New Zealands Giant Long Finned Eels

Just watched the episode of River Monsters with Jeremy Wade. In this episode he is in New Zealand chasing up a tale from Captain Cooks journal of giant man eating Eels that inhabit the Islands. There's a bit in the programme where he rubby dubbys himself in fish guts in an attempt to prove the brazen man eating nature of the beast. This reminder of my chance encounter with these leviathans, has led me to scouring the loft for the last hour to find & scan the picture above.

My Kiwi bud & I had hiked up to Lake Daniels deep in the Southern Alps for some Trout fishing, the lake is a good 3hr hike up out of the main valley following the Alfred River up to the Manson-Nicholls hut where we had planned to stay the night giving us the chance to fish into the dark.
The place is amazing & after exploring the lake, casting to the resident Rainbows we decided to stop for dinner & wait for the evening rise. As my rucksack is always full of fishing/camping gear & booze, I pretty much gambled on catching dinner, luckily this wasn't a problem. So as I was gutting & cleaning the fish in the margins in my shorts I suddenly got this feeling of encroaching large dark shadows behind me... I turned around, shit myself & left the water like a Jesus Lizard in one swift movement.

Some of the Eels in this gang were as thick as your thigh. Not wanting to miss the opportunity I swiftly rigged up some trout guts on a large hook & bagged the bugger above!

Salford Friendly Anglers' Society

Any readers interested in joining the worlds oldest angling club for free?

Well to find out more about us & to join, visit;  http://www.salfordfriendlyanglers.co.uk/

You can catch up with what we're up to through the blog;   http://salfordfriendlyanglers.blogspot.com/  or you'd be welcome to pop down to one of our meeting at the 'clubhouse' the excellent Kings Arms in Salford.

Cheers
Nick

Bilbo Baggings

1 big brownie, 1 fooked smart phone, 1 happy soaking angler!

Just sat at the laptop its half 7 AM & I am buzzing & its not because I've just come back from an all-nighter!

The Brownie that has been haunting me for the last week or so finally fell for a gently glided in Comparadun under a tree at ten past 6. 

Staying over at mums house as our kid & his family are over from Ireland afforded me the chance to get out on the water first thing. Creeping around downstairs at 5 I was busted by mum, "what you doing up? its five o'clock, you're not going fishing are you?"

"just going to see if that trout's there"

"be careful"

 I approached from the high wooded bank where it tends to be stuck in tight to try & get a view, yep, there it was holding in the current coming up for a sip & then doing its patrol up the outside bend of the meander. I then headed downstream to where I could wade across & creep up on it from the opposite bank. After putting so many hours in on this fish I know you can't wade in on him in his deeper glassy glide so I just crouched down covered by the bank & waited for him to reveal himself. Fly ginked, backcast clear I plopped the fly to a rise, SIP, STRIKE... bollocks, not the biggie. Quickly, I brought in a small trout hoping its trashing about wouldn't spook the whopper.

Back to the start, crouching in position, every sound seems amplified in the cold morning, the rip of velcro, the snap of the gink bottle all sound like they could spook the fish. After 10 minutes or so there's a big swirling rise, I cover it  with the comparadun, it floats past... then, SLURP, STRIKE! the rod bends into a solid fish and for the next 10 minutes I'm praying the fly holds as the fish bores up & down the river trying to shake the hook.

Mid fight, I get out the phone, "mum, bring the camera, I've got it". As I'm trying to sqeeze the fish into the net leaning forward, water comes rushing over the top of my waders, just then I see mum coming across the field in her PJ's & wellies - What a great mum!

 1 big brownie, 1 fooked smart phone, 1 happy soaking angler!

Cure for Roid Rage

A beaut! not the fish I've been stalking, this is his younger brother.

roid rage

roid rage
n.
      side effect of being able to spot lunkers with polaroids but having the inability to catch them.

Cheeky hour

I had to drop the motor into the garage and was told to come back in about hour, so knowing there was a stretch of river nearby I wandered off for a scramble around. I found an accessible section where I could flick a few flies out, wader-less and with the water chocolate coloured and racing through I was restricted to where I could fish. I started by searching out with a couple of nymphs but had nowt, then I stopped to take a call and while surveying the water I heard a gulp about a rod length up and a foot out from the near bank... "sorry, I'm going to have to call you back in a minute"!

I whipped off the point nymph and stuck a dry on, there it was again, gulp. 

First cast got blown up the bank. Second, too far out. Third, just right. As it drifted down it paused for a moment as it swirled in the eddy with the various flotsam, then GULP, ZZZZZZZZZIP, JUMP, SPLOOSH! The fish then ploughed out into the current with it's head down.

I was buzzing, It's great to have a wildy bend your 4wt double.  Happy I headed back to collect the car. On the way back I returned the dropped call... "Sorry about that, I just got tied up".

Dave and Hooky at Greengate Stones

Wandered down to the riverbank in Salford on Saturday morning for the unveiling of the Greengate Stones - Peter Hook from New Order was there to say a few words... mainly that as a kid living in the tower block he was probably responsible for throwing them in in the first place! He looks well chuffed to have his picture taken with Dave the Whippet.

Check out my massive boner

Cyrille Regius

Took the day off on Friday, so headed up to the Lakes Thursday evening to meet up with Tom & his French mate Cyrille. We'd arranged to meet in the pub in Patterdale at 7 that evening, when I arrived Tom was there pint in hand but, no sign of Cyrille, it turns out he's gone to stalk a trout he'd seen in the small beck. Half way through our pint the excited Frenchman turns up wanting for us to get a snap, I obliged as I was keen to see what could have come out of the small stream.

What a corker!

Afterwards we decided to head up the fells to the Tarns for a spot of fishing & wild camping. The going was pretty tough that evening with a strong wind funnelling down from the tops.

Here's a lovely peaty Tarn fish Tom caught earlier that day.

After a shite nights sleep on the softest tuft of grass I could find that wasn't boggy, we headed down off the fells keen to sample some river fishing. First off we went to explore the Greta but, after bumping into the hatchery chap while stopping for a couple of Jennings in the Twa Dogs he convinced us we'd be much better off on the Derwent as the water was really low.

The day was pretty slow due to the heat & light but, we all caught fish. Cyrille was loving it as he's completely obsessed with sight fishing for Browns with nymphs and the day was perfect for spotting fish for later that evening.

Here's the best of the day.

As the sun sank a huge hatch came off & the river became alive with feeding fish. We had one of the best hours in memory casting at pods of rising Trout. The hardest part was trying to keep the fly dry with fish nailing it every try.

it's warming up

all style no guile

Stopped off on the way back home the other afternoon to have a look off a bridge at the state of the river & saw the odd swirl of a fish sipping down, remembering that I had some gear in the boot got me tempted but, apart from the waders all I had to wear was the suit & shirt I was in, undeterred I got in the waders in me duds & kept the shirt on - I must have looked like one of those tits you see in Trout & Salmon spey casting in a shirt & tie!

it's been a while

Just had a top weekend fishing the tarns, lakes & rivers of cumbria. I've broke my camera so stole this pic from Tom's blog; http://tominargentina.blogspot.com/

Rodders Rainbows

Too busy/lazy to post a narrative, so read Tom's : http://tominargentina.blogspot.com/2009/10/lunkseville-bolton.html

troglodyte trouting

Pastures New

Scouting for Trout

The dip in form of my home stretch of river sent me scouting much further up stream. The river in these parts 'aint purdy', it's all culverted & often disappears for stretches beneath dark satanic mills but, 'dare be trout in dem dare hills'.

The river's little more than a stream here but, there's still good fish to be had.

Headed back to the home stretch for last light to skate some Caddis in the dark, the midges foiled us though, even chain smoking couldn't keep them off.

Tweaking out Borrowdale Beckies

The crystal clear water of Langstrath Beck proved too temping on a hot Saturday afternoon. Fortunately Mrs C didn't mind sunbathing while I tried for the resident little beck Trout although she seemed a little miffed when I interupted her sun worship by shouting for her to get a snap.

I love this type of small stream fishing, using little dries in the many pools, it reminded me of fishing with a Spanish friend of mine & Tom's, a top fisherman & tier called Paco from Girona who showed us round the mountain streams in the foothills of the Pyrenees where he fishes. Stood there with a short line & high stick nuts deep in icy water I could almost hear his mantra of 'fly working well'

Return to Jurassic Tarn

Skipped up the M6 Lakesward after work to take on the turbo charged trout that foiled me last time.

The conditions were chilly & blustery with no fish showing so I decided to search them out with a team of 3Here are the culprits responsible for pinging me off last visit, some of the hardest fighting bows I've come across.

Lancashire Ganges

Got to the river last night eager for a fish expecting low clear water only to find it resembling the Ganges - found out today some berk upstream had been excavating & dumping mud & shite in the river... reported it to the EA

As the river was totally unfishable I headed up to a local lodge to try & nobble some of the resident Carp - got this tubby little beaut on a floating crust fished half a foot from the bank whilst crouching in some bushes.