Martin Bowler’s Adventures
Rig advice for catching big pike
THE first kiss of the sun on the horizon was clearly the signal to sound Nature’s alarm clock.
A gaggle of geese noisily honked their greeting to the new day while carrion crows, perched like battered black brollies in the leafless canopy, shuffled their feathers into order and prepared to take flight.
Below, my truck bumped its way down the track, breaking the ice formed over numerous potholes.
There was no time to waste as Steve Rowley and I unloaded our tackle and hoisted holdalls on to our backs before making the short walk to the gravel pit.
Workings had long since ceased, and it was now a haven for wildlife above and below the surface. Down in the depths I was hoping other creatures would be waking up and wanting their breakfast!
I can never get my baits out quickly enough, but in the halflight it always seems to take an age to rig my rods up. With the help of a headtorch I assembled two Drennan Esox pike rods and reels loaded with 60lb Piker braid.
My terminal tackle was a little out of the ordinary: to the end of the braid I had grinner-knotted 1.5m of E-S-P leadcore with a large run ring sliding up and down it and terminating in a swivel.
My logic was that all fish learn by association, so if a pike were to see or touch the unfamiliar leadcore it would have no reason to associate it with danger. Being so heavy, it would also sit much closer to the bottom. Needless to say, for the sake of the pike there would be no slack in the line.
A 28lb green wire trace bearing two size 4 semi-barbless Esox trebles completed the set-up on both rods, and with rests and indicators in place I was nearly ready. Next I clipped a small weight on to the run rings, not for casting weight but to ensure positive bite registration and minimise the chance of deep
hooking. Finally I picked out two juicy Joey mackerel from the cool bag. I knew these were incredibly fresh, as I’d caught them myself off the Cornish coast. As I worked the barbs into the oily flesh my confidence was running high.
With a powerful punch of a cast both deadbaits sailed out into the pit, their trajectory silhouetted against the rising sun. On touchdown I felt the baits down on a tight line, waiting to feel them hit bottom. This barely registered and probably meant the mackerel were semi-buried in vegetation. Once, winter would quickly strip our waterways of weed but now it’s possible to find fresh growth in January.
Steve was having the same problem, but we decided to leave the rods out for a while. Often, if pike are hungry enough, they will rip baits out of Canadian pond weed but today they were in a fickle mood.
Two dropped runs were down to pike feeling resistance as they tried to make off with the deadbaits. They weren’t mad keen to feed and so they could afford to be choosy.
Reeling in, I cast out the toughskinned mackerel six more times before I got a clean drop. Finally I could settle back in my chair and watch a robin enjoy picking insects off the huge bed of Canadian pond weed I had winched in.
Meanwhile a pike had picked up on the mackerel’s scent trail on the hard gravel bottom. A big polka-
dotted predator reversed out of its lair, pectoral fins rotating to get a firm fix on the food.
The fish was in no hurry, seemingly savouring the scent as you or I would a glass of red wine.
Finally, though, with a flaring of gills, the mackerel disappeared into a snaggle-toothed set of jaws.
How I love the noise of the drop-back indicator hitting the backrest, followed by braid billowing off the spool. Fearing another dropped run, I wound down immediately and struck the moment I felt resistance.
As the trebles bit home into the pike’s bony jaw the fish realised its mistake, and thunderous headshakes told me I was connected to a big gravel pit predator.
All that recasting had paid off – attention to detail and a little bit of effort goes a long way in winter.