Its Like Waiting On Buses...

The Barrow was calling, I had to get back to the river. My long summer malaise had been broken by the events of Friday (see the previous post). My mind raced as I poured over maps of the river examining swims, hidden lane ways, access points and photos from last season. It looked like something out of CSI Miami. I laughed to myself, yes there was a serious predator at large!
I was stuck in the salt mine all weekend but Monday was looking good, the weather pattern was holding nicely and the river should have fined down another little bit. I made some traces and grabbed a couple of Archie's finest (WaterWolf) scud floats and was ready to rock n'roll....
A distinct nip in the air and a touch of ground frost caught my attention as I left the house, it was ball breaking cold, I glanced the temperature in the dash, 1.3 deg. I was frozen. I threw on the blower and pushed on to the river.
As I headed to the swim the sun finally decided to make a guest appearance, it forced its way through the cold morning haze, things were starting to warm up.
A very small fish was the fist to trip the alarms, he came to the bank quickly and was dispatched back to the margin.

First fish of the day.

It was only about twenty minutes later when another jack nailed a dead bait in the exact same spot, he made a short lived charge up the middle of the river before making a cameo appearence for the blog and then headed straight back to his watery lair. A little bigger than the first fish but not by much, the jacks were queing up for the early morning feed and  I was glad of the action. I wondered if this was a feeding spell I'd happened to hit upon or just a coincidence. Would it bring any bigger fish on the feed.

Another eager Barrow jack comes to the bank.

As I watched the water, a wooden pallet and football floated by... anything is liable to float past you on the Barrow. I once saw a partially submerged old tube television go by, obviously it was not plugged in and I know of a 3 peice sofa too, its wedged up against a undercut bank, red in colour if my memory serves me right. Is it any wonder they threw it out...
Blip blip blip..... a tripped alarm pulled my gaze from the bobbing football. Then the line tore off the reel. Usain Bolt was in town! This was a more powerful fish, it kept its head down and pushed upstream, charging for its goal. I upped the drag and held my breath... Two runs and a damaged net later a most incredibly marked Barrow Pike came to the net. Not the biggest fish in the world but fit, wild and atheltic with a super paint job! It looked like somebody had just pimped my Pike.

A well marked Barrow Pike.

Fasten Your Seatbelts....

Summer! Where did the summer go? more about that later, right now I think we should cut to the chase.....
In reality to start piking in October this year would have been car crash material. The river was ridiculously low due to a serious lack rain and still full of summer growth from the unseasonably mild weather. I must admit that I'm not one for farting about with lures up to my neck in nettles trying to tempt lazy sunbathing Pike. I much prefer my piking cold and calculated (literally). So finally the rain came, a fortnights worth... in a week. It lashed like never before, I held my breath as the river shot up and the mercury dropped.
Phones started chirping across the mobile networks as a few of the usual suspects and myself texted covert daily reports on the state of the river, after a few days, the overall concensus was It was time, "The Boys Were Back In Town"

After much sorting of tackle and cobweb blowing we arrived at the river on Friday morning with more gear than a subterranean terrorist cell. To say we were ready for the "first" day of the winter season was an understatement. Alan "Burkie" Burke fished downstream. The junior Piker and myself fished a slack above him. Things were quite, very quiet. An opening day anti climax I thought to myself. Then my phone rang..."A NET.... I NEED A BIGGER NET" Burkie screamed down the phone so loud he needn't have bothered ringing. The junior piker legged it down the bank.
I waited for news, then waited some more... it was uncanny to say the least. I missed a run and then my phone rang, it was Burkie breathless but happy. As it happened he put the bait in the swim and was hit immediately, he couldn't reach the net. After a major power struggle on a tricky piece bank himself and the junior piker landed a really decent double. Its fair to say, on our first day out since last spring the Biker Piker nailed a WHOPPER and was he nowhere near Burger King. But there was more to come...

Burkies Whopper!

With a double already accounted for we fished on, enthusiasm and confidence had been intravenously pumped into our systems. Even though we were on a high things remained quiet our prey had gone to ground, we fished on ever optimistic. I searched the river and finally decided to settle down once I hit my fifth swim. Some time later my rod gave a gentle knock,  the alarm barely croaked a couple of sedate blips, I squinted at the rod tip through the cold sunshine. Hmmm maybe, maybe not... I struck and was well in, not such a big fish but still this bad boy got 10 out of 10 as he cleared the surface and tail walked across the water. We were gobsmacked.

The River Barrow Piker and the tail walking Pike.

We saw no more fish that day but what a great start to the new season on the Barrow. I went back to the river on Monday and met another three fish. That story and others will be posted here in a day or two. I headed home for a cuppa thinking along the way, Philo said it well when he said "The boys are back in town"...

Barrow Muscle Cars.

I've not fished the river for a whole week (six days to be precise), withdrawal symptoms were well set in by today. Living so close to the river is real a double edged sword, it would be very easy to spend a lot time on the bank and yet when your not there the mind often wanders as to what you might be missing!
I've been watching the river like a hawk, checking the level and colour everyday whilst on the school run, still no rain, things were looking good. If my memory serves me right, the river has not been this low and clear since last June. I couldn't resist it any longer, I was off out to get my Fix.
Heading to the swim there was a distinct touch of spring in the air, no coat or extra layers required today. I quickened my pace!
Two ledgered deads were the order of the day, the usual routine,  one popped up the other hard on the bottom. Ninety minutes in and an alarm burst into life, not a screamer of a run but a take of sorts. Fish on!...Oh.... Fish off... I left the bait in for a few moments longer hoping the fish may slam it out of frustration if nothing else but no joy. I cursed myself and the fish, if the truth be known.
I brought it in to see if there were any signs of the encounter. Once again it was all proper horror show, slashed like a Romero movie.

Things then went decidedly quiet, I moved everything around, changed the baits but the swim still appeared to be void of fish. I moved upstream and put the coffee on. I needed to cover some ground or water as the case may be. A 30g WaterWolf Scud float was now patrolling the new swim, third trot through, it bobbed and disappeared, that was the last I saw of it for some time. Through the braid I could feel the fish chomping on the hooks and rig, this was not a good sign yet some how all remained secure. This was one angry mother! A superb hard fighting river pike, this high octane fish was like a muscle car on a quarter mile strip... At will, she ripped line off the reel at very high tension quite a number of times.

By the looks of this of this old girl, she has seen her fair share of action in the past. She was very lean compared with other recent fish, clearly she has not been feeding up perhaps due to previous captures. She also carried a number of small cuts and nicks on her lower flanks and back. She had a noticable lesion or bacterial infection at the neck of her caudal (tail) fin. This could be due to stress or mishandling. I also wonder due to her condition and wounds was she maybe a post spawn fish, were the jacks nipping her whilst jostling for position (could some of the Barrow pike have spawned already). Looking at my "self take" timer photos she reminds me very much of a "summer pike". Tonight she swims, I hope she feeds up well and finds a place of refuge to make a full recovery.

As I mentioned at the top of this post, I'd not been on the river for about a week or so. I dug out a bit of old software one of the days (Windows Movie Maker) and put a few bits together, I suppose its a bit of  a look back at the season and blog so far. I think it turned out alright, Give it a click and let me know what you think.

Double Trouble.

Right now I'm very conscious of the fact that time is running out. Spawning time is on the way, maybe another two or three weeks left depending on water temperatures and levels. Time on the bank is time well spent. A chance to meet a "big girl" before she retires to entertain the boys. With this in mind I was at the river again (any excuse to fish). Nothing had been organised with the lads so I was on my own and had a morning to kill. I was on a solo, a RECON mission. Reconnaissance is nothing new it actually dates back to 1918 but its often overlooked in relation to angling. I was checking out a few new swims and some possible access points to various stretches of the river. All was going well, found some nice water and a road I never knew even existed. Back to the map and I was en route to the second location. This time not so lucky, large amounts of NO ACCESS/PRIVATE LANDS etc...
So, I ended up with rather alot of time on my hands, what else to do?
I headed to another swim for a couple of hours before picking up the kids from school. I wasn't long there when I got a pick up, the alarm signalled a slow steady take. After the string of dropped runs last week I decided not to waste a second and immediately struck into what turned out to be a turbocharged jack, he went off like a bullet and was in a proper strop coming to the bank.

Micro Jack.

From little acorns....

With nothing else happening I moved upstream a bit to a rather featureless swim and waited. It was almost time to head for the school run when the rod twitched a bit, or did it... The alarm remained silent, no drop back signs either. It twitched again, the fish moved and the alarm registered, this fish was in no hurry, a slow blip blip blip... I struck into a good solid resistance, she didn't budge. I held my ground as did the fish, we both knew we were in for the long haul. Eventually she turned and cruised downstream slowly peeling line off the reel. Not until I had to keep her out from the weeds did she make a few insane lunges (time to readjust the drag very quickly). After another run for freedom and she finally showed, a plump double by the looks. Like any river pike she put the boot in hard and held her ground as best she could, second attempt at the net and she was on the bank.

You know, it never ceases to amaze me how folk (not little people) magically appear on the bank when a fish shows up. A very pleasent elderly couple were sure it was a salmon and were extremely disappointed to find out it was a pike!

Another angler (Chris from Kilkenny) was very kind to spend some of his valuable fishing time helping me land, photograph and release the fish. Chris if you ever read this "Thank You"
A few hours on the river, two fish and the Barrow delivers yet another double. I was on the road and still in time for the school run. Sweet!

So what happened next?

The following day I was brimming with enthusiasm (an expression I hate but it was true), Burkie was off work so the Biker piker and myself decided to join forces and meet up for a few hours to see if the river might magic up another double. It did.......
Levels are now dropping rapidly, and the river is running with just a touch of colour due to the early spring dry spell. Conditions were ideal, we slung out a couple of deads, hard on the bottom and popped up. An alarm blipped as a fish snatched a bait. Alan was in.... (Alan was into the fight of his life) this fish was not keen to move on any account, I wondered if were glued to the riverbed. Eventually the runs came, the line cut through the water as the fish moved upstream still holding firm. Alan was patient... he had to be! This fish was in no hurry. I don't know who had the greater workout Alan or the fish, eventually I reached down with the net and she came to the bank.

Check out the small video of the release of Alan's fish.  I hope to add some more soon. So what a crazy couple of days, the Barrow delivers two doubles in two days,  I can't believe it. Can things get any better... I think so! Already looking forward to the next time out.

 

The Phantom Menace.

I'm scheduled for work all weekend so it was either fish today or not at all (today sounded good). The "Motley crew" were called up for duty, Frank the plasterer, The Biker Piker and myself. The venue as always, one of the three sisters, our dear friend - The Barrow.

We were at the swim and ready to rock n' roll by about 10am, surprisingly enough about twenty minutes later my alarm burst into life, it let off a slow string of blips as it registered the first take of the day. The angry jack went ballistic as it attempted to shake the hooks but to no avail, he came to the bank.

We covered water by leapfrogging downstream every forty minutes or so. Thats when events took a strange turn. All was quiet, my bite alarm sounded again, three slow solitary blips...nothing for a moment... then a savage take, the rod jolted, the bank sticks dug in, everything shuddered as an almost endless amount of line blistered off the reel, the alarm almost burst into flames....... a large fish kicked up a cloud of mud and weed. It was gone as quick. I was rattled, shaking and of course gutted. I brought the bait in, it had been sliced and diced, proper Chain Saw Massacre style. The game was up, there was a large predator in the swim!

David Muirin of East Coast Fishing

This series of events was repeated numerous times throughout the day to all our rods, hard fast takes yet all were dropped as quick as they'd been taken, sometimes the baits returning undamaged, looking almost untouched. I had visions of a phantom pike lurking in the depths striking at our baits! One particularly vicious take (the whole lot nearly ended up in the swim) was witnessed by angler and blogger David Muirin of the East Coast Fishing Blog. We were in awe, we couldn't believe the sheer intensity of the run and more so that it didn't result in a fish. We wondered if maybe a local otter was playing silly buggers in the swim but having said that, we didn't see one all day. No ducking n'diving, no rustling in the margins, not even a trail of tell-tail bubbles! Nothing! If there was an otter about he was operating with more stealth than a Lockheed F-117.

Whilst driving home the series of dropped runs played on my mind. An otter? I didn't think so but it couldn't be ruled out. Pressured water? More likely... its getting late in the season, have the pike in this stretch of river seen it all before and now know a baited rig when they hit it... hot potato syndrome. Lower resistance rigs and smaller hooks could be an option. One other thought crossed my mind, maybe they're just getting giddy! Perhaps their minds are just not on the job. Are they thinking about "other" things... They are in the last phase before spawning now, were they grabbing the baits out of instinct but with no real interest to feed? Yet many anglers would say the pike will be feeding up well before going to spawn, so who knows what really happened today.

One thing I did know, was that I'd have to go back to the river to find out. So not the most productive day but certainly interesting, highly entertaining if not a tad frustrating. Between the three of us, one fish to the bank, two fish lost, seven or eight of those dreaded dropped runs and one large elusive "Phantom Pike".

Lazing In A Slack.

Frank the plasterer had often spoken of this swim and I knew it well too. On the Barrow south of Carlow town. A text book pike swim, medium to fast flowing water with plenty of adjoining deep slow water. A perfect scenario for the pike, they laze in the slack water keeping their heads down and run guerilla raids into the fast flow to abduct their prey at will. Great theory!
To say I was keen is an over statement, I'd just finished ten days on the trot at work and was not really pushed to spend the day somewhere thats never produced a big fish for me (I had other plans). A few jacks to deads and lures was about the best I could account to this swim over the last couple of years.
I decided to leave it to chance! Maybe something would happen... Thats pike fishing, very often when your luck is down, when you least expect it, something special can happen.
So at the very last minute I threw the gear in the boot. A few ledgered deads were strategically placed tight up against the crease and the coffee was made. A couple of hours in and after moving the baits around a few times the pike remained tight-lipped, literally! It was time to tweak the gameplay settings. I grabbed the lure rod and started to cover water, Frank set up a dead under a slider float, leaving it to drift slowly about the swim. About a mug of coffee later, the float dropped. The silhouette of a roach against the morning sky proved to be too much for one restless fish...

Frank gets his fish.

Still Waters Run Deep.

Driving a pothole ridden back road in the early hours my phone gave a mechanical shudder, a text!. I grabbed the phone, it read "Just missed a good run". I hadn't even got there and the pike were on the feed. Alan had already wet the lines... With the recent rains the river's been somewhat out of sorts, running high, coloured and generally uninviting. Come to think of it, my own recent string of blanks has been enough to put me out of sorts too. It would be true to say the Barrow has not been its usual "crowd pleaser" self. So Alan suggested a change of scene (the pub seemed like a good idea) he was thinking of a still water! So with more rain forecast a venue change was arranged.

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!

 

 All tranquility and silence was broken late in the afternoon, suddenly Alan let off a string of obscenities, his float dropped on a take, a moment later a large fish showed its back as it broke the surface but then bolted straight to the refuge of the weeds not to be seen again...
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.

Three Hours.... Double Figures.

I got a text yesteday from a good friend inviting me to fish another venue today. It was somewhere we had discussed on a number of occasions and would involve a full day. Due to time constraints, it was not to be and I had to decline - maybe next time.
However I did have a few hours available to fish locally on the Barrow so I met up with Frank the plasterer after the school run for a morning session. We headed to what over the last number of months has become my favourite swim, its by no means a "hotspot" or even a "dead cert" but it has quite a number of different characteristics which means that you can employ any number of methods in an attempt to achive a result. I suppose you could almost say its three swims in one! Besides all that, its a great part of the river to spend time.

We decended into the morning mist which in truth was more like a freezing fog. It was laying heavy in the Barrow valley this morning, the sun fought to light the sky from behind the endless veils of moisture. In short, the whole place looked like something from a ninteeen fifties B horror movie.
I decided on two static deads, a Roach (popped up) and an Eel section hard on the bottom. Frank dropped a half Mackerel in the swim and proceeded to set up his feeder rod.
Just over an hour in Frank got a very gentle pick up, a fish took the bait and moved very slowly downstream towards the near bank, He struck and was hooked up well. The fish took some time to realise what was going on but then it put the boot in, giving Frank a serious run for his money! It never ceases to amaze me how agile and powerful river pike are, to see a double figure fish tail walking on a misty January morning is a sight to behold!

For Frank this is a special day, his first double figure Pike and a new PB all in one. Congrats and may it lead to many more. The fish came in on the scales just under 13lb.

ps. Needless to say my almost endless run of blanks continues, think I'm up to five in a row, almost lost count at this stage. The law of probability must soon say things will change, so I'll fish on!

 

A not so glum face.

This is not so much a post about piking on the Barrow (I'll  tell you about that bit in a while) but more about fishing in general and the pleasure and satisfaction it can bring. Without sounding too much like the doting father I brought the junior piker out today to test his new pole...... whip.......or whatever its called! As you can see, I'm a real coarse fishing expert (not). The fishing industry call them pole's and whip's however I couldn't quite help but notice that it was really a  modern day version of a stick.....  allbeit with a string and float set up. I thought to myself, how difficult could this be?
The previous day I bought a bag of ground bait, it looked more like a small bag of cement. Turbo black they called it. Sounded more like an additive that some snotty nosed boy racer would put in a Jap import rather than something you'd throw in the river to attract fish.  The obligatory can of corn, a few of the gardens best worms and a quick covert op. to sneak my own pike gear along for the ride. We were all set!

Expertise from my good friend Frank the plasterer was our GPS to the local hotspot, Roach, Rudd, Perch, Dace and a selection of hybrids were all in our grasp, any wonder the Barrow is deemed a mixed fishery.
So the "bag of cement" (well about half of it) was mixed with some corn, a few chopped worms, a drop of water and chucked in the swim. We plumbed the depth and got under way. Watching my son sitting there waiting for action reminded me of my own youth, helped by my father, watching a small cork float working its way downstream as it searched out wild brown trout in the small rivers of the Wicklow mountains.
We sat there for a bit, then as if by magic the float started to twitch...My son's eyes light up in astonishment. The float twitched again... just a bit, there was a nudge, another twitch.... then it zipped under the surface as if,  all of a sudden, it had a life of its own. He struck and hooked up. The fish had arrived in the the swim!

Not wanting to be left out I brought the pike gear and slung out a couple of deads. I figured that the silver fish activity in the swim may get the attention of any patrolling pike, I've heard and read numerous stories about pike moving into swims and grabbing feeding prey fish.
We kept feeding the swim every so often when it went quiet. I don't know how many he caught (we just released them as we caught them) in the few hours we were there. It wasn't match standards but he must have landed  fifteen to twenty fish and probably lost another half dozen. Maybe a keep net could be arranged if he was to get serious about this.
As he caught fish after fish I was left to ponder this famous theory about pike moving into anglers swims during coarse or match sessions as they prowled around for easy pickings. None of the pike were taking advantage of the activity we stirred up in our swim. I brought the deads in and tried a variety of lures.....still no takers! It didn't really matter, it was his day, he caught plenty of fish, had some great sport and I was thrilled for him. The Barrow pike may rest for another day or two!

A new years revolution

Christmas and the new year scuppered all my best intentions and plans of a festive Piking spree. I had thoughts of pre and post Christmas sessions, frost crunching underfoot, screaming runs and floats sliding away into the early morning mist. Needless to say, between decorations, lights, visiting family, extra shifts at work and a constant stream of TV repeats........it never happened. Christmas Eve to New Years day just flew!
So today after a few quick calls a not very much planning a new year (revolt) visit to the river was on the cards.
Frank the Plasterer, Alan Burkie Burke, myself and the junior piker! Were enlisted.
The rough plan was to fish a secluded cut away from the main flow in the hope that some fish may have retreated to the quiet depths to ambush any shoals of prey fish that made an appearence. After some time in the cut things were looking bleak, the two lads groundbaited a swim and worked feeder rods whilst Alan and myself twitched lures and deadbaited..........the swim appeared void of fish.

After a lengthy debate (all of two minutes) a move was decided, upstream to the main river, just above the mouth of the cut.
RESULT! We were there less than an hour when Alan met up with two fish to static deadbaits in the space of twenty minutes. The first about 7 or 8lb a real scrapper, the second was good deal smaller. Two great fish none the less!

Alan saves us all from a blank!

Another brave jack comes to the bank.

 With our enthusiasm renewed we fished on but had no other takers. On a more curious note, the two lads on the feeder rods did bait up the new swim yet never met a fish! Where have the shoals gone?

 Thats it! The lines are wet again after the festive break. We're back out piking on the Barrow, welcome to 2013..........Watch this space.

A bit pear shaped.

Its gone a bit quiet the last week or so. I must admit that I (or my son for that matter) have seen very few fish of late and its not for the want of trying. One fish of about 8lb for my son comes to mind which was caught in a "pre-dawn raid" at the weekend, I thought a good early session fishing right through dawn may break the deadlock maybe even give us the upperhand. However it was not to be, sunrise was at 8:17am and the fish was caught at about 7:30am and that was all we saw for almost 6 hours fishing. Still what an adventure for my 10 year old boy, driving through the darkness in the wee small hours to chase river monsters with his pike obsessed father.

Myself and Frank (a friend who also fishes) were out on Wednesday and met with a blank having tried three different swims with deads and lures, in the end a combination of cold and lack of interest from the pike got the better of us, we packed up just after lunch. Having said that the river is in the best condition I've seen it for quite some time. I would have thought the spell of cold weather would have got the fish on the feed. Theres good water clarity and its running only a shade above the norm.
So as the fellow says "Where are the Pike hiding"? Lastest information is conflicting to say the least! I met some fluff chuckers at the river the other day and they believe the fish are still to be found at relatively shallow depths considering the time of year. Another angler I met claims they've already gone to deeper water (where ever that may be) for the winter and you need to be fishing hard on the bottom whatever method you choose.

Too much information is beginning to develop into mind games in relation to my choice of swims, riverbank tactics and overall strategy, which of late appear to be lacking somewhat. Time to re think and up the game as the hunt for my second double of the season continues. Playing cat and mouse.... with fish can be a head wrecker!