THE MYSTERY OF MONSTER EELS
As dusk fell my heart-rate rose, but would these enigmatic fish hunt out my hookbaits?
THE heat of the day lingered over the lake long after sunset.
Storms were predicted by dawn, but until then there was no let-up in the oppressive weather. I could stay at home and struggle to sleep or I could head to the lake and do the same! So it was no contest.
With the moon waning and the water temperature close to that of a warm bath, most species were taking a break, but not the eel. This most mysterious of predators would go on the hunt at dusk, stirring up the silty bottom as it devoured freshwater mussels and water snails.
The rudd shoals weren’t safe either, and with a snake-like strike plenty of these prey fish wouldn’t survive the night.
An eel angler has to be blessed with a pioneering spirit. Other than another angler telling me he had caught one from the gravel pit a week earlier I had no idea what was in store. For all I knew there could be one eel or a hundred in there, but that is what makes eel fishing special.
Every capture adds a little more to our thirst for knowledge, and for me it was a pleasant change to fish with an element of mystery.
All I prayed was that the lake wasn’t full of bootlace eels.
I’d been there before and it’s an experience I hope never to repeat. Wrestling tiny eels all night with the alarm never falling silent is one of the few forms of fishing I don’t enjoy.
As midnight approached I had little time to waste. Ten small roach were quickly added to my bait menu of worms and prawns and kept fresh in a bait tube. Sadly for them, they were to be my deadbaits!
I loaded up three reels with 15lb line and set them up on 2lb test curve rods. My terminal tackle was very simple – I was using a run ring with a buoyant boom, sold as a marker float stem. A bead prevented it slipping over the swivel, and 2ft of 25lb Amnesia made up most of the hooklength.
Next came a smaller swivel attached to 4ins of wire. To begin with I used the soft version that I favour when fly fishing for pike. I thought it would be perfect, but I was wrong, and I’ll come back to that
a bit later. Hooks were either Kamasan B745s or Drennan Super Specialists, both in size 2.
Now I was almost ready. Time to set up the indicators for a resistance-free system and an open bail-arm.
Many bite alarms simply don’t work without a taut line pulling the wheel round. Despite working on this principle, my ancient Optonics were sensitive enough but, alas, they had seen better days.
My new alarms worked on vibration and, if anything, were an upgrade. Teamed with these were Zandavan rollover indicators that work on a swinging arm principle and are resistance-free. With dusk falling I halved a rudd deadbait and fished the head on a barbless Super Specialist hook.
On to the first Kamasan hook with the barb flattened I put a lobworm broken into sections, but the attentions of small rudd soon put paid to that idea. So on the remaining two rods I decided to fish prawns, which sat perfectly on the long shank with the point exposed. To stop them slipping around the bend I fixed them in place with elastic. The water in front of me was now fully covered by a spread of three rods, and I was fishing just as the bats were coming out.
The humidity was oppressive and there was no need for a sleeping bag, as the temperature was above 20°C. The storm would break soon in the heatwave, but it was my concentration that was broken first. A series of bleeps on the alarm were followed by the sound of my indicator falling back after several coils of line had peeled off the spool.
I picked up the rod and held the mono between my thumb and forefinger, the eel’s distinctive plucks resonating electricity up my arm.
I struck, the rod-tip bounced and somewhere out in the dark water an eel thrashed. I immediately knew it was a good fish, so when the torchlight picked out a long silvery streak swimming backwards in a bid to avoid the net I wasn’t surprised.
At 3lb 15oz it was a great start, and before I had time to rebait another three-pounder had devoured my prawn and paid
“The eel’s distinctive plucks resonated electricity up my arm”
the price for its greed.
What I found fascinating was the difference between these two fish – one displayed shades of grey, while the other had distinct lines of yellow and green along its flanks.
Incredible eels both, and of a size worth losing sleep over.
With my rods rebaited I knew another bite would come soon, because the eels had clearly left their daytime refuges to satisfy their appetites.
I visualised fish moving with snake-like sinuosity around the fronds of weed, using the cover of darkness to hunt undetected.
I only stopped dreaming when the alarm called out once again. The moment I engaged in battle the head lunges were bigger and so, too, was the strength of the eel as it dragged line from the clutch. No worries, though, because my tackle was stout enough to handle the situation – or so I thought!
All this time the soft wire trace was being frayed thread by thread. The tiny teeth of this eel were far more abrasive than those of a pike, but I was oblivious to this potential disaster. Luckily we didn’t part company, which was just as well because this was a big fish.
It went 5lb 12oz, a perfect predator with a long silver belly and a back of grey and blue.
I was ecstatic to meet such a wonderful creature which I’d been so close to losing.
This special night was about to get even better after I changed the wire to 15lb Drennan Green.
Three four-pounders and half-a-dozen ‘threes’ followed, eels of such a brilliant average size that by dawn I was feeling a little light-headed.
Was this euphoria at a new personal best or just sleep deprivation? One thing was for certain, I’d enjoyed one of the best nights of the summer.
For some, eels are the stuff of nightmares – but not for me!