Shitty Day on the Nene...23/10/07

It’s funny how things happen. After months and months of Bucketboy and I not managing to get together for a fish this week it finally happened. Being only a hundred miles or so apart we are practically next door neighbours. It all started with Pete’s PM: “Now that we have had our first frost, if the weather stays like this, I'm going to try and get a decent pike on static dead baits next week, are you coming?” Now, what he didn’t realise was that next week was half term and nicking the car for a day wouldn’t be such an issue as normal – so my response of “good-o. So, what size pike we after? twenties?” doubtless caught him off guard. And so after hard bargaining with my wife I left the house at 8:30 on Tuesday night for the drive to Peterborough in the kingdom of Cambridgeshire, nestled on the edge of the lands of the fen-folk. Loading up in the dark and in the narrow alleyway behind the house I managed to snap my new fishing rod as well as leaving myself with a yak that had to go on the roof with the stern pointing towards the front – not that it seems to make any difference. Nipping back in I cut, spliced and superglued the rod together, loaded it into the car and set off for the 2½ hour drive, armed with my google map print off and Pete’s directions – none of this fancy GPS malarkey for me, I have the instincts of a pigeon you see.

The drive went well, not too many hold ups and I made good time until the pigeon went to sleep and I ballsed up two miles from Pete’s. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with Peterborough but if you aren’t I suggest keeping things that way. It’s rubbish. Half an hour late I pitched up on his drive and received a warm welcome and a cold beer. Probably relief I wasn’t a Jehova. Anyway, we nattered, planned and what have you and then got our heads down ready for an early start.

Dawn rose…as it usually does…and an hour or two later we decided it might be an idea to go fishing. After a couple of coffees and some toast. The launch spot would be amongst the dogsh*t that constitutes much of Ferry Meadows, cleaned up neither by the owners of the dogs nor the many jobsworths in pickups that roar around with nothing to do.

We did the usual unloading and tackling up etc in the car park and started to walk to the lake when I noticed the sweet scent of dogsh*t wafting up into my nose. I’d stood in some and my Chota Mukluks where now Shitsa Mukluks and I was not a happy bunny. Unable to find a Labrador or its owner to wipe them clean on I made do with some grass and muttered on towards the lake. Pete wanted to circumnavigate half of the lake before launching but I persuaded him that as we were two it was easy to carry the yaks down to the jetties and so it proved to be fortunately. So, we launched and started off towards the river, lines already out. Pete had told me that he’d get runs every 50 yards on a good day so the first zzzzzzzzz was of no really surprise. Of course, if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed and I therefore paddled back to the sunken tree that had swallowed my Super Shad Rap. Of course, good things happen in threes and warden Jobsworth screeched to a halt and shouted across the lake that I couldn’t fish because it might set a precedent and they were having trouble with local kids and it would be dangerous and other balls. I think he feared that local chavs/hoodies would (if they were up at such an early hour) see me and go out and buy fishing kayaks, lures and rods and put somebody’s eye out or something. Of course, I reeled in and behaved but Pete was somewhat scathing in his regard of the fool.



So, having been shit on, hooked up and nicked all in the space of twenty minutes I was already enjoying the calm relaxing magic of the River Nene.

We paddled down the channel into the river itself and I stuck out a couple of Super Shad Raps – a Gold Shiner and a Redhead, both good lures that have taken decent fish and ideally situated to the 8-10 feet we were trolling in. Pete was getting fish all over the place on his finder and I saw two myself. I guess he had wired his up wrong and was in demo mode or something. Up past the boats we went, right up to the weir and although Pete had a run from a small jack nothing was happening. Not even maggots were tempting bait fish. So after a while we headed up a side channel into a spot Pete regularly does ok in. Anchoring up in 2ft of clear water we stuck some deadbeats out and had a couple of sarnies and some flapjack before heading off again to try and find some action downriver.

Trouble is, I found it very difficult to find a spot that I would regard as a pikey feature, by Broads standards. Finally finding a spot I figured might be worth a try we anchored up and I stuck some baits out. There was a bit of a current so I couldn’t keep them in position unless I put weight on which I didn’t want to do (didn’t want to spook the fish) and the baits were drifting along but this is no bad thing generally. The RAM holders were proving themselves to be pretty d**ned good though and far more suitable to river fishing than the Danicas had been.

Picking up my repaired match rod, fitted with my trusty Scarborough reel (a free-spinning centrepin) I tried my luck with maggot for some fresh bait fish. It was slow fishing all right.

Then the float dipped

It didn’t really register.

It dipped again and I took note

The third time I struck, and was in. Fish on.



Hmm, it was a disappointing fight. I’d expected more on the Scarborough and this rod, being a very thin and long bit of carbon fibre. Maybe I expected more?



Oh, it looked a tidy fish though



and a rather fetching one too



in it came and I got a good look at it, thick lips, solid thickset body, I hand landed it and had a good look at



My first ever chub. Around half to three quarters of a pound and with a gold sheen to its flanks I decided that it was really a very nice looking fish and I was pleased with it. I decided not to use it for bait – it was too good a fish for that – and gently returned it. A few more casts resulted in nothing and then a canal boat came along and I had to move in to the bank, tangling my pike lines in the process – enough to make me get the scissors out too. So off we went.



We seemed to spend most of the day chasing a heron about



Now, here was a feature that might have been worth a few casts



but I was more hopeful of finding a weirpool or something – whereas he was getting fed up being followed



while these were just swanning about and being ignored



Now, this place was quite promising. Pete had a run on a zander, so we stopped off to put the baits out and have a break



I reached into the back for a tub which after being on my lap etc went back again after I had stuck some groundbait down and we set about our lunch. I was getting peckish and eating my sandwich - out of the bag it was in - I could smell dogsh*t again. Quite strongly as it happens. In the middle of a river miles from the nearest place it should be. I couldn't work it out. Until after a few bites I realised the coincidence. Yes, you guessed it. I had dogsh*t on my hand. Great, how? I'm in the middle of the river aren't I? Oh, it's got on my hands from my lap, which happens to be covered in dogsh*t, as is my shirt. Problem solved. Except that I don't know how a dog has crept onto my lap, in a kayak, in the river, miles from anywhere to sh*t on me. Of course it was more simple than that - some considerate soul had let their dog sh*t all around the car park and not bothered to take it with them. My groundbait tub had picked up a nice lump of it while unloading the car / loading the kayak and i'd managed to load this into my kayak - which incidentally was also covered in dogsh*t. For those who haven’t read Pete’s take on it, I quote:

“No fish but what made my day was listening to snappers muttering, (sorry for the pun, you will understand when I explain ) the conversation with himself went something like, I don't f***ing believe it. How the f*** have I done that. Dirty f***ing b***ard. F** me I'm covered in it. It’s all over my f***ing T shirt. How, I'm in a kayak in the riddle of the river, for f***sake. Aaarrhh, all my f***ing maggots have escaped now!!!”

yeah, the maggots were now all over the rear tankwell, no doubt smearing the sh*t about even more.

I quote from the same thread my recollections of the ‘conversation’, and for those of you who have already read it I make no apology as you’ll enjoy it just as much again. It deserves to be archived for posterity:

“There I am eating a roll when I get a whiff of dog sh*t. f**king dog sh*t in the f**king middle of the f**king river. For f**ks sake, I'm trying to enjoy a f**king roll the Cu*ts. So, I look around. No f**ker around. I still smell dog sh*t. I eat again, can smell f**king dog sh*t again. Not realising that the f**king stuff is on my f**king hand! Luckily I am holding the roll in a bag. It's also on my f**king lap. And the f**king maggots are making a dash for it as they've escaped while I'm trying to find the f**king sh*t which is on my f**king groundbait tub as well as, I discover next, on my f**king t shirt. f**k! FOR f**kS SAKE! f**kING f**kERS! I want to f**k those f**king f**kers up, the f**ks.”

I mean, what kind of a backward f**king place is this? Oh, I see:



Well, it was time to start heading back to the start point. I cleaned off as much as possible in the river and started to paddle away. I got to the stone bridge again and put down some baits while I awaited mr lazy in his electric speedboat when lo and behold I saw a sight I never expected



He was paddling!



So we paddled on next to each other, chatting and just enjoying the river (didn’t have much choice, couldn’t enjoy the bloody fishing could we)



Now, for all those who call the Big game a barge I would like to point out the effortless ease with which it can be moved through the water:



Up we paddled, through stretches I’d have expected to have plenty of pike and perch swimming around in



we even annoyed old matey again



and then came the fork in the river to go back to the lake. I was all up for a last run past the boats but Pete had spoken to a guy on the bank who hadn’t had a bite all day and so he headed in. I tangled my lines again, cut off again and decided to head in as well.

Pulling up alongside the jetty, I began unloading everything (I wanted to clean down the yak) when I managed to do the following:



it wasn’t as bad as it looked, the blood didn’t gush until I pulled it out. I’ll let Pete describe the event:

“For f*** sake don't touch my yak, ( not that I wanted too, it was still covered in dog sh*t ) why?....I've got a f***ing hook stuck in my hand now. Do you want me to have a look?.... No, f*** off, its in past the f***ing barb the f***er. F*** me that’s got it, that b***ard f***ing hurt.”

Then Jobsworth turned up and told us about the big fish that people were catching in the lake last week (cheered me up that did) while I photographed the state of my Trident. Dogsh*t and maggot cocktail:



Dogsh*t, weeds and maggot cocktail



More maggots, and my YELLOW compass! Purposely tarty that one:



So, emptied off a final departing shot before giving it a clean up and trolleying it back to the car.



Funnily enough, we got onto the track and I saw some woman with her dog. The dog was having a sh*t. I suspect she heard my swearing, cursing, muttering and threats of what might happen if she didn’t f**king clear the f**king dogs f**king nuts from the f**king path before I f**king killed her and her f**king dog slowly through suffocation by f**king dogsh*t because she did in fact remove it, bless her.

So, back we went to the cars, loaded up the yaks and headed back to the café for a cuppa. It was closed and while Pete headed back to the cars and before we headed off I went to the toilet. Thinking about it in retrospect I should have just sh*t on the path like the rest of the world.

First Eastern Meet...12-15/10/07

Day 0

The meet began for me on Thursday afternoon with a launch from the beach to put my lobster/crab/prawn traps in the harbour, a gentle half mile or so warm up with the aim of making a crab bisque for one of the evenings.



The tide was right out and I tied the traps on to some metal railings (that would soon be covered) with as short a piece of string as I could in the hope that no thieving gits would be able to hoist them up the wall and steal them like last time. Weighted down with stones off the beach and filled with waste from the fish merchants (a fine selection of salmon, hake and bass) I dropped them down one at a time and headed in. Trolleyed up I rang Richi to see where he was and was informed he was in town having followed the diversion – a pity really as the diversion was for the roadworks at the top of my road, 200 metres past his digs for the night! I gave him directions to get back there and met him when I came off the beach on the side of the road. Of course we had a natter and then he went to get checked in while I walked home.

That night Richi popped over for a cuppa and we went over the charts, beneficial to both of us as I got an insight in what to look for and he found his mark for the morrow. After a few hours of nattering he went to get some kip and I did the same, both of us having an early start.

Day 1.

My early start was relaxed until my wife left for work just after seven and I opened the windows in my daughters room – to see a capsized blue Trident on top of a car across the road. Starvin looked well rested! I got the girls downstairs, dragged him in and proceeded to cook a breakfast for the four of us, dosing him up with coffee and getting the girls ready for school and babysitting before taking them and heading for the Broadland Holiday Village to meet up with whoever was piking (Richi had gone out for the evenings dinner). That’s when I met Darnsarf and Lozz and together with Starvin we hit the broad in search of pike, 3 Tridents and a Scupper Pro - after navigating the local equivalent of the Thames Flood Barrier of course, proving that we don’t need that big fancy rubbish them there city boys do. And that Lozz has a big arse.



The Scupper pro was first off the starting blocks and away, Darnsarf laughing as he left the Tridents floundering in his wake…



While we of course relaxed in the marina and allowed him his headstart



before heading to the marks that actually held fish.

My Big S wasn’t swimming right, going through one of the places that has an above average strike rate with a lure that was veering and not wobbling was not on, so I went back with the same lure not wobbling after picking up some weed. Starvin was nearby casting lures when I came back through the third time

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz



and got a hook up



And so came the first fish of the meet in freshwater (presumably Richi had already caught by this time on the sea).



Estimated around 4lb and a good scrapper



It was soon unhooked and back in the water none the worse for the experience. It was nice to have Starvin on hand to take some pics too.

I paddled around for another hour or two, stopping for a chat with Lozz then went off to find Darnsarf who had headed up the Dyke. Passing a few boats I eventually came across him anchored up at the mouth of an inlet in what looked to be a very pikey spot. I was just heading in to exchange pleasantries when

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz



Fish two had fallen for my huge Rapala Magnum, the first fish to take it since I bought it. This fish had bitten off more than it could chew though as the front treble was cleanly in the scissors while the rear one was hooked in behind the dorsal fin. I guess the lure was 2/3 of the length of the fish! Greedy bugger.

Lozz and Starvin then joined us and we all baitfished as unsuccessfully as Paul, Lozz finding a super spot that just didn’t want to produce




while Starvin just hung about nattering



OKReally then called to say he was nearly there with the trailer full of toys for us to play with so I said I’d head back down and see him in a few minutes if I didn’t catch a biggie on the way. I left Darnsarf and Starvin to it and followed Lozz down



I set off faster than normal, with two lures still out when

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ (That is Z’s in upper case ‘cos it was a biggie)

Again the Super Shad Rap had done the business, and this fish was a lump. It didn’t want to come up (I guess the speed had got me lower in the water where the bigger ones lay) and was giving a good pull, taking line, so I tightened up the drag. She came to the surface and went mad, thrashing 50 yards or more away

And threw the hook. I can honestly say that that pike was as good as, or better than, any I’ve had out of the broad, a definite double (I don’t think it went to twenty though). Ah well, that’s how it goes sometimes.


Paddling in I met up with Andrew and we had a natter while Lozz got bettered (and battered) by the local hooligan who didn’t like the cut of his suit



while I looked over the trailer – all bar the Yaksport were in yellow! How thoughtful! Onboard were Prowler 13, Prowler Big Game, Prowler Elite 4.5, Prowler 15 Trident, Drifter, Caper, Scupper Pro, Yak Sport and of course a long thin thing that we all wanted to see – the Sprinter!

Well, that was it, I had to try the Sprinter and as soon as Andrew left I launched it. I nearly fell off before I got afloat. I wish I’d had some scupper stoppers as two jets of water soaked my arse in no time but I paddled out with all the grace of a rhinocerous in stilettos and proceeded to teeter off up the broad. Clutching my paddle tightly I paddled around a bit and then grabbed hold of a cruiser to realign one of the rudder pedals – I hadn’t thought about that beforehand and one leg was in the correct position whilst the other was nearly upright. Paddling was much better and I played some more before heading in. Later some of the others gave it a spin with the rudder attached (I hadn’t put it on) and will no doubt speak of it. It was quick and nimble, accelerating away very easily, and once you had a few minutes under your belt (and a bit of speed) the panic bells stopped ringing and it was a nice ride. Rather narrow on the hips it didn’t cause me any grief surprisingly. I enjoyed it as it happens but I couldn’t imagine fishing from one!

Stopping and chatting again to Darnsarf and Starvin, I watched with amusement and amazement as a jack turned up…but that’s Starvins story to tell! Sadly I had to leave then and pick up the girls, who then came down the broad with me a bit later on with some supplies before going home to get dinner on for my long-suffering wife.

Coming back later with a big bag of frozen chips and some beer we set about enjoying the craic, deep frying batches of chips while cooking some of Richi’s cod and failing to cook others in order to poison Starvin and Darnsarf. That’s their reason for their illness anyway, certainly not the reason for mine! I felt slightly odd on going home around midnight…..

Day 2

I dragged my tired and wrecked arse out of a nice warm bed after the fourth time the alarm went off and wandered down to the beach after a couple of coffee’s, hoping to meet the others. Once I’d got set up I decided to launch anyway



I had a little bimble around to loosen up and waited for them to arrive (with the bait) – to no avail, so I headed out anyway, figuring I’d meet them at the buoy. Anchoring up, I hooked on some knackered old fake bait and sat around for a while just enjoying the morning and the swell.



Nothing doing, I headed out further and phoned up again, people were up and about but still at the caravan so I figured I’d have to wait a bit more so I headed out further.



Bored again, and with no bites (no surprise) I headed out to the buoy and once more dropped the anchor. The current was running pretty well by now but my new anchor system was working fine and holding me in position and the new electronic gizmo’s were telling me that I was quite deep, off the coast of Lowestoft and not moving.



I should have fitted a DVD player as well really as I got bored again and as time was getting away I figured it was time to up-anchor and head in as Bucketboy would be around by now. After beaching and heading home to drop off the yak and pick up the car I bumped into Richi, Lozz and Tratty who explained that the delay was caused by an epidemic sweeping the camp that had laid low Starvin and Darnsarf. Crumbs! That was a major slice of the weekend gone. Leaving them to it I headed off, launched onto the broad and went in search of Bucketboy and Guinea who had also come up for a bash.



I decided that as there were plenty of spare yaks to play with I’d try the Drifter and after carrying it down to the water I paddled out. I found it a pleasant little boat and were I going to use a yak purely for light tackle meandering on the broad and for short trips upriver with a bit of beach play I’d be more than satisfied with it – the hull looked like it would be lovely to play in the surf with and it manoeuvred well with a lighter paddle than I expected. Mind you I’m biased towards it as I paddled for two minutes when

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz



Feisty little bugger it was



another one notched up to the Super Shad Rap Gold Shiner



and after one last dash for freedom



it came in.



I released it back to its home and headed up to the source of some noise in the distance – some bloody hooligan was tearing up the place in a noisy powerboat looking for all the world like a pirate and I decided to repel him



but then spotted a far more considerate (and might I say handsome) paddler in the form of Guinea, sitting in his green P13



Anyway, we nattered and I tried out the electric go-buggy which was as good as it looks and would be great for keeping out of the bank when fighting a fish and then headed off to try and find another fish from another yak – my first paddle in the venerable Prowler 13

I don’t like the P13. I blanked on it. Handled very nicely and was a comfortable yak – I would score it equal to the Drifter on the broad but I reckon it would be streets ahead on the sea. However, in green they obviously work because I came around the corner and saw:



the smile said it all really



First freshwater yak fish, second fish, biggest yak fish etc etc



yep, I came around the corner at just the right time. Even the bloody cormorants were pleased



I paddled some more with no runs then got a call from Mb to say he was popping across so I went over to the marina to get an Elite out and have a natter



Sadly I didn’t get to paddle the Elite as after ten minutes I got a call from the tackle shop to go and get the bait which I duly did, meeting up with the lads who’d just come in from the sea and who met us in town. Another day’s fishing done and I had to head out that night to a wedding reception so didn’t even get any cake to eat.

Day 3.

Getting out of bed was a bit easier this time and as most of the gear was ready to go I had a relaxing coffee before trolleying-up the Prowler 15 and heading down to the beach. Mb had taken the Trident the night before and would be using that while Gavstick was asleep somewhere in the vicinity with his brand new Elite. I soon located him and we awaited Mike’s arrival. While I went back home to get the bait I’d left behind. Between the three of us we had two C-Tugs and one anchor (my replacement spare still not arriving from the chandler) so we weren’t the best prepared for a days fishing, especially as it was unlikely we would find any buoys to anchor up to – instead relying on borrowing spare anchors off the others when they arrived.

Mike headed out first and we followed on when we were ready – Gavstick staying dry on his first ever launch



I think he would have liked a more gentle start as we then headed straight out for a mile and a half. Mike anchored up and we both tied off to him and started fishing. The 1.5kg anchor wasn’t beefy enough for three yaks in that current and swell even with 50 metres of line out and so we parted and hauled it up. The bouncing around had been a tad uncomfortable and after a while Mike headed back in while Gavstick and I headed back to the buoy which with the current was now at least a mile away. It was a bugger of a paddle against the tide and after getting there and dropping anchor to await the others (who we’d told we were at the buoy) I dropped a line down again, getting a bite when Richi arrived (against the current) to give me bait (I’d got some this time, can’t catch me out twice!!) and said he, Starvin and Tratty were heading further out and further south.

I up-anchored and started out in their general direction but Gavstick fancied a drift so we did that instead, paddling hard through one broken patch of water, and heading slightly inshore.

And then it started…



my first dab from the yak



possibly sizeable but not really worth killing it went back again

and then a whiting came aboard



Gavstick got one next, first trip and first yak fish, and then I was into them regularly,



one after another



I tried my sail out but the wind was not very strong – hopefully the French could see me though as we’d beaten them in the rugby the night before



Paddling in a bit closer, to around 6-8 metres, we drifted a bit more around Pakefield and Kessingland which are both popular marks for Cod from the shore and Gavstick went in for a kip, coming back out again a while later while I continued to hammer the whiting



I think he looks good in an Elite



of course, we weren’t alone on the water



it was the first time I’d seen seals when I’d been afloat so I was quite pleased



and it didn’t seem to have eaten all the fish either



this was my best of the day and the first keeper – I plan to do Merlan en Colere with it, where you curl it up and put it’s tail in its mouth before cooking



Next species up was Starvin’s favourite, the humble pouting



followed by a crab



a few whiting later and after the current had turned I spotted the others coming in from the outer mark and we joined them on the run in to the beach, all five yaks landing around the same time to a crowded esplanade and a beach that had a very high population for mid October, including my wife and children



news soon spread that the fleet ahd returned and Lowestoft was once more a great fishing town



and we got stuck into the cleaning of the fish and posed for OKReally’s camera – he really should get a new one



Starvin and Richi then headed off to darkest Norfolk and Tratty, Gavstick and I went and had a coffee before heading back to the shelter of the Broad



The fat lady had not yet sung, so Tratty grabbed a demo Trident and I a demo Elite and we went off for a paddle to try them out and lift my nets from the harbour. Down through the Broad we then scrambled carefully down the sides of Mutford Lock and onto Lake Lothing



lifting the nets (Tratty has the pics) I pulled out 4 lobsters, one of which was a PB, 5 edible crabs that were sizeable and a load each of velvet swimmers and prawns. These all went into the capacious hold of the demo Trident – stinking it up to match the filth that lay on the deck of the Elite – and we rounded the head into open sea.



The difference between the calm in the harbour and the swell outside was quite marked and with the rebounding waves from the harbour wall it was pretty uncomfortable (but still fun!). I landed first and Tratty milled around in the waves trying to catch a decent one to surf in – sadly there weren’t any



And that, as they say, was that.



Yaks back to the holiday village, dinner and a natter and then I went home. Next morning we weer all fished out and once we had emptied and cleaned the caravan (I turned up to help and deposited 3 litres of oil over worktop and floor so that we had more to do) we departed.

I was expecting to have a good time and learn from the others and I did. The weekend was far better than I would have thought, the weather on Sunday especially being exceptional, and a great time was had by all – I want to thank each and every one of you for coming and making it what it was, a real pleasure.

Roll on the next one!