Zander Update

I've got an itch that I cannot quite scratch. Sitting between two anglers who caught zander and failing is a hard pill to swallow. 

I've kept my eye on the weather and applied much thought to the cause. Yesterday was to be the day. I'd sorted through the freezer for some fresher bait and had pondered an approach with less resistance to the taking fish.

I collected Neil, threw him the keys, and he drove me to Gloucester. We headed for the spot that produced last time, and Neil allowed me to steal his swim. I'm rarely happy when taking the goer swim. I prefer to do all of the work, but this choice was logical as it gave access to many features. I set about sorting a couple of new hooklinks, size 2 circle hooks to a supple braided link. There are few pike in the canal when compared to the zander, it just felt worth the risk of a bite-off.

Out went rod one, and I set about sorting number two. I became distracted by a large fish rolling just beyond a boat between the Boy and me. It swirled again, and the penny dropped. By the time I got to Neil, he was looking for his scales as the fish rested in his landing net. I called him a few unfatherly names and peeked into the mesh, "PB there I reckon". Considering this was only his second zander, it was a good step up the weight ladder, and the scales showed a healthy 8lb 2oz. More insults and a swathe of photos later, and I returned to get my second rod out.

I was happy for Neil. There is no animosity between us, and he has become a very competent angler. There's no time for jealousy as we fish as a team. But his 'luck' is getting ever stronger as I seem to have lost that vital edge to my own fishing. I sat, poised over my rods, a section of lamprey on one, and a several-times-refrozen little roach on the other, that having been Neil's successful bait. 

A little later, I had a flying run on the roach rod. The line was pouring out, and the strike/tightening seemed a mere formality. I hit fresh air. Not even a mark on the bait. And that was that. One twitch was all that followed. It got cold. 

Neil popped his head around the corner to show me that he can also catch small zander. He put it back and rolled up again with, "Ever caught a zander on a centre pin?" He'd put a rod out virtually under his feet. and had an almost immediate take. I told him to be careful not to trip over his halo.

So endeth Trip 2, and I'm even more determined to catch something bigger than my ancient pb of 4lb 9oz. It can't be too difficult - can it? I shall be back, but probably when the weather is a little milder.

8.02 

The Predicted Zander

Monday the 1st. The weather was not as bad as expected; the rain passed through, and it was mild. Perfect fishing conditions. However, I stayed away from the rising river as I'm still smarting from my last visit that saw me stuck on a muddy slope for the evening..... and for most of the next day. I told Nicky that I needed a 4x4 but, to maintain marital harmony, I chose a shitty front-wheel drive Hyundai. That will soon change.

On Tuesday, I awoke to find a message from Mark on my phone. He'd dreamt that he caught a small zander and a pike. Being as Zander were our target, I hoped it was an omen, and the fact that he'd caught them from a tiny, dirty stream was just his brain screwing with him.

So, there I was, yesterday morning, squinting through the low sun that bored into my retinas as I drove towards Gloucester. I had almost reached Neil's place in Hereford, intending to save him the fuel money, when the phone rang. My maggots were still in the fridge - bugger! Back I went, Neil drove himself, and later than intended, we met up with Mark at the pub car park. 

The choice of where to fish was obvious as a barge turning area was just a short walk away. Plenty of features, shelter from the boats and a provenance for good fishing. Mark slipped in between a couple of moored boats, Neil went around the bay and fished a corner spot that gave him great scope, and I was on the corner opposite him. 

I tackled up with float gear, plumbed around a bit and found a perfect ledge. I baited with maggots and fed them along with some blitzed bread, hoping to bring in more small fish and also attract some predators to the banquet. Right from the off it was a bite a chuck. A small roach that suited my bait needs, cut into two and two zander rods were soon out. The roach kept coming, including a proper one of 12oz or maybe a tad more. Dr Redfin was on hand and judged it slightly bigger, it really didn't matter. I also had a perch and a ruffe, which are fast becoming my favourite small species. Move over gudgeon, the ruffe are moving up. 

I was getting bites, and despite the bright conditions, Neil had a couple of abortive takes on his zander rods. The mood was positive and I relaxed into the canal atmosphere of friendly dogs and shapely joggers. Then it rained.

Mark and I were chatting in his swim when his wobbling rod, left as a sleeper-rod, began 'wobbling'. I drew Mark's attention to the fact and he landed a small zander. Job done. He followed up a bit later with a screaming run on a dead roach. It was obviously a pike and it certainly fought harder than his first fish. 

Meanwhile, the small fish had completely switched off. I couldn't buy a bit anywhere in my swim. I was getting sharp runs but nothing that hung on. Thinking back, Marks' both had come on rigs with none or very little weight on them whereas mine had a little lead but was it too much?

Dusk came. Earlier in the day, Mark had quipped that we 'had them surrounded', to which I added, 'We attack at dusk'. My baits though, were left completely untouched but, through the gloom, I saw Neil stand and adopt a fighting position. Quickly, I was at his side as he netted a 6lb zander. He was over the moon, as was I. That it was better than my PB, I forgive him. He had stuck it out on a frustrating day and was rewarded with his first zander - brilliant.

We had a bite at the pub then, I drove home, squinting my eyes through fog and mist. 

It only occurred to me, and indeed Mark, this morning that his dream had come true - for him. Strange.