LURE 1 | Page 112

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.