As many of you have probably figured out, I’m keener on ambience than the hardcore aspects of fishing. Not so much what I catch as where I catch them… It’s hardly surprising then that I chose the Galloway forest to track down some pike in early December.
This little loch is a well known but still pretty place to fish, despite the Forestry Commission’s best endeavours (and the midden that some anglers leave behind). It holds smallish pike, perch and trout and I reckoned it would make an easy day trip, sheltered from a chilly breeze.
I parked my car just before sunrise and promptly stepped into a muddy puddle hiding in the darkness. Just as well I’d spare socks and could pop on a pair of wellies for the day! Undeterred, I sorted out a couple of rods and assorted fishing and camera gear.
A mile along the track I reached the loch, working along the bank and into the shelter of some trees. I lobbed a deadbait out on one rod and spun an Abu Droppen on the other, hoping for a hungry perch. Nothing doing, unfortunately.
I switched over to float fished worm for the perch, to be met with continuing indifference. The pike were similarly contemptuous with my deadbaits. Even my usual failsafe of brewing some coffee was rejected!
Time for a Reshuffle
By now it was nearing mid-day and I decided to make a move before I ran out of daylight. Not far really, just enough to target a slightly different part of the loch.
Things were quiet here too, with no interest for the first couple of hours. Then line suddenly started peeling off my pike reel at a rate of knots and I was jolted awake. I gave it a few seconds before striking – and it gave me a few seconds before spitting my mackerel back at me. Slightly gutted at fluffing my only chance of the last 6 hours, I cast again and settled down to wait.
Not long afterwards another, much more cautious, run appeared. This fish kept mouthing the bait and dropping it, coming back several times but never actually hooking itself. Frustration mounted and some bad words were spoken to no-one in particular!
Salvation!
By now the sun was nearing the horizon and I was staring a blank in the face. Salvation came in the form of a much bolder run, safely hooked, which gave a decent account of itself. Not a biggie, but no 2lb fish either.
Finally in the net, this modest specimen went 4lbs 13oz – hardly spectacular but still my best freshwater fish in many years. A confidence booster nonetheless and a fairly low bar to beat in the next year.
By now I was thinking about packing up, as the sun had given up. All very pretty, but I still had a boggy stretch of ground to negotiate before I hit the track back to my car…
However, I realised that there was another fish fussing about with my remaining rod. Probably the same one that had been teasing me earlier, to judge by its half-hearted moves. However, this time I did connect and wasted little time in landing this little fellow – only around 1.5lb in weight, not that I was complaining much.
Having snatched a minor triumph from the jaws of an impending blank, I quit whilst ahead. Little point in falling into a waist deep bog making my way home in the dark!
