My first fish was a 12" eel caught on a cane rod with a bit of line tied to the tip ring when some big kids took me fishing. The local canal teemed with them, as did the river. Along with flounder, they were the mainstay of sport on the tidal. Where a pipe flowed from the upper to lower tier where the canal joined the river, you could see, at the right time, an endless stream of tiny elvers exiting. I had no idea then where they came from or how they got, well, everywhere.
It's a good thing that the routine atrocities committed on eels by anglers angry about small eels swallowing baits, sliming the line and tying everything in knots are in the past. I went about 15 years without catching an eel before catch a couple around 2lbs in each of the last few years on meat baits intended for barbel. They are a fascinating fish, and it's good to see them around - it's sobering to think how a species so prolific can disappear -but I'm happy not to catch them. When you realise you've hooked one, you have to hope it's lip-hooked and not too hard to deal with, which dampens the pleasure of playing such a hard-fighting fish.