When Bob called me the other day to try and tempt me into joining him for a day of pike fishing over on the Connecticut River I couldn't turn him down. Ever since I took a fishing trip to Canada several years ago for northern pike, I've been hooked. I admit, the fishing on our trip was a far cry from the non-stop action I had on that trip north of the border. However, when we finally hooked into a 32-inch pike, it made our day complete.

We headed west well before daylight so we could get on the water as early as we could. After a quick stop at a local coffee shop, we pointed the truck west and just as the sun was coming up, Bob was backing down the ramp.

"That was good timing," he said as he eased the big Mercury outboard into gear and headed us up river.

"Where are you heading?" I asked.

"I caught two good ones up here a mile or so in the mouth of a small bay on our right," he replied. "I can't think of a better place to start."

We slowly eased our way around a long sweeping bend in the river and Bob pointed to a wide opening.

"There's my honey hole," he said with a smile. "Get a big jointed black and gold minnow ready and when I drop the trolling motor, see if you can rip it across that point."

He was certain I'd connect with a fish on my first cast. However, we fished the location for more than an hour without drawing a strike. It wasn't until he maneuvered us deep into the weedy cove that I finally hooked into a 23-inch long pickerel.

"That's a pretty good fish," Bob said. "But I'm looking for his big cousin."

We fished a lot of good water throughout the morning and managed to catch two other pickerel and a chunky largemouth bass, then I remembered a spot another mile or so up-river that I fishing a number of years ago when I was over here trying to catch some walleye.

"I've got a place for us to try," I explained. "Mike and I were walleye fishing up here a ways and he had a monster pike right up along side the boat … before I could get the net it snapped his line like a piece of thread."

"You tell me how to get there and we'll give it a shot," Mike said as he lifted the trolling motor out of the water.

We took our time getting to the spot, stopping to fish a number of locations along the way. I managed to catch a good largemouth on a gold crankbait and Bob landed another pickerel on a minnow bait, however, we couldn't get a pike to strike. Then as Bob rounded a corner I spotted my spot.

"Lookie there," I said. "See that handful of tree stumps sticking out of the water, that's the place."

My buddy didn't seemed that impressed, but I assured him that the combination of thick weeds, a drop off and that timber make the little spot attractive to the pike.

He lowered the trolling motor and eased us into position so we could both fish the area before he tossed his minnow bait past the spot and carefully reeled it back through the area. I was surprised when he didn't get a strike on his first cast. In fact, he made nearly a dozen casts without drawing a strike and was just about to move up river when I convinced him to take another shot.

"Take another shot and really rip it past those sticks," I suggested. "When I was up in Quebec I triggered a lot of strikes by fishing really fast over the submerged weeds like those."

As I watched, Bob heaved his lure well past the timber and as soon as it hit the water he began to crank hard on the reel handle. When the lure past the sticks, he shook the rod tip from side to side a couple times as he continued to reel.

"Nothing," he said as he lifted the rod and readied to make one more cast. This time however, when he ripped the lure past those sticks I watched it disappear in a huge swirl.

"Man I've got something!" he yelled. "I don't know if it's a pike or not, but it's big."

He fought the fish for several minutes before it tired and he brought it along side the boat where I netted it for him.

"Congratulations buddy," I said with a smile as I held the net down where he couldn't see what he'd just caught. "You've got yourself a good northern pike."

I lifted the net onboard and gave Bob a high-five. We quickly measured the pike at 32-inches and after a couple photos my buddy slipped the big fish back into the river.

Later that afternoon I managed on more small pickerel before we turned around and headed for the ramp as heavy rain started to fall.

"We only caught one," Bob said, "but it was a good one!"

"Any time you go pike fishing and manage to land one it's been a great day," I added.



Pat Rollins writes on the outdoors for The Citizen.