A practice-based, bottom-oriented way of targeting big, heavy perch in Dutch waters — built on structure, precision, and years of real fishing days, not theory.
Most anglers approach perch with a box full of techniques, rigs, and theories. I don’t. I’m not an “all round perch angler”, and I don’t pretend to be one. I catch big perch by applying the same technical logic I use for zander: bottom contact, structure, precision, and reading what the water tells me.
I don’t fish twenty different methods. I don’t chase trends. I don’t switch techniques every ten minutes.
I use four approaches — because they work, because they are efficient, and because they fit the way I read water:
This page is not a “complete guide to perch fishing”. It’s the system I actually use to find and catch big perch — the 40+ fish that sit where most people don’t look, and bite when most people have already given up. In the UK, these fish fall into the 3–4 lb specimen class, with the heaviest pushing toward 5 lb trophy territory.
If you want hype, this isn’t it. If you want real, repeatable, technical perch fishing — this is exactly that.
I don’t locate perch by guessing, hoping, or following generic “perch tips”. I find them because I understand where they actually hold — and that comes from years of seeing them show up while targeting zander.
Much of what I know about perch positioning comes from fishing the Hollands Diep for zander, where structure, hardness, and current lines reveal everything: https://www.lurefishingguide.com/zander-fishing-hollands-diep-guide
These are the three factors that matter.
Big perch love hard bottom. Not “sometimes”. Not “in theory”. Always.
The places where I consistently find them:
If it’s soft, silty, or featureless, I don’t waste time.
Perch don’t sit in the middle of nothing. They sit where something changes.
The best zones are:
These edges create feeding lanes. If you’re not fishing transitions, you’re not fishing perch.
This is one of the most overlooked truths in perch fishing: Perch don’t feed in the dark. They switch on when the light switches on.
I don’t care how good the spot is — if it’s still dark, they won’t bite. Once the light hits the water, they wake up and start hunting. This single rule explains why so many anglers “miss the window” without understanding why.
If you want to understand how these principles apply across all Dutch predator species — zander, pike, and perch — this broader guide expands on the same system: https://www.lurefishingguide.com/predator-fishing-netherlands
I don’t use crankbaits because they’re trendy or because they’re supposed to be “the best way to cover water”. I use them because they fit the way I fish: fast, aggressive, impatient, and with a clear purpose. Crankbaits allow me to scan a spot with absolute efficiency. If perch are there — and I’m talking about the real ones, the thick, heavy fish that UK anglers classify as 3–4 lb specimens — they show themselves quickly. If they don’t, I move. There’s no mystery to it.
I mainly fish crankbaits from mid summer into autumn, when perch are active and willing to chase. These are the periods where a crankbait isn’t just effective — it’s brutally efficient. I’m not the kind of angler who sits on a spot for two hours hoping something happens. With a crankbait, I know within ten minutes whether a spot holds fish. If nothing hits, I’m gone. That’s the whole point of this technique: it’s a search tool, not a waiting game.
The spots I crank are always shallow or mid shallow structures. Mussel covered plateaus in one to three meters of water are perfect. The edges next to those plateaus — the transitions from one to five meters or three to six — are just as good. Krib pockets and stone edges can be excellent too, as long as the water in front of them isn’t absurdly deep. I don’t waste time cranking places that don’t make sense for a crankbait. If a spot is too deep, too steep, or too labor intensive, I skip it. Crankbait fishing is only effective when the terrain matches the lure.
Depth and speed are simple for me. I prefer crankbaits that run around 2.5 to 3 meters because that matches the depths I fish. In warm water, I fish them aggressively — very aggressively. I cast, get the lure down, and then drive it hard through the water. Long pauses are essential. Most anglers don’t use them, and that’s why they miss fish. Nine out of ten bites come during the pause. The crankbait stops, hovers, and that’s when big perch commit — especially the heavier ones that push toward 4–5 lb trophy class.
People often ask why I don’t use twitchbaits more often. The answer is simple: they’re too slow for me. I’m impatient, and I don’t enjoy slow, delicate rhythms. Crankbaits match my tempo. I can fish them longer, harder, and with more focus. Not because they’re superior — but because they suit me. Fishing is personal, and this technique fits the way I operate.
I see the same mistakes over and over again: anglers fish too carefully, too slowly, without pauses, with the rod tip high, with the wrong rod, or with crankbaits that simply don’t run right. None of this is complicated, but it does require commitment. Crankbait fishing only works when you fish it with intent.
The crankbaits I trust are short, compact models with a wide, aggressive wobble and an irregular kick when fished hard. They feel right, and they respond well to the way I hit them through the water. Whether they have rattles or not doesn’t matter to me — it doesn’t add anything, and it doesn’t scare fish either. Two models I rely on are the Spro Ikiru 60LL Crank and the RK Crawler, simply because they do exactly what I need them to do.
My gear reflects the way I fish. I use a stiff, medium power, extra fast rod around two meters long with a lot of backbone. I need to be able to punch the crankbait through the water without the rod collapsing. A soft rod doesn’t match my style. I fish 0.10 mm braid because I use the same rod for multiple techniques in a single day. It’s not perfect — aggressive cranking can bite into the line or even snap it — but 0.14 mm would turn the rod into a crank only tool. So I choose 0.10 mm as a practical compromise.
This is how I fish crankbaits.
Not the theory.
Not the hype.
Just the reality of what works for me — and what consistently finds the kind of perch that UK anglers call specimens and trophies.
The Carolina rig is the complete opposite of how I fish crankbaits. It’s slow, controlled, and built around precision. I only use it when the conditions allow me to feel everything: the bottom, the pauses, the tiny interruptions that signal a bite. When those conditions line up, the Carolina rig becomes one of the most reliable ways to catch the heaviest perch in the system — the kind of fish that UK anglers classify as 4 lb specimens and sometimes even 5 lb trophy fish.
I fish the Carolina rig in relatively shallow water. Two to three meters is ideal, and I rarely go deeper than five or six. If the wind is hammering across the water or the current is ripping, I don’t bother. This technique depends entirely on sensitivity. If you can’t feel the bottom, you’re not fishing a Carolina rig — you’re just dragging a weight around.
The best places for this technique are mussel beds. Not because perch only live there, but because mussels give you the feedback you need. When the bullet weight hops across mussels, you feel every bump, every vibration, every change in texture. That feedback is what makes this technique work. Without it, you’re fishing blind.
The retrieve is simple: cast out, let the weight hit the bottom, and start a slow, steady retrieve with regular pauses. Nothing fancy. No tricks. The magic of the Carolina rig isn’t in the movement — it’s in the control. The weight stays on the bottom, the bait follows behind it, and you maintain constant contact with everything that happens down there.
The bite is the most important moment, and it’s almost never dramatic. Big perch rarely smash a Carolina rig. Most of the time it feels like the bait hesitates for a split second, or like a mussel pulls back just a little. That tiny interruption is the signal. When I feel that, I don’t strike. I don’t hit. I don’t react the way I would with a jig or a crankbait. I simply keep tension on the line and pull very gently. Often you feel the fish take the bait more confidently. Only when I’m sure the perch has the bait fully in its mouth do I tighten up and set the hook. And when you set the hook on a Carolina rig, it feels incredible — clean, solid, and unmistakable.
Weight selection is practical. The weight must stay on the bottom. That’s the rule. I’m not obsessed with fishing as light as possible. If I’m in the Biesbosch on a one meter sand flat, I might use three grams. But on the Hollands Diep, even in two meters of water, the current often forces me to use fourteen grams just to keep the presentation where it needs to be. Light for the sake of light is pointless. The conditions decide the weight — not some artificial idea of finesse.
Most anglers make the same mistakes with a Carolina rig: they fish too light, they fish too fast, and they try to force the technique in situations where it simply doesn’t work. They treat it like a universal solution, but it isn’t. The Carolina rig is only effective when the conditions allow you to feel everything. If you can’t feel the bottom, you’re wasting your time.
My setup is straightforward: a medium light, extra fast rod around two meters long. I want maximum sensitivity. The bites are subtle, and the difference between a mussel and a perch can be tiny — especially when the fish are heavy, thick, and cautious. A soft rod or a slow action kills that feedback.
I’ll be honest: I don’t love this technique. It’s slow, repetitive, and demands more patience than I naturally have. I can fish it for hours if it produces, but if the bites don’t come quickly, I struggle to stay focused. I see the same thing with clients — only a few people can fish a Carolina rig properly for long enough to let it shine. But the ones who can? They catch more heavy, specimen class perch than anyone else.
This is the Carolina rig as I fish it.
Not the theory.
Not the finesse fantasy.
Just the real, practical version that works when the conditions are right — and when you’re targeting the kind of perch that make UK anglers lose their minds.
Jigging shads for perch is not a finesse technique for me. It’s not about tiny taps, mid water dancing, or slow, delicate movements. I fish shads the same way I fish for zander: tight to the bottom, with intent, with control, and with the rod tip down. Big perch don’t sit mid column waiting for magic. They sit on the deck, right where the food is, and that’s exactly where I present my lure.
And when I say “big perch”, I’m talking about the real ones — the thick, heavy fish that UK anglers classify as 3–4 lb specimens, and the occasional 4–5 lb trophy fish. Those are the fish that respond to this technique. Not the small ones. Not the mid sized ones. The proper units.
I use shads around ten centimeters — compact, stocky, with a proper paddle tail. Not because I believe in brand magic, but because this profile simply works. It moves water, it stays stable when fished aggressively, and it matches the size of the prey big perch actually eat. A 40+ cm perch has no issue inhaling a ten centimeter shad. In fact, that size often filters out the smaller fish and targets the ones that matter.
My jigheads are straightforward: 10 to 15 grams with a 3/0 hook. The weight depends on depth and conditions, but the rule is simple — the shad must stay on the bottom. If the lure lifts too high, the technique loses its purpose. I’m not trying to “swim” the shad. I’m trying to make it jump off the bottom and land again with authority. That’s what triggers big perch.
The retrieve is direct. I cast out, let the shad hit the bottom, and then give it a few sharp lifts to get it moving. Because I keep the rod tip down, I can track the bottom with precision. Every stone, every mussel, every change in hardness comes through the blank. This is not a technique where you drift around hoping for a bite. You stay connected to the bottom at all times.
And unlike the Carolina rig, where subtlety is everything, jigging shads is the opposite: you hit on everything.
If something interrupts the rhythm — a stop, a hesitation, a sudden heaviness — I strike. Big perch rarely nibble. They hit with a clean, heavy thump that feels completely different from the taps of small fish. When a big perch eats a shad, it commits.
My rod is short, around two meters, with an extra fast action. I want immediate feedback and instant control. A longer or softer rod would kill the precision. I’m not trying to cast to the horizon — I’m trying to fish the bottom with absolute clarity. The rod must transmit everything, and it must allow me to set the hook instantly when a perch commits.
This technique shines on the same types of spots where I find big perch while zander fishing: hard bottom, mussel beds, transitions, and places where the structure forces fish to sit tight. I often discover perch spots by accident while targeting zander, and once I find them, I can return to them for an entire season. Big perch are creatures of habit. If a spot holds them once, it often holds them again and again.
Jigging shads is not glamorous. It’s not delicate. It’s not a “finesse” trick. It’s a direct, efficient, bottom oriented method that consistently catches specimen class perch — the kind of fish that make UK anglers lose their minds.
This is how I jig shads.
Not the theory.
Not the YouTube version.
Just the real, practical method that works for me and keeps producing big fish.
I rarely fish dropshot with deadbait for myself — it’s too slow for my personality — but for clients, it’s one of the most reliable ways to catch trophy class perch. And when I say trophy class, I mean the kind of fish UK anglers classify as 4 lb specimens and 5 lb trophies. These are the thick, heavy perch that make people shake when they finally see them come up.
The setup is simple. I use a light powered, fast or extra fast rod so you can feel everything. For beginners, I use a heavier dropshot weight — around 28 grams — to make sure they stay on the bottom. More experienced anglers can fish lighter, around 14 grams, letting the weight drift naturally with the current and cover more water. But the rule never changes:
the weight must stay on the bottom.
This technique works with soft plastics, but for clients I almost always use a deadbait perch. Not because it’s fancy — because it works, and because clients trust it. Big perch respond incredibly well to deadbait, especially in colder water or when they’re holding tight to structure. It’s a confidence method, and confidence matters when you’re guiding people who want their first real specimen.
The retrieve is slow. You let the weight stand on the bottom, move it gently, let the current work, and always maintain contact. Every now and then, you give it a small shake. Then you wait. This is not a technique for impatient anglers. It’s a technique for people who want results — and who are willing to fish slowly enough to get them.
The bite on deadbait is different from soft plastics. You don’t strike immediately. You feel the fish pick it up, you give a little slack, let it turn the bait, and only then do you tighten up and hit it. Strike too early and you miss almost every fish. Strike at the right moment and you hook the kind of perch that make clients’ hands shake — the thick, heavy fish that push into 4–5 lb trophy territory.
I don’t fish this technique for myself because it’s too slow for my style. But for clients, it’s one of the most effective ways to catch the heaviest perch in the system. It’s predictable, it’s consistent, and it produces the kind of fish that UK anglers dream about.
This is the dropshot with deadbait as I use it.
Not the theory.
Not the finesse version.
Just the real, practical method that works — especially when the goal is to catch true specimen class perch.
Everything on this page comes from practice. Not theory. Not borrowed ideas. Not a collection of recycled “perch tips”.
This is the system I actually use on the water — the same bottom‑driven logic, the same structure reading, the same precision that consistently produces the big, heavy perch most anglers never find. These four techniques are not random choices. They are the methods that survived years of refinement, correction, and repetition. They work because they match the way perch behave, and they match the way I read water.
If you understand structure, transitions, light, and bottom contact, you can find big perch anywhere. If you don’t, no lure or rig will save you.
Perchhunters.com exists to document the truth about big‑perch fishing — without hype, without shortcuts, and without the noise that fills most of the internet.
If you want to understand perch at a deeper level, the techniques above are the foundation. If you want to understand the Dutch predator systems as a whole, the guides linked earlier will take you further.
This is the system. This is the logic. This is the reality of how big perch are caught.