Team Korda recount their spookiest carping stories!

A Gigantica bailiff
About once a month, we get a report of a little girl seen walking between a very famous swim on the main lake and the next-door Road Lake. Many anglers have seen it and told the bailiff team identical stories, despite not knowing about her beforehand or us ever mentioning it.

Dressed in white with brown hair, it gets really strange when she carries on walking over the top of the lake and disappears into the misty darkness a few rod lengths out…

Ian Bailey
Fishing a special lake in Cambridge five years ago in late November on a super mild Saturday night - with three rods positioned 80 yards out in the kill zone from the climbing tree swim I couldn't have asked for more. Being the only one on the place it always had a strange atmosphere - still and silent.

Sat under my 50-inch Aqua brolly looking across to old Jim’s swim, which had his old fishing hut still in place that he used to fish from before he passed away years before my time. A few hours into dark looking across, I could see smoke coming from the hut across the lake… slowly it then hit me and I felt cold all of a sudden! Crazy to think that old Jim was doing a bit of a bailiff duty that night.

Clive Gibbins
A few years back, whilst fishing at Maison du Lac Bleu , I was joined by the owner Nick and wife Cindy one night for a pleasant soirée. They then proceeded to tell me the tale of an angler who had fished my swim a few weeks earlier. Nick found said angler sleeping on a sofa in the breakfast area early one morning.

The angler flatly refused to return to his swim as he had seen a ghost during the night! Nick had to go to the lad's swim and move his gear to another lake on the complex. The couple then told me that a lady had been shot dead near my swim many years ago - I did not sleep well that night!

James Turner
I used to fish the occasional night on a private lake in the grounds of an old manor house. One of the most peaceful and beautiful lakes you could imagine, miles away from the rat race, you can insert all the estate lake clichés here; lily pads, shallow and silty. We were granted permission to fish here by my friend’s dad who was the estate manager.

A hundred meters (give or take) behind the immaculate strip of lawn we called a swim, was the estate’s run-down old chapel. With a scattering of tombstones outside and ivy invading the windows of the chapel, we steered well clear. After darkness fell we discussed the chapel and how it was almost certainly haunted!

I retired to my budget umbrella/camp-bed combination and was on the cusp of sleep when a blood curdling scream rung out from near the chapel. My face and neck felt like someone had poured ice onto it, a shot of adrenaline went through my system, and I felt alert but frozen. Fight or flight. The scream sounded like a woman in intense fear or pain, the noise was horrendous, a sound that sounded wet, it is hard to explain the chill I felt at this point. The silence that followed, as the scream melted and echoed away to nothing was more daunting than the noise.

“James, James. Did you hear that?” my friend Tom cautiously called out. Of course I had! But being a pair of teenage boys, neither of us wanted to admit we were scared. The following 30 seconds felt like hours, before the quiet night was again pierced by a scream. This time it was instantly followed by a similar scream off to our right. Mere seconds passed before the scream was repeated meters off to our left. We were surrounded.

For the next minute we were subjected to banshee screams from all around us. The thick trees around the lakes, provided the perfect disorientating echo chamber for the screams to bounce around in. They stopped as quickly as they started. Once again the silence enclosed us, and the ambient noise of owls resumed, it took hours for me to get to sleep after they subsided.

The next morning Tom and I packed our gear up and waited patiently for his dad to come collect us in the estate’s big 4x4 wagon, the screams remained the unspoken ‘elephant' in the swim. Neither of us wanted to admit we had been petrified or unsettled… The first thing Tom’s dad said with a smile on his face, as he flung the car door open was “Surprised I didn’t hear from you last night…” Our ears pricked up, instantly suspecting foul play. “The foxes were making a proper racket mating last night!”

Now if any of you have heard this noise before you will instantly understand. For naïve teenagers, we were relived. However, as the cockier of the two of us, Tom was first to pipe up: “Must have slept through it!"

Dan Bruton
Being night anglers we hear and see lots of weird things, don’t we?! One occasion certainly left me a bit spooked. Fishing a local syndicate after work at 10pm, I’d set up and flicked the rods out and was settling for bed at roughly midnight. I’d fished this place as a teenager and it’s always very dark and very quiet, being out in the countryside and I never particularly liked fishing alone up there. Any strange noises were usually rabbits but not this time.

As I was sat on the bedchair I could feel a faint vibration which was becoming stronger and stronger. Until the point that it felt like a three-ton elephant had ran past the back of my bivvy! I was fishing the corner of the lake so nothing could have gathered such a fast pace. The whole bivvy shook. It took me a while to pluck up the courage to have a look but I saw nothing and the following morning there was no evidence of horse or deer prints in the soft winter bankside!

Carl Hoyle
I was fishing a lake in the Loire Valley, where wild boar were present. Every night you would hear them screaming and snuffling around close by. Although I was on the lake with a few mates, I was bivvied up on an isolated peninsular and after a few days the blood curdling sounds of their young piglets had put me on edge.

I’d had a good fish in the early hours and I needed some assistance with the photos - nobody was answering phones or my cries for help, so I had to run around the lake and knock somebody up. As I was nervously legging it down the track I came face to face with a family of wild boar, who literally screamed like stuck pigs. I absolutely crapped myself!