Not as expected

My day off was hectic, jobs to do, places I needed to be, bait to collect and hanging on a telephone call but by 1730 I was on the road in glorious sunshine, I picked up Rich and an hour later we stood in front of the estuary at low tide.  We deliberately got there early so we could have a good look at all the humps, bumps and gullies that would be covered by the rising tide, plenty of places to drop a bait later.

We fished two rods each with Ragworm on long hooklengths and to begin with things went as we expected.  The fading light brought a run of bites, on Rich’s side of the swim at least and he caught five Bass with each being a little bigger than the last, right up to a new PB.  I on the other hand, fishing yards away, couldn’t get a bite!  As the flood progressed so the tide got stronger and was carrying all sorts of snotty, weedy shit which after a while meant fishing any further than twenty yards out was almost impossible.  Just as well we’d had our scout around at low tide as these features were definitely in play.

Just like our previous trip the bites started to slow up and it looked like I was heading for a blank but eventually I had a few pulls and landed an Eel and two small Bass which I was delighted to see.  The last of these took a bait just under-armed out four or five yards landing on the seaward side of a large clay boulder.  We ran out of gas as well as bait half an hour before high tide so packed up and yomped back through the marshes.  Not what we were expecting when we set off but by now I should know better!

A bright sunny Saturday with a light northerly breeze, by the time my workday was done and the errands run, I had a cross county drive to the estuary and it was 1810 before I had a cast.  To begin with I ignored the bait rods and concentrated on fishing with lures using shads and spoons.  I worked my way to the creek mouth where there were fish swirling!  Surely I had a chance?  I chopped and changed; a spinner and a couple of small plugs (remember when we called them plugs? Why was that?) but I never had a touch, which didn’t seem possible…

By 1900 I was sat on my arse behind the tripod soaking a couple of ragworms.  On the light rod I used the normal running leger but on the old carp rod that I’ve been using I chucked out a Dyson rig, aiming to keep the bait off bottom.  I’ve tried this rig a few times, a couple of hours here and a couple there but apart from a couple of sharp bangs I’m yet to succeed in actually catching anything.  I gave the rig an hour but in shallow water with a tide still receding it didn’t inspire confidence and I switched back to a leger rig.  2000, I’d been there two hours but by this time the sun was getting low in the sky and the occasional pluck or rattle disturbed the tips.  There may have been more than this but my concentration was divide as I’d been persevering with the lure rod from time to time, still without a touch.

The sun had slipped below the horizon by 2030 and a few minutes later I had a decent rattle on the old carp rod then shortly after this a decent bang on the tip but I was way too slow.  An hour quickly passed with just the occasional quick pulls on the tip that had stopped before my backside had left the chair.  I had two good solid bites which any capable angler should have hit but I didn’t.  I’ve had other nights like this when I know there are fish about but whatever I do I can’t hook them.  The answer would be to hold a rod but there’s just so much to do when sea fishing.  I did wind a sea creature in during this period but this was crusty and had claws.  Things weren’t going to plan and my mind started to play those tricks…

2155, to this point almost all the action had come on the old carp rod fished on the right of the swim and it was this rod that signalled a good bite which I actually managed to hook.  I carefully steered the fish into the shallows where a nice ‘medium’ sized Bass appeared in the torch beam, it then shook its head and threw the hook, bugger!  Ten minutes later the same rod bent over properly but once again I didn’t hook up.  I’m starting to think the carp rod is just not right for this job and the fish aren’t hooking themselves against the sloppy tip.  Actually, I think I worked this out this time last year and probably the one before that.

The tide was now coming back in and small waves were rolling onto my little beach, the annoying finicky bites continued but from now on they were all on the right hand rod.  I missed another good bite then minutes later struck at a movement and felt weight but it wasn’t pulling back, another crab waved its pincers at me.  I looked at my watch – 2240 – I looked back and the tip was moving again, would you believe another bloody crab!  This continued, every time my concentration wandered something would happen, on another night I’d hook these bites, maybe there were only small fish about tonight?

It seems like every time I fish in salt water I reach a point when I am mentally defeated and it is only then that my luck changes.  At 2250 another bite on the light rod and hallelujah, I manged to hook it and it even dragged it onto the beach, a small fish but a Bass at last.  Ten minutes later the same rod was jumping in the tripod and I hooked a second fish.  This had a bit of weight to it and at one point got snagged behind one of many obstacles in this area.  I walked down the beach and the change of angle freed the fish and I soon had a proper Bass on the beach, a definite ‘keeper’ had I been that way inclined, which I wasn’t. 

After that I didn’t get another bite, not even a rattle, on either rod.  I fished till just after midnight by which time my energy was sagging so it was time to go.  A strange trip which like the previous one hadn’t gone how I’d expected but every time I learn a little more, or in this case re-learn.  My drive home had RTJ3 for a soundtrack and entertainment provided by loads of rabbits, a deer and a startled badger.

I’ve managed four trips in a fortnight for these spring Bass but that might be my last.  Darkness is without doubt the trigger that switches these fish on but as the evenings draw out this obviously comes later.  Last year the fishing tailed off sharply towards the end of the month and I am certainly in need of a change of scenery.

A good hike and a contented walk

It was a workday with a glimmer of fishy opportunity from late afternoon but after recent beach fishing experiences could I be arsed?  I talked myself into a few hours on an estuary, I’d travel light – soak a squid and have a good go with the lure rod, hoping for a Bass.  But after a phone call from a mate in the tackle shop I’d half a pound of rag on hold and plans had changed to humping the whole kit down to the point.  With my shift finished I demolished a pizza, loaded up then got away.  First I had to head into Town where I swooped into AD to pick up the bait, then a frustrating drive east before finally pulling up in a secluded car park.  Next I had a good hike towards the shore and as I put one foot in front of the other, the sound of the wind through the trees made me think that leaving the shelter behind might not be such a good idea, when will I learn?

Finally around 1800 I had a couple of rods out, two running leger rigs were holding baits down in the boiling waters off ‘the point’, I’d mostly be fishing for Bass but with a chance of flatfish and who knows else, it’s the sea after all.  On the heavy rod I had a small whole squid which I’d allow to soak and on the light rod it was ragworm all the way.  Today was forecast to be the last of the warm spell we’ve been having and the northerly wind made it clear the air had changed already.  The evening may have been bright but was cooler than it looked, the water was crystal again and I’d brought a few lures which I chucked around from time to time with enthusiasm if not confidence.  By the time I’d arrived high tide was two hours behind me so I’d be fishing it down which is not ideal in theory but this time last year it had made no difference, the coming of darkness had been the key.

At 1920 I noticed a flutter on the tip of the light rod, then again seconds later.  After the blank last time I was keen to actually catch something so I got to my feet in anticipation but of course nothing happened until I sat down again.  This time the tip shook with purpose and I found myself winding a fish in.  The bite hadn’t been at all Bass-like so I wondered what was on the end but it came off in close so I’ll never know.  Whatever it was it had lifted my confidence as it had been several hours since I’d last seen a bite.  The next couple of casts brought tremors and rattles but nothing I could strike at, then it went quiet and I wondered if I’d missed my chance.  I tried my luck with the lure rod from time to time, spoons and shads mostly but I don’t know where to start and didn’t feel a bite. Perhaps I’d been over hasty in this mad scramble to get to the seaside, I should have thought it through a bit more.  Oh well, it was a nice place to sit on my backside, I’d heard my first cuckoo of the year earlier and a Tawney Owl sounded like it was just waking up.  Every minute now saw the light fade a little more, this should have increased my confidence but instead I began to plan my getaway, how much longer should I give it?

At 2120 the light rod banged and rattled in the tripod, not even I could miss it, there was a bit of weight on the end and a swirl on the surface.  With tackle like this strength isn’t an issue but I bring these fish in patiently so as not to pull the hook out, I soon had a nice Bass of a couple of pounds or so at my feet.  A photo worthy fish at any time but especially when things haven’t been going to plan recently and my departure was delayed.  Twenty minutes later I had a repeat performance, the fish if anything fought a little harder but was actually slightly smaller.  Another twenty minutes and another bite, my third Bass was the smallest so far, around half the size of the first.  I was tired so it was time to go but I chucked a fresh ragworm out again while I tidied up the rest of the kit and while I was doing so the tip started banging again.  I hooked another decent weight but this didn’t fight like the previous ones and my final fish of the night was a Doggy.

This was another day when I felt I was leaving a few fish out there but I get to a point where enough is enough.  In these wild environments I find that just being there can be in a way, draining and there is usually a feeling of relief when I close the door against the wind and waves, yes I’m getting old.  That makes it sound like I don’t enjoy it but this is miles wide of the mark and I’m making plans to get back soon.  This part of the world is as wild as our island gets and driving home I saw several Muntjac, a couple of Foxes, Rabbits galore and had to stop the car to allow nine Deer to cross the road.  Enough there for an episode of ‘Springwatch’ but fishing in wild places we almost take it for granted.

 

I had plenty of Ragworm left so these were well wrapped then sneaked into the back of the fridge where I hoped they’d enjoy a few days of slumber before I could get back to the river.  A couple of days later I set off in the middle of evening rush hour, swung in to pick up Rich then took the circular route out to the coast. To be fair the traffic wasn’t as bad as expected but I was in no hurry and our journey was painless, drenched in conversation.  We pulled into possibly the most secure car park in the country, loaded up then hiked towards the estuary and ten minutes later stood looking out from the point.

Rich, like me, is a Piker and only an occasional beachcaster, this was his first visit to this spot where he hoped to experience the Bass fishing I’d bent his ears about a year ago.  My previous visit had been promising, it looked like the Bass were in the same areas and behaving in the same way they this time last year.  I’d carted the beach shelter this time which provided a bit of a windbreak but this evening felt more comfortable than previous.  We’d be fishing the tide one up then down for as long as we were enjoying it but evidence so far suggests that is largely irrelevant, darkness is key.  By 1840 we were relaxing in our chairs, each fishing two rods, soaking up the atmosphere of the estuarine environment.

The fishing started slowly as expected but this gave us plenty of time for a chat and as time began to tick by and the light gradually faded, things started to happen.  To begin with just rattles and taps on ragworm and I had one violent bang on squid but there was nothing we could strike at.  Before we knew it darkness had swallowed us and as always the doubts started to creep in.  Then at 2125 I had the first proper bite of the night and beached our first fish, a bass of eight ounces or so.  The recast had hardly settled before the rod was banging again and I had a similar sized Bass doing its best to spike me.  We got ourselves settled again and were hoping it would be Rich’s turn next but my rod folded over like a Barbel bite and I wound into a better fish which held its own then charged up and down at close range.  After allowing it to knacker itself on a short line I dragged my best Bass of the season onto the shore.

Soon after this Rich got off the mark with his first Bass for a few years and for an hour bites came regularly to both of us.  Rich’s next fish was a better one that gave him a bit of bother amongst some rocks before he managed to drag it ashore.  He was well chuffed with a fish around two pounds which he thought was probably his biggest Bass from the shore.  When they get to this size Bass really do have a go at fighting, despite having no real chance against the kind of tackle we have to use.  My next fish was another good one which managed to go round the other line before succumbing, a nice fish at any time and it’s not often we’ll see two bigger ones the same night.  By 1130 our combined total was ten fish but things were beginning to slow down.  What bites we had were more plucks and flutters although Rich managed to wind in another Bass and an Eel.

Around 1230 we were running out of bait so loaded all the chunks and lumps of worm we had left onto our four hooks then slung them out into the ebb while we tidied the rest of our kit away.  We didn’t leave the rods too much longer, tonight our energy had outlasted the feeding spell but by now we’d had enough and we had a decent hike ahead of us.  This would be a contented walk though because for once things had actually gone to plan.

...nobody told Ray

Late afternoon and I was getting ready for an evening on the beach, a message which I’d been expecting but dreading came through, bless you V, never to be forgotten.

I need to get out now, head for somewhere peaceful and get my head around this stuff.  By 1800 I was sitting behind the tripod, two rod tips against a hazy blue backdrop.  I’d travelled light tonight and the north easterly breeze was enough to make me wish I’d brought the shelter with me.  The sea was pretty flat though the smallish waves did break with energy, still it looked good for a Ray, to me at least.  Baits were mostly squiddy bits though I did try chunks of bluey from time to time.  Rigs were the usual but honestly, how much does it matter?  The beach below me was totally different to when I was last here, the gully had gone and all the WW2 leftovers were buried under sand and shingle once again.  The sea was coming towards me with high tide due at 2340 though whether I’d last that long was debatable.

I sat and contemplated things we don’t want to think about but smiled too at happy memories.  The baits were getting long soaks as nothing rattled the tips; on the light rod dropped in close the bait was coming back whole but the baits given a heave were getting nibbled by something, probably crabs.  I’m never bothered by crabs (?), I see this as something that will attract the interesting species and with this in mind I switched the light rod over to a pulley rig which enables me to punch a bait out a bit further.  Two hours in, the light was noticeably dimming and with that the breeze was easing off and the waves shrinking.  It really did feel good for a Ray and now should be the time but still the tips were stationary and I was getting to that weekly mindset where I feel like extracting anything from the salty grey mass is impossible.  But the very next time I winched in the heavy rod I found a small Whiting had impaled itself.

Another hour sped past and by this time the tip lights were lit and the headtorch had replaced the shades sitting on the brim of my hat.  I could have sworn the heavy rod tip made a different movement and when I this repeated a minute later I had to check it.  I wound it in but there was nothing there and the squid was still whole so went out for another swim.  Within minutes the same rod tip was thumping for sure and this was the start of a spell where every cast brought a decent bite but I failed to hook anything at all.  What’s more the baits were coming back almost untouched, what was going on?  Whatever it was, perhaps a whole squid was a bit too big…  I wondered if a shoal of small Bass had moved in so I switched the lighter rod from bluey to a small squid and whacked it out.  Now both rods were banging but I missed a couple more before I finally dragged a Dogfish up the beach after an hour of almost constant action.

A few minutes later the other rod banged over and there was a decent weight on the end this time, would this be a Ray?  No it was a good sized Doggie in a seriously bad mood and with that I decided I’d had enough.  To be honest after a few years the novelty of catching Dogs and Whiting has worn well thin and I need something more interesting to keep me out there when tiredness starts to creep up.  So having managed to calm my swirling brain and catch a couple of fish I packed up and tramped back to the car.  I shut the sound of the waves out, started and cranked the stereo up, playing a song for a friend.

 

It seems the Rays have moved away, I believe they move up the estuaries to spawn?  Anyway the most interesting target for the next few weeks is Bass so time for a change of approach.  I had hoped to have a midweek go on a river mouth spot but forgot to order the bait!  I had time to fish but where do I go and what should I do?  The Tardis needed a bit of a sort out and I considered rigging up a couple of rods to fish sweetcorn on a little pit I’m yet to explore but this didn’t inspire so in the end I got ready for another session on an open beach but further north than I’ve been so far this year, or should I try a river mouth, just give it a go with the baits I have?

Spot the difference...

I had a slow journey on mid week roads and set up as the fun boat disappeared into the haze, a daytime tide for a change.  I was fishing by 1000, four hours before hight tide on a clear, warm day with just a feather of cloud in the hazy blue sky.  The sun had enough power to make me put sun cream on ginger skin but the north easterly breeze kept the temperature comfortable, what most people would describe as a glorious spring day.  The water was virtually flat with just the tiniest waves and the north sea was actually blue for once and as clear as I’d ever seen it.  Should have brought a lure rod!  There were a couple of other anglers about and inevitably the weather attracted other humans to the beach, some of whom were daft enough to actually get in and judging by the screams it wasn’t as comfortable as it looked. 

From my seat there were four Martello towers visible, over two hundred years old and despite the harshest environment they are still solid, in fact many are holiday homes nowadays.  But why here I wonder?  What is it or was it about this stretch of coast that needed such defences? Probably the same reason I’m here, deep water close in.

A Herring Gull kept me company for most of the morning.  I’m usually suspicious of these bait stealing fuckers but for some reason today I felt charitable and chucked a piece of rancid squid which it swallowed in a gulp but maybe I’ve poisoned it?  To be fair after that the gull behaved itself, it kept its distance and I chucked it scraps of bait which rarely hit the stones.  Every now and then it would take to the air, circle the bay and chase away any other gulls that may interrupt its food supply before returning to keep a hopeful eye on me.

Towards high tide the breeze picked up and felt cool, the turn of the tide saw it run harder than expected.  I fished big baits and small baits, tried them at all kinds of ranges from close to as far as I could chuck it.  Bait was mostly squid but I also tried fishy chunks and strips.  The conditions meant the rod tips were virtually still so any bites would have been easy to spot but I didn’t get any, not one and the baits were coming back in one piece.  Once again it looked good for a Ray but... and what I’d have given for a Whiting or a Dogfish this morning!  I got it totally wrong today and in the absence of any fishy photos here, (gasp!) is some video!

Fishing and fishing

I consider myself very lucky to have a small group of close friends, we’ve known each other since the eighties and have grown up together.  Fishing has been a constant thread that has helped bind us for over forty years, one of the greatest things about this sport of ours.  Me and Mr T met through a shared love of music, beer and good times and we’d known each other years before we ever fished together.  Nowadays it’s probably the thing we do most.  I suppose most of my fishing is somehow ‘serious’ in as much as I am hoping to catch a specific species or a fish of a certain size, you could say my motivation is some kind of target fish but that definitely wouldn’t be the case tonight.

This evening we hauled our gear to a spot that would give us a little respite from the fresh north easterly.  We quickly set up in the sunshine, the rods were cast and crucially on this occasion, the shelter erected.  We settled into our chairs, opened a couple of beers and there we pretty much stayed because the fish were showing zero interest.  We’d occasionally get up to freshen the baits which were coming back quite undamaged but honestly this was irrelevant.  If the fishing had been too busy we wouldn’t have had half as much time to chat and the night wouldn’t have been anywhere near as enjoyable.

High tide came and went, the sun dipped and it was the fading daylight that finally seemed to trigger a fish or two.  We had a few rattles and between us managed to drag a tiny Dogfish and a decent Whiting up the beach.  Had we stayed I’m sure we’d have caught a few more fish but the cold wind made emerging from shelter a chore so we decided to get away before things got too uncomfortable.

A week later this time fishing alone, my mindset was totally different, this time with no company other than the noises in my mind I was focussing on the fishing.  The day was pleasant, mild and bright with a light south easterly but of course its always a few degrees cooler on the east coast.  I travelled from a different direction on unfamiliar roads, the journey seemed quick and I was soon pulling up at a coastal car park. 

Emerging through the scrub I was surprised to find an empty beach, the tide was at its lowest with a lot of the ground I’d be fishing over revealed to the eye, a small gully of water ran along the beach about twenty five yards from the high tide mark.  I took a couple of minutes to make a couple of practice casts, ensuring I’d be able to drop the rig into this gully when the tide climbed further up the slope.  The usual Pennelled squid was hurled eastward on the heavy rod and I put a two hook flapper on the light rod, small baits hoping for a flatty early on in the tide.  By 1830 I was sat comfortably in front of the shelter looking up at two rod tips that were almost still.  The salty liquid mass was pretty flat today which always makes life easier.

Two hours passed, the sun sank and obviously the sky grew dark while the sea crept relentlessly closer.  Everything seemed right for a fish but the tips were motionless, I’d have no trouble seeing any bites but there was nothing to see, the baits had been coming back a bit chewed but they’d been getting a long soak.  I changed the lighter rod swapping to a running leger rig and wondered why I ever use anything else?  I’ve been mucking about with multi hook rigs for a couple of years and I’m not convinced they catch me any more fish.  I’m not match fishing and do I really want to be winding in two or three small fish at a time?  But to be fair at that moment I would have been happy to see any kind of fish, any size.

Whenever sea fishing is like this it feels like you’ll never get another bite, ever.  To catch feels impossible.  Then at 2045 a sharp pull on the heavy rod changed the vibe completely!  A minute or so later the tip pulled round solidly and I was on my feel pulling a decent fish towards the shore.  Heavy tackle, a running tide and a bit of weight on the end makes hauling it all back towards me a laborious task but when a nice Ray was revealed by a retreating wave it proved well worth it.  This one didn’t go smoothly as I managed to tangle with the other line but this was soon sorted and a fish of about three pounds was returned.  I would have taken a quick picture but the phone was in the car and I'd killed the camera batteries trying to take photos of the moon.  Yes really.

Half an hour passed before the same rod was banging again and I winched a second, smaller Ray onto the beach.  This was quickly unhooked and returned, as usual the next hooklength was baited and ready, another squid was thrown out and disappeared into the darkness.  This rod was hardly back on the tripod before the lighter rod banged over for the first time this evening and I wound in a decent sized Whiting.  I’d just chucked this back when I had another good bite on the heavy rod, the tip was dragged down low and it looked like I’d be into another Ray but the tip straightened again, whatever it was had made its getaway. 

After that mad hour things settled into a more normal rhythm, fishy attention on most casts but fewer proper bites.  A good whack on the heavy rod around 2215 resulted in me battling with something spirited which the waves revealed to be my first Bass on the year and it was a good one that was not quite legal size.  Shortly after this another similar bite seemed like it would give me the same result, something decent battled in the shallows but my last pull up the beach only saw the hook pull and whatever it was, probably another Bass (?) made its getaway so I’ll never know.  Most of the bites were coming to baits given the big chuck and I considered putting a pulley rig on the lighter rod too.  But by this time the tide was way up the beach and I’d started dropping the lighter rod into the gully, this brought me a couple of fast bites but I was too slow to hit them.  Something to try on another day though…

By 2300 I was knackered and even though high tide was still about ninety minutes away I decided to get away.  I’d caught a few fish and was confident of more but I’d actually run out of steam.  As usual I tidied everything up and packed away the shelter before starting on the rods.  While I packed up the light rod I was sure the other, now resting on my chair, was banging a bit and so it proved, a Dogfish had hung itself for my fifth and final fish of the night.  This was soon back in the briny and within a few minutes I was loaded up and trudging back across the shingle, happy with how my evening had gone. Then again, maybe I should have fished both rods with pulley rigs whacked out?  Whatever, I set out hoping to catch Rays and succeeded, I also had a nice sized Bass so a successful fishing trip but was it more enjoyable than the previous one?  I’m happy I have time to do both.

Salty dogs

Saturday drifted by, helped by a trip to the tackle shop and a series of garden jobs; the grass received its first mow for the year and there was another skirmish in the ongoing war against the Beech hedge.  I got my tackle ready at a leisurely pace then all of a sudden it was time to go, I set off for the beach, another first for the year.  It was a slow drive east through countryside still showing winter’s scars although the fresh green is starting to show through again.  Through one of the “quaint” parts of the county, the Ukrainian flags still fly. Yeah that’s helping.  No Palestinian flags though, this is posh Suffolk after all.

The day had been bright but had clouded over late in the afternoon, the wind was from the south west and was forecast to gain strength.  I loaded up then hiked through scrub to find four anglers already pitched up and fishing, an unusual occurrence on this beach though I’m sure it has nothing to do with being featured by a three minute hero on youtube recently.  My hike continued for a little way, about as far north as I could go before the ground gets too snaggy for comfort.  The sloping beach in front of me had plenty of debris but when I’ve fished here before it hasn’t been a problem.  The sea beyond this looked okay, not too bouncy at least.  I quickly set up two rods; on the lighter rod I fished a flapper rig with two small hooks baited with strips of mackerel, with this I was just trying to get a bite though I hoped for something flat.  On the heavy rod I used the regular pulley rig with bigger baits for bigger fish, hopefully I’ll find a Thornback tonight.

By 1850 everything was sorted and I was sitting comfortably in my shelter sipping a brew and staring up at rod tips, outside there was a cool wind building strength and the roll and boom of the waves.  Today was New moon so there’d be a big tide moving a lot of water and climbing high up the beach.  If I stayed late I might need to retreat at some point.  High tide was due just before midnight and my timings had focused around this, I hadn’t considered the rapidly fading light.  This was no problem as I was expecting to fish in darkness I just didn’t realise what should have been obvious, that I’d be needing the head torch and tip lights quite so soon.  The fading light is often a trigger and when I wound in the light rod a few minutes later I found a small Whiting attached. By the time this rod was back out it seemed proper dark and everything was lit up, torches and tips.

At 1920 the heavy rod banged over and I wound in a Dogfish.  I soon got another squid back into the sea and within minutes the tip thumped again, the result another doggie.  While I was dealing with this the light rod started banging and this time I wound in another Whiting.  I hadn’t managed to recast this before the heavy rod was going again but this time I missed it.  When I managed to sit down again a mad half hour had passed, these hectic spells are fun but I was non stop; baiting up, casting, winding in, unhooking then baiting up again.  I always have duplicate hooklengths baited and ready to go to make sure I have baits in the water for the longest possible time but for a while I couldn’t keep up.

By 2005 it had probably been fully dark for a while though my world was a torch beam and I hadn’t noticed the progression, the spell of proper bites had also finished.  For the rest of the evening I had action of some kind on almost every cast but prolonged ‘strike-able’ bites were few.  Indeed as the wind strengthened through the evening the tips were in constant motion and spotting anything at all became difficult.  Around 2045 I’d seen a few rattles on the heavy rod and wound it in to find a bigger Whiting which had taken a chunk of herring.  I decided to switch the lighter rod over to a second pulley rig, fishing bigger baits which I fished it at mixed distances, dropping in close every other cast.  Despite the beach being busy I was barely aware of the other anglers as I was down wind and had my back to them all night, the fishing was relaxing and enjoyable with enough going on to make me feel I could catch at any time.

2105, a little under three hours before high tide, was that a thump on the heavy rod?  Yes it was, persistent pulls yanked the tip over and I wound into a heavy weight which throbbed and pulled as I slowly pumped it back towards the shore.  Surely this must be a Ray?  I’ve thought this before and been tricked by a Doggie with attitude but whatever this was it was pulling back and I wanted to see it.  My pressure and a convenient wave deposited a fish onto the shingle and yes it was my first Thornback of the year.  I guessed it would weigh three and a bit pounds but a quick check on the scales showed it was just over four, that’ll do nicely.

That was the highlight of the night, as time passed so the wind increased and the tips were ever more wobbly.  Inside the shelter all was calm and comfort but outside it was getting wild.  The wind was blowing across me from right to left and controlling the line on the longer casts was a problem.  I often had to wind in a lot of slack before making a decent contact with the lead.  When the tips done something a bit different I would wind in to check though I was never sure what to expect.  I managed to catch another Dogfish on the light rod and a small Pouting on the heavier set up.  By 2300 I figured my chances of another Ray were diminishing just as the wind was still building.  It was still an hour before high tide but I decided I’d had enough, tidied the kit, took down the shelter then commenced getting the rods in quickly.  First the light rod then the heavy rod last on which I found a fourth and final Dogfish.

I was getting wind blasted as I tramped across the shingle but as soon as I cleared the beach the sound of the waves vanished and I was sheltered from the wind.  Tonight it was a relief to shut the car door and block out the elements, then settle into a comfortable seat. My first saltwater trip of the year couldn’t have gone much better, nine fish of four species including a decent Ray, that’ll do me.  Next the return journey through dark country lanes with Primal Scream as company.

 

Happy New Year

When the river season closes I can’t just stop, I have to have one more go for Pike just to get it out of my system, put a full stop on the season and dispose of any unwanted bait.  It had to be a stillwater but I loaded the kit I’ve been using on the river.  I didn’t really know where to look for fish so wanted to keep on the move, a couple of deadbait rods and a few lures would do me.  We’ve crept past the equinox now and the roadsides were clad in white and yellow blossom, the world will be green again before you know it.

I was fishing by 0715 on a cloudy but mild morning which would have felt warmer without the south easterly blowing into my chops.  The first swim looked the part and it’s one place I have caught at this time of year, but not today.  A small fish followed a springdawg but that was my lot.  I also tried a couple of shads and a slider; I wonder why all my lures begin with an S?  After a couple of lazy hours here I moved along the bank into a tight swim between trees, both of which looked good places to drop my baits while I covered the water with lures.  After twenty minutes or so there was a solid thump and I was into a fish on a shad which charged about for a bit before I got it in the net where it tried to charge about some more.  A decent sized Pike was soon unhooked and returned.

After another half hour I moved again into a more open swim which gave me plenty of space to thrash the lure rod around.  And this I did, catching a fish had given me confidence and the water looked lovely and clear.  Of course it was the deadbait rod that trundled off, a take on a freshly cast herring but the bait was dropped as I wound down and there were no further signs here.  One last move, an hour spent listening to birdsong and trying to identify the little brown blobs.  Then I was amused by the antics of a large flock of Starlings which made quite a noise while perched but this ceased the second they took flight, like someone had pressed a switch.  Nothing here on bait or lures and I decided I’d had enough, for the day and for the season. 

Happy New Year
When the rest of the world goes mad on New years eve it means nothing to me; I enjoy the music on BBC2 but that’s as far as it goes.  For many years I went with the flow and pretended otherwise but in all the ways that really matter my new year begins sometime in mid March when I stop Pike fishing.  After that I’ll be doing something different so let the New year begin. So now is the appropriate time to look back at the previous four quarters in review, so to speak.
Starting off on the beaches; fishing for Rays wasn’t consistent this year but I caught a few, the best weighing 5-08 and 5-14.  The Bass fishing was good throughout with loads caught, plenty of keepers and five that were 44cms/2+.  I had eight different species including a PB Flounder early on in the year and a couple of Turbot but didn’t see a sign of a Smoothound.
Apart from one day on an old pit all of my course fishing was done on rivers.  In East Anglia I caught nine different species including a Chub of 4-07 which is the biggest I’ve caught ‘on purpose’.  Also Perch to 1-14, my first two Brown Trout – best 2-02 and my first Gudgeon and Minnows for more years than I can remember.
Not too long ago I’d only ever caught one 4+ Chub which was by accident on a lure.  This season alone I had seven which must make it my best ever?  Most of these came from my favourite river out west. Here I also caught more Barbel than in any previous twelve months including my best from the river at 8-11.
Almost half of almost every season is spent trying to catch Pike and this has been a strange few months for many reasons.  I didn’t get it quite right in Norfolk, I still managed to do okay but there’s a feeling it could have been better.  Having a ‘new’ water to go at was refreshing and really enjoyable and having a couple of old haunts to fall back on meant I caught Pike steadily all season.  So I’ve had plenty of better seasons and many that weren’t as productive but any ‘year’ I catch at least one twenty pounder has to be a good one.

Next time I fish it will be in salt water; firstly hoping to catch Rays then as the weeks pass it will be Bass and then the elusive Smoothound.  Usually this will involve a bit of a hike across unpredictable terrain to reach an inhospitable location where I usually sit on my arse, hypnotised by the rhythm of the rod tips and being deafened by booming waves and rolling shingle.  I always arrive home knackered, often in the early hours and always stinking like a deadbait bag.  What’s not to like?

Rivers run

I’d always planned to have a go for Chub this winter but have been thoroughly enjoying the Pike fishing so never got around to it but with time running out I was suddenly inspired.  After a rummage in the shed I put together some bits and pieces, a few slices of bread and some worms from the compost, loaded up and head for the river.  By 0945 I was settled into a swim I’d caught plenty of autumn fish from, this was the upstream end of a row of nice far bank overhangs.  The plan was to gradually move downstream searching the likely looking chubby holes as I went.  I fished a small feeder on a running rig then a two foot hooklength with a size 10 hook.  I had a little oily groundbait which I mixed with some brown crumb just to put some smell in the water, hookbait was mostly flake but I occasionally tried a worm.  The day was cooler than of late with a north westerly wind blowing clouds in front of the sun.

Three swims and three hours later I hadn’t had a bite and I’d covered less water than I hoped.  I was tempted to head for home but there were a couple more fishable swims and one of them I liked the look of.  When I returned with my gear I had a look at next downstream spot and for some reason this felt right so I quietly settled here instead and from the first cast there were signs of fish about.  This started off as plucks and twitches on the tip followed by good fast bangs that a proper Chub angler would probably have hooked but I was about a week late.  Then a proper pull round Barbel style three foot twitch that I also failed to connect with, when I wound in the hook had gone.  I couldn’t remember the breaking strain of any of the hooklengths I’d tied but they looked too fine so I tied up another with eight pounds mono.  Soon the flake was back in the spot but of course that had killed the swim.

I passed another hour dropping the feeder into different parts of the swim hoping my luck would change…  Meanwhile a bit of light rain was blowing in now and again and it was beginning to feel chilly, I was starting to think I’d had enough for the day.  Then a twitchy movement on the tip had me striking thin air but boosted my confidence.  I looked at my watch and realised I’d have to be on the road soon so frisbeed the last of the bread down river then added on last lump of flake to the hook, this would definitely be my last cast.  Would you believe it for once it happened, I had a good firm bite, set the hook and steered a writhing Chub away from the snags and into the net.  It was only a couple of pounds or so but punched above its weight and I was pleased to see it.  Then I packed up and went home.

 

Either side of this I made a couple of trips to Norfolk where its always inconsistent at this time of year.  There have been three or four occasions where things have gone spectacularly in March but more often than not I find myself chasing ghosts as was the case on my most recent visits.  Conditions were pretty good and it was pleasant weather to be sat in a boat, I worked hard, moved regularly and covered loads of water but just managed a single jack on each visit.  Even after all these years there’s still stuff to learn and every season I catch Pike from somewhere I’ve never fished before.  I’m not done yet!