Martin Bowler enjoys a flying start to the pike season!
Nothing beats this active tactic when the weather starts to bite
AUTUMN had truly arrived, with brittle days of sunshine followed by chilly nights, so as I stood ready to launch the weathered boat into the pit I was glad of my layer of thermals.
My quarry, however, was in fine fettle as winter prepared to knock on the door. Months of slumber in dense weedbeds were forgotten in water now stripped bare of cover, and with prey having fewer places to hide the pike could begin its hunt in earnest.
Summer had taken its toll, leaving the predator grim and gaunt, so there was no time to waste – all focus was on devouring
as much as possible. So although I was shivering a little in the half-light I wasn’t complaining, because today my pike adventures were about to begin.
A BUSY MORNING
Lifejacket donned, a firm push sent the boat out on what, I hoped, would be a successful start to the season. A 20-pounder or two would be nice, and I even dared to dream about a thirty, but for now just the one jack would suffice to welcome me back.
As the electric motor kicked in to take me to the end of the wind I couldn’t help wondering where the time had gone. Would today bring another memory for an angling addict who collects them as avidly as a fanatical philatelist snaps up stamps?
The wind, which had an edge to it, bit a little so I was pleased to see the sun rising bright and full. Perhaps it was fortunate that I had picked to fly fish on my first trip, rather than slump down in the hull and wait for deadbaits to work their spell.
I would be busy all morning, arms flailing, and that would get the blood pumping quickly.
TWO SET-UPS
I had brought two set-ups to enable a quick change between a
floating and a sinking line.
Both rods were 10 weight, with enough backbone to control a fish potentially much bigger than any trout. Apex predators are delicate fish, so it was important to avoid a protracted fight.
Wide arbor reels not only reduce memory and coil in the lines but have the cranking power and strong drag to shorten the battle.
Next came 6ft of 25lb fluorocarbon leader connected loop-to-loop with a small ring on the end of the mainline.
My leader ended in 18ins of 20kg Authanic wire, a supple material able to withstand the pike’s bite without impeding the fly’s fluid movement. No hard lure can surpass a fly in this respect, and often the fluidity of the fly is the more appealing.
Just as with lures, I carry far too many pike flies, but I guess this is all part of the fun! Predictably, I reached for one of my favourites – loose silver and white body crowned in red. Time to begin.
ALL BASES COVERED
Casting large flies takes a little practice to achieve any distance, and a pair of polarised glasses to protect your eyes is absolutely essential. They will help you spot fish, too.
A double haul of a cast and the fly got wet for the first time, its form pulsing with each strip back. I had begun with a sinking line but would chop and change as the morning progressed to fish above any weed.
The rate of retrieve would vary according to the depth. You can never tell if a pike will be tempted by a slow, steady approach or something fast and erratic, so all bases need to to be covered.
Following my own advice, and with the drogue allowing for a very slow drift, I searched every inch of water I could cover.
I’d expected action before the sun was fully up, but my efforts were in vain. At moments like this it’s imperative you don’t lose faith – confidence is key, and once that has evaporated you may as well follow suit and go home.
By rights the pike should have been on the prowl, and I couldn’t believe one wasn’t waiting in ambush. Countless more casts and strips yielded nothing, but a lapse of concentration would mean a strike would be missed, and I couldn’t afford that! So I continued to work the fly diligently across a series of sandy patches clearly visible on the bottom, with as much focus as my first casts at dawn. Momentarily I allowed the fly to sink before a long, fast long strip – then, suddenly, I felt animated resistance.
The fly had been taken, but striking with such a soft rod was doomed to failure. I needed to set the hook into the pike’s jaws by hand so I continued to strip back, and only when the line whistled out through my fingertips did I arch the carbon and allow hell to be let loose. The pike immediately took to the air, a huge missile of a fish with polka-dot flanks.
With a big angry pike on the line there was no time to savour the moment. Each run saw line fizz off the surface and the wide arbor drum spin uncontrollably, just the adrenaline rush I had hoped for.
For five wonderful minutes the fight continued until at last the pike submitted, showing its white belly in an act of surrender.
It weighed ounces short of 20lb, and for me the pike season had begun with a bang.