My mate Ray

When I was a kid I mostly fished with maggots under a float and was delighted and excited by anything I might catch; Rudd, Roach, Perch, Gudgeon, Dace it didn’t matter.  Provided I could get past my parents I would go out in all seasons and in all kinds of weather, I thought I’d grown more sensible over the years.  But obviously not, today is grey and gloomy with light rain being whipped in on a strong south westerly and I’m heading for the beach to try and catch a fish of any kind.  Not only that I was also battling against the new tackle curse as I’d been tempted by a Bass rod and Okuma reel to go with it.  Okuma isn’t a fashionable brand but I’ve had several over the years in fact the best reel I own is an Okuma which I’ve been using for over a decade.

Outside in the air it was immediately apparent that it was moving very quickly, the air that is.  The forecasters were spot on, the wind was raging and carrying stinging drizzle.  Only idiots would go out fishing on a beach in this weather.  Giles phoned, he’d invested in one of the funky beach igloos and was still well up for giving the fishing a go, I was definitely daft enough to tag along too.  Having both looked at google earth we decided to try a different location which, in theory, should give us a bit more shelter from the gale.

By 1500 we were at the car park of a beach we’ve not yet fished, looking out at a seriously stormy sea.  We walked up and down for a bit, searching for inspiration but the only impulse was to get back in the car.  But no, fuck it we’re here so we might as well give it a go.  We set up and chucked a couple of rigs each into the boiling sea.  Giles erected the new igloo which proved itself to be an essential piece of kit on the day and something I’ll almost certainly invest in at some point.  We tried to fish but spotting bites was impossible and we were really hoping something would hang itself.  Our leads were holding but the churning water meant the long hooklength was tangling constantly so I switched to a shorter one which improved things slightly.  Our squid baits mostly remained on the hook, it seemed nothing was nibbling at them, except crabs of which Giles caught a couple.

As night descended and the tide turned so the wind started to ease and our rod tips were more stable, enough to spot a bite should we get one.  I thought I spotted a couple and struck through desperation but hooked nothing.  We gave it until 2200 before jacking it in and trudging back to the car through stinging rain.  This was our first total blank on the beach but we’d enjoyed the experience and had learnt a whole lot more; about this particular beach and how to fish in rough conditions.  But probably the biggest lesson was when it’s this rough, don’t bother.

Another week crawled by.  I’m not usually this enthused by summer fishing but for the first time in years I’m literally counting the days until I can get out again.  What’s more it seems like the warm weather has arrived, better late than never.  So Friday morning, another solo trip through quiet country lanes with ‘Dose your Dreams’ punishing the speakers.  No roadworks, no diversions, for once everything went smoothly and I arrived an hour after low tide to find the steep beach deserted.  My first target this spring had been a decent sized Thornback but I’m told these are dispersing now however mature Smoothound are moving in and one of those would be even better.  The wind was light but blowing straight in my face, keeping the temperature down but not uncomfortably so.  I fished the usual methods, small bait on a running leger dropped in close and a big bait on a pulley rig flung out, then sat back and became hypnotised by rod tips.

It didn’t take long, a few rattles and plucks on the near rod which didn’t develop but I struck anyway and found myself winding in something small, flat and brown, a Flounder?  A modest fish but the new rod and reel were christened and the curse hopefully broken.  Out with a fresh bait and back into my chair, not expecting to be sitting down for long.  Last time I’d fished here I was catching fish all day, I assumed a repeat was on the cards….

Five hours later and the tips had remained stationary all morning and when I wound in the baits were almost always intact, not even the crabs were having a nibble.  I started to think back to beach fishing in the 80’s; rough seas, cold weather and very few fish.  My most recent trips had gone along these lines, this sea fishing lark still has a lot of lessons to teach me.  Still the weather was an improvement, dry and mild with a light onshore breeze which meant the coat stayed on all morning.  The beach filled up, a few day trippers and several other anglers but I didn’t see anyone else catching either.

Then at around 1330 with the tide at its fullest the tip on the ‘big bait’ pulled slowly round and stayed there.  I struggled to my feet, picked the rod out of the tripod, wound down and bent into a substantial weight.  The old North Western hooped over as I pumped something back towards me.  The ‘thing’ didn’t run like a freshwater fish might but it pulled and plodded and by the time it was close in had made its way to my left.  Was this my first proper Smoothound?  Colour appeared in the surf, colour that was an unmistakable diamond shape and with the next wave I dragged my first proper Ray onto the beach!

On the pebbles the fish kind of arched its back, it seemed like an act of aggression to get its mouth into a position to bite me?  All I wanted to do was get the hook out, which I did easily.  After a quick check with the scales followed by a couple of photos I took a few seconds to admire this bizarre looking fish.  The brown mottled camouflage is perfect for this environment, the muscular wings and tail along with the crab crushing mouth which seems to be smiling.  Many Rays end up as someone’s dinner but not this one, it was good to see it disappear back beneath the waves.

I fished on for another hour or so without any more bites and could happily have stayed longer but I had jobs to do and had to get home so reluctantly packed up and trudged back to the car.  Just a few yards inland, out of the sea breeze it was several degrees warmer and felt like a different day entirely, spring is here at last but I still have no urge to fish in freshwater.  Now I’m counting the days again…