When Saturday comes

The quarter final kick off time was bloody awkward but then again I’d rather be fishing than watch almost any TV sport so we’d just have to work around it.  The game kicked off while I was getting the last of my kit together so I was in and out of the living room and it seemed England were doing okay, not brilliant but okay.  Which has been the case throughout most of the tournament despite what the media narrative might be telling us.  Giles arrived around 1730 and we loaded up before setting off to pick Trev up on the way to “the secret Bass swim”.  By this time it was half time in the match and still 0-0.

By 1900 the game had finished 1-1 and we were fishing on the estuary, as it was low water we set up on a straight between two shallow bays which was a mistake in hindsight.  A mix of rigs and methods went out, baits squid and rag, I kept it simple and used two running legers.  We’d had rain through the day but this had now cleared, the sun occasionally poking through a mostly cloudy sky.  The wind was a moderate westerly, on our backs so barely felt.  We sat close together tonight so we could have a good yarn, sometimes we can be single minded about trying to catch fish but on others such as this it’s nice just to be sociable.  For a while we were huddled close to the radio, England in a penalty shoot out which tonight was surprisingly comfortable compared to the agonising experiences of the past. 

As expected the fishing started slowly, we figured the rising tide and approaching darkness would mean our chances would increase as the session wore on.  This turned out to be fairly accurate; we had a flurry of bites just as the light started to fade; Giles began things with an Eel and shortly after I wound in a small Bass.  Soon Giles was in again but it was another Eel and Trev lost what was probably a decent Bass.  The flood tide was powerful and carried lots of snotty weed which clung to the line and made fishing difficult but we persevered.  As dusk deepened and the lights had to come on, we had sporadic bites; I managed a second Bass and Trev had a rig destroying Eel.

I’d expected the darkness to bring the fish on which it might well have done but the raging tide was preventing us from fully covering the water in front of us.  Giles and I cut to fishing just one rod each but Trev had had enough so packed up and sat in his chair happily sipping a beer.  I managed a third Bass that might have been a pound then shortly afterwards Giles had one of a similar size.  With high tide still an hour away, an underarm flick with a 6oz lead was being swept inland in seconds, fishing in these conditions was beyond our experience, time to go home.

After last week’s very sociable trip for my next visit I was going it alone so had no trouble talking myself into braving the long hike to ‘Shit or bust beach’.  As I drove east in the early afternoon the sky was clearing after a morning of showers which was just as well as I’d left the shelter behind.  Instead I’d packed an extra rod as this is the one place I fish where I sometimes think two isn’t enough.  Overall I travelled a little lighter but by the time I’d negotiated an uneven path and crunched across shingle I was blowing a bit.  By now the sky was blue and the sun was poking through, the wind a light westerly on my back.  There was no football distraction this week, with the semi final won mid week, who knows what will happen on Sunday?  I was fishing by 1530, ninety minutes before high tide but despite this the sea looked flat, maybe good for a Ray?

With this in mind I loaded a squid on a 2/0 pennell, clipped it to a pulley rig and hurled it as far out into briny as I could.  The other two rods were simple leger rigs with long hooklengths baited mostly with ragworm; the light rod was dropped in close around the length of a cricket pitch from the shore, the old carp rod was even closer, less than half that distance.  I had a bite on the light rod straight away and dragged a little Bass up the beach, a good start.  Over the next hour I had a few plucks and rattles, missed a couple and landed another Bass on each of my close range rods.

With high tide approaching I switched tactics on the light rod and for the next ninety minutes or so I cast it further and alternated between ragworm and whole squid, trying to hedge my bets a bit as this beach does turn up the odd big Ray.  On the heavy rod I kept pumping it out as far as I could for as long as the boiling tide would allow but I swapped squid for peeler crab from time to time.  It all seemed like a good idea in theory but tonight it didn’t bring me any fish.  During this period the old carp rod still fishing rag at close range wasn’t doing anything either, had the fish moved away?  The wind had dropped away nicely and I’d sat mostly in pleasant sunshine although away to the south I could see dark clouds and rain from time to time.

With high tide long gone and the ebb tide picking up power I reverted to fishing two rods with rag closer in, in fact after a time I switched the heavy rod to a long trace and a whole squid too.  Two hours into the ebb the Bass moved back into the area and for the next ninety minutes both the lighter rods received regular attention.  I missed a few good bites, lost another fish but managed to land five more small Bass.  This was enough to convince me to sit it out into darkness in the hope that some bigger Bass would be mooching around but tonight it didn’t pay off.  I did manage two small Eels which were lip hooked so didn’t end up as future pike baits.

By 2245 I was back at the car, knackered after eight hours on the beach between a couple of good hikes.  I’d sleep well tonight content after an enjoyable evening’s fishing on the back of an emotional Test match win, all the best Jimmy – we’ll miss you!  That just leaves the bloody football…