A sudden decision is agreed on just before Christmas. Lets go to Australia and see if we can catch any big eels. At this point our geography of Australia is a bit rusty and we’re not sure exactly whereabouts to go. Last minute research reveals that eels are only found along the east coast. Here, they can only penetrate approximately 200 kilometres inland; up to the Great Dividing Range, which runs roughly parallel with the coast. On the other side of this mountainous spine there is no population of eels – none in the Murray Darling river system, none in the Outback, none in the rest of the entire continent. We also learn that Australia has less available fresh water than any other continent except Antartica. Its lucky that we’ve done our homework or we probably would have headed for the Murray Darling system first to try for eels just because it’s the most important river system in Australia.

Both Longfin and Shortfin eels are found in Australia but it is the larger Longfin we are after. Anguilla Reinhardti is the species of Longfin found in Australia. Anguilla Australis is the species of Shortfin. All the Longfin eels we catch have a marbled and spotted skin typical of the Reinhardti species. Eels are only found along the east coast because of the way eel larvae arrive from the Pacific, borne by currents. These currents reach the eastern shores of Australia where they meet stronger currents running west to east, preventing the migration getting any further west. The run of elvers doesn’t reach Adelaide where the Murray River enters the sea. See Diagram.

Role of ocean currents in disseminating larvae of the temperate eels.

Pete Drabble and myself fly from Manchester to Sydney then hire a car and head for the eel populated Hunter Valley region of New South Wales. We stop in our tracks at Singleton when we see a huge replica of a massive zander-like fish, which turns out to be an Australian Bass. This is on the roof of a tackle and bait shop. In the shop we hear there is a photo of a 57lb eel in the rangers hut at the local lake where it was caught.

Heading on towards the lake we stop at another tackle and bait supplies in Aberdeen. Here we meet Reon who sorts us out for rods. All the rods are short lure fishing rods for fishing out of boats, which is what the Australians mainly do. There is one longer rod. It’s a beachcaster type but it is a bit suspect; its walls look thin and sort of brittle as though they would shatter at the first sign of an eel. In the end there is little choice and we select the strongest of the shorter rods. These are sturdy 7ft carbon rods with a solid tip and they are rated for use with 10-30lb line. There is a bit of a mix up when Pete asks for legers and Reon says that he has none. “Oh” is all Pete mutters, even though he knows he has seen legers in the shop. I help out by describing one and Neon Reon responds with, “Oh, you mean sinkers.” This guy is real genuine, with a great sense of humour and a lifetime’s knowledge of angling. He saves the day on more than one occasion when we are short of bait. 

Water is hard to come by in an Australian drought. Creeks, which some locals suggest we try for eels, have dried up completely. All the farm ponds are dry with a cracked mud bottom. Only big water storage dams and the bigger rivers have any water in. Irrigation pumps are labouring away all along the bigger rivers trying to get their share. It seems quite a serious drought. We learn that access to dams can be a problem, since most dams have restrictions on public access to catchment areas. Don’t bother looking around the dams to see which can be fished because most can’t. Ask in advance and save a lot of driving.

At Glenbawn Lake we follow the advice of locals and start off fishing near to boat launching areas. This is because most of the boats are manned by anglers who go spinning and trolling for bass and yellowbellys, which are highly sought after for the barbie. Consequently, in the evening, when the boats return, the day’s catch of take-able sized fish will be gutted at the waters edge leaving a slick of blood and guts washing into the lake. We hear stories of massive eels lurking here, which kind of adds up.

On my rods I have 16lb line, 15lb wire trace and a size 2 hook. Pete has 20lb line and trace, size 2 hook also. Basic free-running leger rigs are order of the day using 2 to 3 oz weights. The rod is placed in rests, with an open bail arm and a bobbin hanging on the line between reel and butt ring. We have an alarm on the front rest, linked by radio waves to a sounder box, which can go in a tent. Our landing net is the biggest one we could fit diagonally into a large suitcase - at 36 inches it is too small. I use a bigger one for eels in Britain. We are hoping to beach the bigger eels.

 First night Pete lands a 14:04, which is encouraging. He follows this up with a 13 and 14 on the second night. We decide to photo an eel only if it weighs more than 15lb - so I catch a 16.08 for the camera. This turns into a mourning funeral photo because the eel has died in the sack. Admittedly the eel sack is in the margins; but there is a reasonable drop off and a good flow towing along the shore; yet the eel has obviously drowned in the sack. It is my first lesson not to rely on things being like they are in our temperate climate at home.

 We go on to learn that these shallow waters are just too hot to put an eel back into – don’t forget its been 120 all day, much hotter and the water, fish and all, would evaporate leaving just a desert. This realisation is compounded when Pete stands on a breakwater wall and catches an eel from deep water. He returns it to a shallow bay, to one side of the wall, and the eel goes belly-up out in the bay. It can’t breathe, not even when it is many yards off shore where there would be oxygen in any lake in Britain but no, not here, the whole eight feet of water in this bay is either too hot, too lacking in oxygen, or both. Pete wades in and rescues the eel, then takes it back to the spot where he landed it. Here, luckily, it revives completely and is last seen vanishing into the torchlight as we stare down into 30ft of cool well-oxygenated water. A lesson learnt.

After starting with long range casting to moderately deep water, we have gravitated towards medium range casting over very deep water. Our approach is now entirely different to that we have previously adopted for Longfin eels. We aren’t going to catch eels right on the shore during this Australian heat wave this much seems to be for sure.

We hear one story over and again connected with nearly every dam in Australia. Divers going down the dam wall to repair valves encounter eels the size of telegraph poles and request a shark cage to go down in. Here at Glenbawn, the story differs slightly. Police divers go down to recover a drowned body, from the deeps at the base of the dam, where they encounter eels the size of telegraph poles. All that’s left of the body is a skeleton, its flesh, stripped by eels. The first time I heard this story, I remember thinking - what about the turtles and carnivorous invertebrates, don’t they eat flesh? Anyway, since seeing a photo of a 57 from the lake, I have no problem believing the size of eels in these stories.

With all these deep water, big eel stories and with the shallows being too hot to fish we adopt a new motto, which spurs us on as we repeatedly remind one another – THE DEEPER THE WATER - THE BIGGER THE EEL. We find a kind of breakwater wall in one corner near the much bigger main dam wall. Here we are fishing into 30 or 40ft of water. Surely the eels will be here in the deeper, cooler water where there is plenty of oxygen. They are – big ones too. It feels like conger fishing off a jetty. On new years day night my first eel of the year is 19:02 and Pete’s first eel of the year is 23:04. These both remain personal bests to this day. We go on to fish this swim many different nights, catching plenty of doubles - lots of 14’s and an 18. One night Pete gets another monster of 22:10, which he somehow manages to net on his own, as he can’t wake me. The net is too small and we have to sort of bend each eel in half then somehow stuff it into the net. Deep water comes right up to the wall we are on, so, once the eel comes closer in, it‘s like fishing from a boat right above the fish. This helps us to bring heavy fish to the net as we are right above them and don’t have to haul them up a snaggy, weedy shelf as in other swims. Unfortunately we can’t beach the fish here. Furthermore, during the three weeks that we visit this swim, the water level drops until its 5 or 6ft down from our pitch. We don’t quite need a dropnet but it gets tricky at times. I would like to know the weight of the ones we lost, we had some really massive eels on before the line or trace broke. Memories of the experience will stay with me forever. Something really strong and heavy powers off and ploughs through rough ground and snags. Somewhere deep down at the bottom of the lake, somewhere out there, in the mysteriously cool, black void of a moonless night, an unseen, unknown, unstoppable force escapes – a monster. Anguilla Nessie Reinhardti.
 
Nuisance bites are encountered throughout. Often, the bobbin will slowly lift towards the rod then stop. They are odd bites, not quite the full run. All is revealed when we find out it is turtles walking off with the bait. Turtles plague us throughout Australia in all waters and at every depth. Sometimes it seems as though they know you are about to cast some bait in, They will lie, staring at you, with their heads out of the water, before diving to the bottom. Your bobbin then registers that annoying turtle run, or walk as it usually is. Often they will snag our lines around their claws as they swim past, this creates a liner that resembles an eel run. Turtles are regarded as vermin and all the other anglers cut their heads off with secateurs.

We often use fish baits – sections of eel-tailed catfish, which we catch at dusk on bunches of worm and freshwater mussels. The turtles drive us mad as they try to prise the catfish flesh off its thick eel-like skin. Our wire traces get frayed, twisted and generally damaged by them. They attack a trace with their claws and ball it up. This means that we have to keep tying fresh traces and checking the old ones for damage. We lose several eels during the trip; mainly through damaged traces but others are lost when the line frays as it rubs and scrapes on ledges when we find ourselves fishing over rocky drop offs - the short rods are a big disadvantage here. We discover that turtles struggle to walk off with a bigger, heavier chunk of bait and, instead of carrying it off, they will try to pull it apart on the spot. This attention from turtles is messing up the trace without registering a run so we start to look at further ways of reducing turtle nuisance. Wire traces progress to stiffer, more turtle proof, plastic coated, 20lb wire. Baits progress to chicken offal, ox heart and braising steak as we use tougher baits to tough-off the turtles. The eels show no preference; so long as it has meat in it they will find it.  We quite confidently use Spam and luncheon meat when we have nothing else. The locals can hardly believe this bait choice and definitely don’t approve of such chemical, unnatural bait. It works a treat for eels but is too soft to be turtle proof.

We continue to fish the water hard each night but Glenbawn Lake starts to throw up blanks. In six nights - three on the wall and three on other swims - we only get one run. Time to move on

Lake Liddell lies between a power station and a massive open cast coal mine. Liddell is a 3000 acre gravel pit full of carp. Carp are vermin and you mustn’t put them back. We catch a sack-full, keep a couple for eel bait, and feed the rest to some pelicans. After dark we catch loads of eels all weighing between 7 and 10lb. Not as big as we would prefer so we scraped the eel slime off and moved on. 

St Claire Dam is a massive lake at the top of Glennies Creek out in the hills above Singleton. It reminds me of a Scottish Highland loch. There is a campsite with facilities at one end of the lake. The other end of the lake, including the dam, is restricted – no fishing or boating. Thick weedbeds grow along all the gentle sloping margins where there is shallow water. Some rocky sections have steep banks and deep margins where there is no weed. The choice is between long casting to deep water beyond the weed or fishing amongst sharp, jagged, rock ledges. We fish both types of swim and catch eels in every swim. In some swims we actually lose more eels than we land. I even lose a massive eel well above the waterline on one of the steep rocky beaches. I struggle to beach it on my own as the bank is too steep to drag it up - you just can’t lift or drag a 20lb eel with 16lb line. Somehow I encourage and direct one of its forward lurches, get it to swim up on to the bank, then manage to get it further up the beach next to my tent. I put the rod down and grab the line to try and subdue the eel. It rears up like a cobra and lurches its weight forward against the line. Snap, quick wriggle down the beach, and the biggest eel I’ve ever landed gets away without being weighed.

If we had landed everything we hooked on our last night at St Claire it would have been one of the most amazing eel angling sessions ever. We have saved the best for the end and are fishing the favourite looking swim on the last night. It seems, at any one time, as though one or the other of us is playing an eel. Often both of us are playing big eels at the same time. Unfortunately we lose a lot more than we land. It is a difficult swim since there are extensive weedbeds going 20-30 yards out into the lake where there is a steep, rocky drop off into deeper water. Fishing at long range with braising steak for bait I land three doubles and lose twice as many. Pete has a similar experience and loses just as many as they ‘go to ground’ in the weed and lie unmovable, on the bottom. At three in the morning I hook a good eel and manage to raise it up and over the rocky ledges, after which it ‘goes to ground’ in the dense bed of soft weed. It feels as though the eel is lying on the bottom in the weed about 15 yards out. I don’t know why but I’m sure it’s still on, even though it isn’t moving. I give it some line to see if it will come out by itself but no, it won’t move. I then keep a tight line on this eel for about 10 minutes waiting for it to move. When I say a tight line I mean any more pressure and the line or rod will snap. In the end I decide not to wait any longer, perhaps the eel has gone and left me snagged. There is nothing for it but to pull for a break. Pointing the rod towards the bait I hold everything tight and walk backwards. The line stretches and stretches then something moves and I gain a few inches, tighten down and walk backwards again. I drag something a couple of feet, wind down and tighten up to find myself playing a massive eel, which rises from the bottom. I actually land this one and it goes 17:11, so what did the ones that just ‘went to ground’ in the weed weigh?

We drive down to Victoria near Melbourne and visit the massive Gippsland Lakes, which have some famous silt jetties on the mouth of the Mitchell River. Some of these lakes are so big you can’t see across them. It is hard to differentiate between sea and freshwater zones within this system as levels fluctuate seasonally. We have two blank nights but find some eels on the third night. We are on a freshwater stretch of the river just above the tidal reach. Consequently the river backs up or runs off according to the tide. After dark the place is alive with millions of shrimps, whitebait and yabbies along with absolutely masses of carp, spiny bream and many other unidentified species. Some monstrously big predators can be heard crashing into shoals of 5 to 10lb fish, scattering them into the moonlight as though they are roach avoiding a pike strike. We aren’t sure quite what to expect. Will some big, weird sea fish seize the bait?

 Pete is going on about gummy sharks when I get the first run of the night on lamb heart cast in the near margins. The line rips off just like an eel run. The strike connects with something that nearly wrenches my arm out of its socket as a big fish savagely bucks the rod. No doubt about it, “Pete I’ve got an eel, a good one”. Pete grabs the camcorder and lamp while I proceed to net the eel single-handed. We have decided to net our own eels so the other person is free to film the event – camcorder in one hand, spotlight in the other. Since the net is only 36 inches, there should be plenty of drama during the solo netting of a massive eel. I get lucky and somehow manage to get this 12:12 eel to back - tail first - into the net.

Half an hour later, the next run connects with something much bigger. Since the line is only 16lb I’ve got to be careful. Forget using brute force tactics here; the tables have turned and the eel on the other end is the brute force. I keep a tight line while slowly inching the eel towards me, successfully manoeuvring it over the net two or three times but each time it plays awkward and I struggle to get its tail up in the water and into the net. Suddenly the eel decides it’s fed up with being lulled and subdued into staying calm. It gets angry and decides to go. Turning round, it is now swimming head first and away from me instead of swimming backwards as it has until now. I can’t turn its head – its too heavy. The eel is big enough to go where it wants and uses its weight to power off - unstoppable. Gone. The line breaks.

Pete with the largest Eel of the trip at an incredible 23lb – 04oz.	Barry’s best Eel from their Australian expedition weighing 19lbs – 02oz.

Next eel is 11:06 followed by a 9:06, which is taken by an unusual lamping technique. We lamp an eel in the margins, until it shies away from the torchlight and backs off, down the shelf towards the bait. It then takes the bait and is caught. No other species are caught. Lambs heart has proved to be selective as an eel bait.

Other species found in the dams and rivers are Australian Bass to 7 or 8lb, Silver Perch to 6 or 7lb and Golden Perch, also known as Yellowbellys, which grow to over 20lb. Eel-tailed Catfish, as their name suggests, have the same marbled and spotted colouring and texture of skin as the Longfin eels we caught. The cats grow to about 5 kilos. They are also dangerous as they have venomous spines so you have to be careful how you handle them. Last, but not least, is the most sought after freshwater fish in Australia, the Murray Cod, this is another zander-like fish, which grows to over 100lb. The best place for all these species is in the bigger rivers, which are mainly on the other side of the divide where we didn’t fish because there’s no eels over them there hills.

If I were to go again I would make sure to get the tackle right. What we really needed is 12ft long rods with a 4lb test curve, such as used for treble figure catfish in Europe. These rods would be used with big fixed spool reels, 45lb line and the biggest landing net possible. There would be so much more chance with a lengthy, powerful rod as its length will pick up more line with each sweep and its power should be enough to get the eel up off the bottom in swims where we struggled with the shorter rods.

By the end of the trip Pete had caught the two biggest at 23:04 and 22:10 but we never got chance to weigh one monster that managed to wriggle back in off the beach.  

    It seems a bit uncanny that we both got 13 doubles. Did this superstitious number 13 prove to be unlucky?  Well I suppose we did lose as many as we landed, including some bigger Nessie ones. But, all in all, I think we were just plain lucky to have landed 13 and extremely happy to have been there.