A fishy tale

I recall this story in order to remain within the "gang" so to speak. It is about an incident which changed the way I looked at things - a wake up call for an obsessed half-wit! It occurred in August 1987 whilst fishing on The Sixteen Foot Drain, just above Three Holes Bridge. It was a period when Zander were high on my list of priorities. I desperately needed to catch a "double" to ensure my PB list was able to be compared favourably with those of my peers - how sad was that? I was serving on the National Executive Committee of The National Association of Specialist Anglers and Regional Coordinator for the Chilterns, therefore, very much a part of this circus and living the dream.

9 lbs 8 oz of Fenland Zed (Oct '85)

Being a fully paid up member of this "big fish" scene, it was thought that we had some kind of magic wand that allowed us to consistently be seen posing with specimen fish. Nothing could be further from the truth, the number of good fish was in direct correlation to the amount of time spent on the bank - it was the start of the era of "the time bandits!"; the late Alan Wilson right at the forefront of this particular revolution. One of life's true gentlemen, he would have been the very first to admit time was his greatest asset, being an ordinary angler in terms of technical skills. Specimen hunters had elevated the status of homeless tramp (no disrespect implied or intended) into hero, a legend of angling folklore - the next generation carp anglers have turned bivvy life into an art form!

Cuddles, a founder member of the TOTW (The Top of the World) Speccy Hunters, with a Fenland Zed - 1984

The late, and awesomely great, Alan Wilson
The original "time bandit" and all round top bloke - the King of Tring!

I embraced this, time compensating for ability, mind-set and happily spent extended periods on the bank, whilst awaiting my target species to play ball. It speaks volumes about commitment as a husband/father that I could justify such effort in pursuit of a fish, thus, on to this particular event. The regular bunch of social misfits and total lunatics had driven up to the venue in order to spend the Bank Holiday weekend fishing for these introduced alien predators. We had no problems with getting Zander to take our baits, our issue was with sorting out the bigger fish - wheat from the chaff? The Sixteen Foot Drain had a decent history of producing fish into double figures, so it made sense, at the time, to concentrate our efforts there. What we didn't realize was how localized the captures had been and that we might as well have been fishing the Grand Union Canal - we were miles off the mark!
We'd set up camp on the bank and had got our rods out, I can't recall who was present during this session, but do know I was not alone - alcoholic haze being a recurring theme during this period of my life, so not much change then? I am unable to say if the live-bait I used was captured from the drain, or we'd brought it with us - those were the days! I had a small bream, lip-hooked, fished on a Dyson rig close to a marginal lily pad. It was at 03.15 hrs on the morning of 31st August 1987 that my ET Backbiter signalled the take. Picking the rod from the rests, there was a decent moon and I didn't require a head torch (just as well - I didn't own one!) - I tightened into a fish before setting the hook and "let battle commence" Bloody Hell! This has to be the one? I found myself playing a fish which had no intention of waving a surrender flag - it surged up and down the drain with powerful determination. Thinking that this was the Zander I so desired, I happily went along with the ruse and treated it like I was connected to a bar of gold! I have no accurate recollection of the period that the battle lasted, just the absolute dismay I felt as I drew the fish over the net - it had a pike's head on it!
It was obviously a good one, but I just couldn't allow myself to be happy - I was fishing, in the dark, for Zander. I went through the ritual of placing the pike into an ET tube then returned to the comfort of my sleeping bag, totally gutted!

17 lbs 1 oz of Fenland pike - probably never seen a hook previously?
What was my problem? It wasn't a Zed - wake up and smell the flowers you prick!

I have no idea as to when my slumbers ended, but it was already well light and I was able to reflect on the events of the previous night. Sure enough, securely pegged in the margins, was my ET tube containing the culprit of my broken dreams. As I lifted the fish from the water I knew it was a decent lump. the scales recording a weight of 17 lbs 1 oz - in the light of the dawn I realized what a complete twat I'd been. It was a, scale perfect, superb pike - probably never seen a hook before? How could I have been disappointed by such a fish? There is no method, known to man, that allows a "Zander only" tag be attached to a bait and, as such, I should be happy with whatever happens. Whilst I was playing the fish, adrenaline levels were at 100%, it was only the realization that I playing a pike which caused a problem - surely the enjoyment was key, not the outcome? Obviously, at that time, not so. It was a major kick up the arse for me - I needed to regain focus, get back to the basics of what angling was all about? If I couldn't enjoy the experience of a night time pike - why bother continuing? The reality slap was a hard one - happily I learnt the lesson and carried on - never did get that double figure Zed - still got plenty of time?