Far Bank goes hunting for ‘snow pike’
Extreme conditions don’t always mean poor fishing. But could Dom Garnett catch a fish before the worst of the big freeze hit the South West?
WHAT a curious impression the recent snowstorms made across the country! For some it meant minor disaster, for others it was a rare treat. But why were some of us contemplating a spot of fishing?
Oddly enough, I have happy memories of previous fishing escapades in the snow. The pictures are always memorable for one thing – ‘snow pike’ besides eerily frozen scenery.
The last comparable big freeze of 2010 produced fishing that wildly exceeded expectations, and a trip to the Somerset Levels was a particular highlight. Within minutes of starting, I remember picking ice out of the rod rings and thinking ‘this is pointless”. Seconds later, the first of eight river pike intercepted my fly.
Such trips can be a welcome confidence booster, definitely a memory to store for the next time your faith wanes and you imagine it’s way too cold to catch.
Even more bizarre was a trip to the River Severn that same winter. Giant icicles hung from the banks and it had frozen solid for the first time in many decades. Never mind fish, it was a mission just finding a spot not solid with ice.
For some bizarre reason, probably an article I’d read, I’d been injecting my sardines with vodka. Actually, this might have been to stop Norbert Darby from drinking it. Comically futile as things seemed, his float eventually plodded off and he landed a miraculous double-figure pike.
Perhaps you can therefore forgive me for having the urge to get out and catch a fish in the snow in the recent freeze. I’d agreed to meet up with equally brave or foolish mates, John and Phil, who were just as curious to see if we could beat the odds.
On this occasion, an initial bite came after just 10 minutes. Perhaps I struck too soon, but it was on for five tantalising seconds, then gone. Apart from literally one other jack that slashed at and missed a lure, that was it.
Strangely, I didn’t feel disappointed. Seeing the Somerset Levels painted in snow was an epic reward in its own right. Had we stayed an hour longer, we might just have caught that sub-zero pike. But with the flakes falling thicker and thicker, there was no guarantee we’d have made it home. Pike two, anglers nil.