One of largest fish in the British Isles, the conger eel has always had a passionate following. You either love them or hate them but however you feel, their power and strength is awesome, both in and out of the water and their capture became my obsession.

The fateful day started quietly enough when Eastbourne charter skipper Bill Dow, who runs the 10 metre "Carrick Lee" phoned to say he had a small charter party out for the day and did I want a trip (silly question)? I was there like a shot with two sets of gear. The first was a standard 30 lbs. outfit and the second my "conger kit". This was definitely not standard mainly due to the fact that I had lost some big eels and in future decided that any conger that got on the hook was going to stay on. The kit comprised a custom built 7' 6" rod on an 80 lbs. Conoflex blank, Penn Senator 9/0, 60 lbs. Anchor line and Mustad 14/0 hook to 350 lbs. trace line (and a shoulder harness).

We left Sovereign Harbour full of optimism but the morning's fishing was grim and after two or three moves we had little to show for our efforts, so we consulted the chart again. This revealed we were close to a small wreck that, over the years, I had been unable to find. We decided to have a search. Just as we thought about giving up Bill saw some fish on the sounder and then said," I think there's some wreckage, but it's barely 6 feet high". My heart started to pound at the thought of a virgin wreck, even if it was small, and I tried to concentrate as we put over the marker buoy and Bill set up a drift.

The first pass produced a succession of big pout, 2 lbs. or more and then a cod of 30 lbs. This was better so we decided to anchor. The rest of the party were using squid baits, but still only catching the big pout as I got out the conger gear and a ripple of laughter went round the boat as I selected the biggest pout I could find and mounted it on the 14/0. "What you going to catch on that mate, a great white shark?" came the jibe and I smiled at the good natured banter that ensued, as I lowered the bait.

It hit the bottom, but in seconds the rod hooped over with the fiercest take I have ever had, to that day or this, then as quickly as it took, it was gone and I wound in to find a bare hook. I was devastated. Was this the fish of a lifetime gone forever? But I was in overdrive now and the laughing had stopped. The game had become deadly serious, as I sent another huge pout bait rapidly descending to the honeycomb of tangled steel and concrete that was home to who knows what.

I waited, hardly daring to breathe, feeling for the first telltale pulls that would signal interest in the bait. Then they came. Not gentle, but powerful and heavy and as I lifted into the fish I called out. "I can't move it Bill. This is big"! The 80-lbs. rod bent double and took the strain but neither of us gave an inch, both knowing that the first to give ground would lose the fight.

This continued for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only 3 or 4 minutes, during which time I could feel the thumping head shakes of the eel, then suddenly I got a couple of turns of line back on the reel and we were in business.

After 15 minutes of give and take in mid water the prize lay within our grasp at the side of the "Carrick Lee" looking for all the world like half a telegraph pole! Bill stood ready with the gaff as I slackened the clutch in preparation, but the fish struggled violently when the gaff went home and she dropped back into the water. Surely I couldn't lose her now, I thought, struggling to regain control, but Bill brought the second gaff into play and an instant later the fish crashed onto the deck, looking even bigger out of the water than in.

I dropped the rod and sat on the engine cover, physically and emotionally drained as I gazed at this magnificent fish. Eight and a half feet long, with a girth of 30 inches it was the fish of a lifetime, but was she over the "ton"? While we made our way back to port there was much speculation about the weight and I didn't dare hope it would reach the magic mark. Bill thought it would go over and the scales back on dry land, read by England International Jim Whippy confirmed the weight at 102 lbs. A port record and subsequently a new British and European Line Class Record.

Strangely though, after the euphoria of the capture and the weigh-in other emotions crept in. A feeling of admiration for the strength and power she showed and a mixture of sadness and regret that this monster of the deep had died. Surely it can't be beyond modern technology to develop accurate scales for use at sea so that record fish can be weighed, photographed and returned?