Netherlands, dec. 28th. 2019

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With the end of the year in sight it was time for our traditional venue to close of the flyfishing year,
the so called “oliebol snoeken”.
Where “oliebol” stood for the deep fried raisin bun, a traditional end of the year treat in the Netherlands.
With “snoeken” pike fishing was meant.

The location for this year was a polder, a piece of low lying reclaimed land littered with small canals
and ditches used to drain the land by means of pumping stations.
It was cold in the morning, temperature below freezing and a bleak sun in the sky.
As it was freezing the guides would ice up so from time to time you had to dislodge the buildup ice.
The visibility was very poor, it had a coffee color which dimmed my hopes for catching anything.

After a few hours fishing the results were pretty meager.
Tom had a strike of a pike but missed the fish, he did notice some baitfish around.
I had seen not any activity of fish, the rest of the guys also with no hits.
The lack of visibility in the water bothered us so we went looking for cleaner water.
In the end we found a  nice wide canal that had a dark tannic color but with some visibility in it.
It did not take long before Tom hooked the first pike of the day.

Hopes where raised and we did our best to imitate Tom but alas to no avail.
After walking a mile or so along the canal making various casts into the middle of the canal
and along the shore line I had nothing to show for.
In the mean time the rest of the guys had doubled back to the first location of the morning but
soon came back as it still was no good.

When the guys came back Tom asked me if I had seen anything moving and well I had.
In the same spot where Tom landed his first fish I had seen some fish moving but tossing
in a streamer did not yield a strike for me.
Tom started to fish the same stretch and behold within a short while he hooked another pike.
It got worse .. at least for us … soon Tom caught pike number three.

With the sun going under and the temperature back to freezing we called it a day.
Off course the phrase “Dumb farmers grow the biggest potatoes” came up but in the end it was clear
that we where useless and Tom could fish … simple as that.
We end the day at the pancake house nearby for a proper ending of the fishing year,
kudos to Tom … surely our pike whisperer.



















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