Sit on Top Boy, that’s what she says to me. Snob. Just because she has a brace of Skerries to paddle around Shetland with. Of course I had a great feeling; getitng her sitting on top would be a great plan for today. So, following coffee at the Town House, as per forever, we considered the options. I’d not paddled the Bungay Loop before so was tempted to propose that but with a van to load and a run down to the south coast later in the afternoon and the last shift barely finished I suggested getting our fingers smelling of fish. Piking on the Waveney it was then! I know how to show a girl a good time.
Parking was not going to happen at the pool so we headed for the quay, dropping in by the footbridge and parking up at the end of the road. She was apprehensive, having got used to the feeling of being inside normally but she decided to go for it anyway and sat on top for the first time. I had to stifle my laughter as she exclaimed how wet she was a second or two later. I grinned as she pulled on the shaft and moved off as I entered the channel.
The wider water opened ahead of us and we paddled through it, waiting until we were out of the yacht basin before she pulled my rod out, thumbed the button and released the line, tightening up moments later and pulling away as I took my rod in hand and got myself sorted out as well. Up the river we went…
We passed the bridge with no joy and I decided to change lure quickly having cleaned some weed off her lure and sent her on her way. It was bright with a fair amount of cloud drifting over now and again as we headed upstream, the tip of my rod twitching as I came from behind and then crossed over towards the other bank.
Once again the curse struck, nothing was interested in the lunchtime Rapalas as we headed further upstream, past river police bend and on towards Gillingham. It was pleasant just mooching along the river chatting though, catching up if not catching fish and we had a bonus at Gillingham when I spotted something I’d not seen since my first season on the kayak…not a floating twig, the inch that poked up as it swam across the river caught my attention immediately as a grass snake made its’ way to the other bank; damned camera, it took a while to get turned on and I missed the shot as it slithered up the side of the kayak and along until it was clear. We watched as it made its way up the mud and into the thick, tangled bush.
We got to barsham and decided to head back, changing lures again and setting off. The turn against the current worked again, in minutes I felt the familiar tugging; I grabbed hold and with a quick jerk put my rod into Paula's eager hands.
She tightened her grip and started to pull, the resistance exciting her as it slowly came closer…
…and then broke the surface near her…”it’s huge!” she exclaimed as it splashed by her side. I told her to loosen off a bit and it went off again, it had come up prematurely and was still somewhat lively but then, with a quick shake of its head, the rod lost its stiffness and the pike was gone. Damn!
We got all the way back to the quay without another strike and with a quick turn and half-mile troll producing nothing either we headed back to the launch and once again I came up the channel behind her. We loaded up and, still wet, I was invited back for coffee before, like old times, I left her for the drive down to Portsmouth.
Oh, the verdict? As I’d tried to tell her before, sitting on top is great!
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