Leaving the campsite was hard...hangovers, breakfast, ablutions and breaking camp all needed attending to before we headed into Swanage to buy bait. Job done we pulled in behind Richi and followed him to the little hut to pay our entrance fee (private beach) before parking up, unloading and getting ourselves ready to launch. Besides Richi and myself were Hungryfisherman, Todaymueller, Lureman, Piscator and later Starvinmarvin. We were at the water’s edge not long after and it was blowing!
Not being averse to a bit of a blow I was pleased I’d fitted the PA sail to my Scupper. The trip out to the mark would be straight into both wind and current so promised to be a hard slog but at least we’d be able to utilise the wind to hopefully fly back the mile and a half or so. Having had to return to the van I got back to the beach to see the others half a klick away already and so I went in without further ado, overtook a dive RIB and paddled out with them all looking closely at my ride; they’d studied it pretty extensively on the slip prior to this and had asked a lot of questions.
It took a bit of time but I soon caught up with Amos and John (who stopped to try for mackerel) and then headed onwards towards the flailing arms of Richi. Up and down I was going, water splashing me in the face occasionally and washing over the bow but I was starting to catch up. I didn’t quite manage it in the end and turned up just after he’d tied off to my pot buoy the cheek git! The next was only fifty yards further and to be fair he didn’t know that it was my buoy (I’d decided for myself as it was the only one I could see while paddling) and I soon tied up to it. The weather report of a force 4-5 and the lumpy sea reminded me of previous sessions involving Richi – I really do need to stop following that bastard! Still, there were fish to be had so I dropped down one rod with ragworm-baited feathers and jigged the other up and down in the hope of mackerel.
Up came a Wrasse for Richi while I struggled to hold bottom with my leads. The current was pretty strong and I was using leads without grip wires due to the rough ground and this conspired against me with the rise and fall of the choppy swell. It was hard work to be honest and the feather rod was doing nothing. Amos had joined us on another buoy by now and soon after John turned up, Richi vacating the buoy for another further one so that he could tie off amongst us. I told him there was nothing happening and immediately he hooked up a mackerel...then another...and another followed soon thereafter. I was not overly amused until the lid came open on his livebait bucket and they swam away ;D I didn’t hear his profanities too clearly though as it was still quite windy...
Eventually it was my turn and I had a mackerel on...in it came and into the dive bag it went – lovely, this was coming home with me for the freezer.
I’d given up on the bait fishing by now as it was just too lumpy to detect bites and just worked the feathers while waiting for a shoal to pass under. The sea had picked up a bit more now and I was taking the occasional wave over the side – indeed one had unbalanced me sufficiently to make me think I was going swimming but fortunately I stayed on, although my drysuit received a good rinsing ;D It took a while for the fish to arrive but finally whack! The rod tip started to shake and buck and I started to reel in, quite a heavy load this – for the first time in my life I had a full string of six mackerel...I was well chuffed. I failed to take advantage though as the hooks got all tangled amongst themselves and by the time I dropped down again the shoal had gone. Ten more minutes of fruitless feathering passed and then I decided to call it a day and head in. I think John was getting a bit bored with the inaction too...
With my gear stowed I popped the sail up and sat back for the expected fast ride in but between the wind dropping and a swelly following sea I failed to get more than 4mph out of the yak and often averaged 2mph. The only consolation was sailing right onto the slip! That was it. We dragged the yaks back up the slope and chatted for a while and then all set course for home. Another cracking weekend on the water was over.
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