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This ended "t**ts up" also. I had taken one step too far and the icy water flooded into my right boot before I had time to withdraw. If only we had thought of bringing along a pair of chest waders.

Giving up now was out of the question. Now it was war! I just waded further out until the water reached just below my belly button. That pike was coming out even if I had to run up and down the river all week after it. At this stage I had forgotten about the cold. The adrenaline running through my veins saw to that.

The pike was now an easy target. As long as I didn't break the beam by walking into or through it, it shouldn't spook. The beam of light blinded the pike (only when in the beam I must add) therefore as long as I didn't rush and create unnatural disturbances it would be totally unaware of my presence.

When in a situation such as this, standing up to ones waist in frezing water, a weird kind of loneliness overcomes you that is spooky to say the least. Other than the sound of trickling water nothing else could be heard. Although the banks were only yards in front and behind me from where I stood it seemed like miles. Being surrounded by total darness, apart from a large pike clearly in view and no more than two yards in front, along with ghostly wisps of mist drifting through the light, it's no wonder my inagination began to run riot!

What if I miss and the pike panics and crashes into my legs knocking me off balance? I was only inches away from a sheer drop into 6 or 7 feet of water and I can't swin, and my colleague can't either!

Then my imagination really went to town. What if it latches on to my submerged manhood??? I have heard tales. Even though it had shrunk down to nothing thin denim will not stop several rows of long needle sharp teeth. Enough! Such scary thoughts were quickly discarded.

Now that I was nearer our target I could hold the spear mid-way down the shaft and this made it a tad easier to control. For the second time I took aim and within an inch or two of the pike I lunged the spear into my target.

There followed an almighty swirl along with plenty of thrashing, then the pike turned and disappeared down stream again. I weren't doing very well. I should have followed through with the spear and held the pike against the riverbed instead of withdrawing. Luckily for us our potential victim seemed reluctant to vacate the shallower water between grayling corner and the bridge down stream.

A wound could be clearly seen around its spinal area about four inches down from its gills, but this was not enough to immobilise it. Now for assault No 3. It's strange why this pike stayed put when we shone the lamp on it again. Surely it must have realised by now that this mmeant danger.

To cut a long story short another attempt proved unsuccessful. this time I caught it about six inches down from the gills but a tad lower than the previous attempt. I had to hit a vital organ! I was rushing it and there was no need. As mentioned earlier, a strong current did not help in the least but on the forth attempt it was stabbed in the lower stomach area and this all but finished it off. It was then a quick jab through the gills, impaling the pike to the riverbed.

We then carried it down to the syndicate secretaries residence where it was weighed and it tipped the scales at bang on 16 lb. A minnow some experienced pike anglers will say, but I can assure anyone that that pike looked a damn sight bigger when stood face to face with it up to my belly button in that freezing river. Anyway, the lady of the house made us black coffeee laced with brandy that went down a treat, and above all we got paid too. Twenty quid each to be precise. The following day the pie was taken out to our place of work over on Imber and shoved down a hole.