More of him later.
Friday morning saw me back in the warehouse after another overnight trip. There were containers to unload before loading my van and trailer with deliveries and demo kayaks and it wasn’t until after lunch that I was able to get away and head south. It was rather a pleasant afternoon as I headed for Christchurch at the requisite 60mph with a tachograph and a stereo. It was all going really well too…until I heard Sally Traffic on Radio 2…
“…and now the M25 (sighs)”
Umm, how can one put this delicately? I can’t really use the very large, very bold, very loud uppercase F that followed as I headed straight into the gridlock between junction 17 and Junction 11. Friday afternoon and the first day of the school holidays…
My patience ran out after one 45 minute junction and I headed cross-country for Windsor and Ascot before hitting the M3 from the side eventually and getting KFC on my impossible-to-avoid overdue tacho break. Hmm, last year I think it was that Paintfly had collared me here on the way down to the Mudeford demo. More of him later.
Back on the road again and I finally pulled into the car park just after 9:15. Only a couple of hours after I’d intended and 45 minutes before OKreally who’d left around 5:30…but at least he didn’t beat me this time!
07:50 and I headed to McDonalds for coffee before joining him at Mudeford Quay. Gareth, Becky and the team soon joined us and we put out the boats, put up the marquee and did all the other jobs needed for the event. We had everything but the water which, with the change of venue by the council, was now somewhere near Poole ;D Still, we persisted and soon kayaks were away on yonder horizon and the first forum members began to arrive. No sign of Paintfly, mind. Still, more of him later.
The demo got busy, slackened at lunchtime and then got pretty crowded out. Luckily there were plenty of staff on hand by the water as Richi and I chatted fishing, Scupper Pro’s and kayaks to forum members, interested parties and little old ladies unable to run as fast as us. The 7pm launch was looming and by the time people stopped demoing and we got loaded up and dropped the trailer it looked like I’d be late. As it happened I made it back in time to wolf down a Ribeye steak and a pint of Orange juice and rig up from scratch. 10 minutes of the half hour it took was waiting for the steak to be cooked…I asked for rare, it should have taken far less time ;D Never mind. I ran back and guess what? Guess who I saw getting rigged up in the carpark? Yes! Paintfly! More of him later.
We launched, minutes later than planned which wasn’t bad going at all. One shy of a dozen in the end we hit the water in dribs and drabs and after turning the corner I found myself paddling out alongside V8Rob. I’m glad he has a Big Game because if he’d changed to something faster by now I’d have been over in his wash ;D I wasn’t pushing it but neither was I hanging around and he was sitting alongside no problem at all until we hit the rough stuff when I gained ground quickly, all 4.7 metres of the Ultra cutting through without hesitation. That was my chosen steed for the evening, my Scupper left at home to get jealous ;D I was quite hopeful as this was the boat I’d had my tope on amongst other fish and knew it was a: lucky and b: capable. I wanted a conger lap shot.
Now, when I say the rough stuff I mean rougher stuff. From the spit around to the groyne it had been a nice 2ft swell. Nothing to write home about. Now as we came through between the groyne and beerpan rocks it picked up considerably as well as becoming choppy. The wind was also stronger here as we were no longer sheltered by the cliffs. It reminded me, only slightly, of that same day I mentioned earlier three years before. I surfed a Trident through that gap on a bloody big wave and stayed upright by chance. It was big then too. It usually is when I follow this Bugger.
Do you recon he looks older now?
So, here we were again. Off Pout Hole. Rob and I had got out first and then came straight back inshore as my memory was so full of big waves and Paintfly that I totally missed the mark. More of him later. It didn’t take long before the fish started to bite.
I was getting them too but missed the first few bites as I was on the phone. The breaking news was that Amy Winehouse was no more and as usual Curly beat Reuters in getting the scoop. His jokes got better over the next few days though. Anyway, after missing yet another I said goodbye and waited for my baited feathers to tempt another and here it came, a Tommy-Gun of a bite and up came the first bream I’d laid eyes upon in three years, since that day I’d been out here with Paintfly. More of him later.
Right, I had some defrosting mackerel but for conger I wanted fresh. I reckoned this would be top bait and a half (lengthwise) flappered would be about right (I’d not be home until Tuesday night so wasn’t fishing for the pot this time). I popped it to one side and sat and waited. Bugger me if the perfect livebait didn’t jump on the hook a few minutes later!
Right, time to see if there was a big bastard bass about ;D It was a job liphooking it on a 10/0 I tell you! Poor thing.
The sun was going down. The pout were coming up. So what to do with the bream? The lost conger take I’d had was on pout…but then I recalled one afternoon, three years ago, sitting here with Paintfly and having my first forays into sashimi as we ate pieces of mackerel fresh from the water. Well, it had to be done and knowing that bream is a great sushi fish (and one I’d yet to try) the bait knife came out and the fillets came off. Not bad, not bad at all. It deserved proper preparation, thinner slicing and so on but it was certainly tasty enough. It was struggle in fact to keep some back for Paintfly but I felt it only right, being tradition and all. I called Richi up to come and take his present over. I mean, he’d said he was going to mill around rather than fish. How was I to know he’d have to paddle a mile against the wind to take the morsel of bream over to Paintfly? I didn’t. Don’t blame me ;D
Nor blame me for Paintfly chewing once, saying it was rubbery (isn’t that oriental for luvverly?) and tossing it overboard! ;D As for berating me on the VHF for not having any soy or wasabi, well, that set the bloody tone didn’t it! More of him later. As to Richi, well, seeing as he was here he may as well make himself useful and give me a cigarette ;D (photograph not chronological but it gives the idea – it was like this but darker and I had nowhere to stick that photo before ;D Allow me storytellers licence please! )
Of course, while we were chatting I carried on fishing and dropped down my feathers yet again. KERRRRIIIIISSSSSTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!! Not even 1/3 down and the rod arched right over, bucked around and shot off. What the hell? This was one hell of a scrap, better than any bass I’ve had this year. I didn’t have a clue what was on, maybe a big bass, maybe a small tope – a tuna maybe? I really couldn’t believe it when I saw it…
It was a big mackerel to be fair, perhaps the biggest I’ve had but they don’t go that well surely? Actually, they do if you drop a hook into their flank. It really pisses them off! Interestingly, the first time I had macky off the yak was here too, with Paintfly three years ago. Anyway, enough of him.
It was getting darker.
The pout were still coming up.
I was still taking pictures.
They were still feeding.
Then they stopped. I’d been sitting without striking for a while, on 18 pout (plus the bream and macky) and then nothing. All that happened was my macky-baited conger rod kept getting snagged up. Well, I say all that happened, I mean all that happened on the fishing front.
“Chris to snapper, Chris to snapper. My unit keeps switching on and off. Why? Over”
“It’s probably as bored as me. Over”
I’m hearing laughter over the water. Chris tries unplugging and plugging back in again.
“Chris to snapper, Chris to snapper. My display is upside down. No, hang on, now it’s mirrored as well. Why? Over”
“Umm. You’ve got me there Chris. Over”
“Have you got a mirror Snapper? Over”
“Have you seen what I look like? Over”“
It was shocking. Our radio protocols were abysmal, not least because I was laughing too much to get to ‘out’ after each punchline. Some people just really shouldn’t be let loose with radios. It was the southerners corrupting me, honest! There was more but that’ll do for the general flavour.
Well, I decided eventually that enough was enough and called up Richi that I was off. Then Rob tells me he’s just lost an eel. So I stays. Then I gets bored again, snagged up again and calls Richi up again. I’m off again I says. He comes along to help me up anchor – I’ve hooked the plug but eventually we get the anchor up, weak link intact. Same link that keeps tripping when I head offshore at home. The randomness of my life really does annoy me at times. Chris is coming too and so I head over to him, Jim and Glyn. Lozz and Simon have already gone to the pub, Rob is staying out, Richi and Paintfly follow up the rear and we shoot back to the run and I finally get off the water feeling old, decrepit, stiff and happy – I’ve had a great night, had two new species for the year, good fun with good company and still have a target to aim for in my conger…that and sticklebacks still eluding me after four years…
Back at the Premier Inn Richi and I push the trailer around ready for the morning. The jockey wheel should be changed by tomorrow mate, it’ll be easier next time ;D In bed for 01:30.
McDonalds coffee again. Seafood breakfast on the quay (interesting…) and then it’s another day of talking, chatting, discussing, helping until finally we load up and I head south and west to sleep, have a trailer repaired, drink a coffee near Plymouth, talk fishing in Hayle, have another coffee near Plymouth and get my head down near Reading but that’s another story and one that doesn’t feature Paintfly ;D
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