Catfish Catastrophe!
Venue: Brookside Fishery
Duration: 24 Hours
Team: A.K.I. Crew
Weather: End of summer vibes — 23°C in the day, sun blazing, dropping to a mild 15°C at night with just enough breeze to keep the mozzies off.
The plan was simple: a 24-hour hit at Brookside, rods out for carp, easy going.
The reality? Absolute catfish carnage.
Peg draw done, Connor landed what locals call “Catfish Corner” (ominous, in hindsight), Matt took the peg next to him, and Terry dropped two down to the left. Spirits were high, rigs were fresh, and the A.K.I. baits were gleaming in the sun Boogeyman, Squat-Berry, The Squeeze, and a touch of Purple Aki for good measure.
Finding Spots in a Jungle
The lake looked unreal mirror-flat, surrounded by green, and absolutely choked with weed. Proper carp country… or so we thought. After an hour of leading about, dragging in enough weed to thatch a roof, we each found three half-decent spots that didn’t feel like pulling for a bus.
Terry was first off the mark, rod had been out 45 minutes before it absolutely melted off. Screaming run, bent rod, line cutting through the surface… we were buzzing. Until it surfaced.
Not a carp. A 23lb catfish, looking like it had crawled straight out of the canal after a fight with a lawnmower. Still, fair play Terry grinned, unhooked, and got back out. But that was just the start of the chaos.
The Catfish Takeover
Next thing, Terry’s away again. Then again. Another two mid-double cats, and Connor joins the madness with one of his own.
By sunset, Matt still hadn’t had a bleep, until it all went downhill. From 11pm until 6am, his rods went off every single hour. Cat after cat. Six of them. To 22lb. No carp. No sleep. Just chaos.
Connor and Terry joined in through the night too, 23 catfish between us, all muscle, slime, and attitude. Every time you thought it was quiet enough to have a brew, another rod ripped off like a fire alarm.
Morning Mayhem
By sunrise, we looked like extras from The Walking Dead. Eyes hanging, backs broken, hands smelling like low tide. Still, fresh rigs, new bags, and back out! Because we’re not quitters, we’re A.K.I.
Terry found two more cats before calling for a break. Matt had one in the afternoon, Connor two more to 25lb. Each fight felt like towing a bin bag full of bricks through a weed bed.
By pack-up time, we were finished, physically, mentally, emotionally. But we laughed all day about it.
The Final Count
🕛 24 Hours
🐟 23 Catfish
🎯 0 Carp
😵 0 Sleep
😂 Unlimited Laughs
We went for a calm carping session and ended up in Brookside’s Catfish Bootcamp. But that’s fishing, sometimes the plan gets torn up by something with whiskers and bad intentions.
Until next time…
Remember - we earn it on the bank, not in the comments.