THE JOY OF FISHING
WITH MARTIN BOWLER
The still crispness then gave way to a stiff and bitter northerly breeze that blew ripples towards me across the pit. Under these conditions the pike I so dearly wanted to catch wouldn’t leave their weedbeds all morning, so I needed to be patient and make sure I was fully prepared come mid-afternoon.
I opted for a set of stiff Esox Deadbait Piker rods capable of setting the hooks at range, while my reels were loaded with 60lb braid, which has zero stretch. Its high breaking strain minimises the chance of it failing and jeopardising a pike’s life.
Terminal tackle couldn’t have been simpler, just 1.5m of E-S-P leadcore supporting a running lead. My homemade trace consisted of 28lb Drennan Green wire and a set of size 6 trebles.
I know crimping is meant to create the strongest links, but I’ve never had a trace fail by twiddling the wire so this is what I’d done, using a lighter to melt the plastic coating before twisting the wire around itself.
To further ensure the pike’s safety I had a fail-safe double bite alarm system. The audible front alarms I chose carefully, because many on the market simply don’t work when line or braid passes through them without the resistance of an open bail-arm.
The visual aspect was covered by my homemade drop arm indicators. I pinched the idea off that famous pike angler Nige Williams. A clip and wire is connected to a plastic tube that originally held Drennan quivertips, and this is wrapped in red insulation tape. I then screw a clip for a carp bobbin into one of the rubber caps.
My tackle was prepared as well as I could, and with a bowl of hot noodles in my belly I was ready for the afternoon and the action I hoped awaited me.
As the 3pm prime time
approached I decided to refresh both rods with the pungent scent of smelts. Pike go mad for these baits – their light-coloured bodies are highly visible and they give off a distinctive smell that make them hard for any predator to miss.
My baits were carried out to a bank of weed 80 yards out by my Microcat bait boat. I know the use of these is controversial, but I choose to set my own angling standards and judge no one else’s. I wouldn’t have been able to cast my deadbaits such a distance, so without lessening my own enjoyment I used technology to drop them there. Now, if a pike poked its head out of the fronds of Canadian pondweed, an irresistible snack would be waiting.
The best part of pike fishing has to be the bite, because you always have a few seconds to dream what could be responsible before you strike. This time the indicator lifted an inch before falling back and clunking against the back rod rest. For that moment alone the day’s vigil had been worthwhile.
Calmly I lifted the rod and watched the braid pick up off the water as a pike headed back to its lair. In response I pulled off some slack, engaged the bail-arm, checked the drag, then wound down and struck. The rod hooped over alarmingly, and out in the pit a very displeased croc of a pike flared her gills and treated me to a series of headshakes. This fish was big!
Despite her size I brought her across the deep water to my margin very easily, but I knew the pike was saving herself for a quick close-quarters battle. Pike are like sprinters – built for speed, not stamina – and three times in quick succession the reel spool whizzed as the fish tried to free itself.
Ultimately my faith in strong tackle was rewarded, and in front of me a 22lb submarine surfaced to show a mottled, mossy green back.
What followed should have been a careful netting, but suddenly the alarm on my second rod shrilled out a warning. I had no choice but to force the pike into the mesh as it thrashed around angrily, hoping the trebles wouldn’t slip so I could quickly take on a fresh opponent.
The second battle was identical to the first up to when it was time for the net, because this pike had a treble protruding from its jaw. To put it into the mesh alongside the other fish would lead to a mess, as they would both perform ‘crocodile death rolls’ and tangle everything up.
So, taking a chance, I chinned the fish and unhooked it in the water – not an easy task – before putting it into the net to complete the brace.
Seeing their vivid markings shining out on a dull day, I was transported back to a time when all gravel pits held such magnificent fish.
I was a lucky man, and I knew it – so if you, too, hear a whisper about such a place, be sure to go!