Zander Hunt: Waking The Sleeping Dogs.

 Driving home after packing the boat down after another successful trip afloat I couldn't help but think that what had just happened was a messy blur and that my brother for all his moaning came away with a huge fish like that. Never mind, I was very happy for him. That however lit a fire under me and I was in the mood to get straight back out....work however had other ideas, a full schedule of clients I saw no gap where I could get out, the issue is taking the boat out needs time and that wasn't looking likely. As always though I am happy to graft and as each client was satisfied and I'd earned my crust, by midday I was finishing up with my last!

 There was no loitering around, I shot straight home and got the little bits of gear I'd packed away the night before and hot footed it out the door and back on the road, with no time to waste I picked Brian up on the way and with empty roads at my mercy the Zander hunt was back on. It had been just 23 hours since I set my new personal best twice. Typically I would be happy for months afterwards, the simple fact Richard had caught that beast the previous night my competitive side crept through and my focus was attempting to trump him. I was on the hunt. It had been a while since I felt so invigorated to catch fish, I guess that's why I fished quite well as a kid as we used to push each other to succeed in many aspects of childhood.

 Conditions were identical as the previous day and a big tide was expected again, just the recipe I hoped for. Why I was hoping for this I'm not entirely sure but I feel that some of the logic behind it that has bounded around my head may well ring true to a certain extent. The bigger tides obviously seem to move bait fish from their normal haunts and into the more unknown territories where predators lye in wait for an easy meal. Now, having been fairly successful earlier in the previous day I hoped for something similar. So having got close to the mark where I had my two (7.13 & 9.01) a bait was popped down and as we both got comfortable my float bobbed and sailed away, before I could hit it the float came back up and on close inspection a couple of puncture holes were present. A Zander for sure!

 I knew we were in the right place, we had to keep going and not long after I had another dropped take...was I going to rue those dropped runs? It certainly seemed so as after ten minutes and three dropped fish the activity stopped just like the day before and our floats lay lifeless..then, out of nothing, Brian's float danced on the surface momentarily before plunging under the surface, when he put a firm strike in his rod it bent double and we knew a big fish was on the other end, within twenty seconds she came up to the surface and rolled, showing off her massive silvery flanks, as she did that a massive boil came up on the surface and she was gone, I looked to Brian and the look on his face  said it all, it was a big fish! I saw most of it and I knew it was a double.....

 Luck plays a massive part in angling and it was certainly missing there. That was it for well over an hour before anything else happened, a half hearted tug on my float was all that broke up the endless wandering of the float in the flow. We constantly changed the depths that our baits were working at and hoped it would change our fortunes and induce a run or two. Alas, there was no such luck and I was beginning to see the writing on the wall. With such perfect conditions I honestly thought we would have done better.

 Dusk rapidly came and went with only one little bob of the float and Brian had a couple of enquiries before he packed his rod away, the light levels were gone and I could only make out a tiny silhouette of my float, twenty minutes after dark had settled in I could just make out the float vanish from sight and a powerful jolt shot through the rod, whatever it was I struck into it and held on for dear life. Within seconds a powerful surging run sent me into a nervous wreck, I had no idea what I'd hooked and in the dark it was daunting. No torch on board didn't help but that didn't stop Brian from getting ready with the net. About thirty feet from the boat a massive boil opened out on the surface, like something from a horror film! I was trembling with a combination of excitement and fear.

 Seeing the fish roll on the top I was certain it was a Zander, the surging runs Pike make didn't materialise, it could only mean one species. Knowing that, I prayed the treble stayed in place and that I would get the chance to see what I was playing. Three minutes roughly of being in contact with this fish it was finally on its way to the boat, Brian did his best to miss the fish with the net but somehow we coaxed her in! The treble came out in the net!!! How lucky was that?!

 Owing to it being so dark and peering into the net as she along us I couldn't get a decent gauge on it, so whilst I soaked up the glory of a last gasp catch myself and Brian wondered whether it was worth continuing and thought it would but having only just see my float go under it was going to be difficult to continue so with that we folded down the rods and went ashore. Only then, we got a good look at the Zander did it dawn on me I had cracked the double figure barrier and boy, what a specimen it was too! When she came into the net I thought it was roughly the same size as my best from the day before, that thought was banished once I had seen all of her on the mat. The rest was a blur as I knelt posing with one of the most impressive creatures I've had the pleasure of catching!

A new personal best of 11.9.

 To celebrate we went to the pub and rose a couple to the river and its gift.