Seven am and Amos and I were at Hopton after coffee and croissants. We’re posh like that. Three cars had already beaten us there and three yaks were on the water. Steve, Jason and one other...whose car was this? Unloaded and kitted up we wandered down to the beach, certainly a lot calmer than the night before when I’d called it off after a couple of hours.
I’d swapped over from my Scupper Pro to my faithful Prowler 15. Today was going to be a chill-out session and I fancied laying back and relaxing. The waves hitting the shore were minimal – a couple of feet high tops – and I went straight out to join the others. Dropping anchor just up and inshore of Steve (who would surely be on his mark) I drifted down in the perfect position to chat with him. The other side of him and level with me was the driver of the unknown car – Lureman had made the journey up from Bedford at the last minute to have a session with us...
...and he showed us what was what with the first cod of the day.
I settled down to fish and was certain I was in the wrong spot as I failed to get a bite for ages. Finally I started to get little nibbles but couldn’t connect at all. It must have been just after 8:30 (see!) when I finally got a fish on – a lovely whiting of around a pound. Lovely, big enough to fillet and fry. The next hour was more of the same, some fish on but most missed while around me some codling began to be boated by the others. Pinkfoot arrived around 9-ish and, sadly for me, spoke to someone else first, bringing them a codling as is his usual voodoo trick. While chatting to him I had a few bites but nothing stayed hooked and after a while he headed north to begin his session.
Then it changed. It went mental! I was fishing two rods and while one was being brought in the other was banging away like a Yarmouth Girl given a bag of chips! As soon as I got the bait back down and started bringing the other one up it was the same story...a shoal was in my zone. Then, while bringing one in I lifted and struck my other rod before placing it back in the rod holder...
...I dealt with the latest whiting, recast (no time to change the ragged baits) and started winding the other one in. it felt slack so I guessed I’d dropped it off. I hadn’t...the rod got that nice curve and started to nod as a codling started to come up off the bottom, a 5-6lb’er by the feel of it and it was banging its head all the way up. Near the bow, and without seeing it, it made one final nod and was off. So I continued with the whiting safe in the knowledge that there were cod in my patch too.
This continued for a while and then I could see Onmas winding in his anchor – he was off, with an hour still to go until low water. Steve was also just about done, his worms now gone and he started to wind in once Jason got back from chatting to Pinkfoot – returning to us with the news that he’d boated an 11lb’er! For a year we’d waited for a double and now two come out to yaks in a few days ;D Onmas had also located my previously abandoned anchor, reel and buoy and managed to get it up along with some more warp, steel cable and other rubbish. Looking on the charts it wasn’t that far from where I’d left it a few weeks back and with the rough weather we’d had in the mean time I was amazed it was still there. So Steve and Jason left us to it...
I had another codling on. Not as big by the feel of it, maybe a 3lb’er or perhaps it was a larger one and the flow had dropped a lot but although it was nodding away it didn’t seem to be pulling much. Until, of course, it nodded again a bit harder and shook the hooks. TWO dropped! The whiting bites had slowed down a lot now and with low water not far off and the lines starting to lose their tightness I decided I was heading in. Amos had just baited up a lucky worm so wanted a few more minutes...promptly bringing in a 4lb’er on it! Satisfied, he up-anchored and paddled in on his beautiful new steed.
Pinkfoot was also on his way in and Lureman wound his lines in, satisfied with a cod for his tea.
A pleasant, swelly paddle ashore in about 4ft waves saw us back at the launch site in a few minutes and I went in first, thankfully not repeating my antics of the other night when I waded in the last few metres! Camera out to film the others and as I switched on Pinkfoot came in...I had the benefit of seeing the wave behind him break over his stern, engulf, turn and flip him over. The bloody camera managed to catch the last quarter of a second before I ran down to help him. Nothing was broken and I think everything was recovered...it reminded us of the first time we’d fished together, over a year ago, when we both got taken out in a sea that had changed hugely since we’d launched. Amos was next in and nearly went but got away with it. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had – after anchoring in Steve’s usual spot there was nothing wiping that smile off his face:
I paddled back out to try and retrieve some of the lost tackle attached to the groynes from beach anglers who’d got broken off but couldn’t get close enough with the swell being quite large and powerful now. I did clear one that was running across the bay but failed to extract the lead that was stuck fast. Then, having already unloaded my gear, it was time to play and I tried to catch some waves. One rolled under me and I went back out. I caught a second and came in beautifully until the end...unable to hold it upright beam on I rolled under it to the usual laughter...the blood, guts and offal of course getting washed off in the process as planned
Well, it looks like that’s the last of my codding sessions this year, the wind is turning easterly and building in strength according to the forecasts. I can’t complain though as it’s been a cracking year with 58 codling and 192 whiting...but you never know, the forecast could be wrong and I could round those figures off...
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