68th Meetup: 26th-27th September 2024 at Lake Kasumigaura
Participants: Cob, Miwa

 
For two weeks prior, we were anxiously watching the weather forecast, which remained mostly rainy for our event. The forecast kept changing daily, with the rain icon appearing and disappearing. A low-pressure system in the southern seas had developed into a typhoon, making us quite nervous. Nevertheless, it seemed like we might get lucky, with good weather on the first day.
 
The day before, as I was preparing for the trip, I exchanged messages with Cob, saying, “Looks like it’ll be a one-night showdown!”
 
Finally, the big day arrived. As usual, Cob reached the site early in the morning, and I arrived just before noon. The wind was calm, and the sky was beautifully clear. This was our first fishing trip of the autumn season. We set up our tackle, which we hadn’t used in a while, hoping for some bites. “Let’s hope we catch something…”
 
We decided to take our commemorative photo on the first day instead of the last, as rain was expected in the early morning. We set up the camera on a tripod and took several shots, though the low sun made us squint in most of them. It really feels like the days are getting shorter.
 

Miwa and Cob

 
As it got darker, Chef Cob got the charcoal ready and began preparing the hotpot. He started by simmering chicken to make the broth, and added various vegetables, two types of chicken meat, scallops, matsutake mushrooms, crab, and more. He even threw in ingredients intended for the grilled dishes we had planned for the third night. He joked, calling it a “mystery hotpot,” but with such fine ingredients, it was a mystery we were happy to enjoy.
 

 
While we were engrossed in the hotpot, suddenly, Cob’s alarm went off! “It’s here!” he shouted. We rushed over, but the tip of the rod wasn’t moving. “Maybe the fish just passed by,” he said, and we left the rod as it was. It was rod number three. Soon after, the wind picked up slightly, and the previously calm surface of the lake became choppy. The sound of waves hitting the shore seemed like a good omen for tonight’s catch.
 
We spent time chatting as we picked at the hotpot, with the sound of insects chirping loudly all around us. This time of year is the most pleasant for spending nights by the waterside.
 
Feeling full and a bit sleepy, we decided to head back to the car early. I received one transmitter and one receiver from Cob. The transmitter was for calling for help if I got a bite, and the receiver was to assist him if he had one.
 
Eventually, the receiver Cob gave me finally went off. It was just before midnight. It was the same rod, number three, that had reacted earlier. I rushed over, and Cob was already reeling it in. “Did it take?” I asked. “It’s an Blackcarp!” came the reply. I grabbed the net and cautiously descended the shore. Using my headlamp, I illuminated the water’s surface, keeping an eye on the situation. When the Blackcarp first showed itself, Cob remarked, “It’s small!” to which I replied, “No, it’s pretty big!” Indeed, things look smaller underwater without anything to compare them to.
 
The Blackcarp occasionally pulled hard on the line, with Cob holding on with both hands, trying to keep control. The back-and-forth of reeling and getting pulled continued. I extended the net handle to its full length and got ready. The Blackcarp, feeling heavy as it clung to the lakebed, slowly started to rise, with its snout barely breaking the surface. Maintaining just the right line tension, no more, no less, is the key to landing it. Even then, the Blackcarp would sometimes dive back down forcefully.
 
Later, Cob reflected on the fight, saying, “During the battle, the fish looked small, but it gave a strong fight, and I thoroughly enjoyed the bend in my beloved rod and the sound of the line peeling off.”
 
After some time, the patient fight started to wear on Cob, and just as he began to tire, the Blackcarp lay still on the water’s surface and was gently scooped into the waiting net. “We did it!” we cheered. With the Blackcarp secured in the net, we removed the line, leaving just the leader. This relieved the worry of damaging the rod. Together, we lifted the heavy net and landed the fish onto the mat. “It’s huge! It’s huge!”
 

 
After unhooking the Blackcarp and taking it out of the net, we snapped some photos. Night photography can be tricky, so we took a few extra shots just in case. Cob was all smiles, filled with joy. The Blackcarp, now exhausted, lay quietly on the mat, behaving like a well-trained pet. “Good boy…”
 

 
Once we had taken plenty of photos, we moved the Blackcarp, still on the mat, to the edge of the shore. Releasing it as close to the water as possible, we watched as the Blackcarp glided smoothly away, without hesitation.
 

About 40kg

 
Cob later said:
“When we pulled it up together onto the mat, I was filled with satisfaction, savouring the size of the Blackcarp and the thrill of the fight. This is why I chase after these Blackcarp. Now that I’m past sixty, I can’t come Blackcarp fishing on my own anymore. I can only come a few times a year, but I look forward to fishing again with everyone from MCF.”
 
As for me, I was still too excited to sleep, my mind racing and body still sweaty from the exertion. I sat in the car, fanning myself and gazing up at the crescent moon for a long while.
 
Before I knew it, I had dozed off and woke up just before dawn at 5 a.m. Thankfully, the rain hadn’t started yet. I quickly scrambled out of the car and began packing up. Once the rain starts, the inside of the car would get soaked, making everything harder to dry out after returning home. The sun soon began to rise, and Cob also started to pack up.
 
This year’s meeting may have been just one night, but with Cob single catch, it was more than satisfying. To the members who couldn’t make it this time, we hope to see you at the next one. You too can enjoy the thrill of battling an Blackcarp like this.