There are some fishing trips where no fish are caught that will nevertheless justify a fairly involved write up. This, to be fair, is not one of those. We were both keen to do some deadbaiting (despite conditions not being ideal – this places fished way better when it’s bastard freezing) and I in particular was eager to try out my new Drennan baitrunner reel that I’d got from the closing down sale in that tackle shop in Horsforth.
Just as we’d both put out 2 rods and broke out the flasks an otter swam across the lake, delightful to see but real bad for fishing. At least we had an excuse for the day now. We tried mackerel and smelt on the deads and yours truly even had a pop with a light spinning outfit but not one confirmed offer was had.
Whilst sat under our umbrellas talking shit I confessed to Stu that I’d always wondered why pike anglers were such big fuckers. I mean seriously, always built like brick shithouses. That was until I started going pike fishing myself and realised that they are not all big fuckers, they’re just wrapped up in layer after layer of warm clothing until even the most diminutive of anglers looks intimidating.