The mighty Pingewood Lagoon

I doubt there are many of you reading this that have not heard of or read something about this Reading Club Water more locally known in the area as ‘Pinge’. Plenty of magazine articles, as well as a good few book chapters have documented the times spent by many chasing its prized residents, and it has definitely secured a well-earned position in carp angling history.

At a guess Pingewood is probably somewhere between 15- to 18-acres in size and lays sandwiched between the busy M4 motorway and a cluster of big Kennet valley pits stretching out towards Reading Town. The lake has been seeded over the years with a number of Leney strain fish, a few of which still remain, plus a good number of other carp that were moved in from a pit further away. The lake has produced two different fifty-pound carp, the first known as the Jockey which has since died, the other known as the Brute peaking it seems at around 54lb a few years ago and is normally around upper-forties these days.

After spending a good number of years fishing the general Reading area, I’d met a lot of good anglers, many who became mates and most of whom had fished ‘Pinge’ at some point or other. As we all do when groups of anglers are sitting around the rods of an evening, tales are told of the local pits and their residents. Stories of The Brute often crept in centre stage, being a big character fish and one on the circuit so to speak. There was often speculation as to when the next capture would be, which swim etc. and to who? All good fun and certainly the anticipation is felt by everyone involved when such tales unfold on dark evenings in good company.

And so the seed was sown. The Brute and Pingewood Lagoon would certainly be part of my plans before leaving the area if possible, but quite when would be another matter.

I fished the winter of 2012/13 in the Yateley area and was frozen off the pond on more than one occasion. In fact, apart from one nice mild spell after Christmas it was a terrible period for angling and I couldn’t wait to get started on a nice big pit I had walked a few times that year and had got the buzz for. Unfortunately, the dreadful weather just seemed to linger on, and as is the way with the bigger pits it was taking forever to wake up. Cold winds battered the surface week after week and with no prolonged mild spells on the horizon I was beginning to lose hope for the spring. I had made early starts on big low stock pits in the past and experience had taught me that unless they are very shallow or heavily sheltered it can take a good while before things start happening.

With this in mind I decided just out of interest to take a look around Pinge on one of the more pleasant afternoons. What a difference a bit of shelter from the winds and a few more carp can make! The bankside foliage was already breaking out in bud and the odd dorsal could be seen dimpling the surface in the lee of the wind. Various insect hatches buzzed over the grass tussocks and clouds of midge floated over the swampy stream area near the motorway. A far cry from the desolate expanse of grey water I had just been looking at. This was more like it, and even though the big pit was engrained in my heart as No. 1 priority, I would settle on Pingewood for the meantime and await the better weather.

Even though talking to the lads on there that weekend, only one carp had been caught, this was a positive situation and I got the kit out of the van and made a start there and then.

A spring morning on Pinge

Point 1: Game plan

As is my way on most venues when I start, I planned to fish in a position that enabled good views over the pit for the first night or two and make decisions thereafter on what I saw and learned on those trips. Fish a few key areas and use the time during the quieter periods of the day to explore and get a feeling for the water. Hopefully during that time I would see some fish or at least learn some of the topography helping out in the future sessions. Simple stuff but the groundwork is so important at this stage, never more so than on busy club waters where quick decision making and moves can pay off and there is no room for error.

I split my time into fishing three areas, all with good visibility across the pit and into the narrow arm that branches off from the bowl-like main section of lake. Very quickly, and within the first few weeks, I saw The Brute show out in the bowl section, once just after dawn and at range from a swim aptly named Motorway Point. I moved in and did the night in the area for no result.

The following afternoon she showed again, further across in front of a swim on the Avago Bank, named because of the kids adventure centre based there. Again, I moved into position and another fruitless night was had before I returned home. I was sure she was about to be caught and wasn’t in the least surprised when the following afternoon a lad had the bite from a swim looking towards the area I last saw her show.

Shuffling out of the oily flat surface came the distinct humpy back of The Brute

Point 2: Up the game

I had yet to see a fish on the bank but was starting to see a lot of fish using the snags around the lake. Two big sets seemed favourite and I checked these out regularly. During this time of early spring I only once saw The Brute in the snags and then only briefly, but what a sight! The other big known residents were often to be found and I had a feeling the old Brute was taking full advantage of food in the pond whilst the others languished in the timberwork.

After chasing the fish about for a bit, I got the distinct feeling that certainly on my midweek trips, every time I moved onto fish they did the off and gave me the slip. Despite being cautious with casts and having a reasonable knowledge of swims now, it seemed the lack of weed early on would have the carp drift off into the nearest bit of quiet water as soon as the lines went in.

A new plan was hatched and I figured that consistent baiting in a suitable area would be the way forward, especially for the big old mirror and I just needed a few pointers in the right area.

The traps are set

Sitting on Motorway Point one morning after a three-hour journey to the lake in heavy traffic I had just the sighting I needed. Shuffling out of the oily flat surface came the distinct humpy back of The Brute. Three times she wallowed over, sending ripples far across the pond followed by big sets of bubbles the size of ten-pence pieces. I was sure the swim from across the lake had a better line lay to the spot so made my way round there to watch events unfold.

With nothing else occurring I fished one rod on the area for a few hours but it seemed like all was over and done with for the time being. The spot was sort of in between two swims and I was unsure of the best line of approach. A bit of leading about later that day I eventually settled on The Nettles swim and pugged up for the night.

The following morning I received a slow take and pulled into a fish that snagged me within the first minute of the fight. My good mate Billy took the boat out to try and release the solid mess but was too late. My rig was dumped around a long length of marker braid left out in the pond, snarled up between the dead weedbeds. I was gutted losing the first bite but relieved to get rid of a snag so savage with no harm done. With so much carnage occurring in the swim I decided to look elsewhere and at this point all fell into place nicely.

First blood from Pinge: a snub-nosed common

Point 3: Optimising the perfect line lay

After the loss, I was wandering the banks a little annoyed and not sure of what to do for the last night of the trip. Fortunately a few subtle shows in the swim further down the bank had my interest again. Getting the binoculars out I scanned the area and out there, sitting lazily flicking her dorsal back and forth, was none other than The Brute.

With a wind blowing away from the area it didn’t take too long for the few fish present to move out into the middle zone of the lake and I used the time to explore the area more thoroughly. The extensive dead weedbeds stretched way out to the left of me. To the right, as the area channelled into the arm, was an area of broad-leaf weed, the kind that stretches up and forms subsurface canopies. It offered perfect cover and plenty of natural food available within it. A lovely strip of smooth silt with a few firmer areas sat plumb between and just short of this was an area of clay, small but situated a short distance from the snags that lay to my left margin. Apart from a few small clumps of dead weed, nothing lay between the rod tips and the silt strip. Perfect line lay and a great spot in my mind at least. I set to work marking the zone up and decided to use this swim as a main line of approach. I would bait the area consistently and fish two rods on the silt, and the third would be positioned out of the way on the clay area.

The following morning and a rod was away on the silt resulting in my first Pingewood carp: a snubby-nosed common of 23lb. The morning was fairly windy and I had to get in the water to land the fish around a partly submerged bush. Nothing could prepare me for the shock of how cold the water still was as it lapped against my legs straight out of a warm sleeping bag! Not that I cared, for this was my first from a new water and the result of a bit of effort and planning.

A handful of fish had fallen to Zigs by now and on my vacation of the swim that following weekend, a few more graced the banks via the Zigs. But as many were lost as were landed and I vowed not to go down the Zig route just for a bite. It was to be big boilies for The Brute and I would try not to deviate from the plan if possible.

Oily dark fishmeals and corkball pop-ups were the way forward

Point 4: The baiting game

As far as is possible, I try not to get too bogged down in one swim, preferring to chase the fish about if I can. But sometimes it is the nature of the beast when targeting certain fish. As this was to be a short-term plan seeing as I was probably going to move on to the bigger pit as the weather and water warmed up I decided to risk it. So in for a penny as they say, I gave the swim a good few kilos of 20-millers before I left for home leaving things working for me whilst I was away.

On my return I freshened up the spot with a few hundred baits and positioned the rigs, settling in for the night. Odd bleeps had me thinking they were about but no bite came. A mate up the bank caught one of the lake’s mirrors and I was pleased to see one on the bank at last, this being the first fish other than my common I had the pleasure to see, Cluster in all her spring colours making Phil an extremely happy man!

I was convinced that the fish were getting away with my bottom baits, so I switched over to pop-ups on the Multi Rig

Another hit of bait was applied before home, heavily glugged in a thin oil to add to the attraction and I was due back after a weekend on shift.

I was using bottom baits over the silt area but with all the bleeps I’d had in the night I was convinced that the fish were getting away with it a bit and that the presentation wasn’t entirely perfect. With all the bits from the winter being kicked up and pushed around during the feeds creating a bit of debris in the zone I decided to go back to the Multi Rig for the foreseeable future or until the area was polished and ready for the bottom baits again.

Overnight success from the silt spot

Point 5: A quick overnighter

My next trip was an overnighter, just to see what was happening and to get some bait in to be honest. It was slightly excessive in that it involved a 220-mile round trip but with time ticking on, the spring was moving quickly into summer, although the weather would have you think otherwise. I went through the motions of the previous trip, wanting to keep everything consistent other than the rig change. This possibly paid off with a morning capture of a lovely, dark old common that made the long haul up there very worthwhile. More bait was applied and the long journey home was all the sweeter for it, some thumping tunes playing and the anticipation building for a trip later in the week!

The Brute on the mat

Point 6: A close call - but it came good

I had booked four days off work: two for fishing, Wednesday and Thursday, and then home Friday for the weekend with my wife. A good plan, and coinciding with a nice early June moon phase. I pulled into the car park and as soon as I reached the swim it was obvious she was there: the old Brute bobbing about right over the baited zone plain as day. I set about the rigs, tying the baits on with extra care and attention to detail, checking and rechecking everything. I held off on the casts until the activity had slowed down and settled in for the night. It was to be a long wait if I’m honest and I nearly lost my nerve and moved.

The wind switched on my last day and blew up the other end of the pit and I saw a big fish show twice, halfway into a bay. I held tight and checked the weather forecast on my phone. It was due to blow out by midnight and go flat calm right on the peak of the moon phase. I was due home that night and so had to make one of those calls we all dread. Fortunately for me I have an understanding wife and after much grovelling and explaining that this could be it and all that old malarkey, I was granted the luxury of an extra night!

What a carp!

I had run out of food and everything was wet from the persistent driving rain, so I threw the overwrap on, ordered in pizza and fired up the Coleman to get at least a little bit dry again. Mad considering the time of year, but I had the night and that was all that mattered.

I awoke at first light and on opening my eyes I peered through the rising mist over a flat calm lake. She showed almost immediately… right over the spot. Shortly after 9am, and almost out of time, she was mine. The old Brute did things on her terms, even with hard work and effort we all need a bit of luck on our side at times.

She was finally mine – all 48lb 8ozs of her!