Soël “Wild Dream” Briche: The big… bean

Soël "Wild Dream" Briche: La grosse… Fève | Hammer Tackle

August 2022, I have been working for some time on board a ship that we like to call “Grande Dame”. Those few months in Nantes with “Tonton” were very full of emotions, but I started to miss fishing and in an evening full of piracy the OrellaSlip project took shape.

It must have been six months since Nicolas Jolly ambushed me with his suggestions for all kinds of filming.

“We have to do something for Guillaume”
“There are no more DS videos at all”
"Va y Soso, you have to take back control to make a little film with the guys on the team."
Blah blah blah blah…
So far I've done pretty well with my favorite disk: "Dude, I'm years behind on other video projects: Leave me alone!"

But that evening, the planets, or at least the glasses of rum, were aligned in such a way that I was able to change my mind and turn my reasoned speech into an irresponsible "Come on, I'm hot!"

As for "after", my memories are rather vague and are roughly limited to walking for miles with no real destination plan, a hug with a hypothetical boxer with relative reflexes, a license plate being ripped off by a nurse with the look of an illegal dealer, etc. Waking up with high humidity and noise pollution, similar to a slum area in Manila.

In short, without really knowing it, I had just decided to go to Spain for a month to film friends on one of Europe's most popular fleets in recent years. Huge paradox for someone who avoids carp anglers and fishing spots, right?

I'm hitting the "fast forward" button because the story of this story could fill several volumes due to the amount of detail.

So here we are in early November, it's about 4 a.m. as we step onto the shore of this reservoir located in the middle of the desert.
A coma later, waking is punctuated by the sounds of countless bass boats arriving at full speed from the bottom of the lake.
Minute by minute, a picture that is as magnificent as it is desolate emerges. The curves of this lake and its “spaghetti western” atmosphere make this an extraordinary place.
On the other hand, light gradually allows us to see more and more “mushrooms” all around us, and that is immediately less fascinating. We're in the middle of the holiday weekend and the amount of people on the shore makes me sick.
I blame myself for not taking the chance to fish in this lake more than ten years ago when my friend Mehdi praised him to me.
Hearing about excessive fishing pressure and seeing it with your own eyes are two completely different things. There may ultimately be limits to your imagination. I never thought that a lake of more than 5000 hectares could be attacked like this. There were literally hundreds of carp fishermen there, it was incredible, it was like Disneyland.

Our friends are standing somewhere in front of us, drowning in this horde of campers. The weather conditions are miserable for the time of year: 30 degrees during the day, air pressure at full blast and no change in the weather has been announced for 15 days. Without much surprise, we quickly learned that the lake was “out,” and the results from our friends who had been there for a few days seemed to confirm that trend.

The decision to change fleet is obvious, but before we leave, Nico and I decide to spend a few days filming the friends because they don't plan on leaving the lake.

Even though it means spending a few days there, we quickly decide to take a few shifts to do some quick fishing before we can leave the place and tick the Orellana box on our “to-do” list.

Four to five days pass in the rhythm of video sequences, walks by the lake and aperitifs with friends.

The dam sector was clearly the least fished and despite rumors of low fish stocks, it was by far the most attractive to us.
After spending a night near the wall looking for possible carp activity, we spent the day sounding and diving in some potentially suitable areas. Four stations were launched, including one where I was able to observe numerous jumping carp at daybreak.
Nico attacks that same evening and captures (or lands, I don't remember) a small commune on a dirt post near the dam.
His second night ended with about a dozen communities captured at a post that had begun the day before in a large bay.
I arrive for the third night, full of confidence given Nico's results, the activity observed three days previously and the preparation already put in place 48 hours ago.

It must have been after 4pm when I put on my wetsuit to check the primer and after just three “ducks” there was a cold shower!

All the bait is at the bottom of the water. It's incredible !
Given the activity the other morning and given the state of certain spots underwater (sprayed), I would never have imagined this scenario!
Stubbornness and pride are two significant enemies for a carp angler, and without knowing it, we began to pay the price.
Since we arrived, everyone has been telling us that baiting no longer works and that the correct technique is spot fishing.
Many people also advised us to let the rods fish for 48 to 72 hours. In short, that's clearly what we don't like about fishing, we're far too impatient for that and it's obvious we haven't traveled 900 miles yet to sit down and wait... We might as well play the lottery !

Apart from the fact that the sum of all these rumors blew me away: it seems that there is no smoke without fire. I clearly didn't make the right decision dropping 20kg of stuff on that post!

The light gradually dims and you have to get back on your feet quickly. Nico returns to the big bay and invites me to follow him. Surprised, I accept because I can't imagine putting my lines on a pile of bait that hasn't moved in two days. However, I really want to know if the fish are ever there.

So I leave Nico on the trail to land on a large spot that gives me a good view of my post.
It's already quite dark, but I jump into the water to observe the depths in front of me. It is very monotonous and at a depth of 2 to 12 m there are obviously very few signs of carp. In addition, all of these tracks are old, which does not inspire confidence in me.
However, there are old pondweed plants growing sparsely at my feet, and as is often the case, the bases of them have been sucked by the carp, and as a bonus, some of the tracks are not that old.
The decision has been made not to waste any more time looking for a potential offshore spot. I'll put my 3 rods in my socks, 3 different lures individually or at most with a handle around to avoid banner parasites in front of me And after all, that's the only place where there are signs of life and this night counts more for observation than for the fishing itself.

It's already dark when I put my head back underwater to install the rigs. As I did after work in Cassien, I laid down the assemblies by feeling around to find the joint areas. It's quite unpleasant, but no less fun, as the use of senses other than sight adds an entertaining side to the operation.

A large bean on the left, a faded marble in the middle and a 15mm tiger on the right. 8pm, that's bad and all I have to do is take off this pee smelling wetsuit and freeze my bells for the rest of the night.

11 p.m., departure! It's the stick on the left with the big bean. I have a nasty head up my ass from sleeping soundly. It's slow, it seems heavy to me, but I'm cautious because the pondweed plants are still in great condition for the season and the illusion of having a big fish is common in these situations.
Without pressure, I walk to the water's edge in socks with the landing net over my ears.
Once at the bottom the fight becomes more intense and I begin several slow and progressive attempts. I'm starting to think that my black cat might have stayed in a cafe in Madrid and I'm starting to smile stupidly when I think about my messed up start and the circumstances in which I started this job!
After a few minutes, a large commune emerges from among the plants like a shark in a lagoon. The fish doesn't seem to be exhausted yet, but luckily my headlamp barely illuminates anything and doesn't cause him to panic.
A few pondweed on the snout, a fairly slow movement of the net and a tilt of the body at the right time make it possible to catch this disturbingly easy fish.
Well, yes, fancy, 3 hours of fishing, a touch of potato... I'm starting to understand why everyone bothers me to come here and fish.

Despite the hour, I decide to break the rules and bag the fish. The edge and the ground in front of me are particularly inviting (gentle slope of sand and mud), the weather is mild (no wind, no waves) Nico is very close (less than a kilometer).
Once, if it is not usual, we will try to take nice pictures for the film, who knows, it could be the first and last shot...

That's pretty much how this adventure began.
The sequel was supposed to be released one day (Inch Allah) in a politically incorrect film with the signature “Branlotin Production”.
All love

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