Trying to find Ray

Another week passed by, it’s properly spring now, the first leaves on the beech hedge broke out earlier than ever before out and a few warm days followed, one of which saw me heading to the coast hoping for Rays again.  High tide was due in mid afternoon and I made my plans to fish a popular beach that can fish well at all states of the tide.  I arrived around 1400 to find a lot of people had the same idea as me, I should have known better.  My antisocial self-took over, I returned to the car and made my way to another spot I knew would be quiet but if I’d stopped and thought about it for a minute, I’d have realised the state of the tide wasn’t so good here.  Also, although I’ve done spectacularly well at this beach on a few occasions it’s always been later in the year, never this early.

None of this had entered my head as I stood looking down at a fairly flat and inviting sea, there was barely a breath of wind and it did look good for a Ray.  I fished one rod long and the other mostly close with baits out of freezer and started off fishing with confidence.  I had a couple of rattles on the tips around high tide but these didn’t develop, still I was sure something would happen eventually.  As time passed this began to feel unlikely.  I stayed on hoping that the onset of darkness would change my luck but not even that worked for me this evening and I gave it up soon after.  Having started off feeling confident of a Ray, I tramped back to the car knowing I’d got it totally wrong tonight.

A few days passed and forty eight hours before my next planned visit to the beach things had looked spot on, high tide due at about 2230 and there should be little or no wind.  A day later the forecast had been revised and I could expect a ten to fifteen mile wind blowing into my face which is never ideal.  I could go fishing or I could stay at home, no decision really but I felt just the one beach would be suitable with the time I had available.  I left home in mid afternoon knowing full well what to expect when I got to the beach but hoping for something different, they don’t always get it right do they?  When I broke through the scrub and onto the shingle I stood for a couple of minutes watching the waves roll in, knowing my chances of catching a Ray weren’t great.  I tried to be positive; the wind often drops away with at dusk, maybe things would settle down.

I set up with two pulley rigs and blasted a couple of big baits out then got the shelter up as quickly as I could.  The wind was a chiller and it’s always five degrees cooler on the beach.  One of my rods was rattling within minutes and I wound in to find a little Turbot had managed to get a whole squid in its gob.  I don’t catch many flatties of any kind so I always enjoy the novelty.  For the rest of the evening I had bites on almost every cast, it didn’t matter what I used as bait or how far I chucked it, the bite was just a matter of time.  I dragged six decent size Dogfish and two Whiting up the beach which is all good fun but these aren’t the fish that motivate me any time of year and I could have predicted this before I left home.

Everything came to an abrupt end an hour before high tide as there were loads of big lumps of weed being carried in on the flood tide.   I’m not sure what it was but after a little look on Google I think it might have been bladderwrack.  First one rod was wiped out by a drifting raft of weed which took an age to clear and before I’d even managed it the second rod was taken out too.  I didn’t bother to recast after that just packed away the rest of the gear and hiked back to the car park.

I wasn’t planning to fish again quite so soon but a few days later I had some time off again, this coincided with an even later tide and crucially there was a light off shore breeze.  In theory everything should be perfect for a Ray, I simply couldn’t resist testing this.  High tide was due around 0130 so I finished work and had a leisurely couple of hours before loading up and heading across the green heart of the county.  I parked up and when I got out of the car I felt the breeze which gave me a few seconds pause but I expected to be sheltered from this by the time I’d hiked to my destination.  When I reached the top of the beach I could see that the sea was flat and the waves were small, it looked perfect.

I was set up with two rods on the tripod by 1915, I used two identical pulley rigs baited with squid or large strips of mackerel.  One of these rods I whacked as far as I could every cast but the other was fished at all distances.  To begin with I fished both baits at long range, my thinking was any fish would be way out because I was fishing a shallow beach, just half an hour into the flood.  Even so I didn’t expect anything much to happen this early but on the first cast one of the rods started banging and I found myself trying to haul something heavy towards me.  It was a Ray of a couple of pounds or so, not a monster but the species I set out to catch which gave me a sense of satisfaction.  Every time we fish, we learn a little more; having started sea fishing with no idea at all, in time I learned which areas fished best for which species and now I’m learning when to fish and just as important, when not to bother.  This last lesson had been reinforced on my previous visit!

The hour or so of daylight passed without any more fish but constant attention to the baits, easily seen on the rod tips which were unaffected by wind or tide.  I somehow missed a decent bite at dusk but it was 2115 before I hooked another fish and this was another good ‘un hooked on a shorter cast.  This was another Ray, twice the size of the first and like the big one I caught earlier in the spring it tried to bury itself in the sand.  Unlike that fish I managed to move this one and soon had it in.  On the beach it arched it’s back and extended its tail which made it seem really angry.  I’ve seen a few Rays do this, I expect it’s some kind of defensive posture but it actually looks really aggressive, perhaps that’s the point.

For the next three hours I had constant action on both rods.  It didn’t matter how far I cast or what bait I used, a bite would come.  I caught a couple of Whiting but most of the fish were Dogfish, some of which were as small a Doggy as I’d ever seen.  I also caught two more small Rays, one of these gave me a spectacular bite, banging the tip over then slackening off.  In my mind I always think these bites will lead to a big fish but unfortunately that was not the case.  There’s a lot to be said for this kind of all action fishing but to be honest it’s all a bit much for me.  I like to just sit on my backside and do nothing for a while but there wasn’t a chance tonight.  Also when there are loads of Dogs about there’s less chance my bait will be unmolested for long enough for a Ray to find it.

I packed up just after midnight, high tide was still an hour or so away but by this time I was knackered and virtually out of bait.  I still had a little bit of mackerel left which I could have eked out but I’d had enough and my bed was still an hour away.  I had a tired drive home with the stereo turned up but i'd got it right tonight.

Reminders

When the Pike season ends my fishing becomes much more leisurely, mostly.  I rarely need an alarm clock and I’m no longer behind the wheel racing the dawn.  I look at the tide times and weather forecast then pick a beach that I think should be suitable in the conditions and off I go.  I mostly avoid the A roads too and almost enjoy the cross country drive.  At this time of year my eyes are drawn to the new yellow and white blossom and the fresh sprays of green in the hedgerows.  But on this occasion my eyes couldn’t avoid the massive houses that are sprinkled through the green parts of Suffolk and my cynical mind wants to know who owns these places?  How long have they lived there?  Is it home or just the weekend retreat?  Many people are paranoid about foreign migrants, I’m more concerned about the parasitic ones escaping the capital and they’re not from abroad.  My mood wasn’t improved by closed roads and lengthy diversions through less familiar countryside.  I suppose it’s normal for spring; after the winter wear and tear the rural roads need a patch up, in twelve months time they’ll probably be filling the same holes again.

I arrived eventually and found myself emerging into a grey blustery morning, the thick clouds were being propelled out to sea on the fresh south westerly.  I picked this beach because I knew this wind should be mostly on my back, it was strong enough that I broke normal procedure and erected the shelter before anything else.  By 1030 I had two rods nodding on the tripod, I fished the same way I always do with a whole squid punched out on the heavy rod and smaller baits on a leger rig with a long hooklength.  Now all I had to do is relax and let all that grumpy shit go.  The rod tips were wobbling a bit in the wind but high tide was still a few hours away so the waves were small and spotting a bite shouldn’t be the lottery that it can sometimes be.  Today I was hoping to catch a Ray but as it was my first go off the beach for six months I’d settle for anything.

An hour passed quickly before I had my first fishy rod wobble of the season, this didn’t develop but when I checked it a few minutes later there was something attached and I wound in a tiny Dab which had attempted to eat a whole squid.  How does such a small fish, so far off the beach, register a proper bite on a stiff, glass fibre rod tip?  It makes me think, not for the first time, about how over-engineered freshwater bite indication has become.  Yes, buzzers and bobbins do have their place but these set ups are only really necessary when the angler cannot see his rods, for whatever reason be it darkness or distraction.  The more fishing I do with tips pointed in the air, the more I think it really is the way to go for most species in most conditions.  Anglers have become conditioned to use electronic audible indicators and are now being steered towards the “precision” offered by bait boats.  There’s only one winner from these modern trends and it isn’t the angler.  Also, if you are using a baitboat to fish within comfortable casting range you are not an angler.  There I said it.

Nowadays I go beach fishing to avoid all that bullshit and back at the beach after an hour of inactivity the wind was picking up and rattling the shelter while the waves were getting bigger and louder.  I was reminded that although sea fishing is peaceful it is very rarely quiet, also the environment itself is harsh.  Even on a relatively mild day, if it wasn’t for the shelter I’d be uncomfortable and I probably wouldn’t stay too long.  Another familiar feeling returned; like most forms of fishing there are long periods where nothing at all happens and when I’m on the beach, staring out at the endless grey mass I end up getting the feeling that I’m never, ever going to get another bite.  I soon reminded myself that I almost always get this feeling but it only takes one indication on a rod tip to blow it away.

As is often the case at this location, things started to happen around ninety minutes before high tide.  The first action was a proper thump then slack line on the heavy rod, I was on my feet at geriatric speed and wound down into a solid weight that was an effort to pump back towards me.  The fish pulled back a bit too which was promising but as it neared the surf the resistance disappeared, whatever had been on the end had slipped the hooks.  As high tide got closer so the waves got bigger and louder, with the wind also picking up the rod tips were wobbling permanently.  Another reminder, when it’s like this I might not see ‘normal bites’, as much as anything I’m looking for a movement that is just different, a break in the rhythm of the rods.  I was seeing this kind of thing on just about every cast now and at 1445, bang on high tide, I hooked another fish which was my first Doggy of the year.  These are always a bit of an anti climax as they are usually bigger than the Whiting that are still around in spring and they pull back a bit, often making me wonder if I’ve hooked a small Ray.  Dogfish are cool creatures in their own right though but because they are so numerous they don’t raise the interest levels too much.

Half an hour later the lighter rod tip done something different and I winched in my first Whiting of the year which I might have used for livebait on another day.  The tide was ebbing now and although I felt there were fish about still, in truth I was knackered.  Another sea fishing reminder; there always comes a point when I’ve had enough and unlike freshwater fishing, when that moment comes I don’t hesitate I pack up.  A large Seal popped its head out and looked mournfully towards shore which seemed to endorse my decision.  By 1545 I had the rucksack mostly packed, the shelter and tripod were down and I had one rod leaning against the back of my chair.  When I came to wind it in there was a bit of weight on the end which turned out to be a bigger than average Whiting which at 36cm was actually the biggest I’ve caught.  I can’t get too excited about a PB Whiting but if I’m going to catch them then they might as well be big ones!

I was back in the car by 1600, out of the wind and away from the crash of the waves, hoping to get home before the evening wacky races started.  If my outward journey was frustrating then the drive home was just farce, two closed roads and three sets of roadworks.  The last of these involved three way traffic lights and a thirty minute queue before I came to two sheepish looking blokes in high viz cutting a fucking hedge!  Only in East Anglia.  A journey that normally takes forty minutes stretched into almost two hours, at least I’d renewed the selection of CD’s in the car but with one ironic choice.

A few days later…  An early finish at work and a quick turnaround gave me plenty of time to get to the beach before darkness.  With high tide due just before 2000 I would be able to fish a couple of hours either side.  There was no travel frustration today and I made it to the coast without a hitch.  I fished the same area as last time and crunched across shingle to find a row of anglers spread along the bay and remembered why I rarely fish here on a Saturday.  Still there was plenty of space and I was set up by about 1720, this time fishing two heavy rods rigged up with pulleys.  I was hoping for a Ray so had decided to go big or go home; baits would be squid, large strips of Mackerel or frozen black lug wrapped in squid.  I knew these baits wouldn’t be exactly selective but may stay in place long enough for a ray to find them.

The evening was clear and dry but cool with a moderate westerly wind.  This area is sheltered so it was comfortable enough and they waves remained small all evening.  I had my first bite after half an hour, it was a Whiting but a good sized one that had managed to get a big lump of mackerel into its gob.  It seemed to get dark quickly and I realised I’d left a light at home, fishing after dark was bringing a load more reminders.  I had a quiet hour with baits coming back from a long soak looking barely touched but as high tide grew closer so things started to happen.  My baits were getting fishy attention on almost every cast but I had few proper bites.  I guessed this indicated there were plenty of Whiting about; many wouldn’t be able to get my baits in their mouths but a few were bound to hook themselves.

I’ve caught a few Rays around high tide from this beach and the relatively flat sea looked ideal but nothing flat, brown and thorny turned up tonight.  As the sea started to retreat so the Whiting activity increased, frustrating rattles that stopped before I could get to the rod.  But by the time I’d had enough, just before 2200 I’d managed to catch five Whiting, most of which would have been keepers, as well as one angry dogfish.  Two trips into the spring and I can just about remember what I’m supposed to be doing and hopefully in the weeks to come I’ll find the fish I’m after.

 

My next day off fell just right, high tide was due a few minutes after midnight following a mild day, the wind was forecast to drop away to the barest breeze.  These things combined amounted to perfect conditions for catching Rays at my favourite beach and too good an opportunity to miss.  Like all anglers I’ve failed spectacularly in “perfect conditions” many times but I left home in the late afternoon full of confidence.  The journey was surprisingly smooth, despite plunging into rush hour which barely affected the roads I travelled on, in the direction I was heading at least.  I made it to a quiet car park in good time, loaded up and went for a hike and arrived to find an empty beach. The conditions were as forecast, the sea was flat but a long way away at the bottom of the gentle sloping beach, small waves rolled over, everything looked spot on, almost too perfect? 

It had been six months since my last visit to this beach and it had changed considerably since last year.  Normally I expected to be fishing over a mix of sand and shingle but today it was pretty much all sand.  Based on previous years this will have changed again by the end of the summer.  I try to avoid setting up on sand if I can so positioned myself on a narrow, flat strip of shingle at the very top of the beach.  A big tide will reach all the way up here and with no recent memory I wasn’t sure how far tonight’s biggish tide would reach so opted for caution.  This meant a walk of about two cricket pitches to reach the water to begin with but I’d avoid getting everything full of/covered in sand.

Tonight it was all about Rays, I wasn’t interested in Whiting or Dogs although I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid them.  Even so I used two heavy set ups with pulley rigs and big baits, mostly squid but also large mackerel strips, frozen black lug and combinations of all three.  I made my first casts just after 1800 then as I always do, I sat back with a cuppa and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the wild environment.  I didn’t sit back for long, my left hand rod baited with whole squid on a pennell was banging already, taps and rattles that stopped then started then stopped until I struck out of frustration and wound in a small Whiting.  A few minutes later the other rod banged over nicely and I found myself attached to something heavy at long range.  I slowly gained line and pumped it back close to the shore before there was a thump and whatever was on the end was attached no longer.  I’ll never know what it was but it had all the characteristics of a Ray.  This didn’t disappoint me too much as I was confident there would be more as the flood gathered pace.

This was the pattern for the rest of the evening, just about every cast brought activity of some kind and with small waves and no wind the taps and quivers were easy to see.  I was on the go all the time; baiting up, casting and winding in, walking up and down the sandy slope which shrunk as the night went on.  Time passed, I barely noticed the onset of darkness, I was just aware I needed the tip lights then I was busy getting two more rigs loaded whilst glancing up at the rod tips every other second.  By 2130 I’d caught four Whiting and five Dogfish, two of which came in together, one on each hook of a pennell rig.  Despite the busy fishing I was becoming frustrated, I really expected to have caught a Ray by this stage of the tide.  It dawned on me that by fishing identical methods on both rods I was effectively fishing both baits at the same sort of distance.  I probably catch most rays at this beach by whacking a bait out as far as I can, most by not all, so my next cast on the right hand rod was dropped in quite close. 

Then the distance rod heaved over, a bite that just meant ‘Ray’ here we go… no another Whiting!  That rod was barely recast when the over rod dropped in close was banging away nicely but somehow I missed it!  Another recollection from previous seasons, I somehow miss a lot of these bites when it looks like the fish has already hooked itself.  By now it was 2200, high tide was still a couple of hours away but the prime time for a Ray was running out fast.  But it only takes a second and a few minutes later the close range rod signalled a solid thump on the tip and I wound into something substantial which thumped and throbbed but couldn’t prevent itself being hauled back up the beach.  There it was, my first Ray of the season, not a particularly big one but any Ray is a good fish and I was well chuffed, mission accomplished.

With the fish back in the drink I got a fresh bait back out after it, dropped in close again then sat back with a grin and a small sense achievement.  Then bugger me the same rod banged hard once and the line fell slack.  I scrambled to my feet and quickly wound down to find myself attached to a solid weight that didn’t want to move.  I wondered if I was snagged but no that couldn’t be.  Steady pressure got things moving very slowly, inch by inch I kept the thing moving.  Through the rod I could feel a weird throbbing sensation and the tip would thump again, then back to the tug of war.  It was obviously a good sized Ray and was close in so I expect to catch a glimpse any second, then it all went solid again and wouldn’t move.  I wound down and heaved but nothing gave, so I wound and allowed myself to be pulled towards the fish/snag.  Then with a retreating wave my head torch revealed the Ray had buried itself into the sand, high and dry until it was covered by the next wave.  I put the rod down and followed the line for a few feet, when the sea sloshed back again I picked it up, fish sand and all.  I very quickly remembered they’re called Thornbacks for a reason so this wasn’t a particularly sensible thing to do. It cost me a little blood but I wasn’t going to let that fish get away.  A bloody big Ray it was too!

Somehow I got fish and tackle all the way back up onto the shingle, the hook came out easily and the fish looked huge to me.  I bundled it into a weigh sling, the thorny back helped keep it there, this must be close to a PB?  The little digital scales were still in another bag but the emergency spring balance pulled down to just over eight pounds, my second best Thornback!  It would have been nice to get a trophy shot but in the circumstances a self take photo seemed a lot of hassle so after a couple of quick shots I bundled it back into the sling and carried it back to the water.  It flapped its wings and slid off into the dark, as did I, albeit in the other direction.

Nothing was going to better that fish but I carried on later than I’d intended, right up until high tide, I may have stayed even later but by midnight I’d actually run out of squid.  I lost a fish at range which might have been another Ray and managed to catch a couple more Dogfish plus another Whiting.  I think I landed fifteen fish in total, for once things went as I’d hoped, the fish had read the script.  Driving home my tired eyes were kept on alert, animals of all kinds were active along the country roads; several Deer, hundreds of Rabbits, a rat and others too quick to identify.  Then there were patches of fog which slowed me to a crawl at times but these grew fewer further inland.  I arrived home knackered and it was good to crawl into bed after all of that, another feeling that will become familiar over the next few weeks.