Richard III and prime minister James Callaghan both had their winters of discontent. So too, have I. If winter begins in November, then the winter of 2025/26 had, until today, seen me fish only once. A combination of Christmas, iced-up lakes in January, and a busy period in my job as a church minister had led to me fishing only a single session in November, with no subsequent trips to the water's edge. All of this proved a humbling experience as it has been my proud boast for a number of years that I am a "year round angler" and, unlike many, no warm weather dilletante.
Fittingly, my first foray of 2026 was in the company of friends, as it coincided with the annual Christian Anglers trip to the Sixteen foot Drain in the heart of the Cambridgeshire Fens. Historically it has always been an event in which the fishing takes second place to camararderie, companionship, and not a little friendly leg pulling. Every year the odd pike comes out, but rather than leapfrogging down the drain in serious and proactive pursuit of pike, we choose to set up in a long line of anglers and concentrate on the enjoyable business of catching up with one another and retelling tales of our summer triumphs with carp or tench, talking about the ups and downs of life (and in some of our cases, the travails that come about as a result of ageing!) and encouraging each other in our faith, and where better to do the last of those than when immersed in God's creation- His "outdoor cathedral."
The weather, which usually greets us with hostile winds that whip along the drain's length and rain that elects to drive horizontally in our faces, was the mildest it has ever been in the decade that we've made our annual fenland pilgrimage, however the pike proved to be less ameanable with only three finding their way to the bank.
The biggest pike of the day, landed by Adam, weighed in at a very modest 7lb 1oz, and like the other two pike caught came within a one hour mid-morning feeding spell. John MacAngus and local angler Martin also landed jacks within the same timeframe, while Andy became attached to one that adroitly managed to unattach itself, much to our collective disapointment.
My baits (a float-fished herring and a legered half mackerel) were both studiously ignored by any pike that may have happened upon them, my float remaining motionless and my bite alarms silent for the duration. As is always the case at this particular event, much bank walking and conversation occured, Pete cooked some lunchtime sausage sandwiches for the gathered piscators and Ray, who rents and runs this stretch of the drain, looked after us all handsomely.
By mid afternoon, it was time to "draw stumps", the shield awarded to the captor of the day's largest pike was presented to Adam, followed by a group photo and much handshaking and saying of goodbyes. For me, as for several of those present, this had been our first session of 2026, and in all of our heads plans were being formulated for this year's angling projects. For me, these will inevitably focus on tench and crucians, with a carp and catfish weeekend thrown in for good measure, the Christian Angler's Retreat in June, and trips shared with my son, who was unable this year to join us for the pike fish-in. I had failed to open my account for the season, but a day in the (rare!) Fenland sunshine in the presence of friends had relit the fire and reignited my passion for all things angling. There will be other days, and the fish will not always be obdurate!
