The pike trip was on a Tuesday

The pike trip was on a Tuesday. I had planned this day out with Ian Wakeford a month or so previous and originally it was deigned to be a fly-fishing trip. Then we heard that the water was opening for pike fishing, so the trout interest waned somewhat. I drove up a deserted motorway to Rutland in the early morning, to meet Ian at the water on a flat calm, mild morning. With a light cloud cover, not too bright, it was perfect conditions for boat fishing and we were full of confidence. We had every reason to be. We were very well equipped with a boat and a fishfinder, a good supply of deadbaits and lures plus a selection of pike flies. That was me being unable to resist bringing a fly-rod after all. We found a massive shoal of fish along one bank of the North arm and spent the best part of the day drifting deadbaits, casting lures and flies – certain that we were on the fish. Certain? Yes. I had spoken to Neville Fickling who had had a couple of days here with Mick Brown the week before. They had bagged up with a couple of dozen fish to just under 20lb, fishing this same area too. But we didnít! The only take of the day was when a suicidal rainbow trout attacked Ianís nine inch plug. Even that had the bad grace to fall off before we could boat it! Ah well, we all get days like that. It was a great days fishing anyway, despite the lack of fish. Good company and the chance of an unknown monster kept it interesting and the sunset alone made it worth the trip. Actually I blame Ian for the blank, heís a Jonah when I fish with him!Wednesday dawned with me jumping out of bed bright and chirpy. And thatís after a mammoth journey the day before and a full day of exhausting pike-fishing. Amazing isnít it? If it had been a working day I would have groaned and tried to bury my head in the pillows when the alarm sounded. Instead I was like a 10 year old on Christmas morning. It was one of those special days, taking the kids from the Second Chance charity on a days fly fishing. Depending on the children themselves, these events can be Heaven or Hell. Itís pot luck if you get a good bunch, or the next generation of Hells Angels, though to be honest Iíve never yet encountered any 2nd Chance kids who were ever more than Ďnaughtyí. This time too, we were fortunate. The young lads on this trip were the best you can imagine and they made the day a real pleasure. They were attentive, interested and eager to learn. All but one boy attend the Phillip Southcote School (for children with special needs) in Surrey.Our venue for the day was a trout syndicate water at Western Court, Alresford, Hampshire. This is a fairly new water, just a few years old but it has the feel that it has been here forever. Three crystal clear lakes, all with tree-hung central islands and mature foliage decorating the banks. At last, a small trout fishery which feels like itís the real thing, rather than someoneís over manicured back garden.Jim Hickey, Scot Lamshed and I arrived together at the venue and met the rest of the adult helpers. Doug and Warren Hulme , John Shepherd and Peter Henton from the Bivvy Hospital. Last but not least, Tony Pawson OBE. Tony now is now 93 years old I believe, but has more energy than many people half his age. It was only a few years ago that he won the World Fly Fishing Championships, adding to his amazing record of sporting achievements. I have discovered that during his long career Tony has played both County Cricket and has been a First Division football player, as well as having written a few books on the subject. Iím still probing, but Doug Hulme tells me that there is even more to this guy than meets the eye. “They donít make them like that any more” he told me wistfully, I suspect heís right.We all teamed up into pairs, one adult per boy and set off around the lakes. My young companion was Paul. Well, it was at first, but boys being boys, there was a fair bit of swopping taking place and I ended up having several charges over the course of the day. Or maybe they just didnít like me? Tony was the only one of us who had ever fished the venue before and I noticed that he opted for a gold-headed nymph to start with. I fished the next swim with Paul and opened up with a smaller black version of the same fly. On the very first retrieve, a fat trout of several pounds followed the fly in, but it just wouldnít take. The fish turned away right at our feet and vanished into the depths.We had all found good swims and we goggled at the sight of some whopping great fish patrolling nonchalantly around the islands. Not for long though. With the water being as clear as it was, and the boys all attempting to cast a flyline for the first time ever, all of the visible trout soon did a disappearing act. What looked like easy pickings to start with quickly turned a trifle hard. A change of fly brought more interest. Another fish followed up. And another, but none would take.The first fish fell to Doug. One of the youngsters came belting around the lake to tell of itís capture, but he had no idea as to what fly it took. (Later the Ďanglerí admitted that heíd snared it in the landing net!) Peteís youngster then came around to say that heíd caught Ė and brought the fish as a trophy. A 2lb rainbow. By lunch time I was onto my third child and sixth fly. After a swift fish níchips midday scoff, we tallied up. Most of us were still without a fish but John had caught a couple and the youngster with Pete was on to his third fish, caught on a black and red gold-head. I had nothing resembling it in my box. Out came the secret weapon. A white cats whisker. ĎThis fly has never yet let me downí I proclaimed to young Phillip. Sure enough, second cast and I was in. With a trout bucking around on the end of the line I turned to pass the rod to my young charge. Where was Phillip? Gone! Oh well, thatís the way it is with youngsters. I had to play it out and land it myself. Oh dear what a bother. Yuk yuk yukThe afternoon was more productive and all but one or two of the lads caught fish, some taking several. All the boys however, seemed to have got hooked on the fishing and some had even got the knack of casting. The excitement was infectious and the adults too were to be seen sniggering over silly things, and messing about, being boys again. I think I can safely say that the day was a tremendous success and that several new anglers were born that day.Thanks to Western Court, Second Chance and all concerned who made it such a pleasant day. If you want to learn more about the Second Chance charity there is a button in our ĎLinksí page which will take you to their website. They are always on the lookout for new volunteers and besides, itís well worth a read. Check it out.

Geoff Maynard