Scratching

2^nd July 

What a week.  When did life get so complicated?  How can so much stuff happen in such a short space of time?  I missed my fix last week and events seemed to be conspiring against me but my time slot remained clear, what should I do with it?  In theory the tide was all wrong for spending the evening on the beach, yes we’d have a chance but we’d be much better off going all out for Bass at an estuarine spot or even fish freshwater for a change.  I spoke to Giles and what we both decided was what we really wanted to do was just sit on a beach, stare at rod tips and chill out, so that’s what we did.

It takes a bit of motivation to fish ‘Long hike beach’ and how we found this in such unfavourable conditions is a mystery but there we sat in the early evening with the tide going down in front of us and the sun sinking behind.  We told ourselves we were fishing for one or two bites, hopefully from a Ray or a Hound.  We should have known better, we did know better but we done it anyway mostly because we just like chilling out on a quiet beach.  And quiet it remained, the tide went all the way out which exposed some interesting features that we might target another day.  At the very bottom of the tide I didn’t get a bite but I did wind in to find a Pouting had attacked a whole squid and hooked itself on the bottom hook of a Pennell rig, blank avoided.  I decided to change tactics, both rods would now be on big baits for a big fish, at least in theory.

The tide started coming back up the beach as the sun dipped and the sky darkened, there were times when the colours in the sky were fabulous but these were before and after I’d retrieved the camera.  As usual the rod tips held my gaze but the sound of the waves was hypnotic and I lost myself in the discovery that no two waves sound the same; some crash, some thump and some merely tinkle but all resonate in a unique way.  I should have been yanked out of my trance by a violent action on a rod tip but I wasn’t and neither was Giles.  We gave it till around 2300 before deciding enough was enough and tackling the return yomp to where we’d left the car.  From a fishing point of view it had been a waste of time but that kind of thing matters less and less as time goes by.

 9th July

One week later, the weather was hot, bright and sunny never ideal for any kind of fishing and we’re learning that this can also be true of this beach malarkey.  But at least the tide was more favourable, high due at around 1950 and fishing three hours down would take us into darkness.  Giles picked me up later than planned and on the journey after celebrating the demise of De Pfeffel and ranting about life in general we got round to discussing which beach we’d be heading for.  We both fancied similar spots which were miles apart and subtly different.  In the end we went to Radar beach, Giles first choice and my second though I was equally happy to be heading here.

I’d brought some Ragworm for a change and was confident of catching a bass on the light rod, as ever the heavy rod would be loaded up with something disgusting on a pulley rig and hurled.  We were fishing by around 1730 and to be honest I was expecting to be hauling Bass in from the word go but it wasn’t the case.  I was getting bites though, on most casts I’d get fast plucks and raps which stopped as soon as I put a hand on the rod.  I tried holding the rod but nothing would happen until I put it back on the tripod, typical.  Two hours in and I hadn’t hooked anything but Giles who was sticking to cut baits hadn’t seen a rattle.  Our baits were remaining mostly intact which meant crabs weren’t active.  I can’t decide if this is good or bad, it certainly means the fishing is more relaxing but does it also mean the bigger fish that eat the crabs won’t be around?  On the other hand are the crabs in hiding because the big fish are hunting?

With high tide approaching I tweaked the hook position on the rag worm, making the point more central and at last managed to hit some bites.  The first two brought the Bass I’d hoped for only small ones though I was confident a bigger one would come.  My next bite felt a bit heavier, it was but it was an Eel.  By this time Giles had cracked and scrounged some rag which he fished on his unique multi hook flapper set up.  This made the difference and he hit a bite and wound in something different; this was a flat fish and from the shape it could only be a Sole.  I caught one of these last year but this one was much bigger and as it was Giles’ first obviously a PB.

The light faded, as did the bites to my light rod, sunglasses were stashed and the head torch found.  By now the sea was retreating again but the dark always brings confidence.  Nothing had touched the heavy rod and I’d just mentioned this to Giles when something tried to pull it out of the tripod.  In forty five years of fishing I cannot remember a better example of an unmissable bite yet somehow I missed it…  I think I get over excited when the big bait gets taken like that, out of the blue, so I panic and strike like an idiot.  We speculated as to the culprit, surely a Smoothound or a big Ray?  We will never know and this is more frustrating with sea angling because although you can return to the same spot and seek revenge that unknown fish is not constrained by acreage or river stretches.

The deepening darkness brought more action, to Giles at least, his next bite on ragworm saw him wind in his first ever Smoothound, possibly the smallest either of us have ever seen but a first and another PB.  This was followed by another rattle on his flapper rig and another good sized Sole that was actually even bigger than his first.  The action had dried up a bit on my rods, with darkness I’d switched to hurling python sized worms as far as I could but this didn’t improve things.  I did get another decent bite on my heavy rod but managed to fuck that one up too.  Then Giles big bait was moving and he was into another fish which shrunk as it neared the edge as many seem to do.  This was another Smoothound pup, slightly bigger than the first which meant in a funny sort of way Giles had now caught four PB’s in the same night.

Then it all went quiet.  We had ‘one last cast’ and tidied up.  Though our rod tips weren’t moving we sat chatting for a good while longer than planned but eventually it was time to clear off.  Winding in my heavy rod I felt weight and became certain I had a fish attached.  Something long and pale appeared in the surf, it looked like another small Hound but it slipped the hook and became another one I’ll never know about.  Load up and walk back, crunching on shingle then brushing through bushes.  Only a few yards back from the beach the wind disappeared and the waves become inaudible, it’s a different world, warmer and safer but not as interesting.  Radar is rarely my first choice but I can’t remember having a bad time there, that’ll jinx it.

11th July 

A couple of days later the alarm sounded at the hideous hour of 0455.  I groaned and then remembered I was going fishing so swung my legs out of bed.  The day off was a late shift change and the early start was because I was meeting a mate.  Mr K is someone I’ve known for almost fifty years, we fished together as kids but despite staying in touch we hadn’t done so since sometime in the early eighties.  I loved coarse fishing but Mr K drifted towards the coast and hurling leads into the North Sea.  We’d discussed having a fish but this was the first time our days off had coincided.

I drove along quiet roads, outside the car the sun was already bright and a thin mist hovered above fields, woods and hedgerows.  The inside of the car was filled with Hendrix.  By 0630 I was back on Radar beach with Mr K to my right, I could already feel the sun on exposed skin and was thankful I’d remembered sun block.  I used squid and crab baits on my usual methods, basically dumped into the sea at various distances from the shore.  Once again there was no crab activity which meant I could leave baits in place longer and just relax.  Last season I’d not done well on day time tides at this time of year, the summer evenings were much better.  I wasn’t confident but that didn’t matter, just one fish of any species would do me, today catching up with an old pal was more important.

Mr K is an experienced sea angler and had wisely packed some ragworm which was getting a bit of attention.  He had several bites on the rising tide and landed a few small Bass while my rod tips remained motionless.  Between bites I picked Mr K’s brains and I’ll definitely be using the ‘up & over’ rig to make casting long hooklengths easier in future.  As the incoming sea climbed the beach a breeze picked up which made the beach more comfortable than it had been first thing.  Bigger waves were turning the bottom up too; I noticed a band of dirty water along the shore and started dropping the light rod very close in, just behind it.  Mr K had to be away early so I scrounged a couple of left over ragworm which went on immediately.  The new bait hadn’t been in place five minutes before the tip started juddering, I wound in a nice Bass, my biggest of the year so far.  The next cast brought a quick bite, my arse hadn’t even touched down on the chair before I was into another smaller Bass.  My last worm brought another bite and another hooked fish, I spied a small Eelish thing in the surf but thankfully it unhooked itself.

Meanwhile Mr K had managed to add another couple of Bass before he had to reluctantly leave the beach.  I sat in the sun for another hour or so but by now the tide was going out again and the beach was starting to fill up with day trippers.  I gave it till 1230 then tidied up, leaving was no great wrench because the only time I’d felt I had a chance was when I had rag on the hook.  Only a few yards inland I could no longer feel the breeze, it was like walking into an oven, I had a proper sweat on by the time I reached the car.  Next time… will be in a couple of weeks which is no big deal as the tides aren’t great next weekend.  But when I do fish again it’ll be an evening tide.