"The first, the last and a very fine line"

 

"The first will be last, and the last will be first" declared Jesus in the famous Sermon on the Mount, and the past week has seen some piking firsts and lasts in our household. Today I caught my last pike of this river season on a chilly and challenging early morning pre-work session, while last Saturday my son caught his first ever pike.

 This new calendar year has seen me fish 5 sessions with pike as the intended quarry and from those 5 trips I've landed 3 pike, the largest at 14 pound coming on my first trip. Today's capture, if weighed, would have probably only tipped the scales around the 6 pound mark, but, although no monster, was a welcome relief after 2 successive blanks. It was the turn of Pete, who has been comprehensively outfishing me this year to blank today.

 

As so often happens, the pike came straight after a missed take. The livebait was immediately recast to the same spot and within seconds the float was sliding away. A brief fight followed before the obligatory photograph. As ever, watching the fish swim purposefully back into its watery home was as rewarding as the capture.

 

 

Last weekend I'd managed to secure a few hours for a quick trip to the canal, where pike were again the target. It was another single fish session, but thankfully it was my son, rather than me, who was the successful angler, his small silver spinner being attacked right underneath the bank by a marauding  jack pike. A short and splashy fight which lasted seconds, but saw the pike launch itself into the air before being netted ensued as a result of the young pike's error of judgement. Although my son has caught carp and bream much bigger than the pike, the fact that it was his first of the species made it a special moment for us both.

 

So, my last pike of the river season, his first pike ever, and in both cases an example of how fine the line between success and "failure" is in fishing. In both instances, just one thrown hook or missed take would have resulted in the dreaded blank.

 

And so, with the rivers closed till June, it's onwards and upwards as lakes, ponds and towpath beckon, and more "firsts". "lasts" and twists of fate.

 

 



"Me and the farmer" (or "how to lose with grace")

No apologies for the shameless "House Martins" reference- my fishing partner's surname is Farmer, and this post is as much about the tables being turned in our fishing relationship as it is a report of this morning's latest pike escapades.

 Here's the thing: Pete fished a fair bit as a kid, but hadn't picked up a rod for 20 years until last year. Pete and I are friends, and I'm also his Vicar, and last year we started fishing together. I'd lake to say I taught him all he knows, but that wouldn't be true. It's probably fair to say I've passed on a fair bit of (if not expertise, certainly experience), but such is his new found addiction that he's always on youtuube these days exploring dropshotting, carp rigs, pole fishing and the like. That notwithstanding, for a while, I was, in fishing terms, his Jedi Master and he my Padawan, but those days are now long gone. My pike record for 2015 is three trips and two pike, his nine pike from seven trips.

  

 

 Today's trip had an inauspicious start for both of us. It took the best part of an hour's loosefeeding with maggots before we started catching small roach and perch, but once we had a few baits, we cast out in an optimistic frame of mind. My float, a handsome handmade pike slider made by Ian Lewis (Ian Lewis handmade floats) sat prettily in the water among the reflections, and surely it was only a matter of time .....

 However, apart from the bobbing caused by the swimming motion of the bait, my float, although undoubtedly better looking than Pete's utilitarian factory produced Fox model, was the one that remained untroubled.

 

 

 Pete's, by contrast, shot away three times, the above picture being of the first of his hat trick. Two of the fish gave particularly noble accounts of themselves, and all were returned in frisky mood to fight another day. To add insult to injury (almost literally), I caught my forefinger on one of the pike's teeth while helping Pete unhook it, and ended the session wearing a yellow children's plaster with pictures of balloons on it (Pete's children are younger than mine).

 

 

 Pete's biggest fish was weighed, and brought the scales down to 11 pounds, the third double we've had from this stretch this year, with a 14 pounder I landed in January being the biggest to date. It was a great performance by Pete, and although I blanked (unless you count catching livebaits) a thoroughly enjoyable way to pass the morning.

Tonight when I did my daily Bible reading the passage was from Mark's Gospel, Chapter 10 and verses 43-44: "Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be the first must be the slave of all" ...... I wonder if that includes constantly netting your mate's fish?