Saint Cassien

Let me begin by saying that I count myself among the early readers of Kevin Maddocks' book "Carp Fever". That is, of the edition with the chapter on the discovery of Lac de Saint Cassien in it. Since I read those lines some twelve years ago, this lake in Southern France has had its spell on me - even without ever having been there! Over the course of those years I have spent more than three years living abroad, engaging in various activities of profession and pastime, but nothing has stuck with me with as much perseverance as carp fishing. And Saint Cassien was the peak, the Parnassus, in short: the dream of carp fishing. Or so I thought.

One weekend, I even drove all the way to Cassien without rod and line, just to have been there. It did not quite help: Cassien madness stuck with me for many more years, until in spring 2001, I finally returned to its banks. Only this time, I was ready to combat its giant carp! Just about to be released from the claws of school, I was full of energy and confidence. And accompanied by my friend Georg, who was not equipped with fishing tackle but filming gear to document our Cassien carp adventure.

Thousand kilometers in Georg's fully loaded car dragged along in burning anticipation, until we finally caught the first glimpse of the bright-blue shine of Cassien through the surrounding hills. After the obligatory crossing of the lake bridge we pulled into the parking lot at Gerard's. At first, I felt strangely uncomfortable on the banks of Saint Cassien. Sometimes, fishermen rave about "virgin waters" and "virgin carp", places and fish still undiscovered by other anglers. Well, in those terms, I was standing by the side of the worst whore house water in the entire universe, home to the most abused prostitute carp thinkable. Not a spot on its bank where no angler had already fished for carp, not a bay where no hook had already been cast to.  It seemed as if I would just awfully try to copy what thousands of carp fishers had done before.

With such sentiments, we pulled our boats into the lake. Our dinghies like fully loaded vessels, we rowed across Saint Cassien for a first impression of this place. And gradually, other feelings dawned: The idea was thrilling that just below us, a 25kg carp might swim around. Or one even larger than that! Looking around, I realized that this lake was actually uniquely beautiful: Set against the gentle slopes of the Southern France hill country, higher mountain ranges were visible in the hazy distance. Its truly turquoise  water would glitter in the sun. Although huge at over 1000 acres, this lake would nowhere appear big, thanks to its three arms and many secluded bays and corners. Most parts of the bank are wild, and many places only accessible by boat.

During our fishing session, we were amazed by the many faces of Lac Cassien. Some mornings, the water would boil with downpours - during our stay alone, the water level rose more than five feet. On other mornings, ghostly mist would hover above a dead-still surface. Whole trees, beds of weed, the odd abandoned boat would float on the water. So peaceful a scenery it was that one would automatically tiptoe in order not to cause any noise. When like this, Lac Cassien is what I had always deemed a true carp water: secretive, even mysterious. On such occasions, Cassien conveys a sense of eternity, as nature sometimes does to those restless souls who always search for meaning. In the evenings then, a choir of frogs would sing in the nearby sanctuary, accompanied by the birds' whistling their welcome to nightfall. And we would sit low behind our fishing rods, certain that this was "the" night.

We happened to arrive at Lac Cassien just at the right time to experience the carp spawning. Few days passed without our creeping up into the West Arm sanctuary, climbing trees, hiding behind bushes or actually getting into the water to watch the Cassien residents engage in mating pleasures. Carp of 20lbs, of 30lbs, yes even of 40lbs would beat the shallows to foam. Carefully, so as not to disturb the fish, we approached them, until they would finally swim right up to us, through our feet, so close that we could easily touch them. A truly magnificent spectacle of nature, and surely one only few carp fishers have been able to witness.

And we caught, we caught well. In the end, we had half a dozen or so beautiful fish to book, true Cassien warriors. I even beat my personal best with two fish. Amazing to think that still, the Saint Cassien, wherever he might reside, was kind enough to leave some room for improvement: There are still much bigger carp for us to catch from this lake.

So, I have been there now, but has it helped? In a way, I am just where I had been before going to Cassien - my desire to fish there has become no smaller. But despite all the longing and craving, this is a comforting certainty: That out there lies a paradise for the lovers of the carp quest, and that yes, some day I will return to its banks to chase the queen!