All the gear, no idea” is an accusation often aimed at anglers who have more kit than wit. More money than sense. Shiny tackle but dim-bulb knowledge. Believe me, many times I’ve sneered at men who think they can ‘buy’ fish on the bank by flashing the cash in the tackle shop. Yet recently, I proved myself to be exactly that type of witless, shortcutting, piscatorial pretender.
Let me set the scene. It’s February. Sea fishing is off. Gale-force winds and essential repairs have left me landlocked. So I gamely suggested to my pals Paul Quagliana and Small Paul (by way of differentiation) that we go zander fishing in the Grand Union Canal.
I have been an avid zanderman for more than 30 years. I used to own a lovely spot of zander fishing on the river Lark near Ely and have written at length about my ‘knowledge’ of catching big zander.
Truth is, since I became obsessed by sea fishing and moved to Dorset, far away from the Fenland drains and midland canals where zander flourish, I haven’t dirtied my tackle or bent my rod on a zander for years. February is not a good time to catch zander. Or any fish, really. Cold temperatures mean fish feed less, move less and spend much of the day in torpor.
Lying in bed at night planning our trip, I got nervous. Were we about to drive hundreds of miles and spend two days on the bank, catch nothing, get no pictures and waste everyone’s time — all because of my whim, and my errant belief that I knew something about zander.
Retail therapy
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