‘Hey Dirk, you worked quite a bit of overtime for the previous project, sixteen hours total, can you please reinstate those hours as soon as possible?” reads the email from my manager. When I made those overtime hours it was beautiful weather but now that I’m being asked to take the hours off, it’s early March, the forecast doesn’t look too bright. But I won’t complain, as time off means fishing time’
Wednesday is my regular day off, so I decided to take Thursday and Friday as well; that way I can get out for a very long weekend. The only question is how and what? As I live in the Netherlands I’m thinking of one of the Wadden Islands, Zeeland or the Ardennes. My fishing buddy Gijs is also up for a trip and together we go through the options. Maybe northern France? I do have an acquaintance there; I’ll check him out. No, the weather there is also very poor and the catches are nothing to write home about. From a friend in Germany we get about the same answer, but in Denmark we have a bite. Two acquaintances of ours know to report separately (important for the credibility) that it is the perfect period for catching hooknose there.
The gentlemen do not give any guarantees but they assure us that we have a really good chance. For me, the hooknose is a real ‘species-hunter fish’. This species is virtually never caught on the rod and almost no one from our species-hunting club has managed to catch one. And out of the blue this opportunity is now thrown into our lap? Actually, I was not planning to travel so far but we must seize this opportunity. On to Denmark!
Our Danish colleagues have a very special fishery. They use a technique that they in turn copied from Norwegian species-hunters. They wander the shallows off the coast after sunset, dressed in waders, armed with several small rods, a strong (head) lamp and a viewing frame. Such a viewing frame is called ‘Vannkikkebrett’ in Norwegian which literally translates to ‘water viewing board’. This viewing board is a rectangular container with raised edges and a glass bottom. Floating on the water, it takes out the waves and glare. This, combined with a strong lamp and clear water, means you have a much better view of the bottom and the creatures living there.
When I first heard of this technique years ago, I couldn’t wait to craft a vannkikkebrett myself. I had absolutely no idea where I could use this tub in the Netherlands but I found it so inspiring that I immediately ran to the hardware store. There I bought a plank of pinewood, a plexiglass sheet, a tube of sealant, some screws and a metre of PVC pipe.
At home, I still had some spray cans and a jar of yacht varnish. The board was about 15 cm high and I sawed out four pieces; two of 65 cm in length and two of 45 cm. I screwed these together and gave it a lick of paint and a couple of thick coats of yacht varnish. Then, I glued the cut-to-size sheet of plexiglass underneath and anchored it with some screws. Plain glass is better because it is more scratch-resistant than acrylic and it can’t bulge so it blocks light reflection even better.
However, I know my own clumsiness and opt for the less breakable material. Should it be damaged, it is a matter of unscrewing it, resealing it and replacing the sheet. While the sealant dried, I cut three pieces of PVC to size. These became the rod supports. In these tubes I fitted a cap. This should not close the tube completely; water should be able to drain out but the rod should be stopped so it does not touch the glass plate. I hesitated whether to mount a tray for bait and fishing tackle in it but decided that this would also be fine to carry in a waist bag or fly-fishing jacket. For now, we’ll try without it, I thought. And that ‘for now’ lasted quite a while. I tried out the bucket once nearby on a local fishing lake. Some small fish were spooked by the torchlight but that night I saw nothing spectacular. After that, the tank was put away to gather dust for about five years. But now the almost forgotten tank may be taken back out for its baptism in Denmark.
For Gijs, I get to borrow a real authentic Vannkikkebrett from fishing buddy Pieter. He had a real Norwegian window flown over years ago and is willing to lend it out. His tank is one of real glass with an (I think) aluminium or stainless steel wall. We’d better be extra careful with that; I don’t want it on my conscience to demolish that beautiful thing. We wrap some towels and a thermo-suit around it and set course for Denmark, a drive of about eight hours. On the road, I see some messages coming in (on the phone that I also use for navigation) and when we are in a car park in northern Germany to stretch our legs I read them.
The weather forecast for the coming days has deteriorated considerably in the few hours we were driving and our mates indicate that Thursday and Friday nights will most likely be unsuitable for this style of fishing. The question is: ‘What time do we arrive this evening and can’t we start fishing immediately?’ We arrive just before dark, are welcomed to the Airbnb we have booked, throw the stuff we don’t think we will need into our rooms and rush to the fishing spot.
There are two cars parked with open boots where the boys are catching up. They live about a two-hour drive away from each other so they don’t fish together very often. After shaking hands, fishing stories are soon shared and this evening’s tactics are also discussed.
The spot where we find ourselves is a stretch of coastline where it gradually deepens to about 40 metres from shore, then there is an almost vertical clay wall down to depths over 30 metres. During the day, the hooknose move into the abyss there but after sunset they come just below the shore in search of food which means then they can be spotted wading.
Our Danish friends also expect other species and they advise us to rig up three different rods, the smallest with a tanago hook (about a size 40), the middle one with a size 25 and the largest with a size 14. Gijs brought an ounce of ragworm from the Netherlands, which we divide among the anglers. When we enter the water, we also see the occasional ragworm and small shrimp (mysis) swimming. With small nets we scoop these up, as they are an exceptional bait.
I stick with Mark for a bit and let Gijs go with David. That way, I hope we can get to the fish quickly should our guides spot a fish before we do. After all, they have indicated that the first fish are ‘for us’. Also, this way I hope to be able to copy a bit of the technique. What strikes me immediately is that David has mounted two waterproof torches in the front corners of his viewing box. This is an idea I will definitely apply to my tank! Soon Mark spots a small plaice. He asks me if I want to catch it but I leave it to him. Quickly the small fish bites and Mark quickly lifts it above his tank. It’s in!
We stroll along the sandy bottom on which small obstacles lined with mussels and weed are scattered. I spot some gobies but that’s not what we came for. Then Mark spots a rock-gunnel and this is a species I still need! I am eager to give it a try. The fish is ‘on the move’ and I try to chase it as best I can and dangle a piece of ragworm in front of its nose. For a moment the fish picks at the end but does not take the hook in its mouth. Then it shoots under a piece of weed and we don’t find it again. Opportunity missed!
When we still have no sign of our target after an hour, Mark tells me that most ‘panserulke’ often do not arrive until after midnight and that we are still on the early side. This reassures me and we patiently fish on until the moment does arrive, earlier than expected. Mark calls me to him: ‘here’s one!’ The fish is on its way from one pile of mussels to another and is seemingly in a hurry. I hurriedly run after the fish, as much as I can in the hip-high water, and try to hang a piece of bait in front of it.
I am holding the ‘middle’ rod and after two attempts we draw the conclusion that the bait is too small. I quickly stick a piece of ragworm on the rod with the largest hook. Quickly it heads for the bottom. Meanwhile, the fish has been waiting patiently under a piece of weed. When the piece of worm approaches, the hooknose swims forward and without hesitation it gets sucked in.
Quickly I tap the hook up and the fish comes up with it, which can be followed beautifully in the clear water. In one movement, I get the little fish above the window and when the line falls slack, it drops off the hook. But it’s in the tank and it’s a catch! Two clenched fists go into the air and I suppress a shout. Mark is eager to go up the bank to take photos but I kindly ask him to wait a little longer for this, as I hope Gijs also succeeds soon, and we decide to continue the search with four men.
By now Gijs has discovered that his wading suit is no longer completely waterproof and the freezing cold water manages to find its way into his left boot. But then he also gets the message that a hooknose is waiting for him. The same scene takes place and this fish also eagerly takes the bait. Both of us have succeeded! How cool is that?
Once on the shore, we study the fish closely. They are fascinating creatures. With a full beard of barbels on its chin and a fully armoured body, it is not an everyday creature. On its nose, it has a pair of horns and its abdomen is very slender. Its keeled bony plates make it look a bit like a small sturgeon.
That evening, I managed to catch a second specimen, Mark had three in his tank by the end of the session and David had also managed to catch himself a panserulke. Then the freezing cold water in Gijs’ wading suit became so unpleasant that we decided to wrap things up (the next day a big blue bruise appeared on his thigh). We celebrate the success of the mission with ‘bubbles’ brought by Mark and get some tips for the next two days. However, the weather is not at all favourable and the wind in particular makes fishing difficult. Apart from one nice sea trout, we caught nothing else on this trip but that first evening, wading through the crystal-clear sea water, was so memorable that we seemed to live on a cloud for the rest of the trip anyway.
Writing & Images – Dirk Temmink – April 2024
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