Little & Often

Winter has finally realised what it should be doing here in the East, cold frosty weather through the week and even a bit of sleet the weekend, not good fishing weather but I didn’t expect to be heading out anyway.  However Shelley’s car is in the garage and she required picking up from work so this gave me an idea to go look at the stillwater I’d fished last time.  I wanted to know if once again the place would come alive with baitfish at dusk. Firstly I had to make sure the kids were happy and get some household jobs done.  With both boxes ticked my idea had advanced somewhat.  I hastily filled a flask and picked up some bait, then sorted out a net, a lure rod and a rod to float fish a deadbait. No need for a chair or shelter today.

 I had to pick Shelley up from Town and a look at the clock confirmed I’d be able to get to the water, have an hours fishing then collect Shelley on my way back home.  By 1530 I was fishing but things hadn’t quite gone to plan.  In my haste to get going, the rod I’d picked up was the only one set up with a leger rig.  I had neither the time nor inclination to change it so a legered smelt was dropped close in at the bottom of the shelf.  Things didn’t look great for the deadbait, as well as being cold the water was flat.  On days like this a livebait can make all the difference.  I had none but I did have a lighter lure rod and a selection of smaller lures to through around. 

I really fancied working a Professor spoon as it was the right sort of size and I could fish at all depths.  Despite having caught loads of Pike on spoons, including a few big uns I rarely fish them at all these days but something I’d read had put the idea in my mind.  However for some reason the first lure I clipped on was a Reaper jig which I bounced around the bottom and caught nothing but leaves and twigs.  Next I tried the Professor fishing mostly deep and slow with the occasional faster turn followed by letting the spoon flutter down again.  After a cast parallel to the bank I casually lifted the spoon clear and beneath it the water boiled, I’d moved a fish!  The next cast the rod bent round and I dragged in a branch, bloody typical!  Detaching the debris gave me a moment to think.  Was that Pike sitting close in?  If so if I drop the spoon into the deep margin and jig it a bit that might work?  This old trick has worked before and it almost worked today, the rod went solid and I slowly pulled a Pike up to the surface where it shook its head and chucked the lure back at me.  Win some, lose some.

I stopped for a brew and looked out across the water, there were a few fish topping but nothing like as many as last time.  With the warm tea inside me I went back to flinging the lure around.  A long cast into deeper water brought a sharp thump at distance, definitely a fish but the hook didn’t set.  Was this one of those days when the Pike aren’t really up for it and just nip the end of the lure?  I kept on casting and tried different lures; a spinnerbait and a paddle tail jig before switching back to the spoon, all to no avail.  At 1640 I tidied up in rapidly fading light.  There had been nothing like the amount of silver fish showing this week but there had been at least one Pike willing to have a go.  I have a feeling I will be back.

Both the children were busy on Saturday morning which gave me a couple of hours free time but with sleet and freezing conditions could I be bothered?  What the hell!  It only took me a few minutes to grab a rod and a net then stuff a few bits into a rucksack.  With good thermals under plenty of winter layers; hat, shades and gloves and I was prepared for anything.  We hadn’t had much recent rainfall so I guessed the river would be in pretty good nick and I’d be in with a chance.  Lower the sights today, just a Pike any Pike.

I arrived at the downstream end of the stretch and saw the river looked bang on with a nice green tinge.  The first swim had a treacherous muddy death slide to contend with, usually this is precisely the type of obvious obstacle to which I succumb but by leaning on the landing net handle I made it.  I started off with a Shad but it didn’t give me any confidence so switched to a spoon.  This didn’t look right either, so I reverted to the faithful Wagtail and felt happy straight away. The other lures may well have worked but I wanted to move quickly today and confidence is everything. An Egret flew low looking to perch in a far bank tree.  It saw me and lifted off again, shame, would have been close enough for a half decent photo.

I made my way upstream casting to overhanging trees and along reedy margins.  Many features looked just the part but by the time I was half way along my chosen stretch I hadn’t had a knock.  It never crossed my mind to change the lure, the Wagtail has done the business so many times, maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy?  It doesn’t matter.  A cast along the front of a raft of winter muck saw the tip hoop round, fish on!  I don’t expect to catch big fish here and this one is run of the mill but on a light set up she charges about a bit and muddies the margins before I can chin her out.

 I worked my way to the top of the stretch and once felt a tap on the tip that may have been a Pike, or not.  As usual I swapped lures for a spinnerbait and made my way back downstream, travelling quickly with just a cast here and there.  I’d had enough and was happy to get back into the car with ‘Green day’ warming my ears.  Time to get back to being responsible(ish.)  
  

The cold weather has been here a week and looks set to stay for a while longer.  I think it’s fair to say we’ve had a ‘proper winter’ this year.  As much as I’ve loved the Pike fishing this season I’ve had more than enough of raw, frosty weather.  Here’s hoping for South westerlies and climbing temperatures.

The bleak mid winter

When is a National Park not a National Park?  When it’s the Broads National Park.  For some years the Broads Authority has been lobbying for the area to gain national park status.  Surely for a renowned area of natural beauty this should be a no-brainer?  Standing in the way is the ‘Sandford principle’ which states; “where irreconcilable conflicts exist between conservation and public enjoyment, then conservation interest should take priority”.  Obviously anglers will be very wary of this as we already have to contend with too many restrictions and exclusions.  The boating fraternity have far more to lose however and it is this well-heeled and influential group that holds sway within the BA.  We have seen the lengths the boaters can push the BA to with the ill-conceived dredging of Heigham Sound a few years ago.  Thankfully this project is being handled more sensitively nowadays and it seemed as if a bit of common sense had crept into the Broads Authority. 

To cut a very long story short, the BA has side stepped the Sandford principle by a simple re-branding.  The Norfolk and Suffolk Broads have been renamed the Broads National Park.  Apparently the broads are equal to the countries other national parks without having the legal status.  The new name alone will give the area all the advantages it needs without actually having to conform to the “legal restrictions”.  So it’s not a national park but its okay to call it a national park?  So if I piss into an empty bottle can I call it lager?  You have to laugh at the BA’s use of double speak but from a purely selfish point of view, it’s all fine by me.  I’m sceptical towards any changes being to angler’s advantage.  Anyway...

I never sleep well the night before a fishing trip and was up at 0445, before the alarm had even sounded.  For the first time in a year I braved the ordeal of dragging myself out of a warm bed at a stupid time on a cold frosty morning.  My motivation was the first trip of the year to the special place.  Everything that could be sorted was loaded already so it was just a case of filling the flasks and hitting the road.  At that time of day the roads were empty and the drive was easy.  A Barn Owl ghosted along the verge, ‘Goat’ throbbed from the speakers and my head bobbed to the rhythm.

I’ve launched in the dark so many times that it’s smooth and easy nowadays, apart from having to shift thick ice from the boat cover.  Launching does require a bit of sweat and grunt, I remembered not to layer up with too many clothes before the boat was on the water, I don’t want to be sweating this early in the day.  Bait catching is quick and easy and all over in a few minutes, knowing where is the key.  I sorted the boat and tackled up in the dark, this way I make far less noise when I’m out on the water.  Another boat at the slip gave me the hurry up; you don’t often get that at the times I usually launch.  The engine doesn’t want to start at first but eventually splutters into life and farts its way out onto the broad then off to my destination.

I cut the engine about 100 yards short of the spot then rowed in and quietly dropped the weights.  Three rods with float leger rigs were baited with deadbaits and positioned around the boat, two covering a feature the other in open water.  The fourth rod had a live Roach fished on a float rig and allowed to drift downwind.  With the rods out I got the boat tidy and organised then put the cuddy half up for a windbreak.  Time to relax, pour a brew and reach for the rizla (“judge not, before ya judge yaself…”).  A deep relaxed sigh… Here I am, sitting in my comfortable chair, looking out across a beautiful wetland wilderness; just 2 1/2 hours after getting up; “it was all worth it, to be here now…”  Bliss.

After half an hour the first Harrier had drifted in silhouette into the trees.  There was no spectacular sunrise today, just slowly growing light behind a blanket of low cloud.  I’m in the mood for music today so I have Radio6 music tuned in and playing quietly in the boat.  The DJ is Marianne Hobbs and she’s on top form with Led Zep’s “Ramble on”.  What is Plant on about?  “It was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair…”  Must have been some trip Bob!  This was followed by loads of good tunes; the Charlatans, and Kraftwerk to name just a couple.

After forty five minutes I’ve been twitching all the baits and recast the Lamprey as there was more weed than I expected.  The conditions aren’t great, the temperature has been low for a couple of weeks so it may pay to keep them baits on the move because I don’t think the Pike will be travelling far today.  I need to cover water and try to put a bait so close to a fish that it’s too good to miss.  I expect it to be a hard, slow day and just putting a fish in the boat will be a result but this is a place in which dreams can come true.  It’s nice to see a Grebe working the area.  It knows what I know and much, much more.  By now it’s a little brighter with blue sky visible through holes in the thinning cloud, the light westerly is giving just enough ripple, the water is moving, the deadbait scents will be drifting.

By 0900 the sun is out and the shades are on, not only do they filter the sun they keep the wind off exposed skin, it’s a raw one today.  Good gloves are essential too, especially when hauling up wet anchor ropes.  I use ‘Sealskinz’ which are tough, 100% waterproof, the thumb and forefinger fold back and are held by magnets freeing my fingers for fiddly jobs.  The gloves rarely have to come off throughout the day.  I’ve had mine over a year now and there’s no sign of damage, not cheap at around £40 but money well spent. Breakfast is digestive biscuits, quick easy and filling.  I can’t be arsed with the fry up these days, too much mess and too distracting.  Time is up on this spot, I have to move on.

I lift the weights and drift downwind a hundred yards or so, paddling with an oar to maintain course.  The same four baits are arranged and I sit back to scan the floats some more.  I’ll give it an hour here and if nothing happens I’ll start the engine and head off elsewhere.  Thinking ahead… I wish I’d noticed where the other boat went first thing but I was concentrating on getting the baits out.  My guts are rumbling, wish I’d curled one off before I left this morning.  Sipping tea and watching the water, the strange calls of cranes away to the south.  Mary Anne sounds like she nods off to sleep between tunes but had carried on in good form with Primal Scream and an old Michael Jackson tune from back when he was still black.  Now Cerys Matthews has taken over with a silky, sexy voice but she plays a load of folky, country shite so I switch the radio off for a while.

Late morning and I’m taking a slow cruise to another mark, one that has form for good fish at this time of day, at this time of year.  But that was before the last Prymnesium, things are much tougher these days.  A cruising harrier crosses my path on its way to join another to the east of me.  This area is always a reliable spot to watch the Harriers and the occasional Buzzard.  Once again I cut the engine and row into position in the ‘midday bay’, dropping the livebait over the side on the way, paying out line as I go.  I’ll slowly draw it back towards my anchored boat over the next hour or so.  Once the boat is secure the deadbaits are spread and I sit back to watch the Harriers which don’t disappoint.  There are loads of swans here too, thankfully keeping their distance, going arse upwards to get to the weed.  It’s still bright and the wind has picked up now, whistling through the reeds but it definitely feels much milder than it has for a few days.

After just over an hour I lift the weights again and drift further into the bay.  With the baits out again it’s time for lunch, a cold tin of pilchards followed by a chocolate bar and more biscuits.  I have a tin of soup but can’t be bothered and only use the stove to boil the kettle and top up the flasks.  Cerys Matthew got better, peaking with a Royksopp track then there was a Smashing Pumpkins gig.  It’s great to be back out in the boat but the fish aren’t where I expect to find them and what I’m doing isn’t working today.  After a bit of thought I decide to have a complete change of method and the time to do it is right now!

Half an hour later I kill the engine once again and quickly rearrange the boat.  I have a bucket full of bait and I’m going to try and use it!  The two rods with bottom end floats are put to one side while the other two rigged up with inline floats are adjusted slightly and set to troll livebaits through an area I rarely fish.  I head off on the oars, it’s a while since I’ve trolled and it takes me a few minutes, making the same old mistakes, before I get the hang of it again.  After that it comes easy and I oh so slowly covered water.  After forty minutes or so I’m happy with the way I’m fishing but I haven’t dragged a bait close enough to a Pike and then…  A float buries and the baitrunner starts to sing my favourite song.  I quickly drop the small weight over the side then pick up the rod and wind into a fish.  It’s only a jack but it pulls the rod round and I’m well pleased to chin it out.  The hooks come out with my fingers and I notice the fish has loads of leaches hitching a ride.  Some say this is a sign of a fish that hasn’t been moving very much and I’ve definitely noticed Pike are more leachy when it’s cold.  The change of plan has worked; I have a fish under my belt now it’s time for another.

 Half an hour later the other float stabs then zips along the surface accompanied by the buzzing baitrunner.  I repeat the procedure but the float has stopped before I pick the rod up and I wind down to find the bait has been stolen.  Do I turn and cover the area again?  No, I decide to rest the area and come back this way in a little while.

Another twenty minutes pass and as my first float passes alongside a nice feature it slowly and effortlessly slides across the surface.  Weight down, pick up rod and… Yes!  Another Pike hooked.  This one is a little bigger than the first but not enough to excite many Pikers, still on a cold day it puts a warm smile on my face.  However I still want more and bigger.

I trolled for another hour, going back over the areas that had produced fish but failed to find any more Pike.  With the sun going low I started the engine again and headed back towards base then settle down fishing three deads and a live once more.  Ducks are quaking and there’s the roosting racket of a gazillion gulls. I’d have said that the dusk period would be the best chance of a fish today but I’m not really feeling it.  Still I go through the motions and settle down to watch the sun set.  Dusk is an eerie time out here in the wilds.  The shadowy trees are threatening and the gulls now sound like they’re challenging me for invading their space.  It’s now 1700 and almost dark; I’ll give it half an hour more.  It has been a tough day but making a change has brought me a couple of fish and I’ve enjoyed the time on the water.  I’m probably a day or so early, it’s been a bit warmer but not warm enough.  The next couple of days should see fish moving but I’ll be back at work, typical.

By 1830 I’m off the water and looking forward to a sixty mile drive on crappy roads.  For company I had a Richie Benaud audio book describing some great West Indian cricketers; Wes Hall, Michael Holding and Sir Viv Richards.  After that I had another blast of Goat which saw me home.  By the time I’d unloaded the car and closed the door behind me it was gone eight o clock and I’d enjoyed every minute.  I choose the places I spend my time in carefully.  I enjoy just being there, letting the countryside cleanse the bullshit of modern life from my soul.  I’m dreaming of catching the most special Broadland queen but along the way I get a buzz from every one of her little sisters.

All new

The end of the week had seen mild weather and strong westerly winds, ideal Pike fishing conditions but unfortunately I was stuck at work.  Saturday evening was spent talking, laughing, eating Chinese and drinking Guinness with my oldest, dearest friends.  It’s been years since I’ve been in Town on a Saturday night but things haven’t changed, drunk lads will always feel the need to fight each other.  Thankfully this was just a side show which didn’t spoil our evening out.  These nights are all too rare so it was well worth sacrificing an early start on my day off.  I didn’t feel too rough in the morning but still didn’t hurry out of bed.  I was planning to fish the afternoon through dusk when all the Pike should come on the feed, in theory….

I spent a bit of time out in the back yard getting my gear together as Christmas had bestowed a bit of new kit to incorporate into/onto my tackle.  My old fishing shelter finally gave up the ghost this season.  It was a pop up tent that was marketed by Relum and aimed mostly at beach anglers. I bought this in 1997 because I was fed up with lugging a big wavelock umbrella around.  My mates took the piss and christened it the ‘portaloo’ but it was lightweight, set up in a couple of minutes and was far better than the old brollies at that time.  It lasted me all of seventeen years and if they were still available I’d seriously consider getting another one.  Umbrella design and materials have come a long way since I last owned a brolly and I ended up buying a 60” oval brolly.  Having looked at a few different options first hand I could see little difference between them so went for one marketed by TFGear, simply because it was cheapest.

The new shelter is much bigger than the old but still lighter than the old wavelock brollies however it was obvious that my old quiver would not be up to the job.  I think this item was even older than the shelter and I’m pretty sure it came from ‘The tackle shop’, I have a feeling it originally went on the market when Trevor Moss owned the shop.  I reckon I’ve used this old quiver for at least twenty years and it has been bodged up and repaired over this time so a new one was overdue.  Perks of the job again, I got to look at four different quivers from four manufacturers before choosing a 30 plus Kodex model.  Finally I bought a fox specialist unhooking mat simply because it clips neatly on top of my rucksack.

The time I spent sorting this lot out with a fierce wind cutting through me had me questioning if I really wanted to venture out into the cold at all.  It’s windy, cold and horrible, the best conditions have been and gone so why bother?  Having made the effort to sort the gear I thought ‘what the hell?’ give the new gear a test if nothing else.  So with the car loaded and everything ready I only had to decide where to fish.  My destination must tick two boxes; firstly it had to be unaffected from flood water after recent heavy rain, secondly I craved peace and quiet so as few other anglers/strollers as possible.  I’d had a couple of days to ponder on this and had come up with a water that I haven’t fished for a long time.  It would mean travelling a bit further than I would normally like but I fancied giving it a recce to refresh my memory if nothing else, so why not give it a go?

Because I'm a fun guy

 I arrived around midday and after a bit of a walk picked a swim offering me shelter from the wind as well as lots of water to cover.  The new quiver felt comfortable, so far so good.  To keep warm I would need the shelter up so I didn’t want to move camp, instead I had plenty of scope to keep the baits on the move with frequent recasts to different areas.  I legered a bluey on my left and float legered a smelt to the right, both were quietly dropped at the bottom of the marginal shelf, always a good place to start.  With the baits out it was time to tackle the new Oval brolly which went up easily and was solid all afternoon with the storm poles and pegs securing it.  There was a groundsheet included too but I can’t see myself ever using this so it might as well stay at home in future.

An hour later I’d recast both rods and set up a third with a float rig suspending a Joey Mackerel a foot or so off the bottom.  The plan was to cast this out and let it drift around with the wind then slowly retrieve it ‘sink & draw’ style.  The water was gin clear just as I’d remembered so hopefully this moving bait would be easily visible to any Pike around, at least that was the plan.  It was a pleasant afternoon, bright enough for shades and a cap to be required, with the new brolly keeping the wind of me and the sun on my face I was warm and comfortable.  It was really enjoyable working the swim, moving the baits around and refreshing my memory. After two weeks away from the waterside it felt good being out in the East Anglian countryside, I’d forgotten what a nice place this is.  There was just one other angler who packed up mid afternoon and only one friendly stroller who was OK.  However something was missing, the Pike weren’t playing ball.

Around 1530 I noticed a couple of bait fish break the surface close in so repositioned the float legered Smelt, back to the marginal shelf where I’d begun fishing.  Ten minutes later I was watching my drifting float riding the waves, I glanced back to the margin float to see it was laying flat.  Action stations… net in position, wind down slowly and… nothing.  I wound in to find a bit of weed on the hook and no marks on the bait but for that float to be laying flat the lead must have been moved?  If I’d been concentrating on that float instead of the drifter I’d know what had happened for sure.  A well set float leger rig, using an unweighted bottom end pencil type float (I like the Drennan Pike Wagglers) gives brilliant bite indication. When a Pike picks up the bait the float tends to rise and wobble then lay flat before sliding away.  It’s one of the best sights in fishing and I’d missed it.  By now there were more and more silver fish topping so I recast the smelt and also wound the drifting mackerel back into the area.  With darkness creeping closer, the surface was alive with fish and chances of a Pike seemed better than at any time previously, unless I’d missed my chance.

At 1600 a single beep drew my attention to the float above the smelt which had a decided wobble on, it didn’t lay flat but yes it was slipping away into the open water!  Repeat the procedure… net in place, wind down and fish on!  It felt heavy to begin but the fully bent rod had the fish moving towards me.  It plodded about in the deep margin then decided it didn’t want to be there and tried to power off.  I don’t like giving line but this fish was making me fight to hold on, the new Grey’s rod absorbed this all nicely and a decent fish was soon netted.  With the net secured in the margin I sorted out the forceps, scales and camera for a quick self take.  The double hook had a solid hold in the scissor but came out easily, the scales showed the fish was heavier than expected.  She was a lovely dark spotty fish but had a chunk of tail missing and scratches down one flank, definite signs of Otter attention here too.  The other flank looked nice which is obviously the one shown in the photo but on reflection I should have took a snap of both sides.  After the quick photo I slipped her back, a much better result than I’d expected when I left home, nice one! 

There were still loads of silvers topping so I recast the smelt and adjusted the depth on the mackerel so my bait lay on the bottom.  I felt I was in with another chance so decided to sit tight for another half hour or so.  As this time passed by I began to tidy up, getting as much as possible stowed away while it was still light enough to see.  The oval brolly stowed away as easy as it went up I’m happy to say.  I packed away the leger rod leaving the two float rods sitting on microns with the tips in the air.  I always pack up this way, leaving the rods to the absolute last minute.  At 1635 it was fully dark when the Micron cried out alerting me to the Mackerel heading off into deeper water at a rate of knots.  Same routine with the net again and this time the ancient Tricast rod bent round and into a Pike.  This one pulled like one of its big sisters and when the head torch picked it out it was smaller than I expected but still a pleasing fish.  Fish were still topping so I sent the bait out again and sat back with a grin.  For once the Pike had behaved just like the books tell us they should in mid-winter; I’d had a lay in and a couple of nice fish too.  It was only at this point that I realised they were my first Pike of 2015, I’m up and running for the year. 

I sat it out until I couldn’t see the floats at all and the silvers had all but stopped topping.  By this time the flask was empty and my stomach was growling for a feed.  By 1730 I was back in the car and heading home with Black Keys rattling the speakers.  It would be nice if The Pike always fed at a nice comfortable hour of the day and I could have a lay in every week.  It was interesting to see the water come alive as the light faded so maybe they do and I can?  For a short while at least.

2014 and all that

 December rolled on with me far less grumpy than is usual for this time of year, ignoring Xmas works!  Three weeks into the month and we have the shortest days of the year to contend with too.  Despite this I managed to sneak out for a couple of hours fishing.  On the Saturday I wandered around a local pit flinging a few lures around.  I wanted to fish swimbaits close to the bottom but weed growth made this difficult and after much chopping and changing I ended up with a jerkbait.  A Cobbs Crazy shad to be precise which glided nicely above the weed and looked brilliant in the clear water but the Pike didn’t agree.  Nothing I tried got any response and I eventually became side tracked chatting to a brother Piker as well as dispirited by the cold wind.  I jacked it in after an hour but hoped to be back.

The following day I returned in the mid-afternoon, planning to fish into dark.  The children are of an age where they can be left for a couple of hours without killing each other so I can sneak off somewhere local.  I returned to the same pit with a couple of deadbaits as well as the lure rod.  I set up on the entrance to a bay fishing a float legered Bluey to some overhanging trees opposite me and a Paternostered Smelt was whacked out and twitched back towards me.  I also pinged my lures around and in between the floats as this may often wake up a Pike that will take a deadbait.  Two hours passed quickly and it was soon growing dark so I started rummaging around in my bag for a head torch.  The search was fruitless and I could picture it on the ledge beside the back door where I’d left it.  I had no sensible option but to pack up; fishing in the dark would be no problem but unhooking a Pike would be another matter.

Two sessions lasting about three hours in total haven’t produced any sign of a Pike but this is definitely not time wasted.  I will probably have time to pay another visit before the end of the month so I now have a few clues to go on and a method in mind that’s a little different to the norm….

 Christmas was quieter than usual with a nice stroll along the seafront before the children descended in the afternoon.  Boxing day was spent in the company of my favourite people, the house was jammed with family of all ages coming and going.  We all enjoyed Town getting a good three points away from home, the Adnams ‘Ghost ship’ and loads of delicious food thanks to Shelley. Isaac enjoyed ‘Mario Kart 8’. Madi enjoyed her Ipod.  That evening saw hours of torrential rain lashing the east, pounding on the windows and turning the road to a river.  Would it be enough to make the river burst and flood many of the pits?  Sure enough a drive along the river valley the next day revealed much of it to be under water.  I had one free day to squeeze a little fishing in but my options would be limited and the forecast didn’t bring any better news; cold and frosty with a light northerly breeze.  Just about the worst conditions for Pike fishing on gravel pits round these ways.  Unless of course you have a nice bucket of good sized livebaits but that’s another argument…

I was awake around 0630 but just couldn’t be arsed to get myself out of bed.  Scraping the windscreen in the half light was not what mind and body required at that point, I just didn’t have the motivation so I took things steady, had tea and toast before finally closing the gate behind me around 0900.  I drove to the far end of the lake where I planned to fish with the cold wind on my back.  Looking down from the top of the bank it was immediately clear that the water wasn’t, there was a definite muddy tinge to it but not so bad it would put me off fishing.  Whether I was concentrating on this as I descended the icey concrete steps I don’t know but a suddenly my foot slid from under me and I struggled to stay on two feet.  Somehow I didn’t go over but was sure my momentum would see me end up head first in the pit.  I don’t know how I avoided this fate, I only know I’m very glad to have done so.  Plunging into several feet of ice cold water laden with tackle would have been bad enough but there were also two good friends watching proceedings from the opposite bank.  My noisy stumble down the bank would probably have scared every Pike around so I decided to drive round the other side and fish close to Rich and Dave instead.  I figured conditions were pretty bad and I’d probably struggle so I might as well chill out in company and hopefully scrounge some hot tea and food along the way.

Rich and Dave had spent a frosty night bivvied up fishing for Carp of all things so I set up behind them in a deep tree lined bay.  I cast a legered Smelt along a tree line to my left and paternostered a Mackerel in open water.  This I intended to twitch back towards me every now and then.  On a third rod I float legered a bluey close in beside the trailing branches of a bush.  With three rods fishing and everything organised it was nice to catch up with the lads.  We all talk fishing most weeks but it’s rare for any of us to share each other’s company on the water. 

After about half an hour with a mug of tea each and the piss taking in full flow my close range float caught my attention, had something picked up the bluey?  I took a few steps towards the rod just as the micron sounded and the baitrunner began to purr.  I paid off a bit of line, took off the anti-reverse, wound down and… fish on!  I’d picked up a pair of Grey’s Pike rods months ago and this was only their second outing so this was the first Pike I’d hooked on one.  Whatever was on the end was heavy enough to bend it right through as it plodded around on a short line but when it made for the bush I turned it with no problem. I soon had it in front of me and pulled it over the net for Rich to scoop up.

 The hooks fell out in the net so I held her up for a quick photo before checking the weight on the scales.  It was a nicely marked mid double but showed signs of previous captures, a few marks, red around the scissors and also had a pelvic fin missing (that I only noticed when I looked at the photo).  There are lots of winter Pike anglers in this area and these Pike have few places to hide, a little wear and tear is bound to happen though how the fin had become unattached is anyone’s guess.  I was happy to have a fish under my belt in these poor conditions and this this also gave me more ammo to rib the blanking carpers.

The lads packed up around in the late morning and over the next few hours I gradually moved my rods in and out of their vacated swims covering new water.  By early afternoon the lake was busy with other anglers as well as people just taking a stroll.  Although I had enjoyed a couple of hours in friends’ company and one of the strollers was a welcome visitor, I am definitely not a sociable angler.  In fact if I don’t know people then I am probably a grumpy old bastard.  When strangers approach me on the bank my default setting is “you’re an idiot” but in my defence I can quickly change my mind if my visitor doesn’t talk bollocks.  Maybe my reputation precedes me as no other anglers encroached and I had my little section of bank to myself so I was able to fish without being disturbed by showers of boilies and crashing spods.  I dropped the static baits onto likely looking spots and kept the paternoster rod on the move.  I did have a few lures in the bag but just couldn’t be arsed to use them.  All day the lake had been flat calm and it was definitely a day for a thermals, hat and gloves.  The lake seemed dead, when conditions are this still it almost seems oppressive, you just can't picture a fish feeding.   I felt my best chance of another fish would come as the light faded but I’d had enough long before then and was back in a warm house by sunset.

 It was good to get out and avoid Xmas cabin fever but the fishing hadn’t held my attention, maybe if conditions had been better I would have tried harder?  I’ll be mostly fishing close to home for the next few weeks.  I know the standard my local Pike fishing is modest these days but I’d enjoy myself a lot more fishing quieter waters.  I’ll let the conditions decide where at the time.

 At the turn of the year I suppose it’s natural to look back and reflect on the one has just quickly passed.  The family is a year older and the children seem to be growing up in front of me.  Teenagers don’t want to spend so much time with Dad but mine have a lot of love to give.  Who’d want to be a teenager again?  Away from the bank I’ve had a quieter time than recent years.  The grim reality is money has been tight and certain luxuries had to be put on hold for a while.  Life always has its ups and downs but tough times don’t last, tough people do.  Things are changing for the better now, there’s a light…

 I didn’t manage to get to a cricket match this year, we had planned to watch Essex at the Colchester festival but the T20 was sold out and the Sunday was a wash out.  Elsewhere England had a mixed year in the tests.  After being embarrassed in Australia we were beaten by a decent Sri Lankan team before finding enough form to defeat India.  England were made to look good against India but just how good they are remains to be seen, I’m not convinced the selectors know what our best team is.  Next spring England travel to the Caribbean where they would expect to win.  Last time we toured there we somehow contrived to lose 1-0 but this low point led to a few years of England cricketing highs.  At home next summer we have New Zealand who look good enough to give us a proper test ahead of yet another Ashes series.  Twelve months from now we’ll know just how good England are and if the Ashes end up going south I expect Peter Moores will be out of a job.  Before the tests start again we have some mildly interesting ODI stuff including a world cup.  It’s hard to imagine England lifting that trophy but…

 We didn’t catch much live music this year either, circumstances were as much to blame as finances.  What we did get to see was brilliant starting with Eels on top form at the Royal Albert Hall.  This was an un-missable combination and we were not disappointed.  A few weeks later came the Latitude festival which is always the best weekend of the year.  The music line up was brilliant and we got to see fantastic performances from Goat, James, Black Keys and best of all Royksopp & Robyn.  We never want Latitude to end, coming back to the real world is always a pisser.  We had planned to see the Levellers in November but at £50 a ticket it just wasn’t going to happen.

So the Pike described earlier turned out to be my last fish of the year.  Thinking about it, I caught it from a lake I don’t often fish but where I also caught my first Pike of the year, another mid-double.  In between then the Pike fishing has gone pretty well, wherever I’ve spent my time.  In fact I'd go as far as to say that I have never enjoyed my Pike fishing more than I did in 2014 and long may it continue.  However the Tench and Carp fishing was a disappointment as I couldn’t catch either with any consistency in fact my best fish of the warmer months was a Bream.  I’ve fished ‘the Marsh’ for the last five years and although I enjoy spending time there the fishing has been a real head banger.  I’ve caught large Tench, Carp and Bream here as well as a few nice Pike but at no time have I ever felt I knew what I was doing.  It’s a funny old place and the difficulty adds to the allure but it’s time for a change so next spring and summer will be spent doing other things; different places for different species.  Until then, more Pike…

Ho ho bloody ho

I hate December.  People have been conditioned to leave their brains at home and act like idiots throughout this merry month.  I hate the noise that comes out of the radio at this time of year; that commercialised filth is not fit to be referred to as music.  Even the Pogues & Kirsty is starting to sound jaded and hearing yet another terrible version of “do they know it’s Christmas” doesn’t make me feel charitable, it makes me want to smash things.  I’ve got a decorated tree and a few strings of lights around the house but there’s no way on earth that I’d make my home become visible from space as some aspire to do.  It was “wear a Xmas jumper” day last week, well if people want to dress like a twat then fine but I reserve the right not to.  Why do people who barely grunt in your direction for eleven months of the year suddenly become super friendly “because it’s Christmas”?  The same reason is given when people pour even more alcoholic piss down their throats at this time of year.  Having done that to extremes myself I have more than enough reasons to opt out these days. All year we work for “them”, for a wage that is just enough to get us by and then in December we give what little we have left back to “them”.  I try to opt out of the whole thing but with a family it’s impossible so I’ve had to endure the town centre scrummage and give a chunk of my hard earned back to “them”.  Of course all of this means I’m miserable, according to the sheep.  For your information I may well be cynical and sarcastic whilst forced to mix amongst the brain washed masses but when I shut the door on it all I’m perfectly happy thank you.  I get what Christmas is all about but I think most of the western world has forgotten.

Another reason I hate December is I rarely find time to do any fishing during this month so I have to grab every opportunity.  Having escaped from the bedlam of the dreaded visit to town the lady suggested we go for a walk.  I quickly adapted this to a walk along the river with a rod and net so after a quick pit stop we were off and out.  We went to what is probably my favourite stretch of my local river, a place where during the eighties and nineties I spent loads of happy days and caught Roach, Rudd, Dace, Chub, Tench, Eels, Perch and Pike.  The stretch has changed for the worse over the last twenty years, I wrote about the neglect, abstraction and siltation a few years ago.  This area seems to have the highest concentration of Otters in the region too.  It’s still a lovely place for a walk though and I’m ever hopeful of a fish or two.  So with just a rod, a net and a pack on my back we strolled off. 

This stretch just screams Pike at you as all along it there is perfect Pikey habitat, unfortunately there appear to be few fish of any species in residence these days.  With the water at normal winter level and just a touch of colour it looked spot on so I clipped on my ‘go to’ lure, the Zoota Wagtail, sadly no longer made.  The first swim has overhanging trees on both banks and shallow water dropping off, though to not the depth it once did.  Large shoals of Roach, Dace and Chub used to reside here in the winter but not a sign of anything today.  Next swim down the river narrows up and once again there are trees on both banks creating a perfect bottleneck for an ambushing Pike.  A few casts saw no response and I was thinking of moving when the rod hooped on and it was fish on!  It was a small one that gave little resistance but I was forced to stretch out across the marginal reeds to net it.  Once in the mesh the fish done all its fighting and I ended up having to do a bit of untangling before the unhooking.  I held it up for the lady’s camera then slipped it back into the river.

We continued downstream passed loads of fishy features but with access greatly reduced there were many old holding areas I can no longer get a bait too.  A straight run I used to trot baits down has silted up to just inches in places and the old overhanging tree has now crashed down and spans the river.  The few swims I managed to fish all looked good but I failed to move any fish.  I swapped the wagtail for a homemade spinnerbait and we retraced our steps back upstream, I didn’t catch anything and didn’t care.  An hour wandering along a river was novocaine for the soul, I’d left home with little expectation so was happy with that little Pike from my local river.

1995 One from the good ol days.

Late Autumn

 The nights have grown longer and the temperature has steadily got cooler, we’ve even had a couple of frosts out here in the East.  Over the last few weeks I’ve watched the trees lose most of their leaves and the reeds have turned from green to sandy brown.  Autumns colours have faded into winter shades but happily the bright red floats have continued to move regularly enough.  I’d have settled for that at the start. 

 It’s interesting to look back on the autumn as many fish have come from areas I’ve hardly fished in the past.  Once again the most prolific areas have been totally different to where we’d found fish at this time last year.  What has been more surprising is we’ve been catching at different times of the day, food for thought.  Lamprey had been the number one bait for the last two years but this year it’s a poor third…

A few tweaks have made the boat even more comfortable than ever before and more organised for when a fish comes on board. It’s been brilliant spending time in the boat through all types of weather, chilling out in my favourite place.  It’s been much needed therapy getting away from the non stop lunacy of a muddled and hectic life.  People tell us “you must be mad…” but the madness keeps me sane. Now it’s time for a break and a rest as it really is tough, challenging fishing in every way.

The broads were hit with yet another tidal surge this autumn, once again salt water travelled many miles inland killing any fish that were caught up in it.  This seems to be an annual event nowadays but every time it’s different, no one can tell which river systems will be affected.  There are still plenty of Otters around but these don’t seem quite so bad when your miles from the sea and a Seal pokes its head up between your floats. Thankfully there hasn’t been a Prymnesium outbreak since the Broads Authority changed its dredging methods, one thing to be thankful for at least.

Elsewhere in the wonderful world of Pike fishing the PAC Facebook page has been buzzing lately, for all the wrong reasons. Facebook attracts the casual Piker far more than any forum, this could be great for a club trying to attract new members but unfortunately it also attracts morons, chavs and wind up merchants.  At its worst it has been an embarrassment and damaging to the club.  Happily things have improved this week with the addition of a couple of extra moderators, I expect they’ll be busy in the future…

Elsewhere on “The Pit” that big West Country reservoir has been providing plenty of debate.  I haven’t a clue as how it has fished this year only that a couple of friends caught some whackers.  I don’t recall hearing of a “Forty” this time around but I may be wrong.  Until one of the main protagonists spat his dummy there had been an interesting discussion on the merits of the latest fish finding technology.  Some are questioning if what the improved technology now shows the angler is crossing an ethical line?  Others say it’s the future, get on board it’s here to stay. 

To me the moral line must be drawn when technology is clever enough to make a poor angler into a successful one, when the ‘skills’ we learn through experience are replaced by a gadget.  As I understand it now, in order for the finder to show fish, the angler has to put the boat in the right place and that’s fine with me.  I have an old echo sounder in the shed but I’ve never used it, what I know about the places I fish I’ve learnt through trial and error.  I’ve enjoyed the experience of learning through blood, sweat and tears I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Fishing where I do, I don’t need or want a gadget that tells me if there are any Pike in my swim.  I only want that mystery solved when the float slides away, or not.  

That’s the thing with ‘specialist’ fishing; the only rules that count are the ones we make for ourselves.  Records and lists don’t have to be aspirations; to me they are just mildly interesting. Catching a fish is a personal thing and what it means to the captor is the only thing that matters.

Early autumn

Autumn means just one type of fishing, Piking at the special place.  Nothing else will do, there is no other combination of season, species and venue that come anywhere close and I doubt there ever will be.  It’s more than a decade since I first went afloat there and it still ticks all the boxes.  Some things remain the same; the skies are huge, vivid and spectacular.  The views are beautiful and breath-taking.  Both the sky and the water are alive with birds, many are species you don’t see anywhere else. The fishing is always hard work but this is just the way I like it, if it was easier it would dilute the buzz, I love the challenge.  The Pike are awesome, special creatures that survive and thrive against all the odds.

Its not all just the same ol same old though.  Every year the system is subtly different; reedlines change year on year, weedbeds evolve and grow.  Places I caught fish one year may be unfishable this year or barren the next.  Always changing, always evolving; every year I catch Pike from places I’d never been successful before or fail to catch in places that were near certainties in the past.  This keeps the fishing interesting and fresh.

I’ve been really up for it this autumn, I’ve relished the challenge in the mostly mild autumn weather and it’s been a privilege to be out on the water.  I’ve managed to find a few Pike too.