EELS, ENIGMATIC AND UNCATCHABLE.
When we were teenagers, my friends and I would book ourselves in to Mrs Sainsbury's guest house across the lane from Throop. We met many other anglers there from all over the country and one particular chap always stuck in my mind. He had a really high-pitched, whiny and nasal voice, and hardly a day would go by without him replying to questions about his catches with a complaint about Eels. "Eeeuls, I dont like Eeeuls" was his catchphrase and as teenagers, British teenagers, piss-taking was a way of life. One evening my mate Spud strode into the lounge and loudly announced, "Eeeuls, I don't like Eeeuls!" and immediately a voice right behind him replied, "neethur do I". Nobody laughed obviously but even then, I honestly don't believe he even realised we were taking the mickey.
Well he might not have liked them and goodness knows, bootlaces can be a right royal pain in the arse but I can't help but admire their spirit and fortitude, and the bigger Eels get, the more worthy a quarry they become. In the distant past I did catch a couple of four pound plus specimens on cockles whilst Carp fishing and I've always wanted to update that particular personal best.
As with all my fishing of late, it didn't go to plan. I arrived first at 6pm, hiked the half mile to our chosen spot and set up. It was on a big U bend with a long stretch of reeds opposite that had filled in what was presumably some kind of cattle drink or winding hole. One rod was cast across to the reedline and one dropped into the channel halfway across. Half an hour later, I had a slackliner on the margin rod. Picking the rod up, I felt the line for signs of life and they were there. I wound the hook in and landed a one pound Zander, of course I did; my life as an Eel angler has always been a slightly unpredictable failure.
When I first started deadbaiting for eels, it was on the Lower Thames and the only big fish I caught was a 6lbs Barbel. I caught that on a dead bleak fished off the wall at Chertsey and following the sage advice of every article I'd ever read cranked it mercilessly all the way across the river to my feet whereupon it surfaced and turned my resolve to jelly. Landing it took me another five minutes after that.
No matter, my campaign was spluttering unconvincingly into life. We didn't catch any Eels but I did at least realise that I might manage some by-catch to keep the interest from flagging as I hopefully soak bits of dead fish for endless hours to come. If I switch one rod to lobworms, I might just get a decent Perch here and there as well. Bootlaces may well be easy to catch, although God knows I rarely catch them anymore, but proper, grown-up examples are not proving easy at all. We shall see what transpires over the rest of the summer.
Well he might not have liked them and goodness knows, bootlaces can be a right royal pain in the arse but I can't help but admire their spirit and fortitude, and the bigger Eels get, the more worthy a quarry they become. In the distant past I did catch a couple of four pound plus specimens on cockles whilst Carp fishing and I've always wanted to update that particular personal best.
Consequently, every so often something will happen or somebody will say something that gets me all fired up again; suitable tackle is exhumed and Eels are sought. Now I've always associated Eels with night fishing but it was George this time that got me reconsidering and re-engaged with the idea of catching them. I like night fishing but increasingly, can't be arsed with lugging all the gear necessary for a comfortable session to the bank. George had been talking to an angler who had claimed some considerable success fishing the canals for them but only until closing time. That was music to my ears, and George's too, so we hastily arranged a trial session.
As with all my fishing of late, it didn't go to plan. I arrived first at 6pm, hiked the half mile to our chosen spot and set up. It was on a big U bend with a long stretch of reeds opposite that had filled in what was presumably some kind of cattle drink or winding hole. One rod was cast across to the reedline and one dropped into the channel halfway across. Half an hour later, I had a slackliner on the margin rod. Picking the rod up, I felt the line for signs of life and they were there. I wound the hook in and landed a one pound Zander, of course I did; my life as an Eel angler has always been a slightly unpredictable failure.
When I first started deadbaiting for eels, it was on the Lower Thames and the only big fish I caught was a 6lbs Barbel. I caught that on a dead bleak fished off the wall at Chertsey and following the sage advice of every article I'd ever read cranked it mercilessly all the way across the river to my feet whereupon it surfaced and turned my resolve to jelly. Landing it took me another five minutes after that.
No matter, my campaign was spluttering unconvincingly into life. We didn't catch any Eels but I did at least realise that I might manage some by-catch to keep the interest from flagging as I hopefully soak bits of dead fish for endless hours to come. If I switch one rod to lobworms, I might just get a decent Perch here and there as well. Bootlaces may well be easy to catch, although God knows I rarely catch them anymore, but proper, grown-up examples are not proving easy at all. We shall see what transpires over the rest of the summer.
Comments
Post a Comment