Comfortable

A short notice change of shifts brought an unexpected opportunity to fish; it would have been rude not too…  A bright sunny day with a decent wind from the east which would be in my chops, high tide was due at 1440 or thereabouts, the night time tide would have been stretching convenience so it has to be daytime.  I’m going but where?

I left home after the worst of the rush hour and trundled eastwards but I still hadn’t made up my mind.  Well actually I made up my mind about three times then changed it again.  The turn off approached, it really was time to decide but I didn’t, I simply didn’t turn off, which kind of means I did, in a way.  Fifteen minutes later I parked, hoisted my gear and began the trudge to Radar beach.  The first thing I noticed was plenty of snags that weren’t evident before.  I’m guessing winter storms scoured the beach which certainly looked a little steeper?  By 1030 I had the usual heavy rod/light rod combination set up and cast out with lumps of squid and bluey being boiled in the tide.  The wind was cutting but I managed to get the oval securely in place which provided much needed cover from wind and sun.

My first retrieve of the heavy rod revealed the bait had been stripped, evidence of crabs being active?  But the light rod provided a surprise, a Whiting had hung itself and the blank had been avoided.  Time passes quickly on the beach, the rods nodded rhythmically, waves boomed against sea defences, the sea crept up the beach with a crash and roar and I was catching fish despite not being to spot any proper bites.  One time when the tip did bang round with purpose I hooked something with a bit of weight which came up to the surface, as Dogfish often do, then splashed and shed the hook.  This was frustrating, not because it felt particularly heavy but more because I’ll never ever know what it actually was.

I fished through high tide and an hour or so afterwards, still hoping for the Ray that rarely shows up.  By 1600 I was tired and began the slow tidy up.  My tally at the end was four Dogfish and eight Whiting most of which would have made a meal.  A dozen fish beached and a couple more lost but the strange thing is I only actually saw about three proper bites all day.  How does that happen?

This time last year I hadn’t yet plucked up the courage to fish in the sea but this year I’m four trips along the way and feeling comfortable with how I’m fishing.  I’m also catching plenty of fish but apart from the one Eel I’ve only been catching Whiting and Dogfish.  The doggies are all of a decent size, usually give the tip a good whack and let you know you’ve hooked them.  Once caught they still don’t want to give up, twisting and writhing while I try to get the hook out they have a thuglife attitude.  Apparently there’s a way to peel the skin off them and then they make a good meal but it all seems a lot of faff to me.  Many of the Whiting have been of edible size too but I keep making the same mistake.  I catch a decent one and think “that’s a meal for one, shame I haven’t got another…” so chuck it back then go and catch another good sized one.  I did it about five times on this trip.  So far so good but these aren’t the fish I’m really interested in; there are a few Rays being caught, the Bass are arriving and the Smoothounds won’t be far behind.  Catching these smaller fish is fun but will only hold my interest for so long, as with all the fishing I’ve ever done it’s the rarer, sometimes bigger fish that motivate me.