It rained all the way to the far-flung broad. By the time we'd made it up the river and turned off down the winding dyke, the clouds scudding in from the North Sea seemed so low you could stand on a thwart and touch them.
Many years ago, in the pre-internet era, there was a lively debate in the letters pages of Pike and Predators about the weather. One well-known pike angler said he'd never caught a decent one when it was raining. Another had a list as long as your arm of pike caught when it was pissing down.
On the day this picture was taken, a few winters back, we didn't catch until the skies lightened as the sun began to sink.When I say we, my podna had four or five in quick succession, while I sat run-less. Podna changed his rigs and tried popping up his baits against the weedbeds, balanced by just a couple of swan shots on the trace.
He took a few casts to get this right, with rods held high and the wind on the braid pulling the lightly-anchored rigs against the weed fringe. I was so wet I was past caring, so I just threw them out and sulked over the rods.
No comments:
Post a Comment