With my family away in France and it being such a pleasant evening I decided upon a quick raid on the bass mark near work where I went at the weekend with Brotherwarren. The good news is that the nets appear to have gone...but does this mean the bass are too?
I was after a quick raid - Scupper, anchor, one rod and a Dexter Wedge. I launched, paddled out and dropped my anchor. The tide was starting to run and a few casts on the normal corener yielded nothing. I let some more warp out and, with the tide heading seaward cast to the corner further out...first cast and I was in ;D A bass of 38cm came into the net and then into the tankwell. A few mores casts produced nothing though - had I spooked the fish?
Then, same place, a knock...following cast and the rod bent over...I was in again. A better fish this time - not a great deal bigger at 42cm but a better fight and this one also went into the back. Two bass in 30 minutes.
The tide was starting to build now and the fish either stopped feeding or were spooked and went elsewhere. Another half an hour yielded nothing and following a quick troll I headed back in to get home and make my dinner. I can smell it cooking now hence the short report :P
Thursday 29 July 2010
Sunday 25 July 2010
A Refreshing Change...25/07/2010
Saturday’s session had seen me considering binning the fishing, abandoning my van and paddling home instead, a journey of a couple of hours or more, as it was such a pleasant morning. Being hungry and with company I decided against this plan of action and fished instead but having to pick something up from my friend Liam later on left me with the idea that it might be nice to drag him out after too long since we’d last gone for a jaunt.
I tuned up, invited him out and got a tentative agreement to the possibility. It was on the beach later that he informed me that yes, he’d be at mine for 6am. Sure enough, he was and we popped my Prowler on the roof with my Scupper and headed north to Gorleston.
Launching half an hour or so later we paddled down to the wreck of the White Swan. The sea was pretty flat and the water pretty clear so I flicked out a couple of Rapalas and did a pass as close as I dared. I felt one tug but whatever it was it didn’t stay hooked. It may have been a schoolie or a piece of wreckage, I don’t know, but I suspect the former. I tried passing the wreck again but snagged a pot buoy on the turn and ended up making a hash of the second pass down so gave up and carried on towards Hopton.
We spotted a seal on the way down, Liam actually having it pop up three feet off his bow at one pint and then, in the distance something a bit more special – two or three harbour porpoises broaching the water a couple of hundred yards or so ahead of us. We couldn’t see them again when we got closer sadly but it was still pretty good.
Arriving off Hopton I was startled to see a fish jump a good couple of feet straight up out of the water. It’s only the second time I’ve seen this and again identification eluded me. Bass? Mackerel? I think the former as it seemed lighter and shinier but for all I know it could have been a sea trout. Had the bugger grabbed the lure I flicked out I’d have known for sure!
Passing Hopton we hit the rough water where the waves reflect off the sea defences. Even though it was calm the change in the sea was quite noticeable. I actually came off video here and took a photograph of Liam, my only still of the day.
We exited this area of confused water at Corton and continued on down past Gunton. The current was pretty strong here as it always is but it was with us so things were easy. Further on we got to north Lowestoft where the rock sea defences are. These begin just north of Ness Point and so the Rapalas went back out. I’ve never seen the sea so clear here and I really thought I might find a bass if I could keep myself slow enough. I stopped to chat with a shore angler when ¾ of the way down past these rock defences and on starting to paddle again I got fifty yards when Liam’s dinner jumped onto my orange Rapala ;D
A quick battle that saw me having to put the rod between my knees and paddle back out from the rocks saw the fish netted and, at 40cm, dispatched. His next paddle pass was now guaranteed ;) I put the rods away and we paddled past the harbour mouth before cutting into the bay and landing on the beach just down from my home.
Sometimes fishing takes a back seat and with a relaxed eight mile paddle with a mate in a calm sea and with just the occasional troll I figure I made the best use of my morning. It was grand ;D
I tuned up, invited him out and got a tentative agreement to the possibility. It was on the beach later that he informed me that yes, he’d be at mine for 6am. Sure enough, he was and we popped my Prowler on the roof with my Scupper and headed north to Gorleston.
Launching half an hour or so later we paddled down to the wreck of the White Swan. The sea was pretty flat and the water pretty clear so I flicked out a couple of Rapalas and did a pass as close as I dared. I felt one tug but whatever it was it didn’t stay hooked. It may have been a schoolie or a piece of wreckage, I don’t know, but I suspect the former. I tried passing the wreck again but snagged a pot buoy on the turn and ended up making a hash of the second pass down so gave up and carried on towards Hopton.
We spotted a seal on the way down, Liam actually having it pop up three feet off his bow at one pint and then, in the distance something a bit more special – two or three harbour porpoises broaching the water a couple of hundred yards or so ahead of us. We couldn’t see them again when we got closer sadly but it was still pretty good.
Arriving off Hopton I was startled to see a fish jump a good couple of feet straight up out of the water. It’s only the second time I’ve seen this and again identification eluded me. Bass? Mackerel? I think the former as it seemed lighter and shinier but for all I know it could have been a sea trout. Had the bugger grabbed the lure I flicked out I’d have known for sure!
Passing Hopton we hit the rough water where the waves reflect off the sea defences. Even though it was calm the change in the sea was quite noticeable. I actually came off video here and took a photograph of Liam, my only still of the day.
We exited this area of confused water at Corton and continued on down past Gunton. The current was pretty strong here as it always is but it was with us so things were easy. Further on we got to north Lowestoft where the rock sea defences are. These begin just north of Ness Point and so the Rapalas went back out. I’ve never seen the sea so clear here and I really thought I might find a bass if I could keep myself slow enough. I stopped to chat with a shore angler when ¾ of the way down past these rock defences and on starting to paddle again I got fifty yards when Liam’s dinner jumped onto my orange Rapala ;D
A quick battle that saw me having to put the rod between my knees and paddle back out from the rocks saw the fish netted and, at 40cm, dispatched. His next paddle pass was now guaranteed ;) I put the rods away and we paddled past the harbour mouth before cutting into the bay and landing on the beach just down from my home.
Sometimes fishing takes a back seat and with a relaxed eight mile paddle with a mate in a calm sea and with just the occasional troll I figure I made the best use of my morning. It was grand ;D
Saturday 24 July 2010
The Week’s Antidote...24/07/2010
Back home again after last week’s foreign holiday to Wales (twice) I decided on a nice, easy, restful session and so decided to head for our newly-discovered bass spot near the outer harbour at Great Yarmouth. I was after a silver fish close to a white elephant ;D The plan was to be up at 4 for a coffee, leave half an hour later and arrive on the beach at 5 for a four hour session. I couldn’t really encroach into my home life as my wife and girls are off to France for a few weeks on Monday and we had loads to do in the meantime.
I turned up on time to be greeted by Brotherwarren who’d also crossed the border. Clearly the Norfolk ballet paddlers are in more need of beauty sleep than the Suffolk hardcore ravers ;D the sun was starting to make itself known...
Quickly sorting ourselves out we launched into a beautiful sea. It was calm and flat with only a slight, long rolling swell.
It was lovely to paddle in and we picked up the flood tide as we headed out to try trolling the sandbank on our way down to the harbour wall.
Once down by the wall the force of the rip could be felt. The flood comes down the coast, bumps into this mass of rock and has to go somewhere so consequently turns towards Holland and buggers off. There is quite a lot of water involved in this and more is obviously behind it so the current is quite a bit stronger than that on its way down to the wall. Once you get close it becomes a bit bumpier from the reflected waves and the kayak gets quite literally sucked out to sea. It’s quite good fun really, but not for the unwary.
I trolled in towards the beach, still without a bite before heading to the intended mark. My first pass resulted, as expected (and hoped), in the rod banging about in the flush mount. In came the first fish of the day – a spirited schoolie of around 1/2lb. Unhooked, it went off to fatten up for next year.
A green mackerel sinking Rapala Magnum CD9 had done the honours. Low and slow seems to be the name of the game here right now.
The next couple of hours were pleasant, good exercise and fruitless. I went through quite a lot of lures before deciding to finally use one I’d not tried in the eighteen years I’ve had it as the colour didn’t really call out to me. On went an orange magnum CD11. Bugger me, what fish have I missed in the last eighteen years? It didn’t take long until the rod was bouncing away. At 46cm, lunch was sorted ;D
Just before departing and while chatting to Brotherwarren we spied a couple more yaks launching. I didn’t recognise them but made the acquaintance a few minutes later with Ciscokid and his mate (Paul and Sean?) on a matching pair of catch 390s. Good to meet you chaps – perhaps next time I won’t have to rush off straight away!
I trolled in, heading right into the shoreline, bouncing the lures along the bottom. All I caught, bizarrely, was a stone. It had a small hole in it that was slightly wider than the hook...
That was the fishing done. I was back home by 09:30 and got on with the gutting of my catch. I didn’t realise but we have squid here:
Being so fresh, and with plans that evening I decided to get the barbecue fired up a couple of hours later and proceeded to cook my catch. I began by scaling it, slashing the flanks and coating it with a mixture of lemon juice, olive oil, salt and Szechuan peppercorns before enclosing it in a fish basket and putting it over the coals.
It was done to a turn and the skin, crispy and seasoned as it was, was fantastic.
What was more pleasing was that my eldest had seconds, my youngest finished hers and we had more than enough. I’ll be happy catching them that size in future – no point wasting anything:
I turned up on time to be greeted by Brotherwarren who’d also crossed the border. Clearly the Norfolk ballet paddlers are in more need of beauty sleep than the Suffolk hardcore ravers ;D the sun was starting to make itself known...
Quickly sorting ourselves out we launched into a beautiful sea. It was calm and flat with only a slight, long rolling swell.
It was lovely to paddle in and we picked up the flood tide as we headed out to try trolling the sandbank on our way down to the harbour wall.
Once down by the wall the force of the rip could be felt. The flood comes down the coast, bumps into this mass of rock and has to go somewhere so consequently turns towards Holland and buggers off. There is quite a lot of water involved in this and more is obviously behind it so the current is quite a bit stronger than that on its way down to the wall. Once you get close it becomes a bit bumpier from the reflected waves and the kayak gets quite literally sucked out to sea. It’s quite good fun really, but not for the unwary.
I trolled in towards the beach, still without a bite before heading to the intended mark. My first pass resulted, as expected (and hoped), in the rod banging about in the flush mount. In came the first fish of the day – a spirited schoolie of around 1/2lb. Unhooked, it went off to fatten up for next year.
A green mackerel sinking Rapala Magnum CD9 had done the honours. Low and slow seems to be the name of the game here right now.
The next couple of hours were pleasant, good exercise and fruitless. I went through quite a lot of lures before deciding to finally use one I’d not tried in the eighteen years I’ve had it as the colour didn’t really call out to me. On went an orange magnum CD11. Bugger me, what fish have I missed in the last eighteen years? It didn’t take long until the rod was bouncing away. At 46cm, lunch was sorted ;D
Just before departing and while chatting to Brotherwarren we spied a couple more yaks launching. I didn’t recognise them but made the acquaintance a few minutes later with Ciscokid and his mate (Paul and Sean?) on a matching pair of catch 390s. Good to meet you chaps – perhaps next time I won’t have to rush off straight away!
I trolled in, heading right into the shoreline, bouncing the lures along the bottom. All I caught, bizarrely, was a stone. It had a small hole in it that was slightly wider than the hook...
That was the fishing done. I was back home by 09:30 and got on with the gutting of my catch. I didn’t realise but we have squid here:
Being so fresh, and with plans that evening I decided to get the barbecue fired up a couple of hours later and proceeded to cook my catch. I began by scaling it, slashing the flanks and coating it with a mixture of lemon juice, olive oil, salt and Szechuan peppercorns before enclosing it in a fish basket and putting it over the coals.
It was done to a turn and the skin, crispy and seasoned as it was, was fantastic.
What was more pleasing was that my eldest had seconds, my youngest finished hers and we had more than enough. I’ll be happy catching them that size in future – no point wasting anything:
Saturday 17 July 2010
Further Afield: Oxwich Irony...17/07/2010
Sometimes there are events that need to be attended and the SWKA Kayak Fishing Festival was one of them. Months of planning had gone into this by the team and yet four of them had still found time to come and support the OK Classic and Swanage where we had met and shared a beer or two. That was why I found myself driving through Norfolk at 5am on the Friday with Westie riding shotgun, our destination the other side of the civilised world (as in next door to the civilised world!).
The trip was destined to be a long one as I had a large van with large trailer and was thus bound by the tachograph into staying below 60mph and stopping for 45 minutes breaks now and again. A further stop was required to unload the kayaks and then, after eleven hours on the road, we were free (as had been our travel which is always a bonus). We rocked up at the campsite an hour after the drop and following check-in bought some provisions for the evening and following morning (beer, ice, meat) before heading on up to the invaded field where tents were erected, friends greeted and the degeneration began. It was about that time that a cinder flew into my eyelid from the barbecue. It didn’t hurt, luckily, and a clean with a sterile wipe kept the nasties at bay.
Memories have been dulled by time but there was meat, beer, a marquee, some music, and laughter along with drizzle, wind and a drop in temperature. It culminated in me dropping off inside my down-filled ex-army sleeping bag and £20 pop-up Decathlon tent...this weekend’s weather would be a test for my ‘meet tent’ for sure ;D
The next morning arrived and with coffee downed and some rigging done it was time to drive the big van down the little roads. With much swearing this was completed and having paid through the nose to park away from the beach (I wasn’t allowed to put the ugly van near the pretty beach) we unloaded and got our kit together. This needs further expansion however. I’d spent hours tying rigs in the preceding weeks and had brought them all along with the tackle I figured I’d need but I did omit other items. Nothing too important but the lack of wetsuit and drysuit, my normal anchors and reels along with a coolbox and a few other bits relevant to the weekend were things that I could have appreciated. Fortunately I had my wetsuit sorts and the previous night’s inclemency (sideways rain) had eased off. We booked in, attended the briefing and then launched shortly after those who’d got themselves together on the fishing front instead of frying bacon on the beach ;D
It was an Ultra day. ‘Team Viking’ had purloined the two demo Ultras for the purposes of the competition and with them ready to launch I had watched in horror as Lureman decided to beach himself between them just before the photograph was taken. Fortunately mango is this season’s colour and his Trident didn’t ruin the shot too much. I’ll photoshop him out if the kids want to look through the photographs though.
The next snap was of the competition card and then Tim and I launched into a calm sea and were away.
Slowly. Our plan was a combination of drift fishing baits and working lures. We were in fact so slow that Starvinmarvin managed to share the sea with us. Now I know I’m a tart with yellow yak, van and accessories but I have manly black rods – look at this tart! Even his cag and rods match his Scupper Pro! Hairdresser’s rods.
I made my way to the rockfall. This was supposed to be pretty good. I trolled it and cast amongst it but to no avail.
The finder showed nothing in the way of fish either.
A bit further on I spotted an area I fancied. The waves were breaking over a ridge running out from some rocks and forming a perfect haven from current but superb ambush position for predators. The swell was coming in and hitting this wall which was pretty level with the water’s surface and making some nice froth. I had to position myself and get the anchor down...but before I could I spotted something truly incredible happening a hundred yards behind me:
No. It couldn’t be...surely?
It was! A bass that fed like a pout! And a damned nice one too. Caught on a hairdresser’s rod. Still, I took some pics and subsequently watched aghast as he threw dinner away by way of thanks.
All that disturbance scared the bass away from my spot into which we’d now drifted. I tried outside the ridge instead. It didn’t take long:
Tim wandered past; he’d trolled all the way up and had nothing. It was time we hit another spot.
We headed over towards the wreck, scanning it as we passed.
A few yards apart, we dropped anchor and drifted into a position on uptide of the wreckage in an area of rough ground that we hoped wouldn’t be too snaggy
The excitement began to show.
Finally, after what seemed lie half a day, I had my first bite, a good one, and I struck into it. I felt the fish briefly and then I was pulled into a snag. Trying to bully it out cost me my first species. A few minutes later and the same happened to Tim but a bit of slack line saw it thankfully pull itself clear and he was rewarded with his first ever Ballan Wrasse D
With no further bites we up-anchored a while later and headed further out. It was nice here, a nice swell which got up to a good few feet at one point and we anchored up again, watching a couple of yaks playing in the waves at the point.
Little did we know but those yaks weren’t playing a game all of the time ;) The best were the comments from the safety boats:
“There’s always ******* one” followed by “I’ve got a big stick on board”
A reply of “You need a big stick to hit balls as big as that” closed that conversation ;D
Anyway, pissed off with failing to get any fish I decided to stop fishing like a gulf stream goblin and fish my way. Typically Anglian baits of frozen black lug tipped with a ring of unwashed squid went onto a three hook flapper while a typically Anglian wishbone rig replaced the shrimp rig on the other rod. I’d not completed the swap when the first knock came. I grabbed my rod, let the bite develop and caught irony fairly in the chops.
Three countries I’ve fished this year and I’ve caught codling in all of them ;D it was like being back home...
They kept stealing the squid off my baits but three came aboard, one of which was hooked too deeply to survive and thus got slung back out as a tope livebait, to no avail. Ti, meanwhile, was fifty yards away and managed mackerel and dogfish but couldn’t find the codling even with the same rig and bait. It’s often like that with codling.
A bit more of this followed and then I decided to have another try for the bass along the rocky edge. Anchor retrieval took some effort but at least I didn’t lose this one (I snapped the warp from the one by the wreck). The problem was I hooked it around the stern of the Ultra and it was hanging down 15ft while I was drifting. I called up the safety boat and then my VHF died straight after I got the message out.
The safety boat came over to give assistance to someone else past me so I paddled out to let them know it was me that had needed their help. I was actually on my way over to Tim at the time, hoping to use his radio to call them off as I’d managed to free the anchor. Then another came heading out from the beach and I called him in and got him to explain the situation. There was no real problem for me (I’d have cut it free if unable to retrieve it fully normally) but it was an excellent illustration of why support craft (with local knowledge) are needed for these events.
I got nothing on the troll so with Tim heading off after another species or two I went to play close in, darting in and out of the rocks. Overrun heard me cheer as I followed him over a rock that submerged with the waves and turned around smiling – we were on the same wavelength with that one!
I came in and beached. Wandering up I checked in, stole a swig of Floydyboy’s pint and wandered back to the car park. Helen had the kettle boiling and a revitalising coffee saw me fit enough to prance around with the camera when Sprinter and his son came wandering by with his freshly delivered Elite:
I’m saying nothing.
Then Tim arrived back and I took some shots of the dirtied-up Ultras.
Finally we had the presentation. Irony wasn’t on the prize list but lots of other things were and with Floydyboy vogueing in the background the leaderboard posed with first prize, a Shakespeare kayak.
Then things went tits-up. A quick trip to Tesco took forever as every bridge that Ivor the Engine went over was built for sheep to pass under. Finally we found one tall enough for the van to pas sunder – only to find a narrow bridge a few hundred yards further down the road which I had to get Tim to guide me through. Rip the railways out boyos, they only encourage the poor.
There followed an epic of a raffle. Somewhere along the line one of my numbers was called and a Fladen ice Pike rod was obtained for my youngest daughter who’d told me she wanted a rod a few weeks beforehand. My luck was perhaps changing at last?
When I tasted the paella milesfromthesea had whipped up I knew it had. Now my opinion of rice is not that high but this had me clamouring for more. Jeeves the butler had done a cracking job and his efforts were recognised by those who’d had the nod as being nothing short of miraculous. Loaves and fishes were nothing on this man’s efforts.
A small group sat around a barbecue after the raffle; a pioneer returning to the sport, a fair-weather extremist, a stubbled fanatic and two hairdressers. Meat was sacrificed, badly, beer was drunk and spilled, whiskey (it was Oirish to be sure) was sipped and the hours disappeared until sleep beckoned. Once more into the tent, dear friends!
It blew a hoolie that night, the rain came in sideways. Sleeping problems were had. Apparently. Tarponben and I heard nothing and slept soundly ;D what’s more, my 320 pop-up tent kept me dry too! I was amazed. It was bloody grotty when I got up though.
Petrol and a gale had the charcoal going in no time and with sausages and bacon cooked it became a hot smoker with the lid on, oak shavings and coriander on the charcoal and mackerel on the grill.
Breakfast done, we broke camp, loaded the van and having said some farewells Tim and I headed off to pick up the trailer and make our long way back to Norfolk. It was some weekend!
The trip was destined to be a long one as I had a large van with large trailer and was thus bound by the tachograph into staying below 60mph and stopping for 45 minutes breaks now and again. A further stop was required to unload the kayaks and then, after eleven hours on the road, we were free (as had been our travel which is always a bonus). We rocked up at the campsite an hour after the drop and following check-in bought some provisions for the evening and following morning (beer, ice, meat) before heading on up to the invaded field where tents were erected, friends greeted and the degeneration began. It was about that time that a cinder flew into my eyelid from the barbecue. It didn’t hurt, luckily, and a clean with a sterile wipe kept the nasties at bay.
Memories have been dulled by time but there was meat, beer, a marquee, some music, and laughter along with drizzle, wind and a drop in temperature. It culminated in me dropping off inside my down-filled ex-army sleeping bag and £20 pop-up Decathlon tent...this weekend’s weather would be a test for my ‘meet tent’ for sure ;D
The next morning arrived and with coffee downed and some rigging done it was time to drive the big van down the little roads. With much swearing this was completed and having paid through the nose to park away from the beach (I wasn’t allowed to put the ugly van near the pretty beach) we unloaded and got our kit together. This needs further expansion however. I’d spent hours tying rigs in the preceding weeks and had brought them all along with the tackle I figured I’d need but I did omit other items. Nothing too important but the lack of wetsuit and drysuit, my normal anchors and reels along with a coolbox and a few other bits relevant to the weekend were things that I could have appreciated. Fortunately I had my wetsuit sorts and the previous night’s inclemency (sideways rain) had eased off. We booked in, attended the briefing and then launched shortly after those who’d got themselves together on the fishing front instead of frying bacon on the beach ;D
It was an Ultra day. ‘Team Viking’ had purloined the two demo Ultras for the purposes of the competition and with them ready to launch I had watched in horror as Lureman decided to beach himself between them just before the photograph was taken. Fortunately mango is this season’s colour and his Trident didn’t ruin the shot too much. I’ll photoshop him out if the kids want to look through the photographs though.
The next snap was of the competition card and then Tim and I launched into a calm sea and were away.
Slowly. Our plan was a combination of drift fishing baits and working lures. We were in fact so slow that Starvinmarvin managed to share the sea with us. Now I know I’m a tart with yellow yak, van and accessories but I have manly black rods – look at this tart! Even his cag and rods match his Scupper Pro! Hairdresser’s rods.
I made my way to the rockfall. This was supposed to be pretty good. I trolled it and cast amongst it but to no avail.
The finder showed nothing in the way of fish either.
A bit further on I spotted an area I fancied. The waves were breaking over a ridge running out from some rocks and forming a perfect haven from current but superb ambush position for predators. The swell was coming in and hitting this wall which was pretty level with the water’s surface and making some nice froth. I had to position myself and get the anchor down...but before I could I spotted something truly incredible happening a hundred yards behind me:
No. It couldn’t be...surely?
It was! A bass that fed like a pout! And a damned nice one too. Caught on a hairdresser’s rod. Still, I took some pics and subsequently watched aghast as he threw dinner away by way of thanks.
All that disturbance scared the bass away from my spot into which we’d now drifted. I tried outside the ridge instead. It didn’t take long:
Tim wandered past; he’d trolled all the way up and had nothing. It was time we hit another spot.
We headed over towards the wreck, scanning it as we passed.
A few yards apart, we dropped anchor and drifted into a position on uptide of the wreckage in an area of rough ground that we hoped wouldn’t be too snaggy
The excitement began to show.
Finally, after what seemed lie half a day, I had my first bite, a good one, and I struck into it. I felt the fish briefly and then I was pulled into a snag. Trying to bully it out cost me my first species. A few minutes later and the same happened to Tim but a bit of slack line saw it thankfully pull itself clear and he was rewarded with his first ever Ballan Wrasse D
With no further bites we up-anchored a while later and headed further out. It was nice here, a nice swell which got up to a good few feet at one point and we anchored up again, watching a couple of yaks playing in the waves at the point.
Little did we know but those yaks weren’t playing a game all of the time ;) The best were the comments from the safety boats:
“There’s always ******* one” followed by “I’ve got a big stick on board”
A reply of “You need a big stick to hit balls as big as that” closed that conversation ;D
Anyway, pissed off with failing to get any fish I decided to stop fishing like a gulf stream goblin and fish my way. Typically Anglian baits of frozen black lug tipped with a ring of unwashed squid went onto a three hook flapper while a typically Anglian wishbone rig replaced the shrimp rig on the other rod. I’d not completed the swap when the first knock came. I grabbed my rod, let the bite develop and caught irony fairly in the chops.
Three countries I’ve fished this year and I’ve caught codling in all of them ;D it was like being back home...
They kept stealing the squid off my baits but three came aboard, one of which was hooked too deeply to survive and thus got slung back out as a tope livebait, to no avail. Ti, meanwhile, was fifty yards away and managed mackerel and dogfish but couldn’t find the codling even with the same rig and bait. It’s often like that with codling.
A bit more of this followed and then I decided to have another try for the bass along the rocky edge. Anchor retrieval took some effort but at least I didn’t lose this one (I snapped the warp from the one by the wreck). The problem was I hooked it around the stern of the Ultra and it was hanging down 15ft while I was drifting. I called up the safety boat and then my VHF died straight after I got the message out.
The safety boat came over to give assistance to someone else past me so I paddled out to let them know it was me that had needed their help. I was actually on my way over to Tim at the time, hoping to use his radio to call them off as I’d managed to free the anchor. Then another came heading out from the beach and I called him in and got him to explain the situation. There was no real problem for me (I’d have cut it free if unable to retrieve it fully normally) but it was an excellent illustration of why support craft (with local knowledge) are needed for these events.
I got nothing on the troll so with Tim heading off after another species or two I went to play close in, darting in and out of the rocks. Overrun heard me cheer as I followed him over a rock that submerged with the waves and turned around smiling – we were on the same wavelength with that one!
I came in and beached. Wandering up I checked in, stole a swig of Floydyboy’s pint and wandered back to the car park. Helen had the kettle boiling and a revitalising coffee saw me fit enough to prance around with the camera when Sprinter and his son came wandering by with his freshly delivered Elite:
I’m saying nothing.
Then Tim arrived back and I took some shots of the dirtied-up Ultras.
Finally we had the presentation. Irony wasn’t on the prize list but lots of other things were and with Floydyboy vogueing in the background the leaderboard posed with first prize, a Shakespeare kayak.
Then things went tits-up. A quick trip to Tesco took forever as every bridge that Ivor the Engine went over was built for sheep to pass under. Finally we found one tall enough for the van to pas sunder – only to find a narrow bridge a few hundred yards further down the road which I had to get Tim to guide me through. Rip the railways out boyos, they only encourage the poor.
There followed an epic of a raffle. Somewhere along the line one of my numbers was called and a Fladen ice Pike rod was obtained for my youngest daughter who’d told me she wanted a rod a few weeks beforehand. My luck was perhaps changing at last?
When I tasted the paella milesfromthesea had whipped up I knew it had. Now my opinion of rice is not that high but this had me clamouring for more. Jeeves the butler had done a cracking job and his efforts were recognised by those who’d had the nod as being nothing short of miraculous. Loaves and fishes were nothing on this man’s efforts.
A small group sat around a barbecue after the raffle; a pioneer returning to the sport, a fair-weather extremist, a stubbled fanatic and two hairdressers. Meat was sacrificed, badly, beer was drunk and spilled, whiskey (it was Oirish to be sure) was sipped and the hours disappeared until sleep beckoned. Once more into the tent, dear friends!
It blew a hoolie that night, the rain came in sideways. Sleeping problems were had. Apparently. Tarponben and I heard nothing and slept soundly ;D what’s more, my 320 pop-up tent kept me dry too! I was amazed. It was bloody grotty when I got up though.
Petrol and a gale had the charcoal going in no time and with sausages and bacon cooked it became a hot smoker with the lid on, oak shavings and coriander on the charcoal and mackerel on the grill.
Breakfast done, we broke camp, loaded the van and having said some farewells Tim and I headed off to pick up the trailer and make our long way back to Norfolk. It was some weekend!
Saturday 10 July 2010
Thunderflies are Go!...10/07/2010
There’s something satisfying about going to a new venue and catching the target. There’s also something satisfying about going there with your mates. On the downside there’s something very unsatisfactory about discovering that you could quite feasibly do catch them on your lunch break because it’s right by the office you’ve worked in for over two years ;D But hey, I’ve got their number now!
Saturday morning looked excellent for a session. Firstly, it was Saturday morning; enough said. Secondly the weather was going to be good and thirdly the fish were known to have been around at least recently and they were a rather tasty one. So, with arrangements made I headed off to (no longer) Great Yarmouth for a 5am launch. Slimjim was going to meet me there with his mate Harrison, BillNorfolk would be coming too and Brotherwarren was also travelling up from south of the border.
We got out I short order to a flat sea and a morning that was bright and already beginning to warm up. Paddling down towards the rocks of the newly-built outer harbour BillNorfolk and I tried briefly near the power station outfall (it looked fishy) before heading off to the harbour to try trolling along the side. I stopped to retrieve some snagged rope which revealed a broken-free section of old net and by the time I’d freed a crab and put the rubbish in my tankwell I was drifting at 1 knot along the wall...I was being sucked out by a rip that gathered pace the further out I got.
I failed to get a knock on the J13’s I was trolling and near the end of the wall I spied the others heading back towards me. The current was pretty strong now and I decided that perhaps the clearer water in the harbour would throw up some fish. I went in and the rest joined me.
I tried trolling and casting but my attention span dropped and I changed my mind. I only had four hours anyway so figured I’d troll the outside again and then head in close to shore. So, off we went and headed back into the tide...it was pretty hard going, getting on for four knots at the worst point as it rounded the end of the harbour but with a bit of effort we made it through to the slightly easier water. A nice bit of exercise to start the weekend ;D Brotherwarren anchored up to bait fish while the rest of us mooched around chatting or paddling around...
...well, apart from Slimjim who carried on trolling. I looked up at one point when I heard his ratchet sing but he didn’t have a fish on so I ignored it. Until, a few minutes later...
Yep, his patience and effort had paid off and his deep runner had plucked a 3lb bass out of the sea!
Well say no more! I swapped the J13’s for Magnum 9’s and started trolling the area as well...and got a hook up straight away ;D the same sort of size it was duly dispatched and popped into the catch bag. Dinner was sorted. Ben had another, then I pulled in a smaller one and he caught two more. He outfished us all with four, three of which were keepers. His mate Harrison, however, was too engrossed with enjoying the morning and the attentions of an inquisitive seal – I guess it was worth the drive ;D
Being on a tight timetable I headed in a round nine and pulled up onto the beach. That’s when it started – within a couple of minutes my yak was covered, literally, in thunderflies. I’ve never seen anything like it and had to submerge myself three or four times before driving home. Fortunately the one I swallowed was washed down with a beautifully chilled can of Bud all the way from the States - thanks guys!
Fish, friends, sunlight and peace. That’s what it’s about.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VswU_GRe04M[/youtube]
Back home it was a quick turnaround and then Abigail and I went to fetch the rest of the kayaks for the following day.
Of course we had to pass a river on the way home and so we had a day out with friends.
Not just friends though – workmate Barney was out with his family on an Old Town open canoe (well, once he’d finished breakfast). A wander upriver to the pub was the end result and although I missed the only pike my one rod tempted Abigail and I enjoyed the day thoroughly.
The next day saw my wife and I out with the girls again. The luxury of a whole weekend off has been scarce this summer so we made the most of it...this day was a kayak picnic to be followed later by a World Cup Final Barbecue at a Spanish friend’s house. Both were great. Eloise began the trip with a seal launch (I wasn’t filming so supported the Kea all the way in) and then paddled a mile or so up river without assistance.
On the way back though, having not allowed her to swim yet, I turned to see her in the water ;D Grinning. Oh well...she earned her playtime with her impressive self-taught paddling!
Like father, like daughter!
Saturday morning looked excellent for a session. Firstly, it was Saturday morning; enough said. Secondly the weather was going to be good and thirdly the fish were known to have been around at least recently and they were a rather tasty one. So, with arrangements made I headed off to (no longer) Great Yarmouth for a 5am launch. Slimjim was going to meet me there with his mate Harrison, BillNorfolk would be coming too and Brotherwarren was also travelling up from south of the border.
We got out I short order to a flat sea and a morning that was bright and already beginning to warm up. Paddling down towards the rocks of the newly-built outer harbour BillNorfolk and I tried briefly near the power station outfall (it looked fishy) before heading off to the harbour to try trolling along the side. I stopped to retrieve some snagged rope which revealed a broken-free section of old net and by the time I’d freed a crab and put the rubbish in my tankwell I was drifting at 1 knot along the wall...I was being sucked out by a rip that gathered pace the further out I got.
I failed to get a knock on the J13’s I was trolling and near the end of the wall I spied the others heading back towards me. The current was pretty strong now and I decided that perhaps the clearer water in the harbour would throw up some fish. I went in and the rest joined me.
I tried trolling and casting but my attention span dropped and I changed my mind. I only had four hours anyway so figured I’d troll the outside again and then head in close to shore. So, off we went and headed back into the tide...it was pretty hard going, getting on for four knots at the worst point as it rounded the end of the harbour but with a bit of effort we made it through to the slightly easier water. A nice bit of exercise to start the weekend ;D Brotherwarren anchored up to bait fish while the rest of us mooched around chatting or paddling around...
...well, apart from Slimjim who carried on trolling. I looked up at one point when I heard his ratchet sing but he didn’t have a fish on so I ignored it. Until, a few minutes later...
Yep, his patience and effort had paid off and his deep runner had plucked a 3lb bass out of the sea!
Well say no more! I swapped the J13’s for Magnum 9’s and started trolling the area as well...and got a hook up straight away ;D the same sort of size it was duly dispatched and popped into the catch bag. Dinner was sorted. Ben had another, then I pulled in a smaller one and he caught two more. He outfished us all with four, three of which were keepers. His mate Harrison, however, was too engrossed with enjoying the morning and the attentions of an inquisitive seal – I guess it was worth the drive ;D
Being on a tight timetable I headed in a round nine and pulled up onto the beach. That’s when it started – within a couple of minutes my yak was covered, literally, in thunderflies. I’ve never seen anything like it and had to submerge myself three or four times before driving home. Fortunately the one I swallowed was washed down with a beautifully chilled can of Bud all the way from the States - thanks guys!
Fish, friends, sunlight and peace. That’s what it’s about.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VswU_GRe04M[/youtube]
Back home it was a quick turnaround and then Abigail and I went to fetch the rest of the kayaks for the following day.
Of course we had to pass a river on the way home and so we had a day out with friends.
Not just friends though – workmate Barney was out with his family on an Old Town open canoe (well, once he’d finished breakfast). A wander upriver to the pub was the end result and although I missed the only pike my one rod tempted Abigail and I enjoyed the day thoroughly.
The next day saw my wife and I out with the girls again. The luxury of a whole weekend off has been scarce this summer so we made the most of it...this day was a kayak picnic to be followed later by a World Cup Final Barbecue at a Spanish friend’s house. Both were great. Eloise began the trip with a seal launch (I wasn’t filming so supported the Kea all the way in) and then paddled a mile or so up river without assistance.
On the way back though, having not allowed her to swim yet, I turned to see her in the water ;D Grinning. Oh well...she earned her playtime with her impressive self-taught paddling!
Like father, like daughter!
Saturday 3 July 2010
Dawn Bass Raid...03/07/2010
It was a long week. A long month in fact. I had Saturday off though and decided to make the most of it in the company of friends and so mid-week I sent a text out to see who fancied a Friday night sleeping on the beach at Sea Palling with an early start on Saturday morning to try and get some bass off the reefs but in the end the consensus was just to meet down their early, a consensus also held by my wife who told me I had to get a proper night’s sleep in a proper bed. It wasn’t like I’d been burning the candle at both ends for weeks, more that I’d chopped it in half and set light to those ends as well ;D
Fair’s fair and I went to bed before she got home from swimming so that I’d be rested by the time my alarm went off at 3:30. With a coffee inside me I was just leaving the house when Gary called to say he was here. Gary is someone I’ve known for a good few years. He runs the Timpson store opposite my old place of work and I’d dropped the OK classic trophy in there for engraving a week or two prior. We chatted about kayak fishing as he’s a very keen angler and I’d given him a link to a couple of sites and invited him out for a session. Of course, when I went to pick the trophy up he was raring to go sometime.
“4 o’ clock tomorrow morning suit you?”
...and here he was ;D
We made it to Sea Palling before 5am and dumped the yaks and gear on the beach before parking up. We’d pulled in behind TaffSteve on the way up, Mark and SteveO (both on their second trip) were on the ramp and Onmas was trundling down the road behind us. With Westie and BillNorfolk expected in an hour it looked like it would be rush hour out on the water soon enough.
Gary, Onmas and myself launched into a flat and very clear sea. It was low water and the nearside of the reefs were largely exposed as we paddled out through them. I began trolling as soon as possible (why bother paddling in clear water without doing so?) with this season’s trolling banker, the blue Rapala J13. As I went through the gap and turned uptide I had my first hit! In came a schoolie of around half a pound...time on the water? A couple of minutes. This bode very well for the morning...Gary, who had been grinning right through the morning was grinning even more now!
We trolled the reefs to the north end without any further luck and then Onmas and I began a run back down, chatting as we went along with him slightly to my rear. This meant that he saw the rod buck in the flushmount before I felt it ;D As I grabbed the rod and began to reel in I could tell it was a better fish. Not big, but it felt like a keeper and looked it too once it came up to the surface. Alas it was an involuntary catch and release bass and swam away with me feeling the hunger pangs already. Not long after though I hooked up with something else...
I set the lures again and soon caught up with Onmas. We carried on south before I decided to change one of the lures as I kept bumping the bottom with the inside J13. I put on another Rapala – Original Minnow I think, although I’m not sure. This was in a kind of pearlescent blue mackerel finish, about 9cm long, quite thin and has a rattle. It took a couple of minutes to tempt bass number 3, a 44cm fish of around 2lb. My new collapsible landing net ensured he came home with me.
Gary:
Mark:
Now, it sounds like this was quite hectic fishing but actually it’s compressing the time. Fish were few and far between; these were over the course of about three hours and it took me about another ninety minutes to get my fourth and last fish. A 39cm schoolie it came home and was duly baked in salt for my lunch. I’d not prepared fish like this before and it was delicious. This fish came while I was just heading down t say goodbye to TaffSteve and Westie who were fluff chucking like a pair of hot shot city folks. A right pair of barristers ;D I’d passed Mark on the way down, who’d caught a fish or two, and he told me Steve had landed a bass on his brand new fly rod. When I enquired as to the size, however, I was treated to language far less sedate than that commonly associated with that most genteel of angling methods. With claims of one on the fly being worth two on the lure I did wonder if perhaps he had a point, and whether it would stand up to scrutiny at lunchtime. Somehow I think not.
Heading in, I saw SteveO landing a keeper. I’d lost sight of Bill ages ago but he also caught as did Westie. Onmas had to head in before us though and only had a short session. This left Gary. A couple of takes but sadly no fish to bring home - not that it mattered to him in the slightest as he’d enjoyed it thoroughly and will be featuring in many reports to come...
Fair’s fair and I went to bed before she got home from swimming so that I’d be rested by the time my alarm went off at 3:30. With a coffee inside me I was just leaving the house when Gary called to say he was here. Gary is someone I’ve known for a good few years. He runs the Timpson store opposite my old place of work and I’d dropped the OK classic trophy in there for engraving a week or two prior. We chatted about kayak fishing as he’s a very keen angler and I’d given him a link to a couple of sites and invited him out for a session. Of course, when I went to pick the trophy up he was raring to go sometime.
“4 o’ clock tomorrow morning suit you?”
...and here he was ;D
We made it to Sea Palling before 5am and dumped the yaks and gear on the beach before parking up. We’d pulled in behind TaffSteve on the way up, Mark and SteveO (both on their second trip) were on the ramp and Onmas was trundling down the road behind us. With Westie and BillNorfolk expected in an hour it looked like it would be rush hour out on the water soon enough.
Gary, Onmas and myself launched into a flat and very clear sea. It was low water and the nearside of the reefs were largely exposed as we paddled out through them. I began trolling as soon as possible (why bother paddling in clear water without doing so?) with this season’s trolling banker, the blue Rapala J13. As I went through the gap and turned uptide I had my first hit! In came a schoolie of around half a pound...time on the water? A couple of minutes. This bode very well for the morning...Gary, who had been grinning right through the morning was grinning even more now!
We trolled the reefs to the north end without any further luck and then Onmas and I began a run back down, chatting as we went along with him slightly to my rear. This meant that he saw the rod buck in the flushmount before I felt it ;D As I grabbed the rod and began to reel in I could tell it was a better fish. Not big, but it felt like a keeper and looked it too once it came up to the surface. Alas it was an involuntary catch and release bass and swam away with me feeling the hunger pangs already. Not long after though I hooked up with something else...
I set the lures again and soon caught up with Onmas. We carried on south before I decided to change one of the lures as I kept bumping the bottom with the inside J13. I put on another Rapala – Original Minnow I think, although I’m not sure. This was in a kind of pearlescent blue mackerel finish, about 9cm long, quite thin and has a rattle. It took a couple of minutes to tempt bass number 3, a 44cm fish of around 2lb. My new collapsible landing net ensured he came home with me.
Gary:
Mark:
Now, it sounds like this was quite hectic fishing but actually it’s compressing the time. Fish were few and far between; these were over the course of about three hours and it took me about another ninety minutes to get my fourth and last fish. A 39cm schoolie it came home and was duly baked in salt for my lunch. I’d not prepared fish like this before and it was delicious. This fish came while I was just heading down t say goodbye to TaffSteve and Westie who were fluff chucking like a pair of hot shot city folks. A right pair of barristers ;D I’d passed Mark on the way down, who’d caught a fish or two, and he told me Steve had landed a bass on his brand new fly rod. When I enquired as to the size, however, I was treated to language far less sedate than that commonly associated with that most genteel of angling methods. With claims of one on the fly being worth two on the lure I did wonder if perhaps he had a point, and whether it would stand up to scrutiny at lunchtime. Somehow I think not.
Heading in, I saw SteveO landing a keeper. I’d lost sight of Bill ages ago but he also caught as did Westie. Onmas had to head in before us though and only had a short session. This left Gary. A couple of takes but sadly no fish to bring home - not that it mattered to him in the slightest as he’d enjoyed it thoroughly and will be featuring in many reports to come...
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