Was reading a recent post from Dave to Barrie and his mentioning eel fish dredged up an early memory of a 'fishing trip'.   So, please excuse my tardiness, but here is my report:

I remember as a kid one day nicking my old man's coolest rod and reel, some hooks and a hunk of meat from the fridge and going down the road to the local creek to hunt eel.   I set my line in under some creepy old weeping willows and waited.   Soon enough it was action stations with a full on fight ensuing.  I nearly lost the battle with the wiley foe snagging me up in the willow roots.   My heart sank when the line busted.  Hope flickered still when I caught sight of the line still tangled in the roots.  Putting the rod aside I got in up to my hips, took a hold of the line and pulled the bugger out by main force.  The end result a big ole boy longer than me slithering on the bank.  Man was the critter huge.  Gotta show my Mum this, she's gonna freak.  

Was weaving back along New North Rd with the critter draped over my Rally-Twenty handle bars when a brother in a Zephyr stopped me and offered      2 whole dollars for my catch.   I was so proud of my still wriggling trophy that despite the great offer I refused and hurried home to show my Mum.  

Strangely, Mum was not nearly as impressed as Rangi in the Zephyr with my 'Real Deal Eel' and told me not to bring the bloody thing one foot inside the house or so help her she'd skin me.  Further She hoped I liked eel for my dinner 'cause some ratbag had stolen the steak!!.

I beat a hasty retreat up to my fort in the puriri out back and and waited for her to put two and two together.   Her screach informed me, and the entire neighbourhood, that the penny had dropped. 

Somewhat deflated with this less than enthuisiastic reception I considered going back to the main road and trying my luck in flogging the bugger off to someone else.  However I thought I'd wait till Dad came home as surely He'd appreciate my effort. 

Much later on that evening Dad came home and, as I'd hoped, was very proud of my piscatorial exploits.    He asked me how I'd caught it and how the fight was and even chuckled conspiratorily when I told him about the steak.  

Finally He offered to show me the best way to prepare the creature but suggested I might not live long enough to enjoy the eating unless I "right that God Dam second I got up off my little sh*t arse, got the hell back up to the creek and rescued his rucken racken rod!!!!!!".

Bugger.

Didn't much bother with eels after that. 

We had a place at Piha. We just put the food in the water and waited for the eel to come and have a look. Then flick them onto the bank and jump on them with ya tee shirt

Lots of fun trying to wrestle the big ones out of deep water

That really bought back some memories billfish. Raiding the freezer for mums finest cuts was always a challenge for any proespective eeling adventure. lamb chops liver,steak, gravy beef...... really depended on how fast you were or whether an accomplice could keep her distracted long enough.

Remember one occasion when mum decided to come eeling with us. Beautiful sunny summer evening, you know gentle breeze, cicadas in the willows.... mum dabbling her feet in the river while she lay back in her own dream world.

The decision was made..... well more of a look really between accomplices, my brothers and i, that we should give her a treat.

We were pretty adept at catching these critters so it was no major task to coax one to follow the bait...... hehehe you guessed it, right up to her feet. wasnt long before a nice fat specimen of about 4ft was within nibbling distance of her toes.

She must have figured something was up (or  mothers intuition) becuse she decided to sit up and have a look around. Took her about .00005 of a sec to spot the critter. Bugger me i dont know who got the biggest fright, us, her or the eel which nearly turned itself inside out in a bid to escape.

The scream she let out echoed down the river and absolutely shattered the peace and quiet. Then followed the tirade of abuse fired in our direction.

We never offered to take her eeling again, and she never offered to accompany us.

Billfish that yarn got the memory bank going alright.
Salted and hung on the line to dry, then cut into decent cubes and deep fried. It doesnt get much better than that, amazed the fish and chip shops never got on to this

Don't recall the ones we caught having teeth. Fresh water, brown eels. Easy to skin and beaut to eat.

You guys are right - I wonder how many kids go eeling these days? Mine can't even be bothered going fishing - too busy with the blardy Playstation.

Nice stories guys, first time visit to this forum, Used to nick off to the samon farm outlet in north Canterbury little hick town called Rotherham spent most of my youth eeling wit the stepdads old fly lines and a pair of mums stockings coupled wit a pile of rotten eggs.  Eels definitely have teeth as we used to put meat in the end of ma's old n uglies hook em by the growlers and then flick em ova the shoulder stlyes onto the bank.  The eggs were for any bugga who had pinched our spot come nightfall.  Rotten ones did make good burley though....

Andrew .. Whats the difference between an all black and an arsonist?

...An arsonist wouldnt waste five matches!