Thursday, 30 October 2014

All Hallows Eve

In the dark she waits. She has always waited. In the times before men walked the Earth she swam through the miles deep layers of rock beneath their feet. There she fed on the fossil souls of creatures trapped under the crushing strata above. Then she found the river and tastier fare.
Now, when she must, she takes the souls of the sorry creatures who share her river, and those damned to fall into her domain. These small offerings are not enough – she craves the souls of men – the ones who have sought her through the ages. They came for her with spears and bone hooks, with traps and nets, and now with iron hooks and devil lures – it is the angler she desires the most.
The Earth has rolled around the sun many times since she fed last – she is hungry, very hungry.
She does not see him first approach, she feels his footfall – she knows he is there. She rises slowly, closing on her quarry. She will wait, wait for him to step into the water, to take his ankle and drag him down. She will eat his soul and leave the bones and flesh to the river.
He does not enter the water, he stands and casts his lures, she grows impatient, her anger grows with each passing moment.
Then she is startled by a sudden movement above her, she feels the pressure of the water change and in her hatred she strikes. She takes the lure with such fury that the unwary angler slips, his clutch is too tight, the line does not yield - he slides down the grassy slope – and into the water.
With a flick of her mighty tail she is on him – teeth sunk into flesh. She turns and takes him to the deeps. All that remains a cap floating on the oily surface that turns, and slowly sinks.
However his soul is not like that of other men, it is not even the soul of a single man but that of many, they are fierce and full of their own passions – the souls of many anglers. She cannot bear their taste and she relinquishes her hold, the angler makes for the surface now far above him.
He swims free and scrambles to the shore – his trusty rod still clenched in his hand. He heaves and strains and turns the monster before she reaches sanctuary, he fights. The two souls are locked. Back and forth the battle rages, she takes the line – the angler regains it. It seems the war cannot be won and neither beast nor man can best the other. Long into the night they struggle. It is the soul of the angler which is stronger and little by little the leviathan tires, and by daylight the angler takes his prize.

Pikenstein strikes again!

Happy Halloween Folks
A big thank you to Matt Holmes for working his magic with photoshop!

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Man Cave

Haven't done anything creative lure-wise recently as my erstwhile 'man cave' has, until a few days ago, been a 'junk room' where everything that didn't get unpacked properly was dumped!
So having sorted it and unpacked all my tying stuff, and having seen a few of a friends imaginative ties recently, I thought I'd have a crack at a twin fish jigfly.

..and this is the aftermath - she's gonna kill me when she gets in from work!

I was only tying for a few minutes and it all kind of exploded !!!!!!!!!

Monday, 20 October 2014

Hat Training

After a friends suggestion yesterday, that the reason I wasn't getting the big pike I was after, may be due to a poorly trained, new 'lucky hat' I thought I'd go and investigate further this morning and run the new hat by some perch.

Next weekend I shall continue pike training with the hat!

Sunday, 19 October 2014

On The Stillness Of Whippets

Lour De Jour...

...and a couple of fish in nice condition.

Did try to capture the whippet in both shots but it refuses to be still – I guess that’s whippets for ya!

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Where Are The Songs of Spring?

Firstly a massive thank you to those of you still popping in for a looksee even though I have been very remiss in not posting for ages. Hopefully with the Winter perch and pike season looming I'll have a bit more to write about.

By the river by 6.30 waiting for the light.

It was one of those lovely mornings when the dawn comes slowly with mist rolling across the river- absolute magic. I was hoping for a bit more water and some colour but the short lift had already taken itself off down to the Irish Sea.

I knew with clear skies above the mist my best chance would be early on and I clipped on my urban camo slider on. The ducks exploded in riotous laughter – and I’m sure I heard one say to its mate, ‘’he’s never gonna catch on that thing!!!’’

I had an attack from a good fish that didn’t stick and was still licking my wounds when this nice little fish cheered me a little.

I worked upstream a bit and was briefly attached to one of the super tankers – Which promptly rolled and spat the hooks. Nice to get a chance to practice my Anglo Saxon as I’ve been so chilled of late that I’ve been losing my touch.

As predicted the sun soon burned through the mist and low cloud and so I gave the ducks the bird and headed home!