A Family Fishing Renaissance

Jonathon Myles

Pike fishing became an obsession for me for a few years ,its importance eclipsing all other area‘s of my life and more specifically my desire to capture a pike weighing 30 pounds in weight. It started after the capture of a magnificent river pike of over 28 pounds, unlike many anglers who perhaps slow down after marriage and kids, my fishing intensified. I am not proud to say that the desire for me to make it happen began to distort my perception of life and which aspects of it were most important to me.

As many away trips as I could afford and make time for were ventured upon, to venues such as Blithfield, Mentieth, Chew, various Anglian water reservoirs and Ireland. In addition to weekly dawn till dusk sessions on my home waters. This took its toll on my family life to such an extend that one day quite suddenly I discovered that my marriage was finished. I lost my wife, kids and house, almost everything that I had worked hard for disappeared in in instant. Although there would never be a happy reunion I was forced to re-evaluate my priorities, I love my children dearly and they would now have to come first. With child maintenance to pay and every other weekend taken up spending quality time with them, the costly away days would have to go or at best be drastically reduced in number. My fishing would have to become a much more casual pursuit if it were to survive at all. I am fortunate in that I live in an area with some good pike fishing available for those who look hard enough, but over the years, whilst I had caught doubles readily on my local waters I had always found bigger fish very hard to come by.


 

(The river 28 that began the obsession)


Not long after the split with my ex wife I had the honour ( as I now consider it) of netting a magnificent personal best of 36lb 6oz for my boat partner, followed very quickly by a 24lb fish. This should have been a very happy joint triumph as I always feel that boat fishing is teamwork. However, instead I became consumed by feelings of envy and jealousy, as I had travelled far and wide to try and catch a fish of that size, at great financial and personal cost. I felt that it should have been me and if I am brutally honest my head was not in the right place. By the end of the following October I had also been ‘unjustly in my opinion’ banned from my local Angling club, their waters I had fished for many years.I'd been physically threatened by a local match angler at my work place and a little while later by another in the pub whilst out on a date in the early stages of a new relationship.
To be honest by this point  fishing had really started to get on top of me, I realised that it was no longer enjoyable for me, the hobby I had enjoyed since childhood was becoming a problem for me in many ways. I had not only lost my family and home but seen my access to my local waterways denied. It was now unpleasant,  involving both work and my social life. With my available time being restricted I felt that my chances of catching that dream fish were further away than ever. That summer after an expensive and unsuccessful trip to the Emerald Isle, I thought seriously about calling it a day, although a couple of good mates did their best to persuade me otherwise. With a couple of days at Chew already paid for the following October I had a couple of half hearted days without any great success and i did  not fish at all for almost the remainder of the season.

Every cloud has a single lining however and during this summer I met a wonderful lady and began an immensely fulfilling relationship. The relationship cracked along at an incredible pace and I felt on top of the world. By the New Year we were living together and pike fishing was the furthest thing from my mind. Rather than the nagging and moaning that I had become accustomed to during  the previous ten years my new partner seemed genuinely interested in my fishing and really pushed me into getting out again, we fished together one morning.I caught a fine river fish of 18lb, I also enjoyed teaching Lynda about pike fishing and she also had her first pike under her belt on that trip. Encouraged a little by the trip I decided that it was time to teach my oldest son Harry and took him to a small Still water that I knew held pike, I thought it safe and easy for him, the trip was a success, alternating runs he was first off the mark with his first pike of 7lb, and I followed up with a fine 21lb 12oz pike expertly netted by my 7 year old son, it was my first twenty from my local waters for quite a long time. As we packed up at lunch time Harry turned to me and declared it the best day of his life! A very rewarding moment as any father will know.

 

A week later on the last weekend of the season Lynda and I were back on a local River together and this time she did me proud by netting a venue best of 24lb 4oz. I felt the passion return instantly at that moment.I was totally fired up and gagging to continue, it was if I had been overcome by a tidal wave of piking enthusiasm, the pike season unfortunately came to a close. I continued to fish sporadically through the Summer either with Lynda or the children on their weekends and we had some great times enjoying success with carp, catfish and towards the end of the summer Perch. A particular highlight being my son Harry following up on his 7lb pike with a superb 3lb+ river perch, which was proudly sent in and printed within one of the weeklies. Although Joseph and Lynda all weighed in with fish over 2lb and I too a 3 pounder.



(Harry’s 3lb river perch)

I now couldn’t wait for the pike season to start, I was extremely excited but had learned , I hoped , from previous mistakes.  I made a decision to fish only two trout water days on a local water and my fenland fishing would be limited to half days at the most  and on the weekends when I didn’t have Harry and Joseph staying with me. Along with the odd trip with them for a few hours when weather conditions suited.  I would not fish weekends when I felt the weather was against me and I would try to pick what I considered to be the peak times to base my short sessions around by only fishing days when I felt the weather was in my favour. I would be forced to forget about some old venues having been banned, so would concentrate primarily on the river I had the 24 from the previous season and fish three different areas on rotation. Although my available time fishing was reduced dramatically if I could catch a good fish over the season with the much reduced hours available I would be more than pleased. Things started well in October with a venue best of 23lb 4oz from the second of the two reservoir days, mission accomplished, but further fired up by this the following weekend I fished a new area of my chosen Fenland river, well away from the scene of the previous seasons 24 and within an hour had a mighty 27lb 4oz pike in the net. My second biggest Fenland fish and one of a size I had waited six years for.


(Fenland 27)

Time was soon to become even more precious, as by now Lynda and I were expecting and my 3rd son Lucas duly arrived in December. Fishing again took a back seat for a good six weeks or so and whilst I could not get out, my closest angling friends were at least enjoying some good fish.With Lucas a month old I managed to sneak out with him and with only an hour available on the bank we were both very pleased to sneak out a mid double !.

  Lucas and Daddy with a mid double

My son Joseph who is six had become very keen to go pike fishing and often asked when I would take him.With our water ways frozen I told him that he would have to wait. We seized our opportunitIies whenever we could together. These days I am really having to squeeze time in when I ever I can and one morning I managed to squeeze in just two hours either side of dawn at a venue close to home I had  selected, I had fished this water a fair bit in the past catching nothing but a few jacks and the odd double. The trip was successful with a fine brace of 18lb 10oz and a real beauty of 21lb 8oz. So with young Joseph in tow at lunchtime having carried out our shopping duties we loaded the car and set of for the water again, a small fenland drain, with an hour he noticed that a sardine in the margin was on the move, I looked up and the float moved across the drain at a fair pace, the run was struck and met with a solid resistance with the rod taking on an alarming battle curve. The fish plodded about hugging the bottom and my initial thoughts of passing the rod to him were abandoned !. I could not move the fish from the bottom and as such could not get a look at her, she ran two or  three times causing me to backwind but soon she was ready for netting. It was a hell of a job for me to slide down the steep bank without entering the water but she went in the net first time with me perched precariously above the water line. I hauled a heavy net up the bank and was astounded at what lay before me on the unhooking mat, here was probably the most beautiful pike I had ever seen, certainly on a par with any trout water pike I had caught or witnessed and from a humble Fenland drain no more than 15’ wide and 3’ deep. She weighed 22lb 4oz but had the length of a mid double.  A phrase that many years ago we used to use at work to describe a nice and very saleable house sprung immediately to mind ‘An Absolute Peach’.


The Drain peach 22lb 4oz

Other good fish were caught during this 12 month renaissance period and I have caught more big pike than ever before whilst fishing less time and I have caught many of them in the company of the people that I love the most. I have even had a marriage proposal accepted on the bank whilst fishing !. It has surely been the most rewarding 12 month period of my pike fishing life. All due to a combination of circumstances I couldn’t possibly have planned, I really should thank those over zealous bailiffs and outdated club rules which forced me on to pastures new. 

I have still managed to find time for the odd short session with my piking buddies. Instead of enviously looking at my friends who have been able to combine family life and fishing, I do seem at last to have the balance about right. This has been helped not least by a good woman and a bit of good fortune. I now value my fishing so,so much and seem to be much more relaxed about it, whether this has had a bearing on results I don’t know?.  But I am amazed at how it has changed in a year. One thing I do know is that I am enjoying it more than ever and if I don’t ever get that 30 I am no longer bothered what-so-ever. If and when it arrives I would be the happiest man in England but until then I just want to continue enjoying it as much as I have been more recently.

Since writing this piece for The Pool I treated myself to a full day out back end, on my own on a local water. It was only my 3^rd full days fishing of the season and a long pre dawn walk was rewarded with this fabulous 25lb 8oz pike within minutes of arriving at my destination and it was to be my only take of the day!This  proved to me yet again that I didn’t need to be out all day to catch a decent fish, it was a fantastic way to end the season.With the Pike Gods smiling upon me once more I do feel truly blessed. 

Roll on next season!

Interview with Andy Frost, Broadland Legend

MH: Hi Andy, thanks for talking to the Pike Pool.

Your name and dry sense of humour has been familiar to many of us on the Piking forums over the years, can you start off by telling us how long you’ve been Piking/fishing? Why Pike? And what keeps you going after all these years?

Andy: I caught my first Pike in 1966 when I was nine years old from a local marsh drainage dyke, it was huge, around 5 to 6lbs I reckon. The serious stuff, or shall I say as seriously as I've ever taken it kicked off when I started driving at 17, so that's 38yrs of piking.
I do dibble at a few other forms of fishing, but Pike are the only species that really do it for me. A year after I caught my first Pike, Peter Hancock appeared in the local papers with "that" fish, well that was it for me. I remember crazing my uncles arse to take me to that Horsey Mere place, it was a waste of time asking my Father, he was a dawn 'til dusk worker, needless to say my uncle never took me.
I still go today for the one simple reason....I enjoy it, although the joints play up a bit these days, I do hope to put a few more seasons in yet.

MH: You are well known as a Broadland angler and have seen the various systems come and go as Pike fisheries. What do you think was the best (most exciting or enjoyable) period?

Andy: As for the best period, well for me it was the Yare in the 90s, probably because I was better prepared. When the Thurne was on fire in the early 80s, if I'm honest, I never really gave it my best shot. I was a lot younger and hence relatively inexperienced. At the time I was concentrating on the Trinities, and catching loads of quality fish, but nothing like what was coming out just up the road. Nonetheless, I had my fair share on the Trinities so on that score I have no complaints.
The Yare was always my local water, and we noted an explosion of fish around 1989, it was gradually improving all the time and I could see an opportunity coming. This time around, I was determined to give it my all, as previous experience had by now taught me that nothing lasts forever, so armed with that marvellous quality that is hindsight , I gave it my all. There were times when it was simply mind-blowing, and as time passed the quality fish started to come through. Once again as far as my lifelong ambition of a 30, from my local water was concerned, it seemed to have passed me by, but right at the very end, when fish were thinning out lady luck smiled on me, and on Feb 1st 2004, I had my dream fish of 33.06. Just two years later it was all over, two devastating salt surges put paid to what to me was a thoroughly enjoyable period in my fishing life. But life goes on, so nowadays I have reverted back to fishing all over, basically wherever I fancy according to conditions.

MH: Can you give us some idea of just how good the Yare was at that time?

Andy: Well as I said elsewhere at times it was unreal. I well remember one season when fishing on Nov 5th, me and my mate had to pack in earlier than usual to get to the Firework bash. We'd shared a haul of around 170lbs of fish, taking into account I don't start until October, on that day I caught my 100th double of that season. At that time twenties were still relatively thin on the ground though but as time progressed the numbers dropped off, but the size of fish were certainly improving. I can never envisage it returning to this kind of form, in the areas I was fishing it was unusual to even see another angler but as is always the case word eventually got out. I'm just very thankful, and indeed lucky to have been there from the start. Sometimes in life you need that little bit of fortune and I certainly had mine. I would be the first to admit that at times I had it really easy so my advice to anyone who finds themselves onto some good fishing is, keep it quiet and squeeze as much out of it as you can because it never lasts.

MH: Are you optimistic about the future for the Broads?

Andy: Am I optimistic, well yes, I think things will improve, but only slightly. I don't honestly think we'll ever see two periods in Broadland Pike angling (Thurne in the 80's & Yare in the 90's) like this again. Mainly because there are too many of us about and the "surprise" spring won't happen, there'll be too many of us that remember this. The Broads will always be worth a shout, but in all honesty I feel it is back to reality.

MH: What do you think is the biggest development that has helped your Piking over the time you’ve been fishing?

Andy: Improvements, well they're many fold, welfare equipment is now very, very good. I think in general we're fishing with better equipment. If I were to single one thing out, it would be better boats, I now have a folding cuddy and if it were not for this I would pack it in. More modern boats I feel enable us to fish in far more comfort and hence more efficiently, couple this with vastly superior clothing, and really we've never had it so good. Hot food and drink always on tap, it's almost unbelievable to think how things were years back.

MH: Many well-known Pikers have fished the Broads over the years, which ones have inspired you?

Andy: Anglers I respect and who have inspired me, there are several. Obviously the old school, Bill Giles in particular, although I never met him, what he said in his day still holds true today. Out of the latter day anglers , one VERY close friend of mine , he'll know who he is if he reads this, along with Jack Spall, and of course Steve Harper who besides being a very good angler has done tremendous work by compiling books covering the history of this very historic area.

MH: Anyone who has had the pleasure of sharing a boat with you will eat very well. Could you describe your cooking set up and what is your favourite food whilst fishing?

Andy: As I said earlier we are far better equipped these days. I love my cooking on board my boat, I'm a lazy sod at home and very rarely even make a cup of tea but in the boat I love it! It all adds to the enjoyment of the day. My choice of cooker is the Coleman "grill and ring", ideal for getting a good feast going.

MH: You once described to me a very clever shallow water livebait rig, would you share this with the pool siders please?

Andy: With regard to the livebait rig you mentioned, firstly I must say it is only really suitable for tidal waters. By this I mean when there is just enough water to cover the Lily pads that abound down here and by just enough I'm talking of 6" of water and over. We all know that once pike have had a feed up they will retreat to the cover of the lilies but getting a shallow enough presentation with a livebait will still tempt them. It's not complicated; I always try and keep my fishing and rigs as simple as possible. All it consists of is a direct extra-long trace of around 4ft in length, a single treble and the conventional swivel. On this goes an ordinary old fashioned Gazette Bung, set at whatever depth the tide dictates, the remainder of the trace above the Bung acts as the uptrace , which is essential to cover bite offs. Three of those small cork balls spaced evenly along the trace above the float ensures it's kept fully on the surface, so as not to sink into the pads. Simple really but highly effective.

MH: Do you have a pet hate/dislike about modern Pike fishing?

Andy: Dislikes in modern Pike angling?? My number one is I do honestly feel a lot have lost the real reason why we do this; the numbers game seems to have taken over. I'll hold my hands up and fully admit I was guilty of it once, and on my own personal reflection it was pretty sad. I suppose I'm winding down a bit now and only go when I really fancy it. Obviously I don't like to see bad handling but that's a hard nut to crack in that we were all like that once. By that I mean beginners and everyone should remember that. In this field the Pike Angling Club of Great Britian has made great advances in promoting welfare and I sincerely hope they continue to do so.

I'll get slated for this I know, but I can't abide by bait boats, if you haven't made the cast then its fishing and not angling as far as I'm concerned. I'm not overly keen on fishfinders either. I once had one for about a week and then gave it away, I just prefer doing it naturally. I fully realise that nearly everyone has one nowadays, it's a free world and we must all chose which path we take but they're not for me.

MH: What do you think of Derrick Amies recent book about Norfolk Pike fishing?

Andy: With regard to the Derrick Amies book, well there are three camps here; the disbelievers, the believers and those that couldn't give a rats arse. For the record I'm firmly in the former. It's been trawled over time and time again but I say just LOOK at the evidence in the book and work it out for yourselves, I think I'll leave it at that.

MH: Of all the Pike you’ve caught, large & small, which one gave you the most pleasure?

Andy: Out of all the fish I've caught, I’ve enjoyed all of them in a strange kind of way. I never tire of seeing a fish. Obviously my PB gave me immense pleasure, just seeing such a specimen was enough but to have actually caught it was the icing on the cake. Two of my lifelong angling companions have had their PBs when they have been with me which was very pleasing. Only recently watching my very close friend and his young son bagging up gave me as big a buzz as if it had been me doing it.

MH: Can you name two anglers who you'd like to share a boat with for the day? One from the past and one currently fishing.

Andy: Anglers I'd like to share a boat with? tough one to call really, all the old Broadland anglers have now sadly passed on, but I would say that a day with Bill Giles would have probably made my angling life complete, what a true Gent he was. As for present anglers, well there are many, this may seem an odd choice to some but out of anglers still at it today, Denis Moules is my type of man. Immense local knowledge and a very accomplished angler, I sincerely hope that it may happen one day.

MH: Do you have any fishing ambitions left?

Andy: Ambitions. As I said earlier I’m probably winding down nowadays so I tend not to set myself targets these days. I just want to keep enjoying things as long as I can. I'm the sort who sometimes loads boat and motor the night before and don't always make my mind up where I'm going until I get up the next morning. It probably goes without saying that I would dearly like a Thurne thirty, it certainly won't happen this season, as I haven't bothered to fish it since October.....fed up with all the hassle Natural England are causing up there, I just had to get that one in !!

Thanks for taking the time to talk to the Pool Andy. It’s been a pleasure asking the questions and I’m sure The Pool- Siders will enjoy reading what you have to say.

One Thing Leads To Another Chris Hammond

I can recall a fairly typical Monday morning many years ago with a huddle of us boys swapping tales of our weekend exploits in the school yard at break. One lad was offering round for view an Old Holborn tin half filled with cotton wool. Nestling amongst the fluffy white lining was a freshly blown chaffinch’s egg which the owner had procured in a sneaky raid on some nearby gamekeepered land at the weekend. The off grey background of the songbird’s egg  was exquisitely scribed with stunning purple and mauve markings, and the posse of youngsters surrounding the collector were oohing and aaghing in admiration at his find. Negotiations to extract the whereabouts of the nest from the boy with the tin had already ensued and he was listening eagerly to the various offers of laddish booty which were being proffered in return for this information.

Not to be outdone Ricky Roper, a good natured but undeniably dim young thug, began to relay the detail of his day’s fishing on the local drain. Several ears were swayed from the egg owner, fishing was an equally compelling topic, especially that done with rod and line as the majority of the boys had yet to ascend to such lofty heights and were still hounding the loach and sticklebacks populations of the local streams with either jam jars, or shop brought butterfly nets, depending on the angler’s social standing.

Realising he’d got the audience in the palm of his hand now Ricky revved up the detail a bit and informed the expectant crowd that the day had been a huge success and he had finished with a stack of fish including a 2.5 lb Kipper. No, it wasn’t some attempt at wit on Ricky’s behalf, he hadn’t the nowse, it was in fact a genuine attempt to bullshit us. To coin a bit of current football parlance, at that point he lost the dressing room! Ricky shrugged his shoulders and scurried away amidst howls of derision and the crowd dispersed in a disgruntled fashion.

That is one of my earliest fishing related memories. It was long before any of us owned cameras, so Ricky may have (and indeed regularly did) got away with his fibbing if he’d have had any knowledge of the inhabitants of the drain. The truth is Ricky had never owned a rod, nor indeed ever fished the drain, or anywhere else for that matter, and usually relied on his advanced physical build and talent with his fists to ensure that his peers subscribed to his tall tales.

The drain in question was about five miles from the town I‘d recently moved to, and with no bicycle it was out of fishing range for me. Previously I’d lived in a tiny Suffolk village where I’d honed my fishing skills in a tiny brook targeting the aforementioned loach, sticklebacks and gruff looking bullheads that sheltered under the various rocks and half bricks littering the stream bed. At this point my fishing career was largely put on hold, resuming only once I had obtained my first bicycle.

Prior to the move to the town in an unusual stroke of luck,  my errant father, on one of his rare visits to gain access to his son, had gifted me an Allcocks split cane fly rod and cheap fixed spool reel -accompanied by a few bob-floats, a tub of lead shot and a handful of outsized rusty hooks. Around the same time myself and a couple of the other lads from the village had discovered a moat surrounding a ‘big’ house and a soupy coloured farm irrigation pond, both of which contained a batch of stunted rudd. Both were within reasonable walking distance of the village and we spent countless hours harrying their occupants with pinches of bread on outlandishly sized eyed hooks.

Any spare time in which I didn’t find myself fishing at that time would be spent trying to add to my bird’s egg collection. Collecting eggs  -an extremely common pastime amongst country lads in that era-  was my other great passion. It‘s something that I suppose is quite rightly frowned upon in this more enlightened age. Although I often wonder if the introduction it gave the average lad to the ornithological world isn‘t sadly missing among today‘s children.. Hence both of the public speakers in the school yard that day had held my attention.



Eventually in my teenage years, along with a moped, I purchased my first fishing camera, a Minolta X300. My fishing horizons were massively broadened and bullshitting and exaggeration amongst my fishing mates became largely a thing of the past. Being considerably keener than any of my friends on fishing I frequently found myself fishing alone, so my earliest attempts at photographing my catch featured only the fish, usually with some item laid beside them to give the picture some scale. And a good many of my captures from those first few years are committed solely to memory.

The thought of catching something memorable now and not getting a photo to record the moment is simply unthinkable. Before the advent of the mobile phone, if I’d forgotten  I’d have headed home for the camera rather than fish. I know some readers will baulk at that but I’m making no apologies. Photographs are a key part of my angling and it would simply ruin the moment for me were I to capture a new personal best and not get a picture.

Eventually a tripod was procured and along with the basic self-timer function on my Minolta I began to get reasonable pictures even when fishing alone.

With the vastly more sophisticated equipment I carry nowadays including of course a digital camera, self-take photography is pretty much bomb proof. Before long I began to enjoy photographing my surroundings and the things I saw whilst fishing. Let’s face it, not many hobbies put you in the right place at the right time to the extent that fishing does. Stunning sun rises and haunting sun sets are commonplace to us anglers and it’s easy to forget that such privileged experiences are rarely if ever witnessed by the remainder of the sleepy public. Equally common are those thrilling wildlife encounters. The kind of encounters one can only be privy to if sitting still and quietly in the remotest parts of the countryside. And such practices are the very fabric of angling.

It’s easy to be dismissive of photography and trophy shots, but without them the history of our favourite pastime would be bland and largely based on hearsay. I do know of one mate at least who never takes a camera or scales, and he has caught a few lumps,  but I don't think too many people genuinely don't care what the fish they catch weigh, or whether they get a picture of their better catches.  I often hear the act of photographing a fish being lambasted by a certain sort of angler. They hold up the ideal that just to go and catch should be enough or that we should not be putting the fish under the duress of being momentarily kept from the water. I strongly suspect that the larger part of this faction are people that simply catch bugger all!

I’d go as far as to say that, on a personal note, without a trophy shot to look back on I might as well not have caught the fish in the first place. Of course we all enjoy the act of capturing fish, but, conceited though it may appear, I want to be able to show off my best captures. Sharing pictures on the net or amongst friends with a photo album is key to my fishing experience.


Being often a lone angler, especially in my younger days, I quickly learned the value of self-take photography. Modern tackle allows for mostly incident free retention of fish, so little harm is done whilst carrying out the process. If you are of the opinion that the fish’s welfare should never be compromised then frankly I’d have to question why you bother to hinder the fish by angling for them at all. I make no apology for suspecting that the least successful anglers are often the most vociferous in their protests against fish photography.


Being out in the wildest of places, intentionally striving to keep as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, quite naturally leads us to encounter wildlife to a level which your average red kagouled National Trust member can only dream of. Like many others I’m sure I’ve been privy to some incredible sights while fishing. Last year I can recall with some affection a family of three newly fledged Kingfishers all alighting on one pike rod as it sat idly in the rests. One of the few times I’ve prayed not to get a take. Another time I remember with incredulity a mallard leaping out of the water in full steam attack at a marauding mink, and the mink scampering at a ripe old gallop!


Initially I would take a pointless snap of such wonders with the standard 50mm lens. However before long I found myself increasingly frustrated that I couldn’t share those sights with my mates as I did with my fish photos. Eventually I bit the bullet and invested a fair old wedge on a Sigma zoom lens and began to get more satisfying results. At one point though it became apparent that the ferrying of this kind of kit between waters just wasn’t helping my fishing, and, much as I enjoyed the capture of a great nature shot, I realised it was a separate hobby. So that’s how I began to treat it. I have probably spent nearly as much of the last three or four years stalking wildlife with a camera as I have fishing. I’ve even become a hopelessly soppy lover of wildflowers and butterflies.

To me the link between angling and the natural world is an unbreakable one. Most of us fish for recreation rather than for the table nowadays. We take pleasure in capturing otherwise unseen creatures from our underwater worlds. We want to interact with those magnificent fish. To spend a few brief moments marvelling at their jewelled scaling and eye catching colour before releasing them -hopefully none the worse for their encounter with us. Most of us also like to take a photograph to remind ourselves of particular specimens or especially attractive or unusual captures. For me the same reasoning applies to all the birds, animals and plants that I see. I want to take that picture to look back on. To capture the moment if you like. Just like fishing, I suppose, it is still borne of the oldest of human desires, that of hunting.

Snig Hunting

Danny Taylor

Eels have always fascinated me. They have an amazing life cycle, travelling thousands of miles from the Sargasso sea in order to enter our river systems, with some finding there way into the most unexpected of places. Ponds, lakes, reservoirs, lochs, drains, ditches, canals, park lakes, mill lodges etc. It is this that really interests me about the eel, you never know where they could turn up. Often no one even knows if Eels exist in a given water and the only way to find out is to target and capture one. Like most other predators big eels thrive on neglect so there could be a water close to you with no previous form for producing Eels that could just be harbouring “snig” that have grown large left undisturbed for many, many years. Growing fat on all manner of aquatic creatures. They are a powerful fish, demanding strong tackle. They often prefer to feed at night and are rare and elusive creatures all of which only helps to add to there mystery and appeal. To me they now represent the ultimate challenge in freshwater angling.

Last summer I was at a bit of a loss as to what to target, but after watching an excellent talk by top Eel angler Barry McConnell I was well and truly inspired to have a bash at these enigmatic predators. But where should I start? What venues where worth trying? What bait should I use? How would I cope with handling and unhooking Eels. I had a “thousand” questions but this is what I wanted a challenge! It was like starting angling again from scratch and it breathed fresh life into my fishing.

I began to soak up information like a sponge. I Joined the N.A.C and read everything I could get my hands on relating to Eels and Eel fishing (which did not amount to much). Eventually after a few practice sessions catching “bootlaces” on a local “cut” I felt a little more confident with rigs and the handling and unhooking of Eels. It was now time to hunt for a specimen “Snig” but where?

There are a couple of key points to consider when it comes to choosing a venue for big Eels. One of the most important factors is pressure. Has the venue been netted in the past? Has anybody targeted the water for Eels? If the answer is no then the water is worth considering. The next and for me one of the most important factors is the age of a water. The older the better. As the Eel is such a long lived creature it stands to reason that the older the water is then there is more chance that Eels have found their way in at some point and if left alone will have had time to grow big. Another interesting thing to consider is the phenomenon of “prison waters” As eels can easily find there way into the most unusual of waters they can often quite simply just leave. Occasionally they will enter a water where they become trapped - a “prison water” these are classic big eel waters. Waters change over time and just because you think that it would be impossible for eels to get in there, it may not mean that they are not present. If the water is of sufficient age then anything is possible. Couple this with sufficient fodder fish and you have the perfect ingredients for creating the ideal habitat for big eels.

After a bit of homework I was lucky enough to come across such a water and it ticked all the right boxes. Situated within an urban park was an old boating lake in excess of 100 years. Mature trees towered over the lake and marshy reedbeds encroached the water. The water had an old island with knarled and cracked willows which where collapsing with age. There twisted and torn roots probing into the water. It was fished by pleasure anglers and a few lads who targeted the handful of big carp which the water held. When I did some “digging” as to the presence of Eels most looked at me as if I had two heads, the common response being “nay lad thas no snigs in ere”.

I walked the perimeter of the lake but couldnt find no obvious points of entry for eels. But there was something about the place it just screamed “EELS!” It just felt “right” only one way to find out, I would go with my instincts.

As with all the best laid plans there will always be hurdles to overcome and the boating lake had a few. Firstly it was not the most pleasant place to fish. Looks can be deceptive, although the lake looked inviting the surrounding area was, lets say………………ROUGH. Like fishing on the set  of “Shameless” Gangs of “feral” kids and “smack heads” roamed the park after dark drinking, fighting, thieving etc. The walkway around the lake was used as a short cut by drunken pub and club goers from the local town. So as you can see it didn’t exactly lend itself to a comfortable nights Eel fishing. 

Oh! I forget to mention it, there was no night fishing. Great! But I wasn’t going to let a small detail like this spoil my plans. The water was rarely bailifed at night, after all who would be mental enough to want to fish there. On the other hand I didn’t want to draw attention to myself so I decided that discression was the best form of valour. I decided to fish in the swampy reedbeds. They reached above head height and gave perfect cover, it would be muddy and uncomfortable but I felt it would be the perfect place to fish from, remaining undetected. I would only approach and fish the water as darkness fell and then leave like a “thief in the night” as the sun rose. Nights where short at this time of year so there would be no need for bivvies and beds. Just me a seat and the rods. Real night fishing for only the “hardcore”. I love to fish like this, sat by the rods in the dark, awake not sleeping, my senses truly tuned into every night time noise and movement.

 

Tactics had to be considered. I had a feel for the lake as I had previously fished there for the carp. It was very shallow and incredibly silty, any weight greater than an ounce and the lead would “plug” in so deep that it would take the full TC of the rod to budge it. The water also contained hoards of hungry “bait” fish which meant that using worms and maggots was out of the question. I opted to fish a very light running ledger (¾ ounce) on 15Ib line to a 15Ib wire trace and size 4 single hook. Bait was to be small Rudd as fresh as I could get them. I didn’t want to take any unnecessary equipment to the lake so this meant “snatching” a few baits from a small pond on the way to the lake. For bite indication an alarm and “carp style” bobbins where used.
    

I had the Friday off work so I began my assault on the Thursday night. It had been a nice bright, warm day with gentle southerly winds which eased off to nothing as dusk descended. I arrived at the lake to find a couple of pole anglers and a gang of teenagers fishing who where more intent on “smashing” in a crate of booze than catching fish. I left the gear in the car and sat on a bench cracking open a can myself. I surveyed the water, Roach topped, Grebes dived and a Carp “boshed” by the island crashing down sending ripples pulsing outwards like a watery crop circle. It felt good to be here despite the waters reputation. I imagined what awaited me tonight and as the shadows lengthened and the sun began to sink in a blaze of crimson reds and pinks my excitement grew. This was the unknown, something that I crave for in my fishing and something that until now had been lacking for some time. Dusk crept across the park, the last of the anglers packed up and left, now was the time. I grabbed the gear and made my way round to the reedbeds, I disappeared into them undetected, like entering a tropical jungle, I pushed and sloshed to the waters edge. By the time I got there I was sweating in the sultry evening air attracting swarms of biting mozzies that had a taste for blood.

Rods where pocked through the reeds, one towards the island, one down the margins and a third just off the island. I settled down in my chair poured tea and took in the nights atmosphere. Time trickled by but the anticipation remained. Another hour and the doubts like nagging demons began as i questioned myself. What was I doing here? Where there even Eels in here? This is shite, BBBBEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP! Left hand rods away, a strike and nothing. I stood there numb, there was  not long left of the night, it could have been my only chance. Gutted! I only had half a small bait left due to some mis-casts, so with the last hope impaled on the hook I sent it out to the extreme left by a submerged snag branch. It was only a foot deep here but something told me to put it there.


Slumping back in the chair I zipped up my fleece as the night air cooled. The water was still like black steel. The world slept and the sky turned from black to a deep blue as the last of the nights stars burnt out as dawn approached. The first notes of the dawn chorus had begun when the recently re-cast rod went into meltdown. No preliminary bleeps or warnings. The line just tore off the spool as the alarm let out a single one tone, piercing the still dawn air as the bobbin tried to smash through the alarm. Picking up the rod I knocked off the bait runner and the rod pulled down hard as an un-seen force took line from the reels clutch. At first due to the ferocity of the run I thought that a carp had picked up the bait but as I pumped the fish back a strange thumping sensation transmitted down the rod telling me that this was no carp.

 This tug of war lasted a  minute or so but steady pressure soon had the fish on the surface. There in the half light a snake like form writhed and thrashed churning the calm water to a frothing foam, this Eel was massive and my head and legs went! I got it to the net but I just couldn’t get its body over the drawstring. Twice I lifted the net putting the rod down thinking the eel was in and twice more the fight began from scratch. I was now a mess convinced I had lost the fish of a lifetime. Finally I heaved its head almost up the net handle before I saw the Eels tail collapse into net. Relief and adrenaline flooded my body.I had done it on my first night! Resting it in the net I couldnt believe its size. At first the Eel was well behaved, probably exhausted from the fight. I took the opportunity to flick the hook out which was perfectly impaled in its lower lip. I popped my prize into a sack and then set about tidying the swim and sorting out my camera and weighing gear. Once all this was done I retrieved the sack from the margins, one thing that will always stick in my mind from the night was just how warm the water was. It really was a perfect morning, plumes of mist rose from the waters surface in the soft morning light and birdsong filled the air.
 

Un-zipping the sack I now took time to admire my prize. The Eel was in perfect condition, unlikely to have ever felt the touch of human hands. It had a lovely two-toned coloration. Various shades of brown merged into a beautiful silvery pearl underbelly. I gazed into its jet black eyes trying to imagine what events had befallen this fish during its strange almost timeless existence. “As old as the hills”.


On the scales the Eel pulled the Reubens round to 6Ib 10oz. An awesome fish and one that will burn bright in my minds eye for many years to come. I set up the self-timer on my camera, cradling the fish, I captured its image a very personal moment for me. Just me the Eel alone on a perfect summers morning. As I slipped the fish back into the muddy waters of the lake I wondered if it would ever be captured again? Would it die? Or would it leave the water in search of pastures new. Who knows ?....... that’s Eel fishing more questions than answers. 

Family Fortune

Jay Barnes

I have met and fished with some great people over the years and formed some good friendships,shared great days fishing and had many many laughs along the way.As this is my first article i would like to share a season that most sticks out in my mind. A special one shared with my dad (Buddha) and my son Josh in my boat fishing the Broads and rivers.

The winter season was fast approaching,the annual PAC Convention had taken place, gear was sorted,the freezer was crammed full of deadbaits and for once i was well prepared for the season ahead. The only downside was this all coincided with my old man having his hip replacement operation around the second week of October.......Bummer!. Just how much of the coming season would he miss I asked myself ?. Oh well, more fish for me.... or so i thought !

At the time my son Josh was doing a fair amount of fishing with me, so it was just the two of us that got the family season underway while dad Buddha was preparing himself for his looming hip operation. Our first few trips out that season did not really amount to much, apart from the usual few jacks and odd small double all mainly falling to livebaits. Josh did manage to hook one of the biggest eels I've ever seen on a whole lamprey but sadly we didn't get it into the boat to weigh it as this enormous eel threw the hooks at the side of the boat.

With the season now underway and a good few trips under our belts Buddha had just  had his new hip operation,so a quick visit up to the hospital to see how he was doing was in order. On getting in to see him the day after his op it was clear to see he was doing just great,in fact they had him up out of bed even taking a few steps. OUCH the thought of it !.Perhaps i will have him back out in the boat fishing sooner than i thought. As it happens it was two or three weeks following his operation when I managed to get him into the car and to a little swim we could park the car close to.Just a couple of hours fishing and a blank, but at least i had got the old man out the house.

The following few weeks and we are into November and things were now on the UP! Josh and I had been out in the boat together catching several nice fish up to 19lb off the river, all on static dead baits, the only thing missing from our boat was Buddha.

Getting home one evening i called in to see if Buddha fancied getting out the following day with us, although the fishing was good he wasn't overly keen as it had only been around 5-6 weeks since his operation.I did however convince him that as long as i could get him in the boat with no problems then the rest would be plain sailing so to speak.

The next day saw all three of us in the boat together for the first time in what felt like years. I found Buddha a nice big comfortable chair sat him down and we were off up the river. Great ! On reaching our first swim a mixture of static deads and livebaits were cast out all round the boat and straight away we were into fish, several small fish were boated in the first hour then it switched off , a quick move further along the river was decided. Josh had lifted the front mud weight and i assumed everyone had sat down, we both had but Buddha hadn't quite. Then when i gave it a bit too much throttle on the outboard he ended up in a big heap down by my feet !  "Ooops sorry mate" I said once I had checked his leg was still attached to the rest of him.I got him back in his seat and saw he wasn't in too much pain but I couldn't help but laugh,he wasn't very impressed at all though!. Two or three other swims were fished that day that all produced fish but nothing above 12lb or so, a great day was had none the less and importantly we had Buddha back!.

Over the coming weeks and leading towards Xmas it was mainly Josh and I getting out and very occasionally Buddha. Some good catches were made with plenty of nice doubles thrown in. The fishing just seemed to be  getting better and better each time we went out. Looking back now it seemed we just couldn't do wrong. With Xmas fast approaching i decided on long holiday from work to get a bit more fishing in ( Oh ! the beauty of being self employed)

With Xmas now upon us  the next trip out would be Josh and I on Boxing day with Buddha joining us both the following day.With the boat launched and leaving the slip we noticed a huge number of cormorants were working a very tight area close by. What do i do.... get back to where we had been on previous trips or give this area a go?. As we were only fishing a half day i decided on staying put and see what this area might just throw up. Bang! Josh cast out and he had hardly put his rod down when he shouted he was away, great stuff i thought and even better a new p.b for Josh was netted, a fish just shy of 20lb , He was all smiles until i told him i had left my camera at home ! He was extremely happy with his new PB but absolutely gutted he did not get a picture as you can well imagine. The rest of the day was hectic to say the least, with good sized doubles caught and plenty of them. As we packed up I thought it a shame we'd only had half a day at them, would they still be here tomorrow ?

The next day as planned Buddha joined us and at first light just like the day before we were out and boat launched. Again there were loads of cormorants working in the same tight area, a small channel some 200 yrds long appeared to be stuffed with silver fish. A mixture of deads were cast all around the boat and we were soon into decent fish yet again, great stuff! . Several doubles to 18lb were caught during the morning before the runs dried up so we decided on a little move of probably no more than about fifty yards. Baits were cast out and Josh was "in" again almost straight away ,the fish was netted and weighed and was yet another PB for him at 23.08. A quick couple of pics were taken this time and on putting the fish back i noticed one of  my floats sliding away.This fish didn't feel too bad either, on netting her i thought maybe the fish was another 20 and so she was at 22.10. Result !.

As the day went on a few more fish were boated before Buddha joined us with a 20 as well at 21.04. We had never managed together to all have a 20 in the boat on the same day until this day. It really was  a great day for the three of us!

Unfortunately the next few days were spent away at the In-laws for the New Year. Christ did that time drag, thinking about what we could be missing out on fishing wise, selfish bugger that i am lol !. When we did eventually get back out  a week had past. But the fish were still there and yet again decent doubles were soon being boated again all to static deads.I recall  thinking Blimey does fishing get any better that this !. We fished that same area all day and finished with a stack of good doubles between us and another 3 x 20s, all to me, the biggest going 23lb.

A day or two went and it was decided to have yet another go , this time though a couple of other boats were poking about so it was decided to bypass the swim and perhaps give it a go later in the day. We crashed down to reality as four or five swims up river were fished and we were now blanking big time. With the day running out. fast we decided to get back to the hot swim for last knockings, we had about an hour of daylight left.

On getting back the other boats had gone, GREAT ! . Baits out and it wasn't long Buddha was first in with a 23.10 , shortly after i had a 22.06 then Buddha came up trumps again with a 21.08. All these fish literally caught in the last hour of daylight. We only had three runs on that day with the result being another 3 x 20s. Happy days!. We fished the following day and to be honest it became hard going, not that i was complaining, we had just had some of the best days sport we had ever shared together.What did it matter if we blanked?.I did however manage a low 20 at last knockings.

That was pretty much it for the hot swim that season, so our efforts were concentrated elsewhere but our success  continued with a few good fish caught throughout the season no matter where we went. As i said earlier, i was a season where it seemed we couldn't put a foot wrong. Ending up as one of the better seasons we had with seventeen fish over 20lb netted. Sadly Josh's pike fishing these days plays second place to girls and nightclubs and who can blame him at 19 years old. Hopefully one day though, he will get back into his fishing so he can share the special times that me and Buddha still have together.Even if that does not happen the memories of that season will stay with me for ever !