Whilst the public cliche of angling is of a dull, static occupation, nothing could be further from the strereotype than lure fishing. Miles of bankside covered, albeit not a lot to show for it of late- or am I being miserly? Perch and jack pike are usually pretty obliging on canals (Grand Western and a return to the Kennet and Avon recently), and what beautiful settings these are in autumn. In truth I'm quite happy walking and casting whatever the outcome- at least this way there's no wrestling with yourself over whether you picked the right spot in several miles of water.
Otherwise, night fishing has been the main option- if only to fit around work. Angling experts always tell us about the best conditions but lets face it, for the vast majority our fishing is dictated by where and when we get the chance. Even if that means at night. In the middle of the city. With creeps. With teen boozers falling down a grass bank. With assorted crud floating past. With a pissed bloke in a gym slip asking "what are you doing here?"- a question he should probably be asking himself. No pike sadly. Just other wild animals, although Rob Darby and myself are convinced that somewhere in these concrete waters lies a big surprise.
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