The weather forecast for the last weekend of this season’s Blithfield trials was not what we would have chosen. The forecast was for overnight temperatures to plummet to -4 degrees C and as this was to be accompanied with a stiff North-Easterly breeze and occasional snow and sleet showers, two days in an open boat on a near 900 acre reservoir were not exactly inviting. Still this was Blithfield we were talking about so despite the fact we would be trying to tempt a semi-comatose fish to chase a lump of wood or plastic hopes were still high that at some stage a good fish would come aboard. Day one dawned cold and clear, and Steve and I set off for the spot where I had taken a 22lb fish on my last trip and we were not surprised when the majority again headed for the area nearest the nature reserve where it was felt the big fish would be gathered ready for spawning.
The sky was still quite dark when we lowered the anchor into position and the air temperature at dawn really was atrocious. After casting towards the bank for an hour or so our hands were so numb with cold we decided to try a little trolling whilst awaiting a slight rise in air temperature and allowing us to try and get some circulation back into our hands. To be honest the cold was so bad that despite occasion bouts of casting, trolling took up the majority of the day. But this was not to say we fished on autopilot, we held the rod at all times feeling for the bottom and followed contours closely on the echo sounder, we also changed lures regularly, and trolled at various depths with a vast array of makes and patterns in an attempt to find where the fish were located.
Eventually the hard work paid off when Steve took a small jack in about 18ft of water on a lure working at around 15-16ft, followed mid-afternoon by a better fish that we estimated to be around 12-13lbs. This fish was taken in around 30ft of water on a lure working about 28ft deep. Both fish were covered in leeches leading us to believe that they were predominantly lying doggo on the bottom. I was pretty sure action would be slow and we would need to send our lures within a few feet of the pike nose if we were to stand any chance of being successful.
At the end of the day I had nothing to show for my efforts, not even a rap on the tip from a kamikaze rainbow trout and upon dusk we headed back to the boat house. I had a chat with Eric Edwards’s son Joe, who had taken a nice fish of 23lb’s from the deepest area of the lake which confirmed my thoughts that the cold weather will have sent the fish deep, despite the time of year. Steve and I decided to spend the majority of our final day fishing the deeper water.
As usual a great evening was had in the pub, none of the guys staying over had caught anything of any significance but spirits were still high and the thought of another grueller the following day had more than just myself planning a lazy start the following day. With some serious pike anglers gathered in the bar the conversations were absorbing, and it was fascinating to hear other anglers thoughts on a wide array of pike fishing subjects. The conversation went on deep into the night, and a little of the following day and it was about that point that the Jameson’s took over and the conversations just turned plain silly. But why am I not surprised! It was around 8.00am when Steve and I motored out with the majority of anglers already fishing, our plan was to fish hard for a couple of hours before returning to the club house where Chris Hammond had promised to make breakfast for some of the Staffordshire Predator Anglers Group, and I’m not the kind of bloke to turn down a free meal! This time we made no attempt to cast, moving straight over the deep water and running with various deep divers such as Depthraiders, sinking Magnums and Ernie’s but this was to no avail. At 10.30am as we made our way back we heard that Derek MacDonald had taken a 32lb fish, again over deep water. This was a real confidence booster given the conditions and enough to make us vow to re-double our efforts when we went back out. As we climbed the stairs of the wooden clubhouse we got a whiff of what was in store for us as the smell of fried onions wafted over the Staffordshire countryside and the sight before us as we opened the door was as welcome as it gets on a bitter February morning.
Chris had two huge pans going at once, one full of prize-winning Newmarket bangers, the other full of frying onions. On the table lay about half a dozen un-sliced loaves and a large bread knife, mustard and brown sauce (and even some ketchup for the big girls), I have to say now that those were about the tastiest and most welcome sausage butties I’ve ever had in my life. As a few lads had come back for the feast it was a great way to spend an hour or so, laughing aloud with a bunch of hairy ar*ed pikers, drinking steaming mugs of tea and eating until you were fit to burst. Thanks Chris! It was just as well that I felt refreshed when we went back out as fun and games commenced soon after when Steve managed to send his braid through the propeller. “Err, I think you’d better cut the engine mate,” was the first I knew of our situation. When I pulled the engine up to see what the damage was it was obvious he had been unaware of his predicament for a while as there was a considerable amount wrapped around the prop shaft. Despite Dave Kelbrick and Dave McGowan giving it their best shot it was so bad we had to go ashore and take the shear pin off before we could untangle the mess and my hands as well as my language had turned blue by the time we screwed the blades back on the shaft.
Just as we got sorted two of the lakes characters appeared on the bank to give us a hand, well I say give us a hand I think they just wanted a rest from the fishing. Ivan and Alf (his real name is Graham but we call him Alf, as in Garnett) are two great lads whom we have forged a good friendship with through our pike fishing. They are a hilarious pair, one a mad Man U fan the other a Man City nut and we can usually hear them arguing in the boat every time they pass us. What other sport other than angling brings such characters together?…for the life of me I can’t think of one. Anyway, today it would be Steve’s turn to be fishless which is only fair bearing in mind he had all the action yesterday. At around 2.00pm I changed my lure for what seemed the fiftieth time to an orange ‘Thunderstick’. Whether this made a difference or not I’m never sure but what I do know is it took just five minutes with it on for me to get my first take. The resulting jack weighed no more than four or five pounds but it was most welcome all the same. It was quickly unhooked in the icy water and slipped back over the side and we continued our troll down the East bank over around thirty foot of water.
We were actually not far from the spot where Steve had taken his double the previous day when a solid take dragged the medium-action lure rod right over. I knew it was a decent fish straight away, cut the engine and leaned right into it. It stayed deep and the lack of head-shaking had me thinking I may have just hooked up to a real big fish. When it surfaced I estimated it at about 27-28lb and once on the unhooking mat I thought it may be a little less but certainly well over 25lbs and Steve agreed. Excitedly I lifted the scales, but despite weighing it twice myself, then asking Steve to check it the scales would not go past 21lb 4oz. I was convinced that something was wrong with my scales and vowed to buy some new ones before I returned. As it happened the following day I checked my Avon’s against a set of my brothers Rueben Heatons and they were spot-on. Despite my initial disappointment due to my over enthusiasm, it was certainly a cracking fish and a twenty is a twenty after all. That was to be the last action either of us had and despite praying otherwise I never did see the beast again that followed my lure three weeks earlier. Then again, there is always next year…… |
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