Monday 12 September 2022

Tonight, tonight

Saturday came around again and after a frantic morning and a rushed curry for dinner I managed to get everything sorted for a pick up at 1400, just.  But Giles had wound his watch the wrong way and we set off later than planned after all.  On the way we crammed another old friend into the car, Mr T is another angler who I’ve known for over thirty years though most of our shared experience occurred in pubs and parties in the early days.  The destination was Radar beach, mostly for convenience and the scenery.  The tide times weren’t in our favour but we were confident some Bass would put in an appearance.  This they did with a flurry of bites just after high tide at 1700 and another spell just into darkness.  I think we ended up with two each and Giles managed a Rockling.

But most of all we just sat, drinking beer, laughing and having the kind of conversations that you can only have with old friends because there is so much that doesn’t need to be said. Tonight we discussed dreams and drugs, politics and philosophy.  To be fair between us we have far more personal experience in some of these areas than we do the others.  Inevitably we dissected the state of our planet which is spinning out of control and unquestionably heading for disaster.  That we can find this as hilarious as we do horrifying probably says much about us, whether this makes us good or bad people is open to debate and ultimately irrelevant.  In the end the sentiment of the evening was to stay sane in a mad world you need to indulge yourself in the things you love and one of those is spending time with your mates, sitting by the water, watching rods.

A week later…  It’s been a surreal couple of days, people in general don’t know what to do, entertainment has ceased which is fair enough but work still goes on, of course.  But Saturday I am going fishing regardless and there was no doubt this week, I knew exactly where I wanted to go and felt a little nervous for some reason.  High tide would be just after midnight which seemed ideal for fishing the area I am going to call ‘the Cauldron’.  I didn’t have a plan B which I might have lived to regret but didn’t.

The day passed slowly, I wasn’t quite counting the hours but I did glance at the clock regularly.  TMS helped, an eerie start to the days play, the words have changed on a song I don’t sing.  Even over the radio it felt like a bowling day and England were just too good for a batting line up that managed to be even worse than it looked on paper.  England’s reply was emphatic and by the time a shower interrupted things we were only twelve runs behind with seven wickets intact.  With that I loaded the car, got in and head east.

After some long overdue rain (three months since…) Suffolk is showing signs of recovery, a little greenness lines the roads now for the next few weeks at least.  Relief at the little car park, for once there was room to spare, I was quickly laden and away on a footpath cutting through marsh.  Ahead of me the fun boat cruised serenely along the sea wall, or at least that was how it looked.  When I arrived at the shore there was another angler is situ but not where I wanted to sit.  I looked down at the cauldron, still boiling seaward so I wouldn’t be able to fish far out for a while.  A shower of drizzle passed over as I set up, I was in no hurry to get the baits out so started off with a lure rod, casting a savage spoon type thing which I worked with and against the current.  I felt I had a chance but didn’t feel anything fishy in the forty five minutes I was casting.

It was nearly 1900 by the time I had my two baits out; squid and rag but both had to be fished close for a while at least.  The sky had cleared and as the light faded the sea noticeably climbed the beach, waves building, sound increasing.  After half an hour the flow had eased and I was able to fish the squid at range and half an hour later, with the head torch now on and the full moon rising it was the heavy rod that signalled the first decent bite.  I hoped for big things of the sharky type but the result was silver, a decent Bass.  The recast brought a quick bite, a proper whack on the heavy gear and a rod bending result and after a bit of push and pull in the surf I beached a bigger Bass, one of my best so far.  The heavy rod rattled again soon after and once again it was a decent Bass on a whole squid.  Then things went quiet.

Two hours later I was wondering what was going on, three Bass on Squid but only plucks and rattles on ragworm, the banker bait.  But still I was confident, high tide was still an hour away and surely the best was yet to come?  With the cauldron almost full the bites began, the fish had moved in close and the ragworm was getting molested regularly.  Every cast brought a rattle at least, some I struck too quickly others not quick enough but there were many that I couldn’t miss.  The minutes leading up to high water were hectic but after the turn the fishing got progressively slower.  It was exhilarating fishing, the beach was illuminated by a full moon but the sea looked dark and threatening.  The noise of the waves had built to a booming, crashing wall of sound and I barely had time to sit down, on the go constantly.  I tried dropping bigger squid baits in close and had a couple of rattles but all the fish beached came to ragworm.  I finished at 0145 having caught nine more Bass, none bigger than a pound and a half but only one smaller than three quarters. 


The drive home was on empty roads but punctuated by thick mist patches, inside the car Smashing Pumpkins reminded me of the roaring sea.  I hit bed at 0300 and passed out.


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