THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

When they were more numerous than today, they would migrate both inshore and northwards over the
summer months, preying on whatever small fish, molluscs, or crustaceans their fairly sedate way of life
would allow them to catch.
That unfortunately is no longer the case, and it's doubtful whether current Europe-wide protection
requiring that all monkfish, be they commercially or recreationally caught must be returned, stands any
real chance of turning the home waters situation around now at this late stage.
Never at any time was this a common fish, but one distributed sufficiently well that a few specimens
both could and would turn up every year pretty much anywhere around the British Isles.
West Wales was a regular producer if that be the right term. I've seen them out from Porthmadog,
Pwllheli, and Aberystwyth, and know anglers also used to catch them at some of the other ports nearby
such as Aberdovey.
A few also in south Wales, parts of the mid to eastern English Channel, and even occasionally the
Lancashire coast all help give a flavour of their recent history. Then, suddenly, nothing. And by that I
mean I haven't heard of even a single one caught anywhere over the past thirty or so years.
The last one I saw was a fifty five pounder caught by wife Dawn in the Canary Islands where they are
making a comeback. Yet we used to catch them virtually to order over the water in County Kerry. We'd
put the boat in at the side of Fenit Pier, then motor back inland following the shoreline of Tralee Bay
until we came to one particular old farm building that had a rusty corrugated tin roof. That was our cue
to start creeping carefully inshore.
We couldn't have been in much more than four feet of water and would be taking care not to run
aground. Then suddenly, the depth would creep down a few more feet as we crossed the lip of a small
shallow saucer like depression no more than a stones throw from the beach, famously known as the
'monk hole'.
Somewhere mid point we would put the anchor down
followed by traces made up from four feet of eighty pounds
bs mono tied to a 6/0 hook baited with half a fresh mackerel
if we could find a few to the seaward side of Fenit Pier
before heading inland, then we'd sit back and wait.
Nothing we ever caught in there gave a running take. Just
a few pulls and tugs, or maybe a yard or so of line clicked
out slowly against the ratchet. But always plenty of
interest, and plenty of fish. And as the name suggests, the
place was a holding ground for big monkfish.
Fortunately, that wasn't all it attracted. Small eyed and
thornback rays were also plentiful there too. We even had
a few stingrays, along with huss, and maybe an occasional
small tope. But it was the monkfish that were the big draw.
Probably on account of their size and novelty value more
than anything, because they didn't put up that much of a
fight, despite regularly being in the forty to sixty pound
bracket.
Phill Williams, Fenit 1986
Let me re-phrase that to read they didn't put up much of a
fight in the water. Because it was so shallow, they were up
and at the boat in no time at all just lying there waiting for
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