L U R E
S
urrounded by long grass, standing
under a blazing sun, staring into
a rippling river shaded in browns
and blacks, this is as tranquil as it gets.
But then there’s a movement. A flash, a
ghost glimpsed in the corner of your eye
moving across a gravel shallow before
disappearing as quickly as it was seen,
back into darker water. The target is here.
From behind the cover of high rushes
appears the rod of Gareth Goldson. This
man is no stranger to the games played
on the sweeps and glides of Norfolk’s river
Wensum in the UK and as he swings out
his hook-clad weapon of choice it lands
inch-perfect in a slack on the other side of
the river. The fat-bodied plug turns in the
flow before the line is tightened and the
lure starts to do its work.
The steep-angled lip pulls it just under
the surface with Gareth holding his rod
tip high to keep working that depth. A
tight wiggle action creates a gentle subsurface disruption, the wake intersects
the flow of the river... until something else
joins the parade.