It was on the morning of 24^th September that the elite(!) of the West Midlands pike anglers met, bleary – eyed but enthusiastic, on a pub car park some-where in downtown Halesowen. Their mission was a dawn assault on the notorious pike of the lower Warwickshire Avon, or rather those still left in existence after the head bashing party organised late last season by their friends and neighbours along the Avon.

With Chairman Tate, the famous navigator, in the lead, a number eventually reached their destination under Bredon Hill after half a dozen wrong turns and one emergency stop to enable the said chairman to rescue his livebaits from the floor of the car, following a violent right turn that almost put the rest of the convoy into the front garden of Pershore police station. Unfortunately trip organiser Nigel Povey could not be found and neither could Tony Storey in his brand new 1971 Vauxhall Viva. Povey and his sidekick Ade Writtle and Steve Willis were eventually located by the search party in the vicinity of the Bell Public House at Eckington Whereas the Viva finally appeared after having it’s distributor head repaired with two VB instant strike rigs and 3 yards of PVA tape.

Eventually the motley bunch assembled in the undergrowth at Stensham lock and lots were drawn to determine order of departure. Close by were two beautiful looking weirpools the second of which had banks reinforced with large boulders by the water authority. The hunt was on ! On drawing no 4 chairman T and Missis sprinted off muttering an incantation that sounded vaguely like weirpools and stones, weirpools and stones followed by peals of semi insane laughter.

By 7.30 a.m. they had all taken up position along the banks and dozens of rods stuck out from the gaps in the reeds, rocks, and bushes. With two weirpools, slacks, weeds, reeds, and lock cutting it was like something out of Mr Crabtree. Pity the pike didn’t seem to appreciate this since by 9.30 the forty or so rods hadn’t registered a single run ! It was time for the fair sex to take charge. Soon the gas stove was roaring away and the smell of eggs and bacon wafted across the water meadows. A bacon butty delivered to each pitch by Pat Rose and Christine Povey did wonders for morale and soon the alarm sounded as Colin Booth’s doctored optonic screamed out and a 3lb jack came battling to the surface. At least one fish had survived the holocaust. This set the pattern for the rest of the day, with several more small pike coming to live and deadbeats, including a monster of 6oz, captured by secretary Ian Jarvis ( this was later disqualified since it was reliably reported, that it was firmly in the jaws of the Chub livebait when landed ). Up in the weirpools however, all was quiet. Chairman and Mrs. T’s magic had failed totally and the latter was observed in mid-afternoon spark out on her bed chair complete with flying fortress trousers and with a faintly inebriated look on her face. Chairman T. in the meantime was practising his matador act with a landing net handle on a friendly bullock. Up in the lock cutting Peter Rose and his fellow bait catchers were caning out the roach (well, Pete was anyway) but business at 10p a time was slow. By late afternoon it was clear that the heavy rain earlier in the week had had its effect and that the double figure fish were either not around or not feeding (although a local who appeared in a punt claimed a 20 pounder earlier in the week). Nonetheless, we all had a good laugh and a splendid day out.

Appeared in PIKELINES 29^th July 1985