Martin Bowler reports from his pike trip to the Arctic Circle
I join my Nordic friends on a convivial predator hunt in a land of lakes, forests and eye-watering natural beauty
LAPLAND’S immense River Kemijoki carved its way before me through the pine forest, with mounds of Ice Age rock known as Rakka scattered like a game of marbles abandoned by playful Nordic gods.
The glories of nature served to remind me how insignificant I was here in the immensity of the Arctic Circle – yet strangely I found this comforting. It seemed as though every bit of stress in my life no longer counted for anything, and the humdrum round of everyday existence was erased from my mind.
I was here to fish with friends, just as legions of men had done before me – some for food and
some for fun, but each one aware that this was a very special place.
My companion on this trip was my friend Henrik Korkeamäki, whose passion for promoting fishing in northern Finland has morphed into a job with the government company Metsahallitus. Our guide was the jovial Antti Pekki... whose gregarious nature was not, I have to say, typical of the Finns!
We’d arrived at his beautiful lodge the day before, and with a big grin and a hearty handshake he immediately made me a member of the Sir Heywood club! Apparently Heywood W. Seton-Karr was an explorer of some repute and a member of the London Fly Fishers Club who wrote about salmon fishing in Finland in 1884. More than a century later, in the company of these two good men, I was taking up a similar challenge – but this time pike were the quarry.
Our adventure began when we boarded Antti’s boat and cut a V across a silver canvas of water. There wasn’t another angler in sight, so could this be a sign that sport would be slow? Certainly not – I began to understand when it was explained to me that beneath the hydro-electric dam, thousands of rainbow trout were stocked to supply food for the local communities.
These cosseted fish were never going to be missed by the pike and, added to more natural prey, they ensured the predators’ larder was always full. Feasting on perch, vendace and ide were pike of all
sizes – the Kemijoki has produced lure-caught monsters to 36lb.
First I just wanted to make a connection with this place, as I always do with a new venue. How do you find a fish amid thousands of acres of water? Local knowledge and an echo sounder are key, and fortunately we had both! It’s easy to be overawed by an inland sea, but no matter how big a venue
is, the rules of watercraft remain the same. Changes of flow or depth attract fish, as do unusual contours. If you find these you’ll find the prey fish, and close behind you’ll discover what you’re looking for.
The sounder’s screen indicated a sharp drop-off at 4.3m, and down the almost sheer rock wall was a pulsing mass of yellow and green indicating a shoal of ide. Arcs of disturbance behind told us that pike were in close pursuit.
Our rods were ready, but which lures should we pick? Antti chose a burbot imitation to match his colourful personality, its leopardsomething spotted body giving way to a bright yellow waving tail.
Henrik, being studious and scientific, matched the hatch with a rainbow trout imitation, and it was amusing to see how his choice of lure mirrored its owner so closely.
So what did I select? At the bottom of an impressive pile of Scandinavian artificials sat a silver and rainbow-coloured spoon, oldfashioned and forsaken for more state-of-the-art designs. A fitting match, I felt, but there was a real reason for my choice. No matter where you fish, your quarry learns by association. Offer them they haven’t seen in a while and this can give you the result you want.
Our intention was to cast and troll from a drifting boat, covering plenty of water, but for now our lures would pepper the shoal of baitfish. Every cast was special in such a wild water, and when the hits came from pike the excitement was palpable.
I caught several Finnish predators alongside my two new friends, whose rods also bent with some regularity. I admit none of the takes were from big fish, but it didn’t matter for now, and lunch of sausages cooked on an open fire and washed down with black coffee felt like a celebration.
I love this Scandinavian style of fishing where the journey is as important as the end result. Antti hadn’t only supplied a wonderful fishing experience for Henrik and me but refreshments as well. It was hard to drag ourselves away from the scented smoke and heat of burning birch. The thought of further pike, however, won out and once more we cast into the mythical Kemijoki.
Five metres appeared to be the depth of water to target, and as the spoon fell through the water column I had already learnt to watch the rod-tip as if I were legering. Often a hit would come as the flash of silver descended the final metre, rather than on the retrieve, so I wasn’t surprised to see and feel a tap in this zone.
On striking, the curve in the rod, and line being taken against the drag, told me that I was into a different class of fish and didn’t want to lose this one!
I had no choice but to wait until the pressure told and whatever I had hooked rose quickly to the surface. Then, 10 yards behind the boat, an impressive set of snapping jaws conveyed the pike’s displeasure, and I knew for certain my prize was a pike over 20lb from the Arctic Circle.
My pals offered encouragement to an angler plainly alarmed at the prospect of losing his catch! Each run, each thump was terrifying, but I did manage to stay in control as I breathed in the atmosphere of this magnificent place.
Since time immemorial anglers have experienced a similar buzz, and as the duel ended I joined their ranks with the broadest of smiles.
At 24lb, the yellow polka-dotted pike with whisky-painted flanks gave me the very best of early Christmas presents, and a memory of Lapland that I’ll never forget.