be certain.

“That’s the closest I’ve come, but let’s hope it’s not the closest I’ll get! The funny thing is, that swim has never been the same since. It’s strange, because Speedboat Point hasn’t been the same since Tom had her, either. It’s almost as though once the queen of the pond has been landed or lost from an area, it becomes a known danger zone. It’s like some kind of communication takes place. Whether that’s the case, who knows? It’s interesting, though.

“Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t take on the challenge, and I’m not just saying that, it’s the truth. You don’t get many chances at that one, and there are some seriously good anglers on there. The sad reality is that of the fifty-man syndicate, probably just seven of us are hardcore, on the bank week in, week out, all the time. I live and breathe Burghfield, but where I’m going with this is that out of that seven, only one or two of us will actually get her, that’s how low the odds are.”

Hopefully, you’ll get another stab at her, and I look forward to taking the phone call…
“I hope so, and if I ring at two in the morning, make sure you answer!” [laughing]