A Chub in Pike’s Clothing.

We realised this morning that I hadn’t been out fishing for a while, which is most unfortunate – so decided to do something about that during a spare couple of hours. What else is Sunday afternoons for in any case? Rhianna and I headed off down to the River Culm with a fly rod in the hope that there might be a couple of pike feeding despite the cold.

A favourite fly always instills confidence, so┬áit was only natural to start and then persevere with mine – all 6 inches of him. After a very cold hour and a half, including a short session of the obligatory “letting the daughter” have a go, I did eventually tempt a small pike of around 3 or 4 lb to rush the fly. It missed, and couldn’t be lured back.

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Not long after this wake up call, I managed to lose the fly in an underwater obstruction whilst trying to search some deeper parts of the river, which necessitated a new wire trace and change of fly. We worked our way back towards the car in the failing light and with no sign of further action was beginning to feel I was just going through the motions, when I was mildly surprised to find myself attached to something that started fighting back on one of the retrieves.

A small jack pike was my first thoughts, although after the first few spirited runs I glimpsed a flash of fish and realised it wasn’t pike at all, but a nice chub. The fish gave a good account of itself to start with although it was more than a little out-gunned on the pike tackle and quickly came to the net after it’s first burst for freedom. A few pictures for posterity and we decided to call it a day. Mission accomplished! we caught a fish, even if it wasn’t quite what we were after.

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