Salty dogs

Saturday drifted by, helped by a trip to the tackle shop and a series of garden jobs; the grass received its first mow for the year and there was another skirmish in the ongoing war against the Beech hedge.  I got my tackle ready at a leisurely pace then all of a sudden it was time to go, I set off for the beach, another first for the year.  It was a slow drive east through countryside still showing winter’s scars although the fresh green is starting to show through again.  Through one of the “quaint” parts of the county, the Ukrainian flags still fly. Yeah that’s helping.  No Palestinian flags though, this is posh Suffolk after all.

The day had been bright but had clouded over late in the afternoon, the wind was from the south west and was forecast to gain strength.  I loaded up then hiked through scrub to find four anglers already pitched up and fishing, an unusual occurrence on this beach though I’m sure it has nothing to do with being featured by a three minute hero on youtube recently.  My hike continued for a little way, about as far north as I could go before the ground gets too snaggy for comfort.  The sloping beach in front of me had plenty of debris but when I’ve fished here before it hasn’t been a problem.  The sea beyond this looked okay, not too bouncy at least.  I quickly set up two rods; on the lighter rod I fished a flapper rig with two small hooks baited with strips of mackerel, with this I was just trying to get a bite though I hoped for something flat.  On the heavy rod I used the regular pulley rig with bigger baits for bigger fish, hopefully I’ll find a Thornback tonight.

By 1850 everything was sorted and I was sitting comfortably in my shelter sipping a brew and staring up at rod tips, outside there was a cool wind building strength and the roll and boom of the waves.  Today was New moon so there’d be a big tide moving a lot of water and climbing high up the beach.  If I stayed late I might need to retreat at some point.  High tide was due just before midnight and my timings had focused around this, I hadn’t considered the rapidly fading light.  This was no problem as I was expecting to fish in darkness I just didn’t realise what should have been obvious, that I’d be needing the head torch and tip lights quite so soon.  The fading light is often a trigger and when I wound in the light rod a few minutes later I found a small Whiting attached. By the time this rod was back out it seemed proper dark and everything was lit up, torches and tips.

At 1920 the heavy rod banged over and I wound in a Dogfish.  I soon got another squid back into the sea and within minutes the tip thumped again, the result another doggie.  While I was dealing with this the light rod started banging and this time I wound in another Whiting.  I hadn’t managed to recast this before the heavy rod was going again but this time I missed it.  When I managed to sit down again a mad half hour had passed, these hectic spells are fun but I was non stop; baiting up, casting, winding in, unhooking then baiting up again.  I always have duplicate hooklengths baited and ready to go to make sure I have baits in the water for the longest possible time but for a while I couldn’t keep up.

By 2005 it had probably been fully dark for a while though my world was a torch beam and I hadn’t noticed the progression, the spell of proper bites had also finished.  For the rest of the evening I had action of some kind on almost every cast but prolonged ‘strike-able’ bites were few.  Indeed as the wind strengthened through the evening the tips were in constant motion and spotting anything at all became difficult.  Around 2045 I’d seen a few rattles on the heavy rod and wound it in to find a bigger Whiting which had taken a chunk of herring.  I decided to switch the lighter rod over to a second pulley rig, fishing bigger baits which I fished it at mixed distances, dropping in close every other cast.  Despite the beach being busy I was barely aware of the other anglers as I was down wind and had my back to them all night, the fishing was relaxing and enjoyable with enough going on to make me feel I could catch at any time.

2105, a little under three hours before high tide, was that a thump on the heavy rod?  Yes it was, persistent pulls yanked the tip over and I wound into a heavy weight which throbbed and pulled as I slowly pumped it back towards the shore.  Surely this must be a Ray?  I’ve thought this before and been tricked by a Doggie with attitude but whatever this was it was pulling back and I wanted to see it.  My pressure and a convenient wave deposited a fish onto the shingle and yes it was my first Thornback of the year.  I guessed it would weigh three and a bit pounds but a quick check on the scales showed it was just over four, that’ll do nicely.

That was the highlight of the night, as time passed so the wind increased and the tips were ever more wobbly.  Inside the shelter all was calm and comfort but outside it was getting wild.  The wind was blowing across me from right to left and controlling the line on the longer casts was a problem.  I often had to wind in a lot of slack before making a decent contact with the lead.  When the tips done something a bit different I would wind in to check though I was never sure what to expect.  I managed to catch another Dogfish on the light rod and a small Pouting on the heavier set up.  By 2300 I figured my chances of another Ray were diminishing just as the wind was still building.  It was still an hour before high tide but I decided I’d had enough, tidied the kit, took down the shelter then commenced getting the rods in quickly.  First the light rod then the heavy rod last on which I found a fourth and final Dogfish.

I was getting wind blasted as I tramped across the shingle but as soon as I cleared the beach the sound of the waves vanished and I was sheltered from the wind.  Tonight it was a relief to shut the car door and block out the elements, then settle into a comfortable seat. My first saltwater trip of the year couldn’t have gone much better, nine fish of four species including a decent Ray, that’ll do me.  Next the return journey through dark country lanes with Primal Scream as company.

 

Happy New Year

When the river season closes I can’t just stop, I have to have one more go for Pike just to get it out of my system, put a full stop on the season and dispose of any unwanted bait.  It had to be a stillwater but I loaded the kit I’ve been using on the river.  I didn’t really know where to look for fish so wanted to keep on the move, a couple of deadbait rods and a few lures would do me.  We’ve crept past the equinox now and the roadsides were clad in white and yellow blossom, the world will be green again before you know it.

I was fishing by 0715 on a cloudy but mild morning which would have felt warmer without the south easterly blowing into my chops.  The first swim looked the part and it’s one place I have caught at this time of year, but not today.  A small fish followed a springdawg but that was my lot.  I also tried a couple of shads and a slider; I wonder why all my lures begin with an S?  After a couple of lazy hours here I moved along the bank into a tight swim between trees, both of which looked good places to drop my baits while I covered the water with lures.  After twenty minutes or so there was a solid thump and I was into a fish on a shad which charged about for a bit before I got it in the net where it tried to charge about some more.  A decent sized Pike was soon unhooked and returned.

After another half hour I moved again into a more open swim which gave me plenty of space to thrash the lure rod around.  And this I did, catching a fish had given me confidence and the water looked lovely and clear.  Of course it was the deadbait rod that trundled off, a take on a freshly cast herring but the bait was dropped as I wound down and there were no further signs here.  One last move, an hour spent listening to birdsong and trying to identify the little brown blobs.  Then I was amused by the antics of a large flock of Starlings which made quite a noise while perched but this ceased the second they took flight, like someone had pressed a switch.  Nothing here on bait or lures and I decided I’d had enough, for the day and for the season. 

Happy New Year
When the rest of the world goes mad on New years eve it means nothing to me; I enjoy the music on BBC2 but that’s as far as it goes.  For many years I went with the flow and pretended otherwise but in all the ways that really matter my new year begins sometime in mid March when I stop Pike fishing.  After that I’ll be doing something different so let the New year begin. So now is the appropriate time to look back at the previous four quarters in review, so to speak.
Starting off on the beaches; fishing for Rays wasn’t consistent this year but I caught a few, the best weighing 5-08 and 5-14.  The Bass fishing was good throughout with loads caught, plenty of keepers and five that were 44cms/2+.  I had eight different species including a PB Flounder early on in the year and a couple of Turbot but didn’t see a sign of a Smoothound.
Apart from one day on an old pit all of my course fishing was done on rivers.  In East Anglia I caught nine different species including a Chub of 4-07 which is the biggest I’ve caught ‘on purpose’.  Also Perch to 1-14, my first two Brown Trout – best 2-02 and my first Gudgeon and Minnows for more years than I can remember.
Not too long ago I’d only ever caught one 4+ Chub which was by accident on a lure.  This season alone I had seven which must make it my best ever?  Most of these came from my favourite river out west. Here I also caught more Barbel than in any previous twelve months including my best from the river at 8-11.
Almost half of almost every season is spent trying to catch Pike and this has been a strange few months for many reasons.  I didn’t get it quite right in Norfolk, I still managed to do okay but there’s a feeling it could have been better.  Having a ‘new’ water to go at was refreshing and really enjoyable and having a couple of old haunts to fall back on meant I caught Pike steadily all season.  So I’ve had plenty of better seasons and many that weren’t as productive but any ‘year’ I catch at least one twenty pounder has to be a good one.

Next time I fish it will be in salt water; firstly hoping to catch Rays then as the weeks pass it will be Bass and then the elusive Smoothound.  Usually this will involve a bit of a hike across unpredictable terrain to reach an inhospitable location where I usually sit on my arse, hypnotised by the rhythm of the rod tips and being deafened by booming waves and rolling shingle.  I always arrive home knackered, often in the early hours and always stinking like a deadbait bag.  What’s not to like?

Rivers run

I’d always planned to have a go for Chub this winter but have been thoroughly enjoying the Pike fishing so never got around to it but with time running out I was suddenly inspired.  After a rummage in the shed I put together some bits and pieces, a few slices of bread and some worms from the compost, loaded up and head for the river.  By 0945 I was settled into a swim I’d caught plenty of autumn fish from, this was the upstream end of a row of nice far bank overhangs.  The plan was to gradually move downstream searching the likely looking chubby holes as I went.  I fished a small feeder on a running rig then a two foot hooklength with a size 10 hook.  I had a little oily groundbait which I mixed with some brown crumb just to put some smell in the water, hookbait was mostly flake but I occasionally tried a worm.  The day was cooler than of late with a north westerly wind blowing clouds in front of the sun.

Three swims and three hours later I hadn’t had a bite and I’d covered less water than I hoped.  I was tempted to head for home but there were a couple more fishable swims and one of them I liked the look of.  When I returned with my gear I had a look at next downstream spot and for some reason this felt right so I quietly settled here instead and from the first cast there were signs of fish about.  This started off as plucks and twitches on the tip followed by good fast bangs that a proper Chub angler would probably have hooked but I was about a week late.  Then a proper pull round Barbel style three foot twitch that I also failed to connect with, when I wound in the hook had gone.  I couldn’t remember the breaking strain of any of the hooklengths I’d tied but they looked too fine so I tied up another with eight pounds mono.  Soon the flake was back in the spot but of course that had killed the swim.

I passed another hour dropping the feeder into different parts of the swim hoping my luck would change…  Meanwhile a bit of light rain was blowing in now and again and it was beginning to feel chilly, I was starting to think I’d had enough for the day.  Then a twitchy movement on the tip had me striking thin air but boosted my confidence.  I looked at my watch and realised I’d have to be on the road soon so frisbeed the last of the bread down river then added on last lump of flake to the hook, this would definitely be my last cast.  Would you believe it for once it happened, I had a good firm bite, set the hook and steered a writhing Chub away from the snags and into the net.  It was only a couple of pounds or so but punched above its weight and I was pleased to see it.  Then I packed up and went home.

 

Either side of this I made a couple of trips to Norfolk where its always inconsistent at this time of year.  There have been three or four occasions where things have gone spectacularly in March but more often than not I find myself chasing ghosts as was the case on my most recent visits.  Conditions were pretty good and it was pleasant weather to be sat in a boat, I worked hard, moved regularly and covered loads of water but just managed a single jack on each visit.  Even after all these years there’s still stuff to learn and every season I catch Pike from somewhere I’ve never fished before.  I’m not done yet!

Plan B

I was supposed to go to Norfolk today but the weather was all wrong and honestly, its hard enough at the best of times.  So no early start, I rolled out of bed around 0700 and pottered about a bit before loading up and scraping ice from the screen.  Destination today was the river and when I got my first glimpse I was surprised to see it well up and pushing through.  I’d got out of the habit of checking the levels but surely we hadn’t had that much rain lately?  Well I suppose that extra water must have come from somewhere.  No matter, at least it would narrow the options a bit, I’d mostly be fishing slacks today.

I was fishing by 0830, two deadbaits, sardine and bluey as usual, in a swim which gave me loads of options within a sensible distance of the chair.  Apart from being cold the morning was misty without a breath of wind.  The late change of plans had me disorganised, I didn’t notice one of the rods I’d picked up was set up with a leger rig and as I was travelling light I had no spare floats nor bobbins.  I had to improvise with a weight attached to a battered poly ball hanging on the line.  In reality I didn’t need to do this because sitting close to the rod, watching the tip and the line I would comfortably see any movement.  For some reason I felt obliged, blame the internet experts with their buzzers back and front along with three ounce leads.  To be fair a bit more lead might have been handy today as there was enough flow to shift the float rig and a one ounce bomb but I was mostly interested in the slacks so no drama.

I felt lazy today but this was kind of justified by the conditions and I had plenty of scope to move the rods and cover water.  After an hour I dropped half a bluey in close just downstream and ten minutes later the tip banged and the bobbin jumped, followed belatedly by a bleep from the alarm.  I wound down, felt the weight and…  Bugger!  Nothing there once again, this keeps happening on this river!  I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself as the other rod cast to the far slack was moving and this time I did set the hooks.  A nice sized fish plodded around and tried to hang in the flow but it couldn’t hold out for long and I soon had it in the net.  A nice low double, probably a fish I’ve caught already this year?  I’ll check later.

I stayed put for a while longer, the mist cleared and the sun came out, for some reason it didn’t feel right for Pike fishing now.  Time for a change of scenery, a short move downstream to a spot that allowed me to squeeze a bait into a small bay, this was just off the main river and surrounded by reeds.  I’d never been tempted before but today it looked right and within seconds the float jabbed… And then did nothing??  A minute or so later it did it again and I couldn’t resist checking it, winding in to find nothing but my bait which had been battered before I cast it.  I fished here for twenty minutes or so and the jabs on the float kept occurring.  I tried shallowing up the float and fishing the bait just off bottom and this too received the quick pulls followed by nothing.  In the end I gave up and moved on to the next bend, what was causing the float to pull like that remains a mystery but I wonder if the bastards had claws?

After forty five minutes in the new swim I’d decided on a move and was actually about to wind the leger rod in when the bobbin started dancing.  Happy days, pick up the rod wind down and there was nothing there FFS!  I recast and sat back on the chair to ponder.  This happens a hell of a lot on this river and almost always on a bluey.  They can’t all be trout and I haven’t forgotten how to set hooks so what is going on?  The penny dropped eventually, just a couple of months too late.  On similar sized rivers closer to home, I’d expect to encounter plenty of Jacks but here almost everything I’ve caught has been over six pounds and plenty big enough to handle half a bluey.  On my home rivers I used to fish smaller baits; sprats, smelt and herring mostly and that’s probably what I should be doing here.  The trouble is bluey gets me twice as many takes as all the other baits put together.

Time passed, the weather actually felt warm for the first time this year and it was nice just being there.  But despite moving twice more I hadn’t found any more Pike and was running out of spots that inspired any confidence.  Not strictly true, there are a couple of places where I would have fancied my chances but that would have meant a long walk, past the car and then some.  The time was 1430 and I’d had enough so the walk stopped at the car and went no further.