Solo

3rd

Another Saturday, flying solo today which meant I had to make a decision as to where I set up camp for the evening.  Looking out of the window it seemed the forecasters had got it right, the day was bright and clear, this backed up by a trip to the shed, the wind a moderate North easterly.  Apparently, this isn’t good conditions for beach fishing though I wonder if the dislike for an east wind comes from not being able to launch a bait so far when the wind is blowing into your chops?  The high tide was due after dark at 2345 by which time the clear sky should not be an issue, a decent time to be fishing.  But where do I go?  Radar would be an obvious choice if a little predictable having fished it regularly this spring.  Then there’s the many named beach I’m calling ‘monster’ at the moment, so far this spring it’s been disappointing but here anything could happen.

These days are strange, not much to do in the morning except watch the clock but TMS kept me company for far longer than anyone expected.  I mooched about a bit, before starting to get my kit together when tea came.  By the time I was on the road the mental debate had ceased, I’d made up my mind, monster beach it would be.  A steady journey across country, outside the car Suffolk was glorious green but inside it was all London grey but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  After parking tight to the wall I hiked across the marshes, the wind was in my face already and had a bite to it.  I arrived at possibly my favourite piece of coast to find I had it all to myself.  The camp went up quickly and by 1820 I had two baits rolling around in the heaving grey mass.

It's a weird thing that I do really, I set up early knowing that most days I won’t catch anything for hours so why do I bother?  I suppose it’s mainly down to fishing when I can, in the spare time available but also I just like being by the water, this is the time of the week I look forward to most.  People who get bored when fishing in wild places really are missing the point and here on this strand of pebbles anything could happen.  I enjoy the unpredictable nature of this place, it really is shit or bust.  In all likelihood I could lose hope of ever seeing the rod wrap over but if it does…

And for hours nothing happened except all the things that occur every week, the tide rose and the sun sank, by the time I had my head torch on a full moon had risen, a glowing orange above the sea.  The rod tips stayed eerily motionless but this doesn’t usually bother me because in theory every minute that passes my chances are actually improving…  But your mind does play tricks and just at the moment I give up hope…  2345, high tide was greeted by a proper bite on the heavy rod.  The tip jagged over then sprung back, I was on my feet, tightening the line and hoping…  Yes a definite weight on the end.  I pumped the fish back towards me which took a while as I’d been timing my casts tonight, it wasn’t hanging and throbbing like a Ray nor was it banging around like a Bass.  When a chunky Dogfish writhed onto the shingle I wasn’t surprised at all.  A fish at last but not what I’d hoped for.

The next three casts all brought identical banging bites on squid and three more Dogs all a good average size.  Amidst this I also had a rattle on the light rod which I’d chucked a bit further but didn’t connect.  By this time it was well past midnight, it still felt good for another bite or two but I had to be somewhere the following morning.  By the time I’d tramped back to the car I was well and truly done.

9th

On my own again and with things to do on Saturday I fished day earlier than normal and an earlier time of day.  High tide was due in the afternoon, just after 1600 so where to fish?  I fancied Monster beach but as I’d be fishing part of the ebb tide the steep one was a better bet, in theory at least.  After an early dinner I pointed the car in an easterly direction but it was slow going, when the A14 grinds to a halt all the lanes become clogged.  Luckily my route seemed to avoid the worst but was still slow, it could have been worse, if I’d left a minute later I would have encountered an artic trying to navigate a narrow village high street.

I arrived at the Steep beach, loaded up and tramped across the shingle. the day was clear and bright but a fresh north easterly kept the temperature down.  There were only two other anglers on the beach and I found myself settling down pretty much exactly where I’d hoped.  I quickly erected the shelter then got settled and put a couple of rods together, the usual two rigs but today I was going all out with big baits; hermit crab, bluey and squid.  I was fishing by 1400, two hours before high tide, in theory I should have a chance from the off.  The wind was stronger than expected with sizeable waves smashing into the slope and the rod tips were wobbling, would I see a bite in these conditions?

At 1500 I had my answer, the heavy rod was bouncing and I was soon hauling in something that felt heavy to begin with but got progressively lighter, it was no surprise to see a Dogfish writhing in the surf.  Shortly after the light rod pulled down too but nothing developed.  High tide came and went, in the hour that followed I had two more decent bites on the heavy rod which I missed.  After that it all dried up but I was content sitting in my shelter listening to the boom and hiss of waves followed by the loud ssshhhingle rolling down the slope.  As the waves grew quieter and further away so it seemed my chances were heading in the same direction.  I gave it till 1900 to allow the traffic to die down then headed home.

Spring is giving way to summer now and the last couple of months on the beach have seen plenty of fish but very few of the big or interesting ones.  The two heaviest fish I hooked managed to wriggle free in the surf, had they hung on a little longer… 

Now comes an interlude from the squid hurling.  I spent most of Saturday rummaging in the shed, checking out camping gear then finding fishing stuff and putting it in the right bags followed by rigging up rods and setting clutches.  Back inside an hour tying up rigs and finding odds and sods.  The rivers open again on Friday and I’ll be making a long anticipated trip west.