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An East Anglian Acipenser Adventure.

Gareth Lewis

Another dreary February Sunday morning, it's been raining most of the week and the rivers are closed due to foot and mouth. “Get off your backside, and go down to B&Q and get the paint for the living room. You might as well do some decorating now that you can't go fishing.” I drag my sorry carcass from the chair and put on my shoes and coat. “And while your there, get some food for the kids Guinea Pigs.” I get into the car and drive the mile and a half to B&Q. I pick up the required shades of paint and look at the price of the pet food. There is no way I am paying that for just a few rolled grains of cereal in a fancy box. I know, I’ll nip to the aquatic centre, they have got a pets section and they are open on a Sunday. 

On arrival at the centre, I notice that it is rather busy. OK no problem, I’ll check out the fish in the aquariums. 10 minutes later and the crowd has thinned a little. I pick up a bag of Guinea Pig mix and stand in line to pay. And that is the moment when my predator fishing took on a whole new direction. 

The guy in front of me at the checkout, has a large armful of aquatic supplies. Bits for the filter a new UV tube and other expensive goodies. The customer pays for his goods, and asks the question “are you getting in any Sturgeon this year. I have lost all of mine when the river burst its banks and flooded the garden. The pond has got allsorts of crap and rubbish in it, and all the fish are gone.” I enquire about the loss, and find that 10 Sturgeon of about 18 to 20 inches are gone, along with a myriad of Goldfish and Koi Carp. 

I pay for the pet food and get into the car. Two thoughts shot into my mind. Sturgeon, the big fish in the novel I read two years ago. I remember now “The plains of passage” by Jean Auel and that stuffed fish I saw in the Kings Lynne museum, the week of the 78 world cup final. I glanced around as I pulled away, and notice the other guy pulling away in front of me. So I followed him. 2 miles later and I have lost the guy at the traffic lights. I notice that I have just passed the Abbey wall and I am driving over the river bridge. I stopped the car in the pub car park, walk over to the bridge and peer into the water. It's carrying an extra 2 feet of water, but is clear, I mentally note, and see a large signal crayfish scurry along the bottom. 

Ten minutes later I am back at home digging through the books I have on fish and fishing. But there is not a lot of information on Sturgeon in any of my books. For some reason or another I find the towns A to Z and the local O/S map.  It is then that I realise the amount of weirs along the river. Another thought crosses my mind, what if these fish became stranded between two weirs, what do they eat, can I use it as bait, and can I catch them? By the following Saturday I have forgotten about Sturgeon, the living room has been painted, and a work mate and I have arranged to go fishing at local Stillwater that does not have any foot and mouth restrictions, for Roach and Rudd. 

I am in the local tackle shop, having just paid for the maggots. When I start rummaging through the bargain bucket. What catches my eye, is a video on Sturgeon fishing and its only £2, I pick it up, pay for it and go home. Whilst watching the video I find out that these fish grow to 200lbs and more, live in the sea but migrate into shallow rivers to spawn and that they are predators that prey on the living and the dead. Then I remember seeing a photo of one in the Anglers mail. 6lb in weight, the venue Crow Green in Essex. Two telephone calls later and I have some more information on them. I go back to checking the O/S map, and find that, the river is crossed by road bridges in several places. I drive out to each of the bridges and check the river out. There is a public footpath running along a section of the river, which has not been closed due to F&M and there are people walking their dogs. 

So off I go, walking along the footpath. After about a Mile, I come across a shopping trolley, half submerged in the water. But what catches my eye is the corpse slowly wafting on the flow. That's funny there has never been any Pike reported this far up the river. I poke the corpse with my stick, and as it rolls back up right I see that it is not a Pike. Its is a horrible shade of brown, and the smell turns my stomach. Then I realise it is one of the feral Sturgeon, but all of my poking has disturbed the body and it steadily slips under the water, not to be seen again. “Bugger! 

That's a big fish, gotta be 2 foot long” I exclaim in excitement to a passing walker with a dog. A fortnight later, my wife's birthday heralded the beginning of the closed coarse fishing season. Traditionally at this time of year my children and I would go down to the river in the dark, with our torches and lamp for frogs, toads and crayfish. It was on one of these evening forays of ours that one of the Sturgeon swam through one of the torch beams and picked up a stray crayfish. My excitement was almost uncontrollable. For the next month I was down at the river every night lamping. My wife was getting suspicious of my movements. The dog had died two years previously, she knew the fishing season did not start until June, and I was spending more time on the internet. April had come and gone and it was well into May. The LAA had lifted the foot and Mouth restrictions on a complex of lakes local to me, and I had returned to predator fishing with lures. 

The Predator-fishing Suffolk water park fish in was the following week, and my 13yr old son had rekindled his interest in Piking after the previous year's blanks and an escapade with an Ouse catfish. He subsequently out fished me. But that's another story. Friday, June the 15th, and I have read and learnt a bit about these Sturgeon without wetting a line. More importantly though, I have managed to track them throughout the closed season, and have observed them feeding on Crayfish. But the dept of the Environment have banned the use of Crayfish as a bait for fishing. I am set up ready to go with a small roach dead bait and Worm and Float. The village church a mile or so away chimed midnight. A short prayer to the God of all anglers and I made the first cast of the new season. 

First run to a small Perch on the dead bait. Second run to a Gudgeon on the worm. Into the keep net with him for bait later on. Next run is a Chub on the dead bait, then another and the a third. A second Gudgeon on the worm, and then a Barbel of about 3lbs. Out went a Gudgeon live bait and in came a Brown trout. The birds began to sing and the Dawn broke. I made a cup of tea and had a bankside fry up. As I am packing up the Sturgeon are picking up Crayfish almost under my feet. Then off to work for 6 am. Not a bad start to the season really. 

During the next week I had to devise a new approach for Sturgeon fishing. They were feeding readily on Crayfish, but Crayfish as bait were banned. But I got over that hurdle with some lateral thinking. The following weekend I decided to float fish a single maggot, mounted on a size 2 boilie hook, hard on the bottom. The Plan was to cast into the crease by the bushes and wait it out. Right method, but the wrong species. The method was to present the maggot on the large hook, float/ledger, dead bait style. But scaled down to a sliding waggler and a 1/4 oz bomb. Cast it out, and wait for a Crayfish to take the maggot and bolt. Absolutely perfect for Chub, crap for Sturgeon. Half a dozen Chub later and I have lost interest in the method. So I went back to trotting a maggot through the swim for the Barbel, Dace, Perch and Roach. Whilst doing this I was also picking up Gudgeon and small rainbow Trout. Not bad at all, but still no Sturgeon. 

The following week I could not think of any new method to catch the Sturgeon on. But I had Caught some good Perch, Chub, Rainbows and a Brownie. Why not get the lure rod out and see if I can catch some large specimens of the none Sturgeon. And anyway who would know, if one of the larger Rainbows should tragically expire in my arms. I sat in the chair contemplating a day's lure fishing, the following morning. 6am Saturday morning, and the phone rings. “What the F###k are you doing! You should be here for the match draw” shouts one of my fishing work mates into his mobile phone. I suddenly realise that it is the morning of the company match, and I should be 15 miles away from my bed. “Just get your ass here quick, you can have the last peg to draw” click the phone goes dead. I panic and half dressed I rush into the Garage to assemble my gear. “Bugger! I've no bait” and into the house at about 100 mph I run, to raid the freezer for sweet corn and a white sliced loaf. Back to the garage to pick up the landing and keep nets, along with my waggler rod and other gear. I jump into the car an I am gone. “Idiot, you bloody Idiot” I think as I drive down the country lanes in excess of the speed limit. “How could you be so stupid! Your only the person who organised this match” 

Thirty minutes later I am at the lake, sitting at the duffer swim, that else nobody wanted waiting for the start whistle to blow. 5 hours later I have got 97lbs in three keep nets, two of which, I have borrowed from blanking anglers who have quit early. I have released Two Pike of 2lb and 13lb and a 6lb Catfish all fairly caught on the corn and a 3lb B.S waggler set up. I have caught at least one of each of the species resident in the lake except an Eel and a Zander and I am £50 better off. To top it all, the second place only weighed in 11lb and third place went to 3 Tench for 3&1/2lb, every one else blanking. Rather smugly I drive home, while planning tomorrow's Lure session and dreaming of a fresh Rainbow breakfast. Sunday morning 3am. I wake up after sleeping off the Saturday evening Lager and Chinese. I am hung over and I decide to walk the 4 miles to this mornings fishing spot. I drink two large mugs of very sweet tea, and go into the Garage. I unpack the Float fishing gear from my rucksack but leave in the nets, wrapped in their plastic bin bag. I pick up all of my lures, including the cheap set that my nine year old daughter bought me for me birthday in May. Then I set out at a brisk pace to the river. 

6am and I have landed several small Barbel, a few Perch and a 3lb Rainbow, which I do not have the heart to kill, all on the clown Minnow pattern plug from the cheap Argos bought set. I walk up the footpath alongside the river, casting as I go, and land two more small Rainbows and a small Brown Trout. Then I see one of the elusive Sturgeon pick up yet another Crayfish, in less than 2 feet, right under my feet. I carry on walking home think about the mornings catch, and how I am going to catch one of those Sturgeon. 

Along comes Friday evening. I drop my Son off at his Rifle club. It has been a Bitch of a week a work. The Production manager has screwed up again, the quality dept is 2 men down due to sickness, R&D have a prototype transmission problem. I've got to sort it all out, and if that's not enough I have got 6 stitches in the top of my head from Wednesday, when a bonnet strut came adrift while I was checking the engine revs on one of the trucks that we build. No, I am not going to drive home, only to come out and pick Karl up again in 2 hours. Sod it! I am going for a walk along the river. Half an hour later I am sitting on the edge of a weir, my legs dangling in mid air, rolling up yet another cigarette. I reach into my pocket for my lighter, when a movement in the water 6 feet below me catches my eye. “Bugger! That Sturgeon is 3ft long” I think as it swims on it side, along the wall of the weir, and gracefully picking off yet another Crayfish just below the surface. 

I look into the pool again, and realise that the water is crystal clear and I can see three other Sturgeon cruising the pool. I look at the pool again, and notice that the river level has dropped since last week. At the tail end of the pool it is only 4 or 5 inches deep were the river begins again. All that extra water over the last few months has built up a natural gravel bar. The fish are stuck with nowhere to go. Plans were made to return with the fishing gear at dawn the following morning. Only to be dashed by the wife when I walk in through the door. Can I go and pick up her best friend, Carol in the morning. So that she can stay the weekend, she is having problems with her husband and wants a break. I grudgingly agree to drive the 95 miles to pick Carol up. Could you arrive at Carol's for around 8 am my wife pleads, that way you can be back here with her for around 10am and we can go shopping together. So bang went my plans for an early morning fishing session. 

As luck would have it my wife and Carol decided to go out clubbing that night. They rolled back home at around 2am Sunday morning and woke me up. I lay awake in bed, unable to go back to sleep due to the two women down stairs giggling, laughing and singing. I got out of bed and put on some clothes, went downstairs and made a cup of Tea. If only I had a magic potion to shut those two up I thought as I poured myself a mug of Tea. I drank my Tea and looked at the clock, It was 2.55am and then it hit me. I still had some bottles of bait flavouring in the garage. A bottle of Magic worm, a bottle of fish oil, and a bottle of Crayfish flavour. 

I went into the garage and found the bottles of flavouring along with some other bits of long forgotten fishing tackle. I returned to the house and found an empty margarine tub under the sink. I tipped half the bottle of Crayfish flavour into it and went back to the garage for my box of lures. I found my favourite rubber minnows and the box of cheap Argos lures. I tipped all of these into the tub of flavouring, and put it into my rucksack, I grabbed my rod and jumped into the car and went. 3.30am I am stood on the bank over looking the weir pool. It is still dark, the moon is up, but the birds are starting to sing and there is just a faint indication in the east, promising an overcast dawn. As I am threading up the rod a light shower of rain begins. I get everything ready and decided to have a few practice casts in the river above the weir pool. I put on one of the Crayfish flavoured banjo minnows and make a cast. 

It lands in a bush on the far side of the river (Those from the predator-fishing group who have fished with me will know that this is not an unusually occurrence). I twitch the lure and it falls lightly into the water. I let it settle for a moment and start my retrieve. There is a pull, and I think I am snagged but it turns out to be a rather sluggish Rainbow of about 4lbs. OK the drenched lures work. The lure is changed for the one that looks like a Crayfish. This is cast out and I am rewarded with a decent Perch. This lure is cast out again and this time I am rewarded with a bream of about 4lbs. Now it is time to try the weir pool. First cast nothing and this is repeated for the next few casts. I change the lure for a flavour drenched 5 inch banjo minnow, It is cast out and allowed to sink to the bottom. It is twitched enticingly along the bottom. Nothing. I cast it again, and repeat the procedure. It snags on something, I pull and all hell is let loose, “Jeez what have I caught” or words to that effect rush through my mind. 

5 minutes later I have an ugly looking Carp X Bream X Chub fish going 6lb in the net. It has swallowed the lure whole and is an absolute bugger to unhook, because I won't stop thrashing about. I have never seen anything like this before, but boy oh boy did it fight. I think as I slip it back into the water. Next cast nothing and this is repeated for the next hour. Dawn is now upon me and it is still raining lightly. I stop fishing, roll a cigarette and smoke it. It is now daylight, the sun is poking out between the clouds and it is still raining. I cast out the Banjo minnow again, let it settle, and begin twitching it along the bottom. The line goes taught and then all hell breaks out again. “Damn it! Its another of them Carp things again” Flashes through my mind as I try to control it. The fish hugs the bottom, the rod bucks and the clutch gives line. Then the line goes slack as the fish rolls on the surface. 

Then I see that it is one of the Sturgeon. It rolls on its back and thrashes weakly on the surface, I see that the lure is hanging from its mouth and the line is still attached. I reel in and the fish is just pulled in like a log. I reach out with the landing net and net it. The fish goes ballistic in the net and I almost drop it. Control is then regained and I place the fish and net on the mat. My hands are shaking while I unhook it as the Fish remains completely still. Unhooked I place the fish on the sill of the weir and photograph it. I measure and weigh it. Then Place it facing up stream into the water while still holding the tail wrist of the fish. The fish turns belly up, I right it. There is no strength in the fish at all. I hold it for several minutes, but the fish only regains a little of its former strength. Shit I am trouble here. 

I reach for the landing net, put the fish in it, wedge the handle into the ground, and place the net in the water. I run up the bank, grab the rucksack and pull out the keep net. Hastily I peg it out with the opening facing down stream. I run back to the fish in the landing net lift it out of the water and stumble back to the keep net. The Sturgeon has recovered a little, but not enough to swim off unaided. With the fish the right way up, facing upstream and holding its position in the keep net, I made my first Sturgeon Fishing mistake. 

I picked up the rod and began casting the lure again. Within a couple of minutes I was into my second Sturgeon. The fight went a little better than the first. This fish did not roll onto its back, but the fish's strength notably diminished as I reeled it in, again the fish went ballistic in the net. Again the fish remain still while being unhooked, but this time I placed it straight into the keep net. This Sturgeon was nowhere as exhausted as the first but it still needed time to recover. This is when I repeated my first Mistake. Instead of quitting, I changed the lure for the Crayfish pattern one and continued fishing. 3 or 4 casts later and I was into my third Sturgeon. Again the fish went off like a train, again after 3 or 4 minutes the fish rolled on its back, again the fish came in like a log, again the fish went ballistic in the net, and again the fish was still as I unhooked it. I placed the third fish into the keep net. This time how ever I split the rod down, and packed up my gear. Then I sat on the bank and watched these beautiful fish in the keep net for almost an hour before I judged that they were strong enough to be released. 

I picked the fish up one at a time from the net, took a couple of seconds to look at them again. Placed them facing up stream, holding them by the tail wrist, felt their returned strength, and released them. I shuck the net dry and walked back to the car. I returned home tired out, as I walked through the door I heard the 7am news start on the Radio. God has it only been 4 hours I thought as I put the kettle on for a cup of Tea. I sat down in the living room and switched the computer on, and emailed my Sturgeon fishing success to the group. That was my second Sturgeon fishing mistake. 

For those of you who have got this far, here are the Statistics Sturgeon No 1, 760mm long, 5.2kg weight No 2, 850mm long, 7.9kg weight. No 3, 815mm long, 7.2kg weight. 

The does and don'ts. Never use a steel trace for these fish. They have no teeth and their mouths are soft and are damaged easily. They fight hard so use strong tackle and get them in quick. 

Be prepared to nurse them. 

Never put your fishing before the family or friends. It causes nothing but domestics. 

Never tell anyone about your Sturgeon captures. This causes almost as much distress as the domestics. 

Always enjoy your fishing. What ever your method and what ever you catch.