A pattern emerges in the snow

The margins are frozen when I get there at first light but it's almost clear enough to fish. After half an hour and a wander up and down the bank, I find a clear swim and plonk two out there.

The sun comes out and I'm on the phone comparing notes with a mate when a float pops under and I  miss a run on a large joey.

Hooks too far back, dinged it one a second or two too early. Might come back, says matey when I call him back. So I give the hooks a quick tickle with the sharpening stone and decide to give it another hour.

Then it snows so hard I can hardly see the floats, carpeting the banks in white. The snow starts settling on a large ice floe in the next swim, which breaks free with a cr-r-r-r-r-ack as the wind gets up.

The drain's flowing, ever so slightly, as well. So the 'berg starts inching towards my floats. I reel one in as the edge of the ice reaches it. Then the sun comes out again, the sky clears and I can see clear water the other side of the ice a few swims up the drain. I fancy a move there, so I start getting the gear together when a couple of cars come down the track.

Out they  get, straight into the swim I fancied. Oh well, I think - probably wouldn't have caught any there anyway. Ten minutes later, one of them gets a double.

Maybe they'll come on the feed now, I tell myself. I move swims the other way and poke two out across to the far side, rods up high to keep the line clear of the cat ice in the margins. As I'm knocking up some grub, one swirls right under the rod tops shattering the remains of the ice.

Being a more astute pike angler than some give me credit for, I have noticed a pattern emerging today. It's got catch sweet Fanny Adams written all over it.