After my first encounter with an estuarine eel, which to a
small boy was just the best thing ever, I was eager to catch more of these
strange, wriggling snake-like creatures. As we had a blanket course closed
season back then all freshwater fishing was off limits, beach fishing was the
natural thing to do.
My Grandad had
given me an old Penn 85 Bakelite multiplier which has no brakes or any
discernibly helpful features, but in retrospect once I'd mastered casting that,
everything since has been childs’ play! It also taught me some new words, how
to unpick almighty birds’ nest tangles, how not to burn layers of skin off my
thumb and also perhaps more importantly that if you persevere with the seemingly
impossible, sometimes you get a nice reward! One of my pals had the
same reel but with a green handle...(mine was a proper red one!) but he used to
get in such a muddle with it, and it was great fun to smugly outdo him whilst
pretending not to know what all the fuss was about! He'd never put the time in
as I had, when the tide was out, all the other lads would be playing football
or cricket...I'd simply make cast after cast over the ploughed fields on the
adjoining farmland. So that was how the Beach Bug took hold. None of my mates
could cast quite so far or without the constant birds’ nests, so they got bored
and drifted off to other things. I however, and it took me a while to work out
why, became pretty good at catching eels! More on that another time, but closed
seasons were now a time of opportunity for even more fishing! What was even
better was that I was getting paid by some of the other residents on the
holiday park for my eels (they weren’t a threatened or protected species in the
1970’s), so it became a bit of a money-spinner enabling me to save up and get
better tackle!
Sometime in mid-summer 1978 I made a significant discovery
on a sunny afternoon when I wasn't fishing. I was idly riding my bike along a
path to the seawall, but instead of going left, which was the way to my usual
marks, I went right...there was nothing that way apart from a lot of marshland
with treacherous mudflats beyond (there was no Google Earth back then), and
no-one except for the odd birdwatcher bothered. I noticed that the borrow dyke behind the
Sea Wall was looking rather tasty, opening right out and lined with reeds, and
fed into by the land drains from the fields. Got to be something in there, just
had to be. So I thought about this all afternoon, and armed with some lobworms,
freshwater tackle and a camping lamp set back off that evening to investigate.
Before long, I'd discovered there were some large and exceptionally hungry
mosquitos resident that couldn't care less that I was smothered in citronella,
but apart from that all was quiet until around just after dusk when something
took a shine to a fat ledgered lobworm. The monkey climber (home-made high tech
and all the rage) shot up and before I knew it was involved in a good scrap
with what felt very much like...a big eel! It slipped over the rim of the net
and by lamplight looked magnificent...not the silver colour that I'd been
catching on the other side of the Sea Wall, but much darker and fuller bodied.
I don't quite remember how many I caught that first night, but since I'd not
been prepared for this or had more than a dozen or so worms, it was a good
result. I got home in the early hours, creeping in so as not to wake my
sleeping parents and brother, having left my bucket of eels outside with the
net on top to prevent a great escape! A few of these eels were duly hawked around the usual customers the next day, and the proceeds paid for a new
rod holdall and new-fangled telescopic landing net handle as I recall! And so
enthralled was I that this was the only fishing I was remotely interested in
for some good while, taking some real specimens up to 6lbs. The following year
1979 saw the public sector strike following the "winter of
discontent" and because our school caretakers were quite militant, that meant
a good few weeks of bonus holiday. Although we were given assignments to do at
home, these weren't much of a stretch, and took up very little time, so that
meant only one thing! Fishing for eels, writing about fishing for eels (sadly
Mum chucked out the manuscript by mistake), dreaming about fishing for
eels...They were not the biggest fish I'd caught but they truly captivated me.
And a specimen angler was unwittingly born.
It's been a little over 30 years since my last cast in the Borrow Dykes, however I often take a look on Google
Earth every now and then, and even visited one afternoon when on business a few
miles away.
And so it was I got to talking with one of my newer
"Brothers of the Angle" about eels. A professional angler, I honestly
don't think there are too many unknown gems particularly as he lives in the
county, but it was a new one to him and sworn to secrecy he was keen to give it
a go. Now I don't know what lurks in those reed lined Dykes today, but with a trip coming up soon, I can say that the old fever is
welling up once more! I look forward to posting about our trip
at a later date, but I'm off down the shed to make a monkey climber!
Tight lines
Sydders
