With a couple of hours to kill on Monday afternoon and the sun making a rare appearance, attention quickly turned from rudimentary house chores toward a more exciting proposition. The vacuum cleaner was shoved back into the cupboard where it belonged and I was on my way to the canal in search of a winter Pike. But with the recent bad weather, little did I know it would prove a tricky session.

I parked up in my usual spot – the canal basin car park. Many a match angler could be found here during the summer months, hunched over a pole, catapulting maggots over a Waggler float and catching skimmers. It’s a popular spot for other canal users too. Parents of young children will frequent it to feed the ducks as well as the four resident swans. There’s a distinct widening in the middle and a stone bridge arches over the water at one end. There’s a marginal shelf thick with reeds on one side and a weed bed in the middle. The combination of these factors makes this a hotspot for Roach, Rudd, Bream, Tench and also, the enigmatic Esox Lucius.

Upon arrival, I was unsurprised to see that the water had turned a light chocolate brown after all the heavy rain. I didn’t fancy my chances for a bite here so I moved quickly on. Thankfully, some local knowledge of my own led me to suspect the clarity would improve around half a mile further down. Keen-spirited and not one to be beaten, that’s where I headed…

The method of attack for today's session was a light-medium weight-spinning approach. I used a colourful weedless spoon (which didn’t quite meet expectations) and my trusty Wychwood agitator spinning rod on a light braid.

Now I know spoons are considered old school, but It was the brightest, biggest lure I had in my tackle box. My logic behind using it? It’s big, it’s bright and I was fishing in winter. The pike can be especially shy in the winter months so anything which might tempt a bite would go in my favour. This wasn’t just an excuse saved up in case of a blank either. I had it on good authority (The chap at the local tackle shop) that this water could be especially difficult in the winter.

I reached the second basin with the sluice gate on the opposing margin. My suspicions were correct. There must be some sort of scientific name for this phenomenon, but for now, we’ll just call it dirty water and clean water meeting.

I cast my spoon into the clear water and could see it so much better now. It had a sort of ‘frantic’ ‘desperate’ action to it and if worked properly, resembled that of a dying fish. With a slight boost in confidence, I carried on further.

I persevered with the spoon until I reached another of my personal checkpoints. I’d covered approximately a mile of water by now without so much as a sniff. Having reached the wooden bench just before the bridge, I switched over to a much smaller plastic glitter pattern lure.

Side by side: The weedless spoon vs the smaller plastic ‘glitter pattern’ lure.

This lure felt much more natural to me. I could feel the vibrations of it through the rod far easier and as it was much lighter, I could work it with greater accuracy and stealth. Compared to the cumbersome spoon it felt far more promising.

I began making my way back to the car park, covering the same water as I’d done previously with the spoon. With growing optimism I continued, bringing the lure tight past the marginal reeds and rushes at varying speeds and rhythms.

It was at around the halfway mark that I became enraged at the sight of another angler poaching one of my favourite spots. In an act of defiance at this injustice, I made a few casts in the adjacent swim. It almost seemed as though they knew something I didn’t…

Outrage! A poacher fishing in one of my best spots!

Leaving the poacher to their fishing, I continued until the sight of the basin car park came into view. I slowed down my walking pace and cast with increasing frequency. I was back into the muddy water now, and my confidence was beginning to wane. A blank was on the cards, but I couldn’t give up so easily. If the fish gods had foretold that I should blank today then so be it. But I wasn’t prepared to go down without a fight.

Having now reached the car park basin, the end of the session was in sight. On the other side of the bank, a runner was busy with his warm-down routine, stretching out his legs whilst watching on as I made several haphazard casts into the overhead trees. ‘Just pretend he’s not there’ I thought to myself as I tried desperately to free the hooks from an overhanging branch.

With one of the final few casts of the session, I sent the plastic bait way out onto the opposite margin and brought it back slowly. Twitching the bait gently I brought it back until it was right underneath my feet when suddenly, by the will of some mighty fish god, my reel burst into life. The rod bent over double and the braided line rushed through the eyes of the rod with a flurry of energy. I pulled against the weight at the end and the braided line made that distinctive ‘whining’ noise that every angler adores.

By now, the runner had gotten back in their car and driven off, apparently unfazed by my bank side victory. Evidently, he cared not for the challenges faced by the canal angler in winter, or perhaps he was unimpressed by my casting ability. Either way, I battled the Pike for around a minute until I brought it over the rim of the net and secured the catch.

It was a Jack Pike of no more than four pounds, its colours washed out and pale – no doubt a result of the winter season. I admired it for a while before slipping it back and heading home with a wide grin on my face and a net covered in slime.

I pondered the events of that session on the car journey home. The irony of knowing that I’d walked straight past the car park basin, never once giving it a thought to fish it. I’d walked at least a mile in the other direction thinking I’d have the upper hand in the clear water, only to fail and walk all the way back again and catch the only fish of the day in the very place I started. If I came away with anything from that session, it would have been one crucial learning point that I often overlook… Expect the unexpected, assume nothing.

Canal Conundrums…