We arrived just in time to witness his second run, the float wobbled for a moment then tore across the surface before disappearing into the depths. He connected well, a respectable jack was landed, on the mat, unhooked and released. All this before I'd even put the rods together. The words, "arse" "in" "gear" came to mind... I got set up and put the coffee on.
All was quiet but not for long, The line on Frank's reel ran off steadily as another jack let it be known he was on the hunt. He gave up the ghost easily and was quickly dispatched back to the shallows.
We put in a couple of hours but all signs were that the spell was over, or the pike had us sussed!
So, there I was looking down my rods at my upteempth blank and then it happened, in the blink of an eye the float was gone! I dared to wind into the fish, was this going to be another missed run? No, I was in. Not a big fish by any stretch of the imagination but nonetheless I had duped my quarry, the predator had become the prey. This humble jack with his beautiful markings and colour had just made my day. The run of blanks was finally over.
|Alan Burkie Burke - The Biker Piker.|