Martin Bowler
Our intrepid angling adventurer chases big pike on the fly
LIFE without fishing friends would be all the poorer. A selfish angler soon finds doors closing on him and valuable leads drying up, so I always try to repay people who have helped me catch huge fish.
One such man is Cornish shark skipper Jerry Rogers. I’ll never forget the epic battles with fearsome porbeagles that my friend all but laid on a plate for me!
A bag of his favourite sweets while I battled a shark for 1¾ hours just didn’t seem enough, so I asked if there was any coarse
fishing that he fancied trying? Predictably, perhaps, pike were near the top of his list and I promised to call him when the time was right.
Another man I share great shark memories with is Wayne Little, especially the day he boated a record blue. I have also enjoyed great sport at Wayne’s wonderful Milton Abbas lakes in Dorset, so when he suggested a spot of fly-fishing for pike and was more than happy for Jerry to tag along it seemed as if all my ships had come in at once.
On a dour late winter’s day the three of us met up and enjoyed an early morning coffee outside the boathouse. It was Jerry’s first visit, and you could tell he was impressed – but then again, who wouldn’t be? A Capability Browndesigned estate in a natural valley far from the madding crowd, Milton has a way of making days slip gently by. A second brew and an hour of chat could have led us down a familiar path if it hadn’t been for a shoal of roach exploding on the surface with an unseen menace in hot pursuit. Time to go afloat in the punt!
Tackle was single-handed 11-weight fly rods with clear running lines to match. These were very slow sinking, perfect for the shallow water we were to target. Next came 3ft-long tippets of 25lb fluorocarbon, terminating in 12ins biting traces made from Authanic wire. This soft material wouldn’t impede the action of the flies in any way.
And what flies they were! Garish creations with long dressings and tassels that pulsed as they were stripped back. Wayne boldly predicted that we would catch more and bigger fish on the fly than on any lure.
Our final item of equipment was a set of quality polarised glasses.
In the spring-fed, gin-clear water of Milton we needed to spot the pike well before the shadow of the punt was cast across their mossy green backs. Then a cast across their snouts would, hopefully, provoke a strike. As Jerry was the guest, Wayne and I took turns at being fish spotter and guide to where the casts needed to be made. This was something we were both very happy to do, not just to help a friend but because searching out pike and watching their reactions is always such fun!
I think it’s fair to say that in general sea anglers have a degree of crudeness to their technique – this doesn’t indicate a lack of skill but is more a reflection of the harsh environment in which they ply their trade.
Jerry, however, immediately added finesse to his game. Casting a tricky heavy fly with ease and accuracy was the result of a lifetime spent as a commercial bass angler, because if there’s one marine species that doesn’t tolerate a heavy hand, it’s the bass.
So, drifting quietly with only the occasional paddle to make a small wake, we passed over tench, carp and then bream – all amazingly tolerant of our intrusion.
A silty gulley between the weed saw a long dark shadow holding station, and it couldn’t be anything other than our quarry. Jerry’s cast saw the unlikely red and white creation turn over nicely before slowly sinking down to the target. A foot above the pike’s head Jerry made the first strip and the minute the fly came alive a mouth opened with a flash of white and line screamed off the reel as a double-figure fish gave him the run-around. From his broad smile it was everything he’d hoped for.
His fighting arm, however, was only just getting warmed up and by late afternoon the casting and predator action had taken its toll.
Drifting towards the boathouse, we made for a couple of deep holes near the dam, and it was here I asked Wayne to try my outfit because I was convinced it would cast better than his!
The fly was within an inch of the surface, directly over 8ft of water, when I went to pass the rod over. In the seconds the handover took, an enormous pike rose out of the depths and sucked the fly in like a carp with a mixer.
I couldn’t say who was holding the rod when the pike took, but I can tell you who set the hook. Our Cornish friend suddenly and not surprisingly found he had some strength left in his arm, taking the rod back at lightning speed. Jerry had the beast on, just the way it should be, and the air was filled with somewhat nervous laughter.
I watched as a fish as long as a railway sleeper sank from view as a very excited angler did his best to keep in touch. The pike held its ground in the hole while the rod did its best to dig it out.
A good 20lb was our initial assessment, but with each glimpse of the pike it grew bigger.
Jerry’s heartbeat was about to go through the roof when the fish finally rose and rolled in front of the net – a sight to behold, as its girth matched its length and its ‘wow factor’ went off the scale.
As the net struggled to contain the creature we didn’t need scales to confirm that Jerry had caught the fish of a lifetime.
Handshakes all round, and another treasured memory to last a lifetime. A fly-caught pike of 31lb – simply amazing!