Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.132 (Canal Zander)

Now there’s something about canal fishing that keeps me coming back. Maybe it’s the unpredictability. Maybe it’s the peace and quiet, only broken by the occasional boat engine or nattering dog walker. Or maybe it’s the sense that, beneath the still, murky surface, there’s always the potential for something special a hidden predator, a surprise strike, or just that one magic moment that makes it all worthwhile.

I found myself on the banks of the Grand Union Canal again, a stretch I’ve fished more times than I can count. There’s one particular spot I’ve come to think of as a bit of a “hotspot”a piece of cover that, more often than not, holds fish. But as any seasoned angler will tell you, nothing is ever guaranteed, especially when you’re targeting something as temperamental as Zander.

The morning was far from inviting. A distinct chill hung in the air, the kind that stiffens your fingers before you’ve even baited a hook. Gusts of wind swirled down the canal, rustling the hedges and biting through every layer of inadequate clothing. The canal looked flat, lifeless. Still, I set up optimistically with two overdepth deadbait rigs, both with roach, and settled in.

The first couple of hours were dead. Not a knock. Not a twitch. Nothing to suggest a predator was even in the vicinity. At 9:00 a.m. a full two hours into the session the first boat finally came through. I’d been hoping the wash might shake things up, stir the bottom, and get those elusive Zander on the move. But again, nothing. The floats sat undisturbed like sentinels over a desert.

Just when the monotony of the wait was beginning to wear thin, an old chap with an even older dog stopped for a chat. I’ve spoken to him before this canal path is part of his daily walk. He always seems pleased to see anglers about, and he’s usually got a tale or two to tell. Today was no different. He told me about a pike he’d seen caught along this very stretch a “25-pounder, apparently.” I must’ve raised an eyebrow, but he was adamant. Said the angler could hardly believe it either. It’s one of those stories that sticks with you not just for the size of the fish, but because it reignites that little spark of wonder. Who knows what’s really lurking in these ‘mucky waters’, as he put it?

Still, the floats remained motionless. I was just about ready to move on, thinking the fish simply weren’t feeding. As I pulled out my phone and left a quick voice message for Nic over at Avon Angling, the unthinkable happened both floats shot off. Simultaneously. I had to double-take. It was chaos in the best possible way.

That spot my trusted bit of cover had come good once again. The rods bent round, and soon enough, I had two cracking Zander in the net. Not monsters, but very respectable fish. Clean, powerful, and beautifully marked. After two hours of complete inactivity, it was like someone flipped a switch.

It’s one of those moments that makes canal fishing so special. You can sit in silence, questioning your sanity for hours, and then in a heartbeat, everything changes. One minute you're considering packing it in, the next you're scrambling to keep up with two takes at once.

Naturally, I assumed this would be the start of a feeding spell a golden window where bite after bite would follow. But no. That was it. Two fish, then silence again. It was like the Zander had just stopped in for a quick visit and moved on.

Not quite ready to call it a day, I decided to try a secondary spot, a good 800 metres away another section that’s produced fish in the past. I gave it a good go, tried different bits of cover and even the swim known as the 'deep bit', but again, the Zander were suspicious in their absence. It was as if they’d vanished entirely.

Perhaps it's the time of year. Spawning isn't far off now, and maybe that instinct is starting to kick in. When fish go quiet like this, you can only speculate. They're there one moment and gone the next, like ghosts. It’s frustrating, sure but it’s also why we keep coming back. You never know when things might switch on.

So no flurry of fish, no grand haul, but still two lovely Zander, an unexpected double take, and a tale of a canal monster to chew over. That’s canal fishing for you. A test of patience, a dash of luck, and just enough magic to keep you dreaming of the next session.

I'm still not feeling 100% with a chest phlegmy cough that doesn't seem to be shifting so maybe that's why my enthusiasm is waving a bit, but I'm sure I will get there soon enough, watching two floats go off at once certainly got the angling adrenaline kicking in anyway. 

There fish are there certainly there to be caught, you just need to get them in the right mood it seems. Still I'll stick with it for a while and maybe switch to some other species when I get bored. In-fact some double dipping might be worth a go with bread or some maggots.