Down River…18/09/2012

Down River…18/09/2012 I was knackered already; I knew I’d be even more knackered by the morning. The end of a run of six shifts including a twelve-hour the night before saw me struggling to stay awake until 8am. Mike had got a day off and asked who was up for a session after finishing his own set of shifts and I’d agreed to go along too. So I yawned my way through handing over to the day shift, struggled through my journey home, gave my wife a hug to stop myself collapsing on the floor of the kitchen like a sack of wet lettuce and went to bed for a couple of hours…yeah, I was knackered. By the time I dragged myself out of bed the wind was up so clearly it was a river day and Mike had decided the same so I headed to Beccles to meet up with him for a day’s trolling for pike. I fancied changing things slightly though and grabbed my daughter’s two Fladen Ice Pike rods. At 4ft long and somewhat softer than I was used to I figured they’d be a grin to use on pike, especially if I got a decent one and rigged them up before I set off with my baitcasters and a Rapala…the usual stuff just transferred to these rods and I set off to the Quay. Mike had launched by the time I arrived and was flinging lures a little way upstream so I unloaded quickly, parked the van and headed straight up to meet him. The lures went down as soon as I hit the main river and I paddled right into the wind; it wouldn’t have been fun on the sea for sure. The rods, being shorter, didn’t give enough lift at the requisite distance and my lures kept picking up weed or hitting the bottom and I’d changed a couple of times before I caught up with Mike who was flinging lures around to no avail. We headed off upriver against the wind and flow. It wasn’t the easiest paddle I’ve ever had up there to be fair but the sun was shining and it was better than being asleep where the only fish that bite are bloody marlin that never weigh anything and can’t provide a meal. The sun may have been shining but I was regretting not leaving my hoodie on, it was far too cold to be paddling in a t-shirt. I’d figured on the paddling keeping me warm but it’s suddenly become autumn over here and it really feels like winter is on the way, sadly. Hmm. Might be some cod soon I suppose. I’d used a pearl/orange Sliver for a while, in the deeper water, with a J13 on the bank side to search out the different areas but was running a pair of J13’s off the Fladens, a blue and white on the bankside rod and a repainted all-black one over the deeper water. I’d painted this up for dusk bassing but hadn’t used it yet; the idea being it would make a stronger silhouette. Neither had attracted yet, nor had any of the others and we were slowly getting closer and closer to the pub. Finally! The rod with the blue and white J13 started to buck and I reached around for it; Mike was chucking lures into the margins a couple of hundred yards away but soon popped up for camera duty once I’d landed and unhooked this monstrous jack of a pound and a half. The fish itself hadn’t given me any bother but the wind was a pain; I’d been pushed into the trees overhanging the water’s edge and the other lure had now passed under the hull and overtaken me. I hate that! I’d already needed to pass the fish and rod through the line that was coming down on me during the fight as it was. Anyway, photos done jack went off for a swim and we went off for a paddle. I got quite camera happy as it was such a slow morning! Mike disappeared ahead for a while but I caught up with him by the sluice at Barsham where he was flinging lures once again. Someone else had done the same recently I noted as I saw a flash of red while paddling across opposite him; in I went and unhooked a 150g Redhead Abu Terminator from the reeds. I tried trolling it but didn’t like the action and changed lure again soon after. It wasn’t the most inspiring day to be honest, too slow to enthuse us. Little did I know how much excitement the next run would bring! It came about half an hour later as I ran up along some overgrowing trees; the rod started to buck and I pulled in a feisty little 8 incher. The smallest pike I’ve had for a couple of years it clearly had eyes bigger than its mouth. At least I could feel it on these rods! Now, what do I normally do when I’ve unhooked a fish? Simple really, I reach around and place the rod in the holder before paddling off. The thing is, I’d had to move the other rod due to the wind and had both in my lap. This was now running a Super Shad Rap in the deeper part of the river so I wouldn’t put it out until I was moving. The rods weren’t leashed as I’d been rushing at launch which was the first mistake. The second was quite casually placing the rod in the river and letting go. I didn’t miss the rod holder. No. I just placed it intentionally and bizarrely in the water and started to paddle away. That was why I watched it sink a moment or two later as I wondered why I’d done this. Eighty quid was now on the bottom. I stuck on a diver that always hooks up on the bottom and failed to get it down far enough; I tried casting and trolling but no luck came my way. Mike lent me a small pirk but this failed as well. After ten fruitless minutes I decided to get drastic and hope there were no trees down there. I didn’t fancy a swim, wouldn’t be able to see anyway and we’d now established that we were in around twelve feet of water (the deepest hole in the entire river system of the UK it seemed) and so I fitted a Rapala Magnum to the link on the bottom with three more running up the line above it. A bit of a risk this… I cast in; nothing. Again. It was the fourth or fifth chuck that had me recognise the different lure breaking the surface; first the Super Shad Rap came up and then, vertical in the water, I saw the Ice Pike rod rising up. It was photo time! I stopped swearing and we carried on into Jack Alley (named after a manic hour a couple of years back). Five minutes later Mike was in! His first pike from the yak and the first fish from his Trident. I’d have expected him to look slightly less disappointed but again it was a small fish. I tried to make him happier and tried to make the pike look bigger too…not sure if it shows? Nothing further happened until we turned at the fork to head for the Locks. I had another run on the blue and white but slack lined it when bringing the rod over my head (the wind turned me as I stopped padding) and lost it but shortly afterwards Mike was in: It shook the hooks as he was lifting it in and so we carried on towards the beer with no more excitement and ten minutes later, through a brief but slight shower we arrived and tied up alongside the staging. Beer followed. Viking for me and Trawlerboys for Mike, who kindly paid for both as I‘d not thought to bring any money. It was cold outside but we didn’t hurry our pints. This was still better than being at work after all. A while later we started the paddle back after negotiating our way back into the yaks, perching precariously on loose wood with nettles by our hands. The paddle back was uneventful. I felt drunk, being tired, unfed and unused to drinking after a long period of rarely drinking any alcohol. I was also quite verbose and making a racket so perhaps I scared the fish off. Not that they seemed to be about anyway. In fact we were almost back when I finally had another fish, on the black J13 this time. Again, a tich, but better than nothing. Mike was trolleyed up by the time I landed at the slip and so I went to get the van while he walked off to the car park. It may not have been the greatest session of the year but I was glad I’d made the effort to join Mike all the same; now I just wanted to go home, get warm and get